CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Chapter Eighteen

Anderson sat in his office, his gaze fixed on the skyline as the city buzzed with life below. Despite the looming threat from the board, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. Agnes’s plan was bold, but it was exactly the kind of move he needed to shake things up and regain control of his company. The meeting with NovaTech was set for later in the week, and Anderson was determined to walk in prepared, armed with the leverage he needed to secure the deal on his terms.

Agnes knocked softly on the door before stepping inside, a stack of documents in her hands. She looked confident, her demeanor a mix of professional poise and personal determination. Anderson watched her approach, a flicker of gratitude sparking in his chest. She had been relentless in her support, pushing him to take the necessary risks when he felt cornered.

“Everything’s set for the NovaTech meeting,” Agnes said, placing the documents on his desk. “I’ve outlined a few strategies we can use to negotiate better terms. It’s not going to be easy, but if we position this right, we can protect your stake and keep control.”

Anderson nodded, picking up the papers and scanning the contents. “Good work, Agnes,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “I appreciate you stepping up like this. I know I haven’t exactly been easy to work with lately.”

Agnes shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve had a lot on your plate,” she replied. “But we’ll get through it. Just remember, this is your company. You’ve built it from the ground up, and no one knows it better than you do.”

Anderson glanced up, meeting her gaze. He could see the genuine concern in her eyes, the quiet determination that had kept her by his side even when things seemed hopeless. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he wasn’t fighting this battle alone.

“Thanks, Agnes,” Anderson said, his voice filled with sincerity. “I needed to hear that.”

Agnes nodded, her smile widening. “Anytime. Just keep your head up, Anderson. You’ve got this.”

As Agnes turned to leave, Anderson watched her go, a complicated mix of gratitude and caution swirling in his thoughts. He knew she had her own motives, her own reasons for sticking around. But for now, he was willing to take her help, to lean on her as they navigated the treacherous waters of corporate politics together.

---

Meanwhile, at Michael’s office, the arrival of Martha had already begun to stir the waters. She moved through the office with an air of familiarity, her presence a stark contrast to the usual assistants who had come and gone. She was efficient, proactive, and seemed to anticipate Michael’s needs before he even voiced them. But her presence also carried a weight of history that Michael couldn’t ignore.

Michael sat at his desk, watching as Martha organized the paperwork scattered across his office. She moved with a grace that was almost hypnotic, her every action a subtle reminder of their shared past. He couldn’t help but feel a tug of nostalgia, a pull towards the days when things were less complicated, when his world hadn’t yet become a tangled web of unmet expectations and simmering resentments.

“Here are the documents for your meeting with the investors,” Martha said, her voice smooth as she set a neat stack of papers in front of him. “I’ve highlighted the key points and drafted a proposal based on the preliminary discussions.”

Michael nodded, his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long. “Thanks, Martha,” he said, his tone measured. “You’ve picked up things quickly. I have to admit, it’s a relief to have someone who knows how I work.”

Martha smiled, her eyes meeting his with a familiar glint. “I’ve always known how you work, Michael,” she replied, her voice carrying a hint of something more. “I’m here to make things easier for you. That’s what I do.”

Michael’s gaze flicked to the door, the reminder of Wanda and the life he was trying to build tugging at the edges of his conscience. He cleared his throat, pushing aside the thoughts that threatened to cloud his judgment. “Just keep it professional,” he said firmly, though his voice lacked conviction. “We’ve both moved on.”

Martha’s smile remained, but her eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of defiance crossing her features. “Of course, Michael,” she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. “I’m here to help, nothing more.”

Michael watched her return to her desk, his mind wrestling with the complexities of their renewed proximity. He knew hiring her was a risky move, one that could easily backfire. But in his current state, juggling the pressures of work and the unraveling threads of his marriage, he couldn’t deny the allure of having someone who understood him, who knew how to navigate his world with ease.

As the day wore on, Michael found himself leaning on Martha more and more. She anticipated his needs, handled the difficult tasks, and, perhaps most importantly, provided a distraction from the tension at home. It was easier to lose himself in work, to focus on the immediate tasks at hand, than to confront the growing chasm between him and Wanda.

---

Back at the apartment, Wanda could feel the strain of Michael’s absence growing with each passing day. He came home late, left early, and when he was around, he was cold and distant. She had tried to bridge the gap, to remind him of the promises he had made, but every attempt was met with indifference or outright disdain.

As Wanda stood in the kitchen, preparing another dinner that she knew would likely go uneaten, her thoughts drifted to the early days of their relationship. She remembered how Michael had looked at her back then, with eyes full of hope and determination. He had promised her a fresh start, a life free from the shadows of the past. But now, it seemed like every interaction was just another reminder of how far they had drifted from that dream.

Wanda’s mind wandered to the argument they had had just days before, Michael’s harsh words still ringing in her ears. He had accused her of being a burden, of dragging him down with her problems. She had felt the sting of his disdain, the weight of his resentment pressing down on her like a vice. And for the first time, she had begun to wonder if they would ever find their way back to each other.

Lost in thought, Wanda didn’t hear the door open until Michael walked into the kitchen, his expression hard and unreadable. He glanced at the table, taking in the dinner she had prepared without a word. Wanda forced a smile, trying to muster the courage to break through the icy wall between them.

“Dinner’s ready,” she said softly, her voice tinged with hope. “I made your favorite.”

Michael barely glanced at her, his focus already drifting as he pulled out his phone and checked his messages. “I’m not hungry,” he said flatly, his tone dismissive. “I ate at the office.”

Wanda felt the familiar sting of rejection, her heart sinking as she watched him move past her without a second glance. “Michael, can we at least try to talk?” she asked, her voice trembling. “We need to figure this out. You promised me—”

“Wanda, I’m tired,” Michael cut her off, his patience wearing thin. “I’ve been dealing with work all day, and the last thing I need is another argument. Just let it go.”

Wanda’s eyes filled with tears, the ache in her chest growing sharper. She wanted to scream, to force him to see the pain he was causing, but she knew it would be pointless. Michael was already checked out, his mind elsewhere, and no amount of pleading would change that.

Michael glanced at her, his expression softening for a brief moment. “Look, Wanda,” he said, his voice strained. “I know things aren’t great right now, but I need time. I can’t deal with everything all at once.”

Wanda nodded, wiping her eyes as she tried to hold herself together. “I understand,” she whispered, though the words felt hollow. “I just… I miss you, Michael.”

Michael sighed, his frustration evident. He walked over to the couch and sat down, his attention shifting back to his phone. “I’ll be in my office,” he said without looking up. “We can talk later.”

Wanda watched him go, her shoulders slumping as she returned to the kitchen. She stared at the untouched dinner, the silence of the apartment echoing her own sense of loneliness. She had tried to be patient, to give Michael the space he said he needed, but each day felt like another step further from the life they had promised each other.

---

The next morning, Michael arrived at his office, his mind already buzzing with the day’s agenda. Martha was there, as usual, her presence a steadying force in the chaos of his professional life. She handed him his schedule, her eyes meeting his with a knowing look that spoke volumes.

“You’ve got a meeting with the investors at ten,” Martha said, her voice brisk as she went over the details. “I’ve prepared the documents and sent a brief to your team. And there’s a lunch with the potential partners at twelve.”

Michael nodded, grateful for her efficiency. “Thanks, Martha. I appreciate you handling this,” he said, though his voice lacked the warmth it once held. He couldn’t afford to let his

guard down—not now, with so much on the line.

Martha smiled, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s what I’m here for,” she replied, her tone light but with an undercurrent that Michael couldn’t quite place. “You know you can count on me.”

Michael glanced at her, his thoughts a tangled web of conflicted feelings. He knew he was treading dangerous ground, that allowing Martha back into his life was a risk that could easily spiral out of control. But as he looked at the stack of tasks ahead of him, the never-ending demands of his role, he couldn’t deny the comfort of having someone who understood.

As Martha walked away, Michael’s phone buzzed with a new message. He glanced at the screen, his heart sinking as he read Wanda’s name.

**Wanda:** *We need to talk. I’m scared, Michael. This can’t go on.*

Michael stared at the message, his mind warring between the obligations of his work and the crumbling foundation of his marriage. He knew he needed to respond, to face the reality of what was happening between him and Wanda. But as he stood there, surrounded by the trappings of his success, he couldn’t bring himself to type the words.

Instead, he shoved the phone back into his pocket, turning his attention to the meeting ahead. There would be time to deal with Wanda later, he told himself. For now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

But as Michael settled into the routine of his day, the weight of his choices hung heavy on his shoulders, a constant reminder of the life he was struggling to keep from falling apart.

And somewhere in the quiet recesses of his mind, Michael couldn’t shake the nagging sense that, no matter how hard he tried to compartmentalize, the walls he had built were slowly closing in.