Chasing His Rejected Wife
Chapter 37 -

Aiden's POV

I should be working.

There were a hundred things that required my attention, each one more or less important than the next, over a hundred emails sat waiting in my inbox, some were projects that couldn't move forward without my seal of approval, others were high paying clients who got special treatment of interacting directly with the president of Skylark, and a myriad other things that I needed to attend to.

Yet, for the past hour, I'd been standing in front of one the floor to ceiling windows that blanketed my office, staring out at the city landscape, my mind far away from anything work related. I'd tried working, tried pushing the thoughts that clamored like crashing cymbals in my mind away, but I'd found it hard to concentrate, which had led to me becoming short tempered.

When I'd snapped at one of my assistants for asking a perfectly good question, I'd given up any pretense of working and chose to let my thoughts run wild.

I sighed and shoved my hands in my pants pocket, and even though it was impossible to see anything from the 166th floor, I imagined I could see the bustling city below, people absorbed in their affairs, blissfully unaware of the turmoil within my heart. If I closed my eyes, I could pretend I could hear the hum of distant traffic and the occasional siren blended into a haunting melody, one that echoed the disarray of my emotions.

My shitty mood was thanks to the appalling state of my marriage. My mind kept circling back to my last conversation with Jessica, a memory that left a sour taste in my mouth. If there was one thing I disliked, it was being left in a state of uncertainty, and the fact that I couldn't say that she would choose to stay with me with a hundred percent certainty.

Not that I blamed her. I didn't. Couldn't.

If I were in her shoes, I'd have walked away without looking back after enduring all the shit I had put her through. And that made me hate myself.

For being so goddamn blind, for letting the resentment I harbored towards my father to bleed into my treatment of her. She hadn't deserved an iota of the treatment I'd meted out to her. In my erroneous belief that she had colluded with Julian to force my hand, I had seen her as a selfish, manipulative woman who would do anything to get her way. I'd believed this easily because of how close she had been to Julian; the old geezer - God rest his soul - had showered more affection on Jessica than he'd given to any one of his biological children.

I'd set out to exact revenge on a woman who'd done none of the things I'd believed her capable of. The unease that had settled at the base of my stomach ever since I'd learned the truth rose up once more, burning my insides like a vat of acid. I'd been well aware that she believed herself in love with me; a childhood crush that I'd ignored, having no romantic feelings towards her.

And as punishment for her actions, I'd set out to rip that heart to shreds until there was nothing left. I'd flaunted my 'affair' in her face, and had derived some small satisfaction from watching the pain and despair flit across her face every time Elisa's name was mentioned or their paths crossed.

Fuck! Right now, I hate myself.

A knock on my door snapped me from my reverie, and I turned just as Fletcher, my executive assistant, walked in the only person allowed to confidently enter my office without my permission.

He held his ever-present tablet in one hand and balanced a tray of food in the other. His expression remained inscrutable behind his glasses. He crossed to the coffee table and set down the tray, then began pouring my preferred brand of coffee and arranging the snacks.

"I thought I told you I wasn't in the mood for lunch," I growled, turning back to the window.

"Mm," Fletcher merely murmured, unfazed by my bad temper and approached me, to offer a steaming mug of that irresistible freshly roasted coffee.

I glared at him, attempting to maintain my annoyance, but the rich aroma of the beans was too enticing to resist. Instead, I accepted the mug, succumbing to the small comfort it offered. I sipped at the liquid, savoring the bitter but creamy taste on my tongue and felt just a bit better.

A tiny bit.

"The White Memorial hospital meeting is due to start in ten minutes." Fletcher reminded me softly. "After that, there's the one on one with the secretary for health and human services by 2p.m. "Reschedule both." I ordered quietly. I was not in the right mood to sit through hours listening to a bunch of suits argue about the viability of installing an MRI machine in the newly built basement, or a politician drone on about private sector funding. It wasn't lost on me that Jessica was the one who should have been handling the meeting since the White Memorial deal was hers. It was one of the reasons I'd chosen to take over the proceedings, since she wouldn't be able to now. "I'm afraid that won't be possible, Sir." Fletcher announced with a shake of his head. When I glared at him, he merely sighed and explained. 'Your calendar for the next few months is already booked solid, thanks to the rescheduling we've had to do over the past week when your wife was indisposed. Besides, the grand opening of the cancer research Julian Brown Wing at White memorial comes up three days from now and you need to reach an agreement with the board beforehand."

I scrubbed a hand over my face, wincing at the fresh growth of hair already on my face that reminded me I'd skipped a shave this morning because I'd run out of my favorite brand of disposable razors.

Which had made me curse my stupidity even more, because Jessica had always made sure the house was fully stocked with toiletries and now she was gone. The irony of the whole situation was that I'd always resented her presence when she lived there, but now she had left...the place felt empty.

Cold.

"Very well," I moved away from the window and crossed back to my desk, ignoring the plate filled with sandwiches that Fletcher held out to me. "Amelia will sit in on the meetings today. I need you to contact Eagle Security and arrange for a safety system upgrade."

"Of course. For the house, Sir?"

I set my cup down and grimaced. "For my wife's new place." I didn't miss the way his eyes widened slightly before he quickly composed himself and nodded.

"Of course, sir." He murmured.

"You will personally supervise the job, ensure that her apartment and the whole damn building is as safe as possible."

"The whole building? That might be a tad difficult to secure permission from the owner not to mention..."

"Then buy the goddamned building if you have to. I want it done. ASAP. And when the purchase goes through, put it in Jessica's name."

He was too used to my ways to react to that. He simply nodded. "Will there be anything else?"

I reached for my suit jacket and shrugged it on, then adjusted the lapels. "Martin is at my wife's place today, but get somebody to relieve him before 3 p.m. His son has a game today and I'm sure he'd like to be present."

"I'll get on that right away," Fletcher assured me. He then picked up the plate once more and pointedly placed it in front of me. I raised an eyebrow at him but he merely adjusted his glasses and turned to leave. "You'll thank me when you don't fall on your face from low blood sugar."

"If you're going to force me to eat, then the least you can do is replace something better than these bloody sandwiches," I grumbled and pushed the plate to one side so I could pull my laptop closer, intent on getting back to work. "In that case, I'll order something more substantial." He replied and began tapping on his tablet. "Any preferences?"

"No."

He made a sound of acknowledgment and retrieved the plate. "The food will be here shortly. If there's nothing else, I'll get going now."

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I waved him away, already absorbed in reading a particularly annoying email from the design team.

Fletcher was right, I had pushed back a lot of things I needed to take care of and I had to tackle that if I wanted to replace the time to fit in Jessica's doctor's appointment on Friday. And I wanted to.

Very much. She would be having an ultrasound - her second - she'd informed me, with a defiant tilt of her head, lips set in a thin line. When I'd asked her when the first ultrasound had happened, she reminded me of the day I went with her to White Memorial to finalize the contract. She had been feeling ill for a while and had decided to take advantage of the visit and see a doctor. That was when she'd learned of her pregnancy.

My fingers slowed in the process of typing out an email.

The thought of doctors' appointments inevitably led to thoughts of my impending fatherhood. If I were being honest, becoming a father had never been at the forefront of my wants and desires; all I'd known, somewhere, vaguely, was that I would start a family one day and when that happened, I would make damn sure to avoid making the same mistakes my father did.

For one thing, I would do whatever it took to provide a stable home for my kid, a far cry from what I'd grown up with -riddled with a parade of strange women, mistresses, and wives. Some cared for me only as a way to charm Julian, some despised my existence, and some were just indifferent. I learned at a very tender age to never form too much of an attachment to any of the women who flitted in and out of my father's life in a seemingly endless parade. As a child, I craved stability - had been envious of Vincent because of his stable family and wished that my father would do the same.

The second woman Julian married had kindled some of that hope, that is, until I realized I was nothing to her but a tool to get his attention. She fawned over me when my father was around, and when he wasn't, she'd done things to me that no eight-year-old child should ever go through.

I pushed away the bitter thought. I'd had enough of those already in the form of regrets for how I'd treated my wife.

I had been much older, and already jaded when Jodie had married my father, but for the first time in a long while, I'd glimpsed that stability I craved. Still, it had taken a while before I warmed up to her, too scared by the past, still haunted by the lingering fear that she would soon be gone much like all the others. Years had passed, and I'd learned to open up a little, to trust her and the love she offered.

And I had vowed that if I ever had kids, I would not subject them to uncertainty. They would grow up in a stable home, with two caring parents and never know a moment's doubt about whether they were genuinely loved or not. And from what Jessica had told me on the day she was discharged, she had the same opinion - even though the means by which she planned to avoid that for our child was by removing me from the equation.

I pursed my lips, still not over the shock that she had planned to leave without telling me of the baby. I didn't blame her for that, the entire blame fell on me.

Me and my damned shortsightedness.

Another knock sounded on my door and for the second time today, it was opened before I could say anything, and in walked the second person who could barge into my office without asking for permission.