Chapter Four

Done

I stood up abruptly after hours of sitting. I've made up my mind. I would go to his office. He couldn’t avoid me there. He couldn’t brush me off with a phone call or some dismissive text. I needed him to face me, to tell me what I had done to deserve this treatment.

I dressed quickly, not caring much about my appearance. I pulled on a simple blouse and jeans, the fabric feeling heavy against my skin. I didn’t have the energy to care about how I looked; I just needed to get this over with. I tied my hair back into a loose ponytail, my hands trembling as I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were red and swollen from crying, and my face was pale, like I had aged years in just one night.

But I didn’t care.

I didn’t care what I looked like. I didn’t care about anything except getting to Quinn and making him face the consequences of his actions.

The ride to Winfrey Corporation was a blur. The city streets felt unusually crowded, the noise and chaos outside only amplifying the storm that was raging inside me. The constant honking of horns, the hurried footsteps of pedestrians.

When I arrived at the towering glass building, I hesitated for a moment, staring up at it. It had always seemed so imposing, so intimidating. But today, it felt different. Today, it felt like a cage. A place I was no longer welcome.

I squared my shoulders and walked through the revolving door, the cool air conditioning hitting my face as I entered the lobby. The receptionist looked up from her desk, offering me a polite but unenthusiastic smile.

“Good morning, ma’am. How can I help you?” she asked.

“I need to see Mr. Winfrey,” I said, my voice firmer than I had expected.

Her smile faltered just slightly. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” I said, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. “I’m his wife. I need to speak to him now.”

She glanced down at her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard, and after a moment, she looked back up at me. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but Mr. Winfrey is in a meeting. I can’t let you through without an appointment.”

Meeting? When he was having sex with another woman?

I clenched my fists at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. “Call him. Tell him I’m here.”

She hesitated, glancing nervously at the security guards nearby, before speaking quietly to one of them. His eyes flicked to me for a moment before he continued to stand at his post, arms crossed.

“I’m sorry,” the receptionist said, her voice apologetic but firm. “I can’t disturb him right now.”

I felt the frustration building inside me, the anger threatening to boil over. “You’re telling me I can’t see my own husband?” I demanded, my voice louder now, with disbelief and fury.

Before she could respond, one of the guards, a tall man with a stern expression, approached. His gaze was unreadable, but his posture made it clear that he wasn’t going to let me pass.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked, his voice calm but authoritative.

“I need to see my husband,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, but I could feel it trembling.

The receptionist whispered something to the guard, who nodded and then turned his gaze back to me. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

I felt my heart sink. “Leave? I’m not leaving until I see him.”

The guard’s expression remained unchanged. “Please don’t make this difficult. If you refuse to leave, I’ll have no choice but to escort you out.”

“No,” I said firmly, planting my feet. “I’m his wife. I have every right to be here.”

My voice was steady now, but inside, I was shaking. The humiliation of it all, the sheer audacity of him, made my blood boil. I had a right to be here, to confront him. Why was he doing this?

I heard a commotion behind me and turned to see two more guards emerging from the hallway. Their presence made my heart race. They were closing in on me.

I took a step back, but they followed me, their eyes trained on me like I was a threat.

“Ma’am, this is your last warning,” the first guard said, his tone unyielding.

Panic surged through me. I felt my breath catch in my throat as I tried to plead, “Just tell him I’m here. Please.”

The guard shook his head, his grip tightening on my arm. I jerked away, but his hands were like iron, holding me in place.

“No,” I said again, my voice cracking now. “You don’t understand. He needs to know I’m here.”

The receptionist looked away, pretending to ignore the scene that was unfolding. People in the lobby had started to stare, their eyes fixed on me like I was some kind of spectacle. The humiliation stung, and I could feel the tears rising in my throat.

As they began to push me toward the door, I caught sight of Fleur, Quinn’s assistant, standing near the elevator. He was watching me with a strange mixture of pity and reluctance.

“Fleur!” I called out, my voice cracking. “Please, help me!”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking toward me, but then he turned and stepped into the elevator without saying a word.

I felt like the world was closing in around me, my body going numb as the guards dragged me toward the door. I couldn’t stop them. I was powerless.

The tears finally spilled over as they pushed me outside, onto the busy sidewalk. My chest heaved with sobs, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me.

I was outside, in the middle of the street, and my heart was breaking. Quinn had done this. He had given the order. He had made sure I would be thrown out like an unwanted piece of garbage.

The man who had once promised to protect me had humiliated me in front of everyone. He had shattered me.

With shaky hands, I fumbled for my broken phone and tried to steady my breath. I had to go home. I needed to get away from this place, from all of this.

I could feel my strength slipping away, but I knew I had to keep moving. I had to get out of here before I fell apart completely.

I stepped into a cab, my mind blank.

I didn’t look back as the car pulled away from Winfrey Corporation.

I was done.