Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 78

Chapter 78

Jessica’s POV

The darkness didn’t last long, but coming out of it felt like swimming through molasses.

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My senses returned in fragments: the hum of the AC, the scent of expensive leather, and a heavy, panicked pressure on my shoulders.

“Jessica! Open your eyes. Jess, look at me!”

I gasped, my lungs finally catching air. My head was lolling back against the headrest of my desk chair.

The first thing I saw was Aaron. He was on his knees in front of me, his hands gripping my arms so tight I could feel the heat of his palms through my blazer.

His face was a mask of pure terror, his usual stoicism shattered into a thousand pieces.

“There you are,” he breathed, his forehead dropping against my shoulder for a split second. “Jess, stay with

me.”

Behind him, I heard the frantic click-click-click of the phone receiver being slammed down.

David was standing by my desk, looking from the phone to me with a grim expression. He must have been the one to find me first.

“She’s awake, Ron. Move back, give her some air,” David said, his voice lacking its usual playfulness.

Memory flooded back-the voice on the phone, the cold venom of the name Fiona, and that one word that had brought me to my knees.

Fiancé.

I tried to push Aaron away, my bandaged hand throbbing with the effort.

“I’m fine,” I croaked, my voice sounding like broken glass. “I just… I didn’t eat breakfast. I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Aaron snapped, his eyes flashing with a mix of relief and simmering fury as he stood up. He didn’t move away, though.

He loomed over me, blocking out the light of the office.

“You went ghost-white. David heard the phone hit the desk from the hallway.”

I looked at the phone. The line was dead. David caught my gaze and gave a subtle, warning shake of his head. He knew. He had heard who was on the other end.

“Who was on that call, Jessica?” Aaron demanded.

I bit my lip, the metallic taste of blood grounding me.

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I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t say her name and I certainly couldn’t ask about the marriage. If I did, the fragile professional wall I’d built would crumble, and I’d be forced to admit I still cared.

“Just a cold caller,” I lied, staring at my lap. “She was… persistent. I got overwhelmed.”

Aaron’s jaw worked, a telltale sign he knew I was hiding something. He turned to David.

“Clear her schedule for the rest of the day. I’m taking her home.”

“No!” I blurted out, my head snapping up. “No, sir. I have work. I’m the assistant, remember? I have to manage your fiancé’s… I mean, your schedule.”

The room went deathly silent. Aaron froze. David let out a low, pained whistle.

The word hung in the air like a guillotine.

Aaron’s eyes darkened, turning into a deep, stormy brown. He stepped closer, invading my personal space until I had to tilt my head back to look at him.

“My what?” he whispered, his voice dangerously low.

Aaron’s POV

That one word, fiancé, was a complete wrecking ball. It leveled every wall I’d tried to build since I saw her again, leaving me exposed and scrambling.

A cold sweat broke out across my neck.

How did she find out? Had Lauren called her? No, Lauren didn’t even know Jessica existed in this building yet. I looked down at the woman trembling on the chair, and my heart constricted.

I could see the raw pain in her eyes. It was the kind of look that told me she was trying to hold her world together while it was actively vibrating into pieces.

The sight of her passed-out had nearly stopped my heart. If David hadn’t been in the hallway to hear the phone hit the desk, she would have been trapped in there alone, slipping away behind a locked door.

For a terrifying second, my mind raced back years-back to that nightmare weekend at my grandfather’s mansion when she’d nearly given up on everything.

Those soulless, hollow ocean eyes I saw then, the ones that looked like the light had been snuffed out, were the same ones staring back at me now. It gutted me all over again.

She was fighting a losing battle to hold herself together, her once-vibrant fire replaced by a haunting vacancy.

Seeing her slumped over like that, helpless and retreating into herself, clawed at old wounds I thought had scarred over. It was a mirror image of the past I was desperate to escape, and it felt like I was losing her all over again before I even had the chance to say I’d found her.

I knew she was waiting for me to break the silence. I knew she wanted me to address the past, to explain the wreckage we’d left behind.

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But how could I? I was drowning in my own questions, my own bitterness over the years she’d stolen by vanishing.

And the engagement… this right here was the main reason I’d kept it under wraps. I didn’t want her finding out through some sensationalised tabloid headline.

In my head, I’d scripted the whole thing: find her, get answers, and then explain how her disappearance had backed me into a corner with my grandfather.

I was going to tell her that the union with Lauren was a charade; a cage I’d been forced into. Then, together, we’d scheme our way out and reclaim us.

But the script had flipped, shattering on the floor like Cinderella’s glass slippers. This wasn’t how she was supposed to learn.

Now, she’d bolt with a head full of half-truths, convinced I’d moved on and left her in the rearview, when the reality was a commitment that didn’t hold a single piece of my heart.

It was a sham, a hollow promise made to appease a man she didn’t even know I was still fighting.

The worst part? I could see the conviction in her eyes. The narrative was already written in her mind, and I was the villain all over again.

“Ron,” David’s voice snapped me back to the present. He checked his phone, his face hardening. “Fiona’s looking for you. She’s causing a scene in the lobby.”

My brow tightened, and my jaw clenched so hard it ached. Fiona. Of course. She was the one who had dropped the bomb.

Automatically, my head snapped toward Jessica.

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She was intentionally avoiding my gaze, her fingers picking at the bandage I had so carefully wrapped earlier.

“Jess,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. I reached out to grab her arm, but she flinched.

She pulled away as if my touch burned her.

The rejection stung more than I cared to admit. I stared at her for a long beat, the silence in the room heavy with things we couldn’t say.

I finally turned to David, who was watching us with an uncharacteristically solemn expression.

“I’ll take care of her,” David said, his voice quiet but firm. “Go stop that wild cat. Go hear what Fiona has to say before she alerts the press.”

I nodded stiffly. I looked at Jessica one last time, wanting to say something-anything-to bridge the her face was a mask of stone.

With a final, heavy breath, I turned and headed out of the office with long, frustrated strides.

gap, but

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