Severed Connection

Declan reached out and took the phone from Garrett's trembling hand. He brought the device to his ear, his jaw set in a hard line.

"Hello?" Declan said.

The only response echoing through the receiver was the dead, rhythmic sound of a dial tone. Valerie had severed the connection the exact second she realized who was on the line. The silence on the other end felt like a physical strike. Declan lowered the phone. His face remained a mask of carved ice.

"Ms. Dunn might have hung up by accident. She just told me that she was busy. She sounded a little out of breath as if she was on the way somewhere." Garrett stammered. He desperately tried to cover for Valerie, his eyes darting around the tense room.

Declan ignored the pathetic excuse and threw the phone back onto the polished conference table. It slid to a halt right in front of Garrett.

"Do not do anything unrelated to work during the meeting." Declan commanded in a low, impassive tone.

Garrett shrank back into his leather chair, lost for words.

Sitting across the wide oak table, Bennett Tate observed the exchange with sharp, astute eyes. Bennett was a seasoned veteran in the construction industry, a man well over sixty who had navigated countless boardrooms. He immediately sensed the suffocating tension radiating from the Zenith CEO. The air in the room had grown heavy, almost unbreathable.

"I am sorry, Mr. Tate." Declan shifted his gaze back to the older man, his voice flat.

"Do not say that, Mr. Cross. There are always unexpected situations." Bennett waved his hand generously, a knowing smile touching his lips. He leaned forward slightly. "If you have something urgent to deal with, just go ahead. It is okay. I am not in a hurry. I came here just to have a chat with you today."

"There is no need." Declan replied.

Bennett chuckled, his sophisticated demeanor shining through. He patted the armrest of his chair.

"Mr. Cross, why do we not take a short break first? I was so angry with my ungrateful son last night that I did not catch a wink of sleep. I can take this opportunity to rest my eyes." Bennett tactfully suggested.

Garrett seized the lifeline without a second thought. He jumped up from his seat.

"I will ask someone to take you to the lounge, Mr. Tate. The canteen downstairs has already prepared afternoon tea. Would you like to go over and eat something first?" Garrett offered eagerly.

"Okay. I happen to be a little hungry now." Bennett stood up with a polite nod.

Garrett signaled his assistant. The young man quickly escorted Bennett and his team out of the room, promising an excellent spread of pastries and tea. Once the heavy oak doors clicked closed, the false warmth in the room vanished. The silence was deafening.

Declan slowly turned his head. His dark gaze locked onto his assistant like a predator spotting prey.

"What did she say to you?" Declan asked.

Garrett swallowed hard. He knew exactly who his boss was talking about. He braced his hands on the table and relayed Valerie's message word for word.

"Ms. Dunn said that she had transferred the money back to you and asked me to thank you on her behalf. She also said that her family would not need this money now or in the future. If they come to you again with their requests, you should ignore them." Garrett recited cautiously.

Declan frowned slightly. His brown eyes turned as sharp as a blade, studying the sweating assistant.

"When did you become so familiar with her?" Declan demanded.

Garrett froze, panic rising in his chest.

"What did she not tell me? Why did she need you to pass on the message?" Declan pressed, his voice dropping another octave.

"You have misunderstood me, Mr. Cross. I do not have much contact with Ms. Dunn, and I am not familiar with her at all. Maybe it was because she could not get in touch with you and there was something urgent. After all, everyone knows that if they cannot find you, they can come to me, right? You forgot to bring your personal mobile phone when you left your office." Garrett explained in a rush, pointing a shaking finger toward the glass wall separating them from the private office.

Following this logical thread, Declan stood up. He walked briskly out of the conference room and back into his private office. Garrett trailed behind him like a nervous shadow.

Declan approached his mahogany desk. He picked up his sleek phone and unlocked the screen. His handsome face instantly turned freezing cold. The screen was devoid of any notifications. There were no missed calls. There were no text messages. There were no voicemails. Valerie had never intended to contact him from the very beginning. She chose Garrett specifically to avoid hearing his voice.

Garrett peeked at the empty screen and felt his stomach drop. He wished he could slap himself for giving his boss false hope.

"You can leave now." Declan ordered without looking up.

Garrett did not dare to linger for another second. He practically fled the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Declan stood in the heavy silence of his office. He stared gloomily out the massive floor-to-ceiling window at the sprawling metropolis below. The endless stream of cars looked like insignificant ants from this height. The gray sky mirrored the sudden emptiness gnawing at his chest. After a long moment, he lowered his gaze to the phone in his hand.

He opened the Line app. A new message from Miranda waited for him. It contained a screeching voice note and a high-resolution photo.

Declan tapped the audio file.

"Declan, do not help Valerie hide things from me! Even though you are busy with work, you still have to keep an eye on your wife. Valerie is married after all. Our acquaintances will gossip if they see this!" Miranda's angry voice filled the quiet office.

Declan ignored his sister's rant. His thumb scrolled down, and his eyes locked onto the attached image.

The photo was taken at a café. The image clearly showed Valerie sitting closely with a man. Declan zoomed in on the stranger's face. The man was handsome and composed, possessing a tall, straight figure even while seated. He had an undeniable air of maturity and confidence. But what made Declan's blood run cold was the man's eyes. The stranger was looking at Valerie with a lingering, deeply affectionate gaze. It was the look of a man who cherished the woman sitting across from him.

A heavy, unbearable depression settled over Declan. He gripped the phone tighter. His knuckles turned white under the strain. He stared at the vibrant smile on Valerie's face in the picture. She looked relaxed. She looked happy. She looked like a woman he did not recognize at all.

With a sinking heart, the pieces began to fall into place. He realized the sheer magnitude of what she had been hiding from him. She had maintained this intimate relationship with this mysterious man right under his nose. She had harbored ambitious plans to study abroad, keeping him in the dark about her future. She had spent the last six months making quiet, meticulous preparations for a divorce, acting the part of a docile wife while building an escape route.

Suppressing the fierce churn of his emotions, Declan exited Miranda's chat. He opened his private conversation thread with Valerie. The history was sparse, mostly filled with brief, transactional updates. He tapped the text box and typed a simple, heavy question.

*[Are you leaving today?]*

He hit send.

Instantly, a red exclamation mark appeared next to his green bubble. A gray system prompt popped up in the center of the screen: *[You are not Valerie's friend yet. Please send a friend request. You can only chat with her after she has accepted it.]*

She had blocked and deleted him.

Declan stared at the glaring red punctuation mark. The cold, digital finality of the prompt struck a nerve deep within his memory. He closed his eyes, and a vivid scene from their high school graduation flashed into his mind.

It was the height of summer. The oppressive heat hung over the school grounds following the final college entrance examination. The classroom buzzed with adrenaline and relief. The head teacher stood at the front of the room, clapping his hands to get the fifty-eight students to settle down. He announced the plans for the anticipated class reunion party. Then, the teacher offered a brief, dismissive apology on behalf of one student. Valerie had something to do at home. She would not be attending.

Declan remembered looking at her empty wooden desk by the window. Out of fifty-eight students, she was the only one who skipped the final farewell. After handing in her last English paper, she had walked silently out of the examination room and vanished. She disappeared from everyone's lives without leaving a single trace behind. No goodbyes. No tearful hugs. Just a clean, unhesitating departure.

Now, years later, history was repeating itself. She was doing the exact same thing to him. She was cutting all ties with ruthless, surgical precision. She was erasing him from her existence as easily as wiping chalk from a blackboard.

It was her style.

Declan shook his head. A faint, bitter smile played on his lips. The realization tasted like ash in his mouth.

Without a second of hesitation, he navigated to her profile page on the app. He tapped the settings icon and initiated the process to delete her from his contacts for good. If she wanted to erase him, he would return the favor. The final confirmation prompt appeared glaringly on the bright screen.

*[Delete Valerie and your chat history with her. Yes or No.]*

His long index finger descended toward the glass. The screen illuminated the sharp contours of his face in the dimming office light. But right before his skin touched the glowing red button, his hand stopped.

His thumb hovered mid-air. The silence in the office amplified the heavy thud of his heartbeat. His grip on the device tightened. A profound, uncharacteristic hesitation washed over him. The logical, ruthless CEO of Zenith hesitated over a simple digital command. He stared at her name at the top of the screen. He thought of the photo, of the strange man's affectionate eyes, and of the red exclamation mark mocking his sent message.

In the end, Declan dragged his thumb across the glass and pressed "No."

He turned off the screen, plunging the device into darkness. He held the cold phone tightly in his palm. He leaned over his massive mahogany desk and grabbed his expensive car keys. His movements were sharp and purposeful.

Declan turned on his heel and strode out of the office. His long legs devoured the distance across the executive floor. He pushed open the heavy glass doors leading to the main hallway.

Garrett was pacing nervously near the lounge, holding a stack of files. He looked up in confusion as his boss marched past him with thunderous steps.

"Take care of Mr. Tate. I have something to do. Cancel the dinner tonight!" Declan ordered in a low, commanding voice.

Garrett froze in his tracks, his eyes widening in shock, but Declan was already gone, leaving only the fading echo of his rapid footsteps down the corridor.