Obsessed With My Father’s Boss

My Stupid Heart

Rhea’s POV

“And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

The words left my mouth before I could stop them, my heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it. Rowan’s eyes locked on mine like he wanted to burn a hole straight through me.

I watched him struggle with himself, jaw tight, fist clenched at his side. Then he turned and walked out, slamming the door so hard my legs gave out from under me.

I sat on the floor for a while, knees pulled to my chest, trying to piece myself back together and also figure out where that audacity had come from.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. I didn’t dare step outside, too scared of running into Rowan. I stayed in the room, scrolling my phone, trying Lyra a few times but she had chosen today of all days to go ghost on me.

Then a knock came.

“Ma’am, are you in?” Zoe’s familiar voice floated through the door.

“Come in,” I called.

What she said next pulled me straight off the bed. Rowan’s Noona was asking to see me.

My heart tripled its pace. Had she seen the fight? What was I supposed to say? My thoughts were still scrambling when my legs were already moving.

“Good afternoon, Noona,” I greeted her with a smile, then quickly studied her face. She was all smiles as usual. I exhaled quietly. Good start.

“How are you, child?” she asked.

“I’m… I’m fine,” I replied.

“Come let me look at you. I hope that nasty girl didn’t lay her hands on you.” She turned me gently, eyes scanning me with the kind of care that made my chest ache a little.

“You know, I never really liked that girl. I watched her grow up but she turned into something else entirely.” She shook her head, then patted the seat beside her. “Next time, no need to fight. Just call the security men to send her away.”

“Noted, Noona,” I said, laughing softly.

Then she paused.

Her eyes dropped to my neck. Then back to my face. Then back to my neck.

My stomach dropped.

Rowan’s hand had left a mark there and I had completely forgotten to cover it.

“Did she do this too?” Noona asked, her finger hovering just above the bruise.

I wanted to say yes. It was right there, the easiest lie. But the warmth in her eyes made something in me shrink.

“It’s not from her,” I said carefully. “It was just an accident.”

“Did my grandson do this?” Her voice was quiet. She wasn’t just accusing, she sounded like she knew.

“No. Rowan would never hurt me.” The lie came out steady. “I just bumped into something, I only noticed the mark now.”

She didn’t push. She got up, found an ointment, and applied it gently around my neck without another word. I sat still and let her, feeling terrible the whole time. But the truth would have hurt her more. That was what I told myself.

We talked for a while after that, laughing about small things, and for a while, I genuinely forgot about Rowan and everything that came with him.

Evening settled in slowly.

I had a quiet dinner alone in my room, showered, then went outside to get some air. The night was cool and I walked without direction, just letting the breeze settle into my skin.

Then I heard it.

A low, unmistakable moan that stopped me in my tracks.

“f**k… Rowan.”

The feminine voice came out breathless, strained, as if she were gasping for air.

I told myself to turn back. I told myself clearly, with full awareness of what I was doing, to walk back to my room and forget I had heard anything.

Instead, my feet moved toward it.

And then I saw them.

Rowan was in the car, reclined back. A girl straddling his lap, her lips on his, his hands moving like he had all the time in the world.

I stood there longer than I should have. Long enough for it to carve itself into me.

Then I turned around and walked back.

I washed my face. Drank a glass of cold water. Sat on the edge of the bed and stared at nothing for a moment. He didn’t owe me loyalty. I knew that. We weren’t real. I knew that too.

My stupid heart hadn’t gotten the memo.

I went to the bar and poured myself a glass of wine, drank it slowly, and when I finally returned to the room, Rowan was already there.

His presence filled the space the way it always did, like the room suddenly had less air in it. I walked in without looking at him, moving straight toward the bed.

“Where are you coming from?” he asked. His voice was calm. Measured.

I rolled my eyes. “Not like it’s your business.”

I reached for the bed but his hand closed around my arm, stopping me.

“I don’t appreciate rude, spoilt brats.” His voice dropped low, heavy with a warning I had no interest in. “Especially when that brat is supposed to be my wife.”

I pulled my arm free.

Then I looked at him. Really looked at him, for the first time since I walked in, letting him see every bit of the anger sitting on my face.

“You don’t have to appreciate anything,” I said. “I’m the fake one. Remember?”

I climbed into bed and pulled the duvet over me.

He groaned, low and frustrated, and then the door slammed shut hard enough to shake the walls.

I lay there in the quiet.

And I didn’t care. Not tonight. Tonight I had nothing left to give to caring.