The following days after Jack’s confrontation with Stella had been filled with silence, heavy one at that, it hung in the air like an unresolved storm. Jack hadn’t reached out to her again, but Beatrice had noticed the tension, Jack had been pacing around the house, avoiding every conversation, his mind was preoccupied.
It was infuriating
Beatrice paced through the living room of Jack's penthouse, her heels tapping on the marble floor. She had carefully planned her next step, and today was the day to put it into action. She would not lose Jack—not to Stella, nor anyone else.
Jack walked into the room, his shirt cuffs rolled, his tie askew, and his look far away. He hardly recognized Beatrice while heading to the bar to pour himself a drink.
“Jack,” she called out, her voice soft yet
