"Brother, you once asked for my help abroad. I’ve made up my mind. After tying up a few loose ends here, I’ll come find you."

Grayson Sawyer’s hand tightened around the phone, betraying the emotions he fought to conceal. This wasn’t a decision made lightly, but after another crushing betrayal, his path felt clearer.

The voice on the other end lit up with amusement, a playful tone slipping through. "Didn’t you say your wedding is in a week? What’s this sudden change? Are you leaving your bride behind, or has she decided to pack up and join you?"

Grayson’s expression remained unreadable, his tone calm yet firm. "The wedding’s off."

The voice on the other end hesitated, a note of disbelief creeping in. "What? I thought you two were solid. When you got engaged, she even…"

"Brother, like you said, that was in the past."

The dimly lit room fell into a heavy silence. The quiet stretched for a moment before the voice on the line sighed, carrying a hint of resignation. "Alright, just make sure you’ve thought it through. I was planning to attend the wedding when I came back to take care of business next week. Since it’s off, I’ll meet you at the airport instead."

"Okay."

As the call ended, Grayson sank into the sofa, his shoulders sagging under the weight of exhaustion. His eyes landed on the luxurious wedding photo adorning the wall, a masterpiece of carefully constructed happiness. He chuckled darkly, the sound more bitter than amused.

Suppose fate hadn’t led him to the CEO’s office that day, where Savannah Sullivan was wrapped in Spencer Stanford’s arms as though the world beyond them didn’t exist. In that case, he might have still been holding onto the dream of their life together.

But now, the tides had shifted, and everything had changed. Her heart no longer beats for him, leaving him with no reason to hold on.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Grayson shrugged off his suit, the faint scent of whiskey clinging to the fabric. He stepped into the bathroom, letting the cold light and rushing water attempt to cleanse the fatigue etched into his being.

His stomach twisted into knots before he lurched over the toilet, retching until he was left gasping for air. Years of endless social events, drowning himself in liquor to secure business deals for Savannah’s company, had taken their toll on his body. Each toast had left him a little weaker, a little more broken.

But regret? That had never been part of the equation. At least back then, his sacrifices had spared Savannah from sleepless nights of worry.

Now, though…

The memory of her gentle touch as she handed him a bowl of hangover soup stabbed at his chest. Those moments felt like a lifetime ago.

Now, she poured her time and energy into someone else, her childhood friend, the one who had resurfaced claiming depression.

Not only did Savannah spend her days by Spencer’s side, but she dared to invite him into their home, blurring lines Grayson once believed sacred. What stoked his fury most was catching Spencer sneaking into Savannah’s room in the dead of night, not once, but repeatedly.

When confronted, Spencer had the gall to laugh it off, calling it sleepwalking.

It was laughable, pathetic, even.

If not for Savannah’s relentless defense of him, Grayson would have tossed Spencer out on his first so-called nocturnal stroll.

Stepping out of the shower, steam still curling around him, Grayson noticed something immediately: his discarded suit had vanished.

From the living room, a ripple of laughter floated toward him, igniting his irritation all over again.

As Grayson approached the living room, his footsteps faltered at the sight before him. Savannah stood locked in Spencer’s arms, their bodies entwined, their gazes brimming with an intimacy that twisted his stomach into knots.

A flash of movement drew his attention. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his suit, discarded like trash in the bin.

Just as Savannah leaned in, her lips hovering near Spencer’s, she caught sight of Grayson’s figure looming closer. The joy that had lit up her face vanished in an instant. She shoved Spencer away, her demeanor shifting with practiced ease.

"Grayson, I thought you weren’t home," she said.

Grayson smiled faintly, a gesture that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Did his absence grant them free rein to behave so shamelessly? The faint sound of water dripping from the bathroom echoed in the stillness, a quiet reminder of his presence they had so clearly overlooked.

"Did you throw away my suit?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm as he gestured toward the trash can. His dark eyes bore into them, unreadable yet carrying an undeniable weight.

Before Savannah could respond, Spencer stepped forward, wearing a look of feigned guilt. "It’s my fault. I noticed the suit was dirty and had a tear, so I assumed it was trash."

Trash?

It was anything but a mistake. It was deliberate.

Grayson’s gaze hardened as he studied Spencer’s pathetic attempt at remorse. His voice, now tinged with simmering anger, cut through the air like a blade.

"And who do you think you are? Who gave you the right to touch anything in this house? And more importantly, who invited you to stay here? Get out. Now."

Spencer, a grown man, shrank under the weight of Grayson’s fury, his eyes welling up with tears. "I’m sorry! It’s my fault, all of it. I know I shouldn’t have been here. I’ll clean your suit, every last stain. I’ll leave immediately. You’ll never have to see me again, I swear!"

He looked as though the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders. As he bent down, Savannah’s hand shot out, gripping his arm with surprising force as she pulled him behind her.

"Grayson, Spencer, and I grew up together. Now that his business has collapsed and he’s battling depression, he came to me for help. And this is how you repay him by insulting him like this?"

"If he’s not worthy of staying, then you’re even less worthy of being here."

"Don’t forget who’s given you everything you have."

"Let me make this clear: no one but me has the right to ask Spencer to leave. If you don’t like it, then feel free to pack your bags and go."

"This is my house, Grayson. We’re not even married yet, and letting you stay here is already more than generous."

Hearing her relentless barrage of accusations, Grayson let out a bitter laugh, one that tasted like ash in his mouth.

He had fought tooth and nail to steady Savannah's company, working around the clock, pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion. If it weren’t for him, it would have crumbled long ago, swallowed by its own debts. And the money that bought this house? That came from his first hard-won deal, a victory he’d earned by surviving on scraps, with nothing but blood, sweat, and determination in his pocket.

And now, this was what he got.

Grayson wanted to confront Savannah, but her eyes were locked on Spencer, her gaze soft and tender as she spoke. "Spencer, don’t be afraid. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you."

Spencer wiped his tears, offering Grayson a shaky smile, his eyes red and puffy. "Brother Grayson, I know you don’t like seeing me and Savannah together, but don’t worry. I’ll be leaving soon."

He then turned to Savannah with a look of pure helplessness. "Savannah, I know you care about me, but I don’t want to get in the way of your happiness. After all, you’re about to get married. Please don’t let me come between you two."

Savannah’s voice was firm yet gentle. "Spencer, don’t talk like that. This is your home, too. Stay for as long as you need."

Savannah comforted Spencer softly, her words a gentle balm to his wounds. But when her gaze shifted back to Grayson, it turned as cold as ice. "Grayson, I’ve already agreed to marry you. If Spencer and I were really involved, you would have been out of the picture a long time ago. Take a hard look at your actions, and come talk to me once you’ve learned your lesson."

With that, Savannah led Spencer toward the bedroom, her voice soothing him with reassurance.

As they walked away, Grayson felt a bitter taste rise in his throat. The words he had wanted to say caught in his chest, too heavy to speak. His mind flashed back to the image that had haunted him all night, their embrace through the office window, the kiss that had shattered everything.

Spencer had wept, his voice a fragile whisper, "Why are you marrying him and not me?"

Savannah had held him close, her gaze tender and filled with quiet affection. "Spencer, you know where my heart lies. I never imagined you’d come back to me…"

"Now that you’re here, the wedding is yours."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"And I have a gift for you, too."

In the darkened hallway, Grayson hadn’t been able to endure another moment. He couldn’t recall how he’d made it back to his office, only that, years ago, those same words, that same warmth, had been his and Savannah’s.

Savannah was a force to be reckoned with, a career-driven powerhouse who refused to bow to anyone. She had built her own company from the ground up, fueled by ambition and determination.

When Grayson heard about her, he didn’t think twice. He walked away from a high-paying job that brought in over a million a year and threw himself into helping her build her empire.

He worked tirelessly, often skipping meals, just to bring in the business she needed. And when he returned from business trips, Savannah would always be there, confiding in him about the pressure she’d been under while he was away. Back then, he was the only one she trusted with her worries.

Savannah had promised him time and time again that they would marry as soon as the company went public.

Now that the company had successfully launched and their wedding was on the horizon, Grayson should have felt nothing but elation. Yet, he found himself unable to force a smile.

He couldn’t help but remember every little thing Savannah had once despised. She had always loathed wasting time on idle distractions, setting a strict rule for herself to be in bed by 10 p.m. to ensure she could hit the ground running the next day. But all of that had shifted, thanks to Spencer’s arrival.

To "help" Spencer through his supposed depression, Savannah now took him to all sorts of places to relax whenever she found the time. At night, when Spencer claimed he couldn’t sleep, Savannah would sit by his bedside until he fell asleep, often staying up until the early hours of the morning.

All the attention, the care, the tenderness that once had been his was now Spencer’s.

There had been a time when Savannah had fretted over something as simple as not knowing how to make hangover soup for him. But now, her warmth was reserved for Spencer.

For Grayson, there was nothing left but her impatience.

The wedding would still happen, but the groom would no longer be him.

Instead of staying and humiliating himself, Grayson decided it would be more dignified to leave in silence. On the day of the wedding, in two weeks, he would quietly slip away with his older brother.

His love for her had been so profound that Grayson couldn’t bring himself to hate the woman who had once held his heart for ten years.

But that love had long since been drained, leaving nothing but emptiness.

As he watched them close the bedroom door behind them, Grayson silently stepped into the study.

Here, aside from his work with the company, was where he spent most of his time, immersed in the tasks that filled his days.

But as soon as he reached his desk, he noticed the absence. His laptop, the one holding crucial contracts for the company’s survival, was missing.

Grayson didn’t have to guess. It was obvious who had taken it.

Determined not to face Spencer, he quickly typed a message to Savannah, his fingers trembling with the urgency of the situation.

Minutes later, her response lit up his screen: [Spencer seemed bored, so I let him use your laptop to play games.]

A deep frown creased Grayson’s face. That laptop wasn’t meant for idle distractions; it held contracts and data crucial to the company’s future. He sent her a quick, firm explanation about its importance, but the message was met with silence.

Realizing he had no other choice, Grayson walked to the bedroom door, each step heavy with frustration.

Just as he lifted his hand to knock, Spencer’s voice spilled through the door, cheerful and oblivious. "This suit is stunning! But the price, wow, it’s so expensive!"

Savannah’s warm voice followed, brimming with indulgence.

“As long as you like it, that’s all that matters. Let’s go with this one. Tomorrow, we’ll check out some rings.”

Grayson’s hand, poised mid-air, froze.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he let his arm fall to his side. Without another word, he turned and retreated to the solitude of the study.

Sinking into his chair, he absentmindedly scrolled through his social media, contemplating who might be worth a final farewell. The realization hit him like a cold wave; his years here had left him with few connections.

Nearly every waking hour had been sacrificed to the company, leaving little room for anything else.

Grayson’s scrolling abruptly stopped when a new post from Spencer caught his eye.

In the photo, a gleaming black sports car took center stage, its polished surface reflecting the sunlight. Standing beside it, Spencer and Savannah posed cheek-to-cheek, their lips forming exaggerated pouts as though sharing some inside joke.

The caption read, [Baby gave me two surprises today. Suddenly, life doesn’t feel so depressing anymore!]