chapter thirteen - crack in the Armor

The sound of polished shoes echoed through the Carter Enterprise headquarters. On the top floor, behind smoked glass and a steel-framed door, Raymond Carter sat at the head of a long conference table, face unreadable, eyes like granite.

"Finalize the merger terms before Friday," he said coldly, closing the file in front of him. "If their numbers don't improve, we walk."

His tone left no room for argument. The executives around the table nodded, quickly gathering their materials. The moment they exited, the room fell quiet again—too quiet.

Raymond leaned back, fingers brushing the edge of his watch. It was barely noon, but he already felt a dull pressure behind his temples. Not from the merger. That was simple. Predictable.

His mind had been wandering too often lately.

A flash of water. A soaked dress. A stubborn glare from a girl who didn't know who he was and a care.

He scoffed under his breath and stood, walking toward the glass wall. From the 32nd floor, the city looked small. Manageable.

Unlike his life lately.

His phone buzzed.

Dina

> Dinner at the Hiltons' tonight. Mother says it's important. Don't be late.

Raymond's expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened slightly. He didn't reply. Instead, he pocketed the phone and turned as the door opened.

"Busy?" Andre strolled in, casual as always, tossing a folder onto Raymond's desk. "You look like you've murdered three CEOs before lunch."

Raymond gave him a dry look. "Four. One cried."

Andre grinned. "Impressive. You're losing your touch if it takes crying now to get a point across."

Raymond didn't respond. He returned to his desk and flipped through the folder Andre had dropped.

"We've got a mess in the Buenos Aires branch," Andre said. "But let's not talk about business for once."

Raymond raised a brow. "What else is there?"

Andre flopped onto the guest chair, kicking one leg over the other. "I don't know, maybe women? Life? The fact that you've been more irritable than usual lately?"

"I'm fine."

Andre stared at him. "You've been snapping at people. Firing two interns. And—this one I can't ignore—spacing out during a board meeting. Are we going to pretend you weren't thinking about someone?"

Raymond didn't answer immediately. "She's a stranger."

Andre tilted his head. "So there is a she."

"She's irrelevant," Raymond said sharply, closing the file.

"Right." Andre nodded, clearly unconvinced. "And I guess your 'irrelevant stranger' also has nothing to do with the fact that you haven't spent a single free evening with your wife since your wedding?"

Raymond looked away. "Don't start."

Andre leaned forward, voice lowering. "I'm not judging, Ray. I know you didn't want that marriage. I was there. But something's going to snap if you keep living like a statue. Maybe it already has."

Raymond's expression hardened. "I'm in control."

Andre studied him for a long moment. "Then why do you look like a man who's anything but?"

The silence between them stretched.

Finally, Raymond rose and walked toward the window again. Outside, the world moved, unaware of the choices he had to carry like chains. Marriage, expectations, legacy — they were all calculated parts of the life he'd accepted. Chosen, even. For the sake of the Carters.

But lately, something had begun to crack that control. And he hated it.

Hated that one girl — quiet, stubborn, drenched and glaring — had stayed in his mind longer than she should have.