Wanting her

Chapter four: The Man in the Shadows

Lance listened quietly as Sheila’s sobs tore through the line, each one striking a chord in him he hadn’t realized was still alive. He closed his eyes, focusing solely on the fragile sound of her voice breaking apart over the speaker.

“He called me fat, Lance...on my birthday,” she wept, her words barely audible through her tears. “I didn’t even see it coming. One day he’s caring... and the next—he’s a monster.”

Lance’s throat tightened. He said nothing—knew better than to offer hollow words that could never truly soothe such raw pain. Instead, he let her cry, absorbing the depth of her hurt as the silence stretched between them. And then, just like that, the line went dead.

He stood abruptly, fingers tightening around the phone. Without a second thought, he ended the conference call with his team, his voice cool and clipped as he excused himself. They would understand—after all, he wasn’t just their CEO. To Sheila, he was much more: a silent guardian, a shield from a world that hadn’t been kind to her.

Grabbing his coat from the back of the chair, Lance stormed out of the office and into the thick, relentless rain. The cold droplets soaked through his clothes but he barely noticed. His driver waited by the sleek black car, eyebrows raised at the sudden urgency.

“Find out where she is,” Lance ordered sharply, voice low and tense. “I need eyes on that bar. Now.”

---

Back in the dimly lit bar, Sheila was halfway through her bottle of wine. Her eyes were red and puffy, makeup smeared from wiping away tears, but she didn’t care. The words Daniel had spat at her echoed ceaselessly in her mind, like a cruel mantra she couldn’t shake.

She stared at her reflection in the dark window, barely recognizing the girl looking back.

“Is this really what people see when they look at me?” she whispered to the glass. “Am I really not... enough?”

A shadow moved near her table.

“I beg to differ.”

Her head snapped up in shock.

Lance stood there—soaked from the rain, his coat clinging to him, jaw clenched with a fury that burned in his dark eyes. He didn’t say more, just pulled out the chair across from her and sat down without waiting for an invitation.

“Lance? What—how did you—?”

“You called,” he said simply. “I came.”

“But I didn’t even—”

“You didn’t have to,” he interrupted gently. “You didn’t deserve what he said to you. You’re not fat. You’re not an embarrassment. And you’re damn sure not someone anyone should ever be ashamed of.”

His voice was low but steady. Every word carried weight, like an anchor in the storm swirling inside her.

She looked away, blinking through fresh tears. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He hesitated, then leaned forward, his eyes softening. “Because someone should’ve been, long before now.”

The alcohol—and the pain—made her bolder. “Do you think he’ll change his mind?” she asked quietly, almost pleading. “Daniel. Maybe he’s just angry. Maybe he didn’t mean it. People say awful things when they’re hurting, right?”

Lance’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. “Sheila—”

“Maybe if I lose weight, if I dress differently, if I just give him time—”

“Stop.” His voice was sharp now, cutting through the fog of her desperation. “You’re not the one who needs to change.”

She stared at him, disbelief and pain mingling in her gaze. “You don’t understand, Lance. I loved him. I gave everything to him. I thought we were going to get married!”

“And he discarded you like you were nothing,” Lance snapped, voice rising with anger and frustration. “Is that what love looks like to you?”

She flinched. For a moment, the fire in her eyes flared, fierce and raw. “Don’t lecture me! You don’t know what it’s like to be rejected like that. To be humiliated like that!”

Lance stood abruptly, pacing the small space beside her table. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to be rejected by someone who didn’t deserve you in the first place. But I do know what it’s like to love someone from afar—watching her waste herself on a man who only saw her as a means to an end.”

Silence fell heavily between them. Sheila’s breath caught in her throat.

“You… what?” she whispered, heart pounding.

Lance stopped pacing and met her gaze, his eyes dark and vulnerable for a fleeting moment. “I’ve always seen you, Sheila. Even when he didn’t. Even when you didn’t.”

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

The weight of his words settled deep in her bones. And suddenly, the tears returned—not from sorrow, but from the confusing mix of heartbreak, truth, and something she wasn’t ready to name.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“I’m not asking you to,” Lance said gently, sitting back down beside her. “But I won’t let you lie to yourself just to crawl back to someone who broke you.”

Sheila buried her face in her hands and cried—not just for Daniel, but for every illusion she’d ever believed.

Lance didn’t reach out or try to comfort her physically. He simply stayed there, silently offering his presence—sometimes the strongest kind of support.

For the first time in hours, maybe even days, Sheila didn’t feel alone.

---

Meanwhile, somewhere across town, Daniel was receiving a call from the guard he’d left near the bar to keep watch on Sheila. They had been childhood friends after all, and Daniel’s twisted sense of loyalty compelled him to ensure she got home safely, even as he pushed her away.

The guard’s voice was low and cautious. “Sir, I’m at the bar. Sheila’s here. She’s not alone.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. He listened closely as the guard relayed fragments overheard between Sheila and Lance—words of comfort, truth, and an undeniable connection.

A malicious thread wove through Daniel’s heart and mind, tightening with every word the guard whispered. A poisonous envy tangled with his wounded pride.

How dare Lance step in now? How dare he claim what Daniel had discarded so easily?

The bitter web in Daniel’s chest constricted, and a dark fury burned behind his eyes.

He clenched his fists, breathing ragged as cold rage settled like ice in his veins.

Sheila had been his possession, his prize to wield—and now she was slipping through his fingers, finding solace in someone he couldn’t control.

The thought was unbearable.