She doesn’t just work at LuxeArt—she owns it. The company was once a flourishing business, thriving in its niche, but it took a sharp downturn a few years ago due to poor managent. Eventually, it was acquired and revitalized under the leadership of lanie Collins, who turned it around and brought it right back to the top."
"So, she’s not exactly struggling then?" the woman asked, tilting her head slightly. "Maybe she’s still looking for investors?"
The man gave a brief shake of his head, dismissing the idea. "Not really. Besides having a sharp business mind and a reputation for smart decisions, she also happens to be married to the chairman of Stordge."
That bit of information had the woman’s eyebrows arching in surprise. "The chairman of Stordge?" she echoed slowly, her brows soon furrowing.
She gave a small nod, her expression full with a faw away look for a mont before she turned back to the man standing beside her. "Leave the report here. You can go," she said, waving him off with a flick of her fingers.
Once he had stepped out and the door clicked shut behind him, she turned her attention to the man who had been silently observing from his seat in the corner. He looked up just as she let out a tired sigh.
"How do we approach her now?" she asked, running a hand over her skirt before folding her arms. "She seems nice enough, but... I don’t know. There’s sothing about her. She was friendly but even guarded when I t her."
He shook his head slowly, fingers pressing to his temple as if trying to work out a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. "Let’s see," he said after a mont. "The good news is, you were at least able to break the ice. That’s more than we had this morning. If she was willing to speak to you once, chances are she’ll do it again. You’ll have to create sothing organic. Make it look like a coincidence. She ntioned LuxeArt, didn’t she? You can go there. Pretend that you want to furnish the house and thought to help her with a hefty commission."
She nodded thoughtfully. "Then that’s your in. You’re just another art lover with good taste."
She frowned. "I hate art."
He chuckled. "Then fake it. We’ve faked worse, haven’t we? Just buy a new house and start. We are relying on you, our dear Marianne to complete this family."
With that, he stood up slowly from his chair, his eyes lingering on her for a mont before he stepped forward and pulled her into a careful embrace. Marianne stiffened in surprise and then patted his back.
"Thank you," he murmured against her hair. "For standing by . For doing all of this-for looking for lanie, for making the effort, for staying even when I didn’t ask you to. For making sacrifices."
She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, and smiled up at him, "This isn’t a sacrifice. Don’t you dare call it that. That is my love for you. Don’t reduce it to a sacrifice."
He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head before he could.
"Your child is like my child," she said firmly. "You forget- I was there. I held her when she was little, fed her when you couldn’t. I watched her take her first steps. We celebrated her birthday together. It’s been so many years, and not a day has passed when I haven’t wondered what beca of her. That I haven’t missed her. She was the one who made feel like a mother."
She gave a soft sigh as a stillness settled between them at the mory, before she looked at him and softly asked in a whisper, "Don’t you want to see her?"
He nodded. The answer was imdiate, instinctive. But it was followed by a long, heavy sigh. His shoulders slumped, his hand running over the back of his neck in a gesture of long-standing regret.
"I do," he said at last. "God, I do. But... I’m scared. I’m scared she won’t want to see . That she’s grown up hating . I don’t know what her grandmother told her. That woman- she never missed a chance to twist things. She controlled everything, even when it was not needed. For all these years, lanie has never tried to look for . Not even once."
"That doesn’t an she hates you," the woman said softly.
"Or maybe it ans exactly that." His voice was hollow now, tinged with sothing broken. "You know what my silence looked like from her side? It looked like abandonnt. I left her. And that’s the only truth she’s probably ever known."
She reached for his hand and gave it a small squeeze.
"You didn’t abandon her. You were forced out of her life. And you stayed away to protect her. That counts for sothing. Maybe not to her yet-but it should. And if there’s a chance, even the smallest one, that you can set the record straight... you have to take it."
He looked down at their hands, then nodded slowly. "I know. I just... I need to be ready. At least for now, I have hope that she does not hate . If I fine otherwise..."
"She doesn’t need you to be perfect," Marianne finally replied. "She needs you to be there."
A quiet beat passed before she added, "And if she really is the sa girl I once knew, there’s a good chance she’ll be willing to welco you back into her life. So if you won’t go to her, let do it. Let reach her in my way, soften the ground before you step in."
He looked up, sothing flickering in his eyes. Hope, maybe. Or fear disguising itself as hope.
"And if she doesn’t want to see ?" he asked.
"Then at least you’ll know," she replied. "And you’ll know that it wasn’t because you didn’t try."
He breathed out slowly, as though so weight had shifted slightly off his chest. "Alright," he said. "We do it your way."
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