CHAPTER SEVEN: HITTING THE TARGET

REX'S POV

The gun feels heavy in my hand, a cold extension of my anger. My heart pounds as I steady my breath, the weight of everything pressing on me. I raise the pistol, aim at the target a few feet ahead, and pull the trigger. The shot rings out, sharp and piercing, cutting through the silence around me. The bullet hits the edge of the bullseye. Close, but not perfect. Story of my life.

I reset my stance, gripping the gun tighter. Each shot should calm me, but it doesn’t. I fire again, harder this time, and the bullet tears through the center of the target. Better. My jaw tightens as memories flood my mind, memories I wish I could bury alongside the countless targets I’ve destroyed in this very range.

The investment deal is slipping through my fingers. If the investors choose the Shaw Dynasty, my company could take a hit so big it would take years to recover. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the clock is ticking.

I adjust my stance, lift the gun again, and fire. This time, the bullet grazes the edge of the target. Not good enough.

I let out a sharp breath, frustration clawing at me. I know why they’re hesitating.

“Marital stability,” they said during our last meeting. As if a wife is the key to my competence as a CEO. It’s absurd, but the data backs them up—companies with stable leadership attract more trust and capital.

I fire again. The target jerks.

Vanya’s face flashes in my mind. Her dark eyes, the way they used to light up when she looked at me. That sharp wit of hers, always keeping me on my toes. She’s not just a means to an end. She never was.

The marriage contract wasn’t just about securing the deal. No, it wasn’t that simple. I could have found any woman to stand by my side, play the perfect wife, and check the investors’ ridiculous box.

But it had to be her.

I fire again, this time hitting the bullseye.

Because I still love her.

Even after five years, after everything I’ve done to her—no, everything I’ve done to us—I can’t forget her. She’s in my blood, my bones, my every thought.

But loving her doesn’t erase the guilt.

I lower the gun and stare at the target, my vision blurring slightly. I think of the note I left her five years ago, sitting on the kitchen counter. Just a few words scribbled on paper, cold and unfeeling, to end something that had been everything to both of us.

Coward.

I didn’t even have the guts to say goodbye to her face.

“Leave her,” my father had demanded back then, his voice cold and sharp like the edge of a blade. “You think I’ll allow an orphan—someone with no status—to ruin the Patterson name? Never.”

I’d argued, for the first time in my life. “I love her,” I’d said.

He’d laughed, a low, mocking sound. “Love doesn’t build empires. Power does.”

When I didn’t back down, he’d threatened to disown me. “You’ll lose everything,” he warned. “The company, the inheritance, the name. And if that isn’t enough, I’ll destroy her life. One phone call, and she’ll be behind bars for fraud she didn’t commit. Is that what you want?”

The memory of his words feels like acid in my veins.

I fire again, harder this time, the recoil jolting my arm. The target quivers but doesn’t fall.

I tell myself I left to protect her. To keep her safe. But the truth? The truth is uglier. I was weak. I cared too much about the legacy, the power, the approval I’d spent my whole life chasing.

And so, I left her.

Another shot. Another hit. The target wobbles.

I thought I could move on. That burying myself in work, in building the Patterson Empire, would make me forget her. But it didn’t. Every success felt hollow, every achievement a reminder of what I’d lost.

I fire again, the memory fueling my aim. The bullet shreds through the target’s center. This time, the board cracks and falls to the ground. My chest tightens as I lower the gun. There’s no satisfaction in destruction.

“Still angry at the world, I see.”

I whirl around to find my assistant, Paul, leaning against the doorway. He’s smirking, but I can tell he’s hesitant, as if walking into a lion’s den.

“What do you want?” I bark, setting the gun down and grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from my brow.

Paul straightens. “Just reminding you that your lunch meeting with the investors is in two hours.”

I glare at him, but he’s unfazed. He’s been with me long enough to know my bark is worse than my bite. Most days, anyway.

“Do you ever think about minding your own business?” I mutter.

“It’s not in my job description,” he quips, turning to leave. “Two hours, Rex. Don’t be late.”

When he’s gone, I pick up the gun again, but my focus is gone. My hands tremble slightly, betraying the calm façade I wear like armor. I think about Shane—my best friend. The one person I thought I could trust. He betrayed me, and I still can’t bring myself to think about how. His betrayal still burns like an open wound–too fresh, too raw–but his betrayal taught me a lesson: trust is a luxury I can’t afford. I shove the thought away; that’s not today’s battle.

Today’s battle is Vanya.

She doesn’t know the whole truth about why I left. How could she? I’ve never told her about my father’s threats, his disdain for her “low status” and orphaned past. His words replay in my mind, harsh and cold: “She’s not fit to be a Patterson. If you don’t end it, I will. And don’t think I won’t destroy her family in the process.”

I’d been a coward then. I’d chosen fear over love.

This time, things are different. I’m not the same man I was five years ago. I’ve built an empire. I’ve made enemies, but I’ve also made allies. And now, I’ve thrown a contract at Vanya, forcing her back into my life. She probably hates me for it. Hell, I’d hate me too if I were her.

But I can’t let her go. Not again.

I fire three quick shots, hitting the target in rapid succession. My arm burns, but I don’t care. The image of her face won’t leave me—the way she looked at me when I proposed the contract. Her jaw tight, her eyes blazing with anger and hurt. She agreed, but I know she’s only doing it for her brother. Not for me.

I close my eyes, gripping the edge of the booth for support. I can feel the weight of it all pressing down on me—the deal, my father’s disdain, the look on Vanya’s face when she finds out the truth about why I left.

I take one more shot, the bullet piercing through the fallen target. This time, I feel a flicker of satisfaction. A promise to myself.

No one—not my father, not the investors—will come between us again. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix the mess I made, to prove to Vanya that leaving her was the biggest mistake of my life.

The sound of my phone buzzing pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at the screen. It’s Paul again, no doubt calling to nag me about the meeting. I ignore it, letting the call go to voicemail.

Instead, I turn my focus back to the empty target ahead, imagining a future where Vanya is beside me. Where I can finally let go of the past and hold on to what truly matters.

I pick up the gun, steady my aim, and fire.