Chapter 7 Apologizing To
Rachel
Rachel remained unmoved by the ringing phone, her expression a mask of practiced indifference. “Tell him I’m preoccupied with work,” she stated flatly.
Samira, ever diplomatic, couldn’t minor such directness. “I apologize, Mr. White, but Ms. Marsh is currently engaged in important matters. I’ll notify her of your message when she’s available.”
“Is that right?” Brian’s voice carried a sharp edge of displeasure. “Have her in my office within five minutes.”
His words fell like ice, brooking no argument.
Uncertainty flickered across Samira’s features. “Ms. Marsh, how should we proceed?”
Rachel drew in a measured breath, meeting her assistant’s concerned gaze. “Prepare the car and wait for me. I won’t be long.”
The moment Rachel’s knuckles met the polished wood of the top–floor office door, Tracy’s honeyed voice drifted through. “Please enter.”
As the door swung open, an electric silence filled the space between their locked gazes.
“Rachel, what a pleasure,” Tracy practically glided forward, her welcome dripping with
sweetness.
She extended her hand in greeting
Rachel deftly sidestepped the attempted contact, her movement subtle but deliberate.
Tracy’s composure faltered, her eyes growing glossy with tears as she turned to Brian. “You see? Rachel hasn’t forgiven me.”
Unwilling to witness their theatrical display of closeness, Rachel cut to the chase. “Mr. White, what requires my immediate attention?”
Her stilettos had become instruments of torture, the swelling ankle trapped within
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Chapter 7 Apologizing To Rachel
screaming its, protest.
Each throb sent waves of discomfort coursing up her leg, making every moment of standing increasingly unbearable.
She had no time to waste on Tracy’s dramatics.
“Tracy feels compelled to address any misunderstandings personally,” Brian explained, his protective stance toward Tracy unmistakable.
“Does she now?” Rachel’s smile held winter’s chill. “That won’t be necessary. Her
apology means nothing to me.”
Tracy’s tears spilled forth on cue, her features arranged in perfect distress. “Rachel, please understand. I never intended any harm. I know about your relationship with Brian. I shouldn’t have allowed him to comfort me or sought his help. But my claustrophobia–it overwhelmed me. I was terrified. Don’t let this create a rift between
you two.”
Her performance was masterful–every trembling word, each glistening tear crafted to evoke sympathy.
It was the kind of display that typically wrapped men around her finger, Brian included.
But Rachel saw through the façade.
“Ms. Haynes, direct this energy toward your professional duties. Your theatrical displays are wasted here. And if you truly respect my relationship with Brian, maintain appropriate boundaries instead of clinging to him while begging forgiveness.”
Tracy’s perfectly constructed mask cracked, revealing genuine shock.
Her strategy of orchestrating this apology before Brian had backfired spectacularly. She’d expected easy forgiveness, not this steel–spined rejection.
This was simply unexpected.
Pivoting gracefully, Tracy sought refuge beside Brian. “Brian, I’ve only made things worse. My attempts at reconciliation have failed. Rachel’s rejection is entirely my fault.”
She turned away strategically, dabbing at fresh tears with practiced precision.
Her act was seamless, every movement designed to evoke sympathy.
Brian offered her a tissue, his voice gentle as summer rain. “Here, dry your eyes. I
harbor no ill will.”
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“You mean that?” Tracy’s voice quavered with carefully calculated hope.
“Of course. When have 1 ever blamed you in all our years of friendship?”
In the expansive office, their gazes intertwined with unmistakable tenderness and affection, painting the picture of a couple deep in love.
Yet Rachel stood there, his fiancée, watching this scene unfold exactly as she had
anticipated since Tracy’s return.
Despite her mental preparations, steeling herself for this moment, the reality struck deeper than any imagined scenario.
Brian and Tracy complemented each other perfectly, making Rachel feel like an outsider a misplaced piece in their elegant puzzle.
The throbbing in her ankle now seemed trivial compared to the crushing pressure building in her chest, an invisible weight that threatened to suffocate her very breath.
“Could you help me?” Tracy’s voice dripped with sweetness as she dabbed her eyes, tugging at Brian’s sleeve with practiced delicacy.
“Of course,” Brian acquiesced, turning to address Rachel with calculated composure.
“Tracy struggles with darkness and confined spaces. That embrace earlier stemmed purely from fear, nothing more. You’ve always been so understanding, Rachel. Surely you can see past this.”
Understanding? The word mocked her.
“Is that what you think?” Rachel’s smile carried arctic frost. “You seem quite confident in reading my thoughts. What makes you so certain of my feelings?”
“Rachel?” Darkness clouded Brian’s features, surprise evident in his tone.
Her defiance had clearly caught him off guard.
Rachel maintained her glacial smile. “You hope I can forgive her? Simple enough. She needs only to vanish from our presence, maintain her distance, and never appear again.”
Tracy’s tears flowed anew as she clung to Brian’s sleeve, the perfect picture of distress.
Brian soothed her with a gentle pat, fixing Rachel with a disapproving stare. “Must you
escalate such a minor incident?”
“If it’s so insignificant, I’ll take my leave,” Rachel responded with quiet dignity.
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Chapter 7 Apologizing To Rachel
As she turned to depart, Tracy lunged forward, grasping her arm. “Please don’t be angry.
I truly am sorry.”
“Save your breath,” Rachel dismissed, but Tracy persisted in blocking her path.
Rachel regarded her with ice in her gaze. “I’m immune to your damsel–in–distress routine. Such tactics might work on men, but not on me.
me.”
The message landed, yet Tracy proved remarkably adaptable.
“How about we sit down and talk? I can explain. Let me fetch you some coffee first,” she offered with a smile, hastily preparing a cup.
As Rachel reached for the proffered drink, the cup mysteriously tilted. Scalding liquid
cascaded over her hand.
“Ouch, it burns!” Tracy’s cry rang out first, though Rachel had suffered the worse injury.
The entire contents had drenched her wrist, while Tracy received mere droplets.
Pain seared through Rachel’s flesh, tears threatening to spill.
But watching Brian immediately rush to examine Tracy’s hand deflated any impulse to
voice her agony.
She couldn’t make a sound anymore. What purpose would it serve? His concern clearly lay elsewhere. Why subject herself to further humiliation?
“I’m leaving,” she announced, turning away.
“Wait,” Brian called after her.
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