Angel gazed vacantly at the road while the taxi raced toward her home, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of thoughts.
The unexpected sound of the driver's voice, declaring that they had reached their destination, snapped her back to the present moment.
"We have arrived—this is your home, ma'am," the driver mentioned as he stopped the vehicle in front of the gates.
Angel stepped out of the car, her gaze wandering aimlessly as she walked toward the entrance. The house loomed in the distance, but her feet moved on autopilot, her mind still clouded.
Then, a sudden noise snapped her out of her daze—a sleek car pulling into the driveway. Angel stopped in her tracks, her eyes narrowing.
Was Tryson back? She frowned, confusion bubbling up.
Before she could speculate further, the car door swung open, and out stepped Ana, Riley's ever-present assistant.
Angel's brows furrowed deeper as she watched Ana hurry to the back seat, opening the door with practiced precision.
And then she stepped out.
Riley.
Her presence was commanding, arrogant, as if she owned the place. Angel's lips pressed into a thin line as she watched Riley stride confidently toward the house.
Her heels clicked against the pavement, each step grating against Angel's nerves.
Angel took a deep breath, willing herself to remain calm, but her hands curled into fists at her sides.
She hurried inside, brushing past Riley's car, and made her way to the elevator. She was determined to ignore the woman, no matter how infuriating her presence was.
Just as Angel was about to step into the elevator, a mocking voice stopped her cold.
"You're still here? Oh my God, will you ever leave Tryson alone?"
Angel froze.
She clenched her jaw, her foot poised mid-step.
She turned slowly, anger simmering beneath her composed exterior.
Her sharp gaze met Riley's smug expression. The woman stood there, sunglasses perched on her nose, Ana hovering by her side like a shadow.
"Do you have any manners?" Angel said, her voice calm but laced with steel.
Riley's smirk faltered, replaced by a frown. "What did you just say? Do you even know who I am?"
Angel's lips curled into a cold smile. "Oh, I know exactly who you are, Riley. And you know what? Maybe it's time you learn your place because this little game you're playing—it's pathetic."
Riley's eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed dangerously. "What did you just say? How dare you—"
"You know," Angel cut in, her voice sharp, "you can stop repeating yourself. If this is how you act all the time, no wonder Tryson's so tired of you. Keep it up, and you'll be watching him marry me."
The words hit like a slap.
Riley's face twisted in rage, and before Angel could react, Riley raised her hand, ready to strike.
But the slap never landed.
A strong hand shot out, gripping Riley's wrist mid-air. Angel's heart skipped as she turned to see Tryson standing beside her, his face dark with anger.
"How dare you, Riley?" His voice thundered, cold and commanding.
Riley flinched, stunned into silence, her wrist still caught in his unrelenting grip. Tryson's eyes burned with fury as he tossed her hand aside with disdain.
The atmosphere between them was thick with tension, almost like an electric charge in the air. Despite the charged emotions, it was obvious that Riley had pushed things too far.
And Angel? She stood rooted to the spot, watching as Tryson's anger spoke louder than any words ever could
Ana, standing at a safe distance, watched the scene unfold with a mix of unease and pity. She couldn't help but feel sorry for her boss.
Riley's pride seemed to unravel, and Ana wondered how much more humiliation her boss could endure—all because of this other woman.
"Tryson, what… what is the meaning of this?" Riley stammered, clutching her wrist as if in pain. Her voice quivered with a mix of disbelief and desperation.
But her theatrics fell flat when Tryson turned his attention toward Angel. His sharp expression softened, his voice calm as he asked, "Are you okay?"
Angel, however, didn't respond.
Her disappointment was evident in the way her gaze lingered on him, cutting deeper than any words could. Without a word, she turned and walked away, leaving the room in tense silence.
Tryson remained rooted in place, his chest tightening as he watched her retreating figure.
He knew why she was upset—knew the weight of the unresolved tension between them.
But before he could act, Riley's voice shattered the quiet.
"Who does she think she is?" Riley hissed, her tone filled with disbelief and indignation.
She squared her shoulders, but the confidence she once carried seemed to falter.
Tryson turned toward her, his gaze icy. The shift in his demeanor was sharp and unforgiving.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice cold enough to make Ana shiver.
Riley's lips parted in shock. She hadn't expected this. Not from him.
Was he serious?
"You can't keep treating me like this, Tryson," she said, her voice rising as desperation crept in. "I'm your fiancée!"
The words hung in the air, but Tryson didn't flinch. His expression remained impassive, his gaze piercing through her like she was nothing more than a frustrating obstacle in his path.
"If that's true," he said, his voice calm but lethal, "then why don't you take that damn ring off your finger? Our relationship is over—it's been over. It's no longer useful."
The words hit Riley like a slap. Her eyes widened in disbelief, her chest tightening as she tried to process what he'd just said.
Surely, he didn't mean it.
"Tryson…" she whispered, her voice cracking.
But his cold stare offered no comfort. The man she thought she controlled had slipped beyond her grasp, and no amount of pleading could bring him back.
For the first time, Riley realized she might truly be losing him.
Riley froze, her mind reeling as Tryson's words echoed in her ears.
Did he really just say that? Did he really want her to take the ring off her finger?