CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Chapter Sixteen

Anderson sat at the head of the long, polished boardroom table, his expression a mask of simmering frustration. The room was filled with the murmurs of the board members, their whispered conversations barely masking their dissent. Anderson knew that his grip on the company was slipping—his distracted leadership and the personal issues that had leaked into his professional life had given his opponents all the ammunition they needed.

"Mr. Anderson, we've reviewed the latest quarterly reports," said one of the board members, a stern-faced man who rarely missed an opportunity to challenge Anderson’s authority. “The numbers are down across all major sectors. We’re seeing a decline in both market share and investor confidence.”

Anderson clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he listened. “I’m aware of the numbers,” he said tersely. “And I’m working on a strategy to turn things around.”

The board member wasn’t convinced. “With all due respect, Anderson, we’ve heard that before. We need decisive action, not more promises. The shareholders are getting nervous, and if we don’t see improvements soon, they’ll start calling for more drastic measures—including a vote to replace you as CEO.”

Anderson’s temper flared, but he forced himself to remain composed. “I’m the majority shareholder,” he said coldly. “This is my company, and I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in the room was palpable, the board members exchanging uneasy glances as Anderson’s words hung in the air. He knew they were circling like sharks, waiting for any sign of weakness. But Anderson was determined not to give them that satisfaction.

As the meeting dragged on, Anderson’s mind kept drifting back to Wanda. The image of her walking out of his life played on an endless loop in his thoughts, a constant reminder of his failures. He had lost her, and now it felt like he was losing everything else as well.

After the meeting finally adjourned, Anderson returned to his office, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against his desk, running a hand through his hair as he tried to steady his breathing. He couldn’t afford to lose control—not now, when so much was at stake.

A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Anderson looked up to see Agnes standing there, her expression a mix of concern and determination. She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, her heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor.

“Anderson,” Agnes began, her voice calm but insistent. “I heard what happened in the meeting. They’re trying to push you out, aren’t they?”

Anderson scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “They think they can, but they’re wrong,” he muttered. “I’ve built this company from the ground up. I’m not going to let them take it from me.”

Agnes nodded, her gaze steady as she approached him. “I know, and that’s why I want to help,” she said, her tone firm. “You need someone on your side, someone who can keep an eye on the board and help you strategize. Let me be that person.”

Anderson hesitated, his pride and frustration warring with the practical need for support. He had always seen Agnes as a complication, a reminder of the mistakes he had made. But as she stood before him, offering her help without hesitation, he found himself considering her proposal.

“Why?” he asked, his voice edged with suspicion. “Why do you want to help me? What’s in it for you?”

Agnes met his gaze, her expression softening. “Because I care about you, Anderson,” she said simply. “And I believe in you. I know you’re going through a lot, and I want to be there for you. Let me prove that I can be more than just… whatever you think I am.”

Anderson studied her for a moment, his mind weighing the risks and benefits. He knew he needed someone he could trust, someone who could help him navigate the treacherous waters of corporate politics. And right now, Agnes was the only one willing to stand by him.

“Alright,” Anderson said finally, his voice resigned. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Agnes smiled, her relief palpable. She moved closer, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “I won’t let you down,” she promised, her voice sincere. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

Anderson nodded, though a flicker of doubt remained in his mind. He wasn’t sure how much he could trust Agnes, but he knew he couldn’t afford to turn away any help right now. And as they began to discuss their next steps, Anderson felt a small spark of hope reignite within him—a determination to fight for what was his, no matter the cost.

---

Back at Michael and Wanda’s apartment, the atmosphere was no less tense. Michael’s mood had grown increasingly volatile, his once charming demeanor now replaced by a constant undercurrent of irritation. Every interaction with Wanda felt like a powder keg waiting to explode, and Michael seemed to take every opportunity to light the fuse.

Wanda sat at the kitchen table, nervously glancing at the clock as she waited for Michael to come home. She had spent the afternoon cleaning the apartment, hoping that a tidy home might lift his spirits and ease the tension between them. But as the hours passed and Michael’s arrival was delayed, her anxiety grew.

When the front door finally creaked open, Wanda’s heart leapt in her chest. She stood up, trying to compose herself as Michael walked in, his expression closed off and brooding. He barely glanced at her, his focus immediately shifting to the papers scattered on the table.

“You’re late,” Wanda said softly, her voice carrying a hint of concern. “I was worried.”

Michael shrugged, tossing his coat over a chair. “I had a lot of work,” he said dismissively, not bothering to elaborate.

Wanda bit her lip, trying to muster the courage to bridge the growing gap between them. “Michael, I’ve been thinking… about everything you promised before we got married,” she began, her voice tentative. “You said we’d face everything together, that we’d find a way to make it work.”

Michael’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, his expression unreadable. He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as if her words were just another burden. “Wanda, I don’t have time for this,” he said, his tone edged with impatience. “Promises are easy to make, but reality is different. You knew what you were getting into.”

Wanda’s face fell, his response like a cold slap. “I didn’t expect it to be perfect, Michael,” she said, her voice wavering. “But I thought we’d at least try. I’m trying, but it feels like you’ve already given up.”

Michael laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “Given up? Do you have any idea what I’m dealing with? Work, this… situation with you,” he gestured vaguely at her, his frustration spilling over. “I’m tired, Wanda. I’m tired of coming home to this.”

Wanda’s eyes stung with tears, her heart aching at his harsh words. “You’re tired? Michael, I’m pregnant, dealing with everything on my own because you’re too busy pushing me away,” she said, her voice breaking. “You promised me a new start, but all I feel is trapped.”

Michael’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer. “You think this is easy for me?” he snapped, his voice rising. “I’m dealing with your mess, Wanda. Your past, your problems, and now this—this baby that isn’t even mine. And you expect me to just be okay with it?”

Wanda recoiled, the sting of his words cutting deep. She felt her resolve crumbling, her tears flowing freely as she looked at the man she had once trusted with her heart. “I never asked for this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “But I’m doing my best. I thought you loved me, that we could build something real. But all you see is my mistakes.”

Michael turned away, his jaw clenched as he tried to rein in his anger. “I’m done talking about this,” he said flatly, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

Wanda watched him leave, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that echoed through the empty apartment. She sank into a chair, her body wracked with sobs as she faced the harsh reality of her crumbling marriage. Michael’s promises felt like cruel jokes now, distant echoes of a future that seemed more and more out of reach.

Alone in the dimly lit apartment, Wanda placed a hand on her stomach, the small gesture a quiet reassurance that she wasn’t entirely alone. But as the tears continued to fall, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was fighting a losing battle—one that was taking everything she had to keep going.

---

Meanwhile, Michael stormed down the street, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and guilt. He knew he was lashing out at Wanda, that his anger was misplaced. But every time he looked at her, he saw the life that had been thrust upon him, the obligations he hadn’t signed up for. He wanted to be the man who kept his promises, who built a life with her. But right now, all he felt was resentment, a deep-seated bitterness that he couldn’t seem to shake.

As he wandered the city streets, Michael’s mind drifted back to the conversation with Wanda, her tearful face haunting him like a ghost. He hated seeing her cry, hated knowing that he was the cause. But every time he tried to soften, to reach out, the weight of their situation pulled him back under, drowning out any hope of reconciliation.

Michael stopped outside a bar, the neon sign flickering invitingly in the night. He hesitated for a moment, his hand hovering over the door handle as he considered his options. He could go home, try to make things right with Wanda, or he could bury his troubles in the bottom of a glass.

With a resigned sigh, Michael pushed the door open, the warm, noisy atmosphere of the bar washing over him. He made his way to the counter, ordering a drink as he tried to drown out the nagging voice in his head that told him he was making everything worse. He knew he was running away, that his actions were only deepening the rift between him and Wanda. But right now, the thought of facing her, of dealing with the mess they had made, was too much to bear.

As Michael stared into his drink, the swirling liquid reflecting the dim lights of the bar, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could keep going like this. And as the alcohol began to take the edge off his thoughts, he pushed the doubts aside, choosing instead the temporary solace of forgetting.