Stephanie's POV
Oh! I felt very satisfied with The look on Myron's face. It was far better than I'd hoped it would be. His mouth was agape and eyes wide with pure shock. For a while, no one said anything. The silence was heavy and I let it hang there. I wanted him to feel it. I wanted him to remember this forever.
Then he lost it. With a loud growl, he charged at me. But I was ready. As he came at me, I kicked him hard in the shin. He yelled in pain and stumbled back, clutching his leg.
"You bitch!" he shouted, his face turning red and twisted.
He rushed at me again, hand raised. I didn't hesitate. I swung my hand, and my palm hit his cheek with a sharp crack. The sound echoed in the silent room. Everyone froze.
Myron stared at me like he couldn't believe what had just happened. Then his voice broke into wild threats. "I'll kill you! Do you hear me, Stephanie? I'll ruin you!"
The door opened before I could speak. Cane walked in, calm as ever. His voice was cold. "I won't let anyone talk to my wife like that."
Myron's head snapped toward him. "Your wife?" he shouted, stunned. "You're taking her side? Over your own son? Over some woman you barely know?"
He started yelling, hurling curses at his father. The board members shrank in their seats. No one dared to move.
Cane didn't even raise his voice. He turned to the guards by the door. "Security."
Two tall men stepped in, grabbed Myron, and began to drag him away. He fought, still screaming and kicking, but they pulled him out of the room. The door closed behind him. Silence filled the space again.
Cane looked around the table. "Does anyone here have a problem with my wife becoming the new CEO?"
No one said a word. You could have heard a pin drop.
"Good," he said simply. He went on to talk about new company rules and plans, but my mind was still spinning. My pulse was still racing from what had just happened.
When the meeting ended, Cane took my arm, and we left together. The drive home was quiet. The kind of quiet that presses on your chest.
Finally, I spoke. "Why did you really marry me, Cane?"
He kept his eyes on the road. No answer.
I turned toward him. "You owe me an answer. You came into my life out of nowhere. You changed everything. You made me part of a game I never asked to play."
He laughed, it was a sharp, bitter sound. "Don't blame me for your mess, Stephanie. Your life was already falling apart before I came along. Your husband left you for your stepsister. You had nothing. I saved you. You should be thanking me."
"Saved me?" I said, almost laughing. "You stalked me for years. You controlled me!"
"I protected you," he snapped. His voice rose. "Everything I did was to keep you safe."
"Safe?" I yelled. "You used me!"
We were both shouting now. The car filled with our anger. Then it happened. He looked away from the road for just a second, too long. I saw the bridge ahead.
"Cane!" I screamed.
He hit the brakes, but it was too late. The tires screeched. The car spun slightly and came to a stop, just inches from the concrete pillar. My heart slammed in my chest. My breath came fast and shallow. The world blurred around me. I felt dizzy and trapped.
Cane reached over and grabbed my shoulders. His voice was different now. soft, almost scared. "Stephanie, look at me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you hurt? Breathe, okay? Just breathe."
But his hands on me felt wrong. I jerked away. "Don't touch me!" My voice broke. I reached for the door, shoved it open, and stepped out.
"I'm walking," I said, slamming the door shut behind me.
I stood there for a second, expecting him to follow me. To come after me. To say something, anything at all. But there was nothing. The car engine roared to life. And then, he was gone.
He drove away.
For a long moment, I just stood there, staring at the empty road. Then anger took over. I started walking. My heels clicked on the pavement, sharp and loud. But after a few minutes, my feet started to ache. The pain got worse with every step. Finally, I pulled the shoes off and carried them. The rough road tore at my bare feet, but I kept walking.
He had done this on purpose. I could feel it. He wanted to teach me a lesson — to break me.
I tried waving at a few taxis, but none stopped. I pulled out my phone to book a ride, but there was no signal. I almost laughed. It felt like the whole world was on his side.
By the time I finally reached the penthouse, it was already dark. My feet were bleeding and raw. My hair was a mess. I just wanted a hot bath and silence.
I opened the door — and froze.
Cane was there, pacing in the living room like a caged lion. He stopped the moment he saw me. The anger in his eyes melted into something else — guilt, maybe. I didn't care. I tried to walk past him.
"Stephanie," he said quietly.
I didn't answer. I was too tired. But then he reached out and gently took my arm. I almost pulled away, but I didn't have the strength. He led me to the couch and made me sit down.
To my surprise, he knelt in front of me.
He carefully removed my shoes. I winced as the air hit my sore, cut feet. He looked up at me, his face unreadable, then stood and went to the kitchen.
He came back with a bowl of warm water and a towel. Without saying anything, he placed the bowl on the floor and lifted my feet into it. The warmth made me sigh in relief.
He was very careful as he cleaned my feet. His touch was gentle, too gentle. When he was done, he tried them and brought out a small tube of ointment from his pocket. He was about to apply it when the door suddenly bursts open.
Armstrong came in half running. He stood there, breathing hard. He looked very tense
d.
"Boss," he said, trying to catch his breath. "You need to see this. Right now."