Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You Chapter 50: It’s Over

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Matthew

The mont Amanda walks out, the world tilts beneath . My chest tightens, a cold sweat breaking along my spine. I grip the edges of my desk, staring blankly at the papers in front of , but the words blur together.

I don’t even rember that night. I don’t rember touching Sarah. I don’t rember wanting her.

I finally lift my head, my gaze snapping to Sarah. She’s still standing there, her cheek red from Amanda’s slap.

My stomach twists. "Did it really happen?" My voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Sarah’s lips part slightly, like she hadn’t expected to question her. "What?"

"Did we really have sex?" I push back my chair, rising to my feet. My hands are shaking. "I don’t rember that night, but sothing about this doesn’t feel right."

Sarah folds her arms over her chest, her expression shifting. "Are you saying I made this up?"

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply. "I don’t know what I’m saying, but—" I pause, my throat tightening. "I would never do this to Amanda. I know I was drunk, but I—" I swallow hard, the truth clawing at . "Are you really sure?"

Sarah’s face darkens. "Are you calling a liar, Matthew?"

A lump forms in my throat. I can’t breathe. "Did we even—"

"Yes." Her voice is cold, unwavering. "We did."

A wave of nausea rolls through .

Sarah takes a step closer, her voice softening. "Amanda didn’t deserve you, Matthew. You know that."

I stare at her, horror creeping into my bones. "What?"

She tilts her head, her fingers grazing my wrist. "She must not trust you if she didn’t even question ."

I pull my hand away like I’ve been burned. "Fuck..." My voice shakes. "I need to talk to Amanda."

Sarah’s face hardens. "She won’t forgive you."

I know Sarah is right. Amanda had always been the jealous type. She accused of cheating even before I did anything. But now...now, I have proved her right, even if unintentionally.

Sarah steps in front of , blocking my path. "Matthew, don’t go after her," she pleads, her voice softer now, almost coaxing.

I shake my head. "Move, Sarah."

She lifts her chin, her eyes narrowing. "She won’t listen. She already made up her mind about you."

I clench my fists, fighting the overwhelming urge to yell. "I don’t care," I bite out. "I need to try."

Sarah lets out a bitter laugh. "You don’t get it, do you?" She takes a step closer, lowering her voice. "She was already looking for a reason to leave you."

My stomach twists. "That’s not true."

Sarah shrugs. "Isn’t it? She didn’t even ask for your side of the story. She just assud the worst and walked away." She folds her arms. "Maybe deep down, she never really wanted you."

I brush past Sarah, yanking open the door. The office is eerily quiet, everyone pretending not to have been eavesdropping. I ignore the stares and move toward the elevator, my heart pounding.

I have to find Amanda.

When I reach the parking lot, I spot her. She’s by her car, gripping the door handle so tightly her knuckles are white.

"Amanda," I call out, my voice cracking.

She stiffens but doesn’t turn around. "Go away, Matthew."

I take a hesitant step forward. "Please, just listen to ."

She exhales sharply, then finally faces . Her eyes are red-rimd, but there are no tears. Just cold, exhausted anger. "What could you possibly say to make this better?"

"I don’t rember that night," I admit, my throat dry. "I was drunk, but I swear, Amanda—I never wanted to hurt you."

She scoffs. "But you did."

"I need you to believe ," I whisper.

She studies for a long mont, then shakes her head. "I don’t know what to believe, Matthew. But I do know one thing."

I brace myself.

"I’m done."

Her words hit harder than any slap. I feel them in my chest, like a knife sinking deep.

"Amanda—"

She opens the car door. "Goodbye, Matthew."

And just like that, she’s gone.

I leave the office right then, not bothering to finish the day. I can’t go back and face Sarah right now. I need to go ho and think.

As I drive ho, my hands grip the wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. My mind is a tangled ss of regret, confusion, and the gnawing feeling that sothing isn’t right.

Yet she was so sure. So certain.

So it must be true, right?

By the ti I pull into my driveway, exhaustion weighs heavy on . I don’t even bother turning on the lights when I step inside. The mont the door closes behind , I lean against it, rubbing a hand over my face.

Then my phone buzzes.

For a split second, I let hope flare in my chest—Amanda? But when I check the screen, disappointnt crashes over .

Sarah: I am really sorry, Matthew.

I shut my phone off and toss it onto the couch.

The next day, I shower under scalding water, hoping it might wash away the hollowness that’s settled in my chest.

It doesn’t.

I dread going to the office and seeing Sarah, but I can stay back and cower, so I drive there. I force myself through those revolving doors, ignoring the whispers that follow across the lobby.

"Matthew."

Donna’s face is carefully composed, professional, but there’s sothing in her eyes—pity, maybe, or judgnt. I can’t tell anymore.

"Mr. Wilson would like to see you. Imdiately."

My stomach drops. Sarah’s father. My boss wants to see . Great...just great.

"Right now?" I manage, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

She nods once. "He’s waiting."

Mr. Wilson is standing at the window when I enter, hands clasped behind his back.

"Sir," I say, the word barely audible. "You wanted to see ?"

He turns slowly. "Sit down, Matthew," he says.

I sink into the chair across from his desk, fighting the urge to fidget like a schoolboy called to the principal’s office.

He doesn’t sit. Instead, he circles the desk, leaning against its edge, uncomfortably close.

"I understand there was an... incident yesterday." His voice is controlled and asured. "Involving my daughter."

I swallow hard. "Sir, I—"

He holds up a hand, silencing . "I don’t like listening to gossip. I’d like to hear your account," he continues, folding his arms across his chest. "What exactly happened between you and my daughter?"

I nod, my throat dry. "There’s been a misunderstanding, sir," I begin, choosing my words carefully. "I...I had a little too much to drink and..."

"You were drunk," Mr. Wilson cuts in, his tone sharp. "And you allowed yourself to be in a compromising situation with my daughter?"

The door flings open and Sarah storms in, her eyes wide. "Daddy! Stop!"

Mr. Wilson turns sharply at the interruption, his expression darkening. "Sarah," he says. "We’re in the middle of sothing."

Sarah marches forward, her hands clenched at her sides. "I know! That’s why I’m here," she snaps, then glances at , guilt flashing in her eyes. "This isn’t right."

Mr. Wilson’s jaw tightens. "Sarah, step outside. We’ll talk later."

"No," she insists, her voice shaking. "You can’t fire Matthew!"

Mr. Wilson furrows his brows. "I am not going to fire Matthew. I am simply asking him what happened and what was up with all that commotion yesterday."

Sarah looks between us, her expression uncertain. "But—"

Her father holds up a hand, his voice firm. "Sit down, Sarah."

She hesitates before finally obeying, dropping into the chair beside . I glance at her, searching for any sign of what she’s about to say.

Mr. Wilson sighs, rubbing his temples. "Now, Matthew," he says. "Tell everything."

I clear my throat. "I was drinking, sir. Too much. I rember bits and pieces, but I swear, I don’t recall anything inappropriate happening between Sarah and ."

Sarah shifts in her seat, wringing her hands. "Dad... he didn’t do anything wrong. And I...I love him!"

The room falls into silence.

"You love him?" His voice is low.

Sarah nods, her chin lifting defiantly. "Yes."

I stiffen beside her, my pulse hamring in my ears. This—this is not what I expected. Not what I wanted.

I swallow hard. "Sir, with all due respect, I—"

His gaze snaps to , steel-cold. "Let Sarah talk, Matthew."

I clamp my mouth shut.

"I made the first move, Dad," she says.

Silence stretches between us.

Mr. Wilson looks at . "I won’t pretend like I am thrilled about this. But Sarah is an adult now, so if you two want to date-"

"Sir," I interrupt. "Sarah and I aren’t dating."

"He ans we are not dating yet. Right, Matthew?" she interjects.

"Sarah, that’s not—" I start, but she cuts off with a bright, nervous laugh.

"Daddy, you’re overreacting. Matthew and I are just figuring things out," she says, placing a hand on my arm.

Mr. Wilson exhales sharply, watching like a man deciding my fate. "If you want to be with my daughter, I won’t stand in your way."

What the hell is happening right now?

Sarah jumps up and kisses him on the cheek. "Thank you, Dad!"