Chapter 11 Leftovers
Iliana looked up, meeting Bryson’s cold, striking eyes.
Her fingers twitched involuntarily.
She rarely saw Bryson angry. In all their years together, the only time he’d lost his temper was when she ignored his warning and played in the snow, later falling gravely ill.
But since Bryanna returned, Bryson seemed perpetually irritated, likely because Iliana was now an inconvenience.
Anyway, she would be leaving.
Iliana forced a smile as Bryson spoke, his voice gentle yet icy. “Iliana, apologize to Bryanna.
“Bryanna’s health has always been fragile. Tonight, she drank excessively for the company’s sake. You went too far.”
Iliana listened blankly.
Three years ago, when they started the business, she worked tirelessly, entertaining clients day and night.
Bryson called it “unnecessary” in the end.
Now, Bryanna did the same, and he pitied her.
This was the difference between love and indifference.
Suddenly, Iliana felt pathetic, sitting alone in a clinic earlier that night.
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Maybe she’d been the only one moved by her sacrifices these past three
years.
She met Bryanna’s gaze, her tone eerily calm. “I apologize, Ms.
Vaughn.”
There were no explanations. She’d already chosen to leave and marry another.
The least she could do was step aside.
Bryanna blinked, startled.
Even Bryson paused.
Iliana had always fought back when Bryanna was involved.
This meek surrender was unexpected.
Without another word, Iliana strode past them into the room.
Bryson turned his attention to Bryanna, his voice soft with concern. “Bryanna, are you hurt? Do you feel unwell?”
“No, thank you, Brys…”
She paused, biting her lip. “But… Iliana must be upset. It’s my fault.”
Bryson shrugged. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. Don’t blame yourself. I’ll handle it later.”
He knew Iliana well.
Over the years, she’d never held a grudge for long.
A few soothing words always worked.
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Back in her room, Iliana closed the door.
She stared at the calendar, her fingers brushing over the marked date.
Soon, she’d be gone.
There was no use dwelling on arguments now. These were her final days with Bryson.
As she prepared for bed, the door creaked open.
Bryson walked in, his tone light. “Lia, going to sleep already?”
His gentle smile erased the earlier tension.
At this moment, Bryson had returned to his usual gentle demeanor.
“Yes,” she replied, pulling back the blanket.
He grabbed her wrist. “Were you upset about tonight? Is that why you took it out on Bryanna?”
Iliana froze, meeting his gaze in silence.
So he thought she’d lashed out and targeted Bryanna.
After all this time, he still didn’t understand her
“Lia, I’ll let it go this time,” he said. “But don’t act recklessly again. Bryanna’s not a strong swimmer, and neither are you. What if I hadn’t arrived in time?”
Bryanna swam just fine.
But Bryson’s worry for her made everything seem dangerous.
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She no longer cared whether Bryson would forgive her or not,
Iliana lowered her eyes. “Noted.”
She shook off his hand and moved to lie down.
But he grabbed her wrist again, pulling her closer.
The sudden proximity let her catch the faint scent of alcohol on him.
“You’ve always been so understanding, Lia. Be good from now on…”
He brushed her nose lightly, his gaze dropping to her lips.
Iliana pushed him away without expression.
Bryson frowned. “Still angry?”
“No.”
She wasn’t angry anymore.
Since he’d chosen Bryanna and she was soon to marry, distance was
best.
Her tone stayed flat.
Bryson studied her. “Fine. Rest. I’ll make you oatmeal tomorrow.”
Iliana nodded silently.
Once, this gesture would’ve thrilled her.
Now, it left her numb.
After he left, Iliana slept soundly.
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She didn’t wake up too late, but by the time she went downstairs, only cold leftovers remained on the table.
No one had called her to eat.
Bryson’s promised oatmeal never materialized.
Iliana smirked, asking Lydia to clear the table while she cooked her own meal.
She could take care of herself.
A bowl of oatmeal was once precious because he made it.
Now, it meant nothing to her.
After breakfast, she headed out for a walk. Lydia stopped her.
“Ms. Carson, Mr. Jefferson wants to see you in the study. Says it’s
urgent.”
Iliana paused, glancing toward the study.
She glanced at Lydia and nodded.
“Alright.”
Iliana pushed open the study door and strode in.
Bryson set down his documents, smiling as she entered. “Lia, I need to discuss something with you.”
“Okay,” she replied, avoiding his gaze. “What is it?”
Her detached tone gave him pause. He stepped closer.
“Why so cold?” he asked.
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Iliana frowned, stepping back. “I’m just tired.”
Bryson studied her face, finding no clues.
He pinched her cheek lightly before handing her a folder.
“Read this.”
Iliana flipped through the pages. It was a “Three–Year Plan for the Subsidiary“.
“What does this mean?” she asked flatly.
Bryson wrapped an arm around her waist, his touch unwelcome.
“You’ve grown capable, Lia. It’s time to expand your horizons.”
“You want to transfer me to the subsidiary?” Her brow furrowed.
The subsidiary was a fledgling operation, remote and disorganized.
Now, asking her to abandon her hard–earned career for this was no different from exile.
Her achievements, connections, and everything would reset to zero.
And after she left, who would claim the fruits of her labor?
She stared at him. “Why?”
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