Limited Edition Love Can’t Be Repaired Chapter 2

"Gavin, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the dealership business."

Victoria’s voice pulled me back to the sterile reality of the room. Now that we were alone, she tried to smile, tucking the jar of stars onto her bedside table and reaching for my hand.

"The boy graduated, and it was his birthday. I thought I’d give him a head start. My big, powerful CEO isn’t actually jealous of a kid, is he?"

She said it with such airy nonchalance, as if a multi-million-dollar business venture were a mere teddy bear.

I stepped back, avoiding her touch. "Is that what you like now? The starving artist type?"

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

Victoria’s face hardened. She rubbed her temples. "I didn't tell you because I knew you’d overthink it. Parker and I are... we’re clean. It’s professional."

"I don't care," I said, and the terrifying thing was that I meant it. "I haven't caught you in a bed yet, but I don’t tolerate dirt in my eyes, Victoria. If you have some fantasy about being a benefactor to a boy-toy, keep it out of my house and my sight. Don't push me."

Victoria looked up, her eyes wide with hurt. "You don't trust me?"

I looked down at her, my expression a blank mask. Silence was the only honest answer I had left.

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed. The name "Parker" lit up the screen like a neon sign.

She hesitated, then pressed ignore. But a second later, a voice memo came through, loud enough for me to hear in the quiet room.

“Victoria, did Gavin give you a hard time? Please don’t fight with him because of me. I ordered the bone broth you like from that bistro. I won’t bring it by myself—I don't want him to get the wrong idea—but please eat something...”

It was a masterclass in manipulation. In two sentences, he had managed to be the martyr, the caregiver, and the "secret" she had to keep.

I didn't move. Victoria looked at my face, then shoved the phone under her pillow.

I turned toward the door.

"Gavin!" she called out, her voice cracking. "Are you really this angry? I promise, I’ll stay away from him. I won’t call him. Just... don't be so cold to me. My leg hurts..."

I paused at the door, looking over my shoulder. My voice was like ice. "If your leg hurts, call the nurse. I have a company to run. Rest up."

Outside, the biting wind of the city hit my face, finally dulling the white-hot rage simmering in my chest. I pulled out my phone and dialed my head of security.

"Run a full background check on Parker Reed," I commanded. "And get the forensics team to look at the 'accidents' on my car again. I have a feeling the brakes didn't fail on their own."

That night, at Victoria’s request, the regional manager of a luxury watch brand arrived at my penthouse with a dozen timepieces, each worth more than a suburban home.

"Mrs. Emerson was very insistent," the manager smiled, oblivious. "She said you deserved something special. She really dotes on you."

I looked at the glittering gold and platinum and felt a wave of nausea. "Did you know," I said quietly, "that when a woman feels guilty, she usually starts buying her husband gifts to silence her own conscience?"

Victoria thought this was a tantrum. She thought I was like any other husband who finds out about a straying wife—someone who would scream, cry, and eventually be bought off with a few million dollars and a "sorry."

But she forgot who I was.

I was Gavin Emerson. I took over a crumbling empire at eighteen and clawed my way to the top of the hedge fund world by twenty-two.

I married her because our families were close, yes, but mostly because she had promised me a partnership. A ride-or-die loyalty.

It was funny. Five years was all it took for her to forget the vow that "forever" didn't include a third party.