Dark Revenge Of A Jilted Bride: Till Life Do Us Part!-Chapter 120: Decisions II

Gianna inhaled sharply in the hallway, her guards coming up, spine stiffening, when that infuriating scent tickled her nostrils—the one she would have recognized blind, in a crowd, in a burning room.

It curled around her senses like an unwanted memory, unwelcome. Why had he followed her here? Why now, of all moments, when her chest was already tight with too many truths?

She stopped at the base of the stairs, one hand brushing the banister as if to steady herself, and turned. Her eyes hardened instantly as they found Zane standing there.

He possibly couldn’t meet her eyes, because his head was lowered, shoulders slumped. His hands hung limp by his sides, fingers flexing once, then stilling, as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

What was this? A performance? If he was here to apologize, he shouldn’t bother his lips and self—she wasn’t in need of it, didn’t want it, didn’t have space for it.

"What do you want?" Her voice came out harsh, clipped.

"Nothing." Zane replied limply, the word barely carrying. "I am sorry."

Gianna scoffed, a bitter, humorless sound that echoed faintly in the hallway. "Not necessary, Whitman..."

She saw him wince at the surname, and she cocked a mocking brow, satisfaction threading through her irritation.

"What? No longer proud of your surname and the wealth that comes with it?"

"I’m sorry, Gianna. I’m sorry for everything, for our child—" 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"You don’t get to say that!" Her eyes flashed with anger and irritation, heat blazing as she stepped closer without meaning to.

Her finger pointed right at him, trembling, accusatory. "My child!"

"I’m sorry." Zane repeated, the words falling from his mouth like a mantra, like penance he didn’t know how else to offer.

"I should have trusted you more... should have asked... should have trusted the realness of our relationship in my heart. I’m sorry..."

Gianna’s lips worked, jaw tightening, but nothing came out. Words jammed in her throat, strangled by the rage coating her tongue, by the ache sitting heavy in her chest that refused to turn into mercy.

"Just get out!" she finally spat, breath shaking. "Don’t follow me upstairs."

Zane lifted his head then, slowly, as if it took effort.

And even though she beheld the pain inside those eyes—those same eyes that had once undone her, that had once felt like home—she felt no pity for him. Not anymore. Not now.

"I am sorry, Gianna. I..." He sighed, a broken sound, and shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe himself, as if the enormity of his failure had only just caught up with him.

Gianna watched him with thinly veiled impatience, arms crossing over her chest, her resolve hardening by the second.

And when he said nothing more, when silence stretched instead, she scoffed and turned away, continuing her walk upstairs without another glance back.

Zane stood there for a while after she left, unmoving, staring at the empty space she had occupied. Then, slowly, he sank down and sat at the base of the stairs, shoulders caving in.

He buried his head in his hands, elbows braced on his knees, and he wept all over again—quietly at first, then with the kind of broken sobs that tore at his chest, his heart breaking all over again.

As he wept, he cursed aloud in his mind—at himself first, relentlessly, at his parents who had borne him into this world, at everything that had shaped him so poorly.

He cursed the universe, cursed Clement and his godforsaken family. His fists balled as he thought of the man and his twisted household, bent on continuing to frustrate Gianna despite knowing all she had faced, all she had lost.

It seemed that he and this woman were cursed by fate with evil families. Had they offended someone in their past life? Had love itself been their crime?

It didn’t matter. He would destroy all of them.

He would pour fuel onto whatever consequences Gianna meted out, would increase them, deepen them, until they ended in graves like his father. There would be no mercy left in him for monsters.

Ewan walked in then. He had followed after waiting a few seconds, after hearing Gianna’s shout echo into the living room.

He had convinced his wife to let him speak to his friend first before she rushed into the hallway, toward Gianna’s room.

And when he saw Zane like that, his own heart weakened with sorrow.

Having known how brutal self-blame could be, how it could hollow a man out, he crossed the distance between them and sat on the bottom of the stairs beside him.

"Hey..."

Zane stayed quiet. His weeping slowed, but didn’t stop. He tried to get control of it, but the tears kept streaming, dripping down to the floor.

"I won’t say it will get easier..." Ewan began carefully, voice low, measured. "But you will somehow learn to live with it. Run with it. Allow it to drive you—your decisions, your direction."

He paused, wondering if he was making sense, if the words were landing where he meant them to.

"I won’t give you false hope and say she might forgive you. But you have to live, my friend. You have to make sure she has a good life, an easy one, after all she’s faced. Make sure she doesn’t have it harder than you. Not anymore."

Zane pursed his lips, dragging a hand over his face, wiping at his eyes. "I will. There’s nothing else to do..."

He shook his head, voice breaking. "Ewan... my child..." Another shake. "I lost my child..."

Ewan threw an arm over his shoulder, pulling him in slightly, grounding him.

"And worse, Herbert is dead." A hiss. "I wish..." Zane’s voice turned raw. "I so wish he was with Antonio in the cells. I would have—"

His hands clenched in the air, fingers curling violently as he demonstrated exactly what he would have done to his father if the man had still been alive.

Ewan sighed deeply. "You can hold that aggression for those whose asses would be gored soon. All the same, you have to clean up for the interview. You can’t show the world that you’re shaken by the rumors. Just like Gianna, you have to show up looking your best."

He sighed again. "What are you going to say?"

Zane shrugged weakly. "I don’t think I’ll say much. If I’d talk, I’ll only confirm whatever Gianna says. No need to complicate things or contradict her."

He paused. "You know that’s why I purchased Dane’s company."

Ewan frowned. "What?"

"Dane—the company Gianna worked at. When I heard he was in crisis and wanted to sell, I rushed in and bought it. So she’d still have her job. And if that failed... then the marriage contract."

"That’s wild." Ewan couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

"I know. But Arthur wanted it too. I didn’t want Gianna working for him. Just like old Mr. Thorne, I don’t like Arthur. Somehow...."

"He smells wrong," Ewan finished.

"Yes," Zane agreed quietly. "But at the end of the day..." He shrugged helplessly. "She still works for him."

Ewan sighed. "Then you just have to keep protecting her. It’s your duty now."

"I know," Zane said firmly. "I know, Ewan. I won’t fail again."

He took a deep breath, then another, straightened, dusted off his trousers, and got to his feet. "I won’t fail again."

"Will you be there for the interview?"

Ewan shook his head as he stood. "I’ve been away from the company too long. I’ll watch with my tablet."