Chapter 79
After her confrontation with Sean, Myra’s earlier sense of exhilaration, sparked by the poker game with the men, faded into nothingness. The lingering sting of his accusations weighed heavily on her. She had been about to ask Tony if he minded taking a taxi, but before she could speak, he unexpectedly circled around the car and opened the passenger door. Surprised by his quick movements, she hesitated.
When Tony slid into the seat without waiting for her response, he arched an eyebrow and asked, “What’s wrong?” His casual tone belied the underlying tension she felt.
Myra considered voicing her thoughts, but after observing his actions, she decided against it. The drive was short enough, and she’d have to deal with the situation head-on sooner or later. With a resigned sigh, she slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot.
Outside, the city gleamed under the night sky, illuminated by the bright lights of LED screens. One advertisement caught her eye — a shampoo commercial featuring none other than Lyla Fisher, the rising star and renowned pianist who had just returned from the United States. Lyla’s presence was undeniable, her beauty and elegance turning heads everywhere. Myra clenched her jaw. Just a few days ago, she had learned from the Advertising Department of Chase Group that Lyla was being considered for the ambassador role for the Sunny Bay Project, a role that Sean was clearly eager to secure for her.
The bitterness in her chest surged once more as she remembered Sean’s harsh words. The thought of him with Lyla stung, deepening the already unbearable ache inside her.
Her thoughts spiraled, and for a moment, Myra became lost in them. It wasn’t until a deep voice from beside her interrupted her reverie that she snapped back to attention.
“If you keep spacing out, you’re going to rear-end the car in front of you in ten meters,” Tony’s voice was low and matter-of-fact.
Startled, Myra’s hands jerked the steering wheel, and her foot slammed the brakes. The car jolted forward, and both she and Tony were thrown against their seat belts, the sudden movement leaving her a little dizzy. In that moment, she noticed a bruise on Tony’s left hand, a remnant of the injury he had sustained earlier.
Her guilt washed over her instantly. “I’m so sorry, Director Hart… I wasn’t paying attention,” she muttered, unable to meet his gaze. She knew the gravity of her mistake—it wasn’t just careless; it was dangerous.
There was a long pause before Tony responded. His voice was steady but firm. “Myra Stark, I’ve always thought you were a smart woman. And smart women don’t allow themselves to fall into these same miserable situations over and over again.”
Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. The sting of his words was undeniable.
Before she could respond, her voice caught in her throat, and she exhaled slowly, as if releasing years of pent-up emotion. “You don’t understand…” she began quietly, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I’ve loved him for six years. I’m so used to loving him, even when it hurts. I know it’s not ideal, but I can’t help it.”
Tony’s expression darkened at her words, but before he could reply, Myra turned the car toward his apartment. The rest of the drive was silent, the weight of their conversation hanging heavily between them.
Once they arrived, Myra turned off the engine and opened the door for him, but she hesitated as she stood there. She wanted to say more, to thank him properly, but the words felt stuck in her throat.