Chapter 5: The Cost of Letting Go

After a week of traveling, my mom found out I’d broken up with him and called me.

Her voice was tight, worried. I could hear the disappointment in every word.

She talked to me for ages, telling me not to be impulsive, reminding me that Carter was powerful and important, that it was normal for a man like him to have women around, and that the most important thing was holding on to my place as Mrs. Hayes.

She went on and on about reputation, about security. I felt like I was sixteen again, being lectured for staying out past curfew.

Her words made me sob, my voice full of pain.

I pressed the phone to my ear, trying to keep it together, but the tears just kept coming.

“But Mom, I’ve loved Carter for twelve years. I can’t accept him having other women. It hurts too much.”

I could barely get the words out. My chest ached, my throat raw from crying.

The line went silent for a long time.

I waited, wiping my nose on my sleeve, bracing for another lecture. But she didn’t say a word.

Then, Carter’s voice came on.

I froze, the phone slick in my hand. I hadn’t expected to hear him.

“It’s not what you think between me and Morgan. Come back—I can explain.”

His voice was softer than I remembered, almost pleading. For a moment, I wanted to believe him.

He paused, sounding like he was finally letting his guard down. “You’re the only one I have.”

There was a crack in his armor, a vulnerability I’d never seen before. It almost broke me.

I went back—not because of what Carter said, but because Grandma wanted to see me.

She’d always been my safe place, the one person who never judged. I couldn’t say no to her.

When I arrived at the old house, Carter was sitting on the sofa, watching CNBC.

He looked up when I walked in, but didn’t say a word. The TV droned on, the ticker running across the bottom of the screen.

At dinner, Grandma kindly took my hand.

She squeezed it tight, her eyes full of concern. "Tell me what’s wrong, honey."

“Did Carter upset you again? Tell Grandma, I’ll set him straight!”

She glared at him, her voice fierce. I almost smiled.

I glanced at Carter—he looked calm, cutting his steak like nothing was wrong.

He didn’t even flinch, just kept eating. I wondered how he could be so composed.

Hadn’t he told Grandma we’d broken up?

I looked from him to her, confused. Maybe he thought I’d change my mind.

I hesitated, then said, “Grandma, we’ve broken up.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. I felt lighter and sadder all at once.

A harsh scraping sound rang out as Carter’s knife left a mark on his plate. He turned and looked at me, serious for the first time.

The look in his eyes was different—raw, almost desperate. For a moment, I saw the boy he used to be.

“Are you serious?”

His voice was low, almost a whisper. I nodded, unable to speak.

“If you break up with me, what’s going to happen to your parents’ company?”

My heart stuttered. The question hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at him, stunned, realizing just how deep the ties between us really went.

For a heartbeat, the room went airless. Maybe this breakup was bigger than the two of us.