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!]

The comments section was already ablaze with excitement.

[Wait, two surprises? What’s the second one?]

[Isn’t it obvious? The other surprise is them finally making it official!]

[You two have always been perfect together; why not just announce the wedding date?]

Among the buzzing comments, someone chimed in, [Didn’t I hear Savannah was engaged to Grayson? What’s all this about?]

[Don’t be ridiculous! Everyone knows who Savannah truly cares about. Grayson’s just some fool hopelessly in love with her. That engagement nonsense? Just wishful thinking he made up to save face!]

[Exactly, like a stray dog clinging to scraps that don’t belong to him!]

Grayson’s thoughts drifted back to those school days when Spencer’s cronies used to torment him, calling him a "stray dog" and claiming he wasn’t even worthy of being in Spencer’s shadow.

The cruelty had only stopped when Spencer had boldly declared he had a girlfriend, making it clear that he and Savannah were nothing more than friends.

And then, as if by some twist of fate, Grayson had ended up in the same company as Savannah, a stroke of luck that had allowed him to inch closer to her.

Just as he was about to scroll past the post, his eye caught a fresh "like" beneath it, Savannah’s.

He thought he had already stopped caring, but the sharp sting in his chest proved him wrong.

Was this her way of making it final?

The faint sound of laughter drifted from the other room, but Grayson chose not to interrupt. Instead, he quietly began packing his things, each motion mechanical.

He would stay at the office until it was time to leave; there was no need for back-and-forth trips. It would make it easier to head straight to the airport on the day of the wedding.

Once he finished, he headed downstairs to take out the trash, tossing their wedding photo albums into the bin. What was the point of holding onto them when he wasn’t the groom anymore?

The next morning, just as Grayson was about to leave with his suitcase in hand, Savannah, just waking up, caught sight of him.

Savannah glanced at his empty room, her voice laced with confusion. "Where are you going with your suitcase?"

Grayson froze for a moment, his words lost as his eyes fell on the red mark on her collarbone.

They had shared moments together right under his nose.

Once, Grayson would have confronted her about it, his emotions running high. But now, with his departure looming, what she did no longer held any sway over him.

"Nowhere special," he replied, his voice smooth and measured. "With so much work piling up, it’s easier to stay at the office."

In the past, no matter the hour, Grayson would have always returned home to be with Savannah.

Before Savannah could say another word, Spencer appeared in the doorway, wearing his pajamas. His voice was soft, with a hint of demand.

"Savannah, I’m hungry," he said.

Savannah, quick to shift the focus, turned her unasked question into a gentle response. "Okay, let’s go downstairs and eat in a bit."

She glanced at Grayson, her tone casual, almost dismissive. "It’s probably better for you to stay at the office. That way, you won’t have to deal with seeing Spencer around all the time."

Grayson caught the taunting glint in Spencer’s eyes, but it didn’t faze him anymore.

As he started down the stairs, Savannah’s voice stopped him. "Grayson, where are the wedding photo albums?"

Grayson glanced toward the trash bin, where the albums had once rested, now conspicuously empty. His voice was flat as he spoke, void of emotion. "I threw them out."

"What? Why?" Savannah’s voice held a note of surprise and concern.

"You said they didn’t look good, so why keep them?" he responded, his tone indifferent.

Savannah’s worry deepened, her voice tightening with anxiety. "Even if they didn’t look good, you shouldn’t have thrown them away!"

Grayson’s voice remained eerily calm. "Things you don’t like become nothing more than an eyesore, don’t they?"

Savannah fell into an uneasy silence, the sharpness of his words hanging in the air.

Grayson didn’t feel like prolonging the conversation, so he ended the call abruptly.

As he was about to drive off, he caught a glimpse of Savannah hurrying down the stairs in her pajamas and slippers. She was frantically rummaging through the trash, ignoring the mess, as if the albums were the only thing that mattered now.