Stepping out of Alex’s office, James sighed with desperation.
There are a few things he couldn’t understand about his boss, and his view of Sonia Walkers was one of them.
He paused mid-step and glanced back at the door, his brow furrowed as though the polished wood itself might offer answers.
After the wedding, James had expected something different.
Not perfection, perhaps, but at least the semblance of a flourishing, enviable marriage.
Instead… there had been distance.
Coldness.
Indifference so sharp it bordered on cruelty.
He outrightly instructed he shouldn’t address her as Mrs. Hort, and as a result he had always called her Miss Sonia in his presence.
And whenever he had errands to run with Sonia, he had to bite his tongue back and call her Mrs. Hort.
For James, he was hopeful that one day Alex would see the good in her, but with her life already ended and there’s no turning back, he felt sorry for her.
For a long time, James had held onto a quiet hope that one day Alex would see the good in her.
That something would shift between them.
That whatever wall that stood between them would crumble.
But now…
Now her life had ended, and there was no turning back.
A dull weight settled in his chest.
He sometimes wondered;
Has she ever regretted it?
Had she ever regretted marrying Alex.
Tying her life to a man who never once seemed to truly see her for who she is.
Even in death… the husband she had cherished and hoped to build a home with hadn’t spared her a glance.
Sonia Walker… had been truly pitiful.
James clenched his fist slightly.
His gaze narrowed at the door adjacent to Alex’s office.
He dragged in a long breath and decisively walked towards the door.
He tapped slightly and waited for a response.
There was a brief pause, then a calm, collected voice filtered through.
“Come in.”
The tone wasn’t loud, but each syllable was laced with an authority James couldn’t ignore, even if he wanted to.
James adjusted his ties, drew in a deep breath and braced himself for whatever the result might be…he understood this approach might be wrong but he had to do it.
Just this once for the deceased Sonia Walker.
He pushed the door open decisi he pushed the door open and stepped in.
The cold air of the air conditioner brushed his face, easing in the tensed nerve of his jaw.
The office was quiet, too quiet for a company that moved millions with a single signature of the matriarch, yet it exuded power and authority.
Surrounded with floor to ceiling windows that gave the panoramic view of the bustling city scape. Get faster updates on g.com.
At the center was a wide mahogany desk, polished to a mirror-like sheen that no speck of dust would dare find its way on it.
Lady Monica sat behind the desk, her grey hair was meticulously swept back and neat that not even a single strand dared to fall out of line.
Time had marked her face with fine lines, but they did nothing to soften the sharpness in her eyes.
If anything, they made her gaze heavier, like every year had added another layer of authority.
Her fingers danced across a slim laptop sitting domineering at the centre of the table.
Beside it, a stack of documents lay aligned with almost obsessive precision, their edges were so straight and meticulous that they looked untouched.
A gold-rimmed pen sat atop them, unused for now, while the pen holder had several likes of the pen carefully placed.
Towards her left hand was a door to her spacious lounge, next to it was a mini conference room.
A few books shelves lined the wall behind her, each book and awards firmly in their position as though it would never be moved.
With a soft click, James shot the door close behind him and silence resigned, yet unease crawled at his chest.
After what felt like eternity, Lady Monica slowly lifted her gaze and they locked with James.
He had worked in the Hort’s corporation for a few years, yet the matriarch’s presence had always left his heart clogged with dread.
“Is there any problem?” Lady Monica asked, her voice was light even as her brows tightened.
James rocked his head briefly, he stepped forward and placed a brown file on the large mahogany table.
“The funeral arrangement.” James muttered, his voice unconsciously softer.
Lady Monica stretched her hand and took the file from him, her gaze lingered briefly at the back, at Sonia Walker’s name written in bold.
Her eyes reddened.
James’ head lowered more that his chin touched his chest, he carefully reduced his presence.
The Old Lady drew in a deep breath as she turned the last page of the document.
“Did he suggest any changes?” She asked without looking up.
“He is busy and declined to comment.” James clipped professionally.
“Busy?” she repeated.
A low chuckle escaped her lips, but there was no humor in it.
“I see.” she murmured.
It was clear Alex was avoiding this responsibility and whatever his reason was…it certainly had something fishy.
Lady Monica closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened it again, her mind was made up.
She picked up a pen and began making corrections, each stroke was firm and decisive.
“Adjust this and begin the arrangement. I will review it later.”
James nodded quickly, collecting the file.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He turned and left, and only when the door shut behind him did his shoulders sag with quiet relief.
Inside the office, Lady Monica remained still.
Her gaze lingered on the closed door long after he had gone.
Slowly, she reached for the phone and dialed a number.
When the call connected, her voice was calm but the authority was absolute.
“See me now.” her voice dripped with command that wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Moments later, the door opened after a tap she answered as Alex stepped into the office.
“What do you think you are doing?” Lady Monica snapped immediately.
The restraint from moments ago was gone.
Her voice was sharp.
Ragged with restrained fury.
Alex frowned, caught off guard.
“Grandma, I haven’t done anything wrong. Why do you seem so angry?”
Her eyes burned into him.
“Alex, tell me, do you still have a conscience, or has it been eaten by dogs?”
Alex brow furrowed in confusion at the outburst.
“Grandma, what exactly is the problem?”
“Alex, even a dead dog gets attention from his master, how much more a wife who had spent her life with you.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed.
It was James telling on him, his fist clenched.
“I was handling the Eastern Corp project when he came.”
“Really?”
Alex nodded.
“Which is more important?” she pressed.
Alex hesitated, then swallowed.
“I… I was hoping he could handle it. How was I supposed to know he would come to you for guidance?”
“And.. you think he did the wrong thing?” Lady Monica pressed.
But Alex kept mute.
She nodded in frustration.
“I see.” She murmured.
“I would rather believe I never had such a heartless grandson,” she said, her voice trembling with anger.
“Grand ma…” Alex called softly, the tension in his voice finally breaking through.
But Lady Monica had already turned away.
Without another word, she pointed to the door.
“You,” she said coldly, “go handle your projects.”