I Fell for the Man Who Ruined Me, Then He Forgot He Ever Loved Me Back novel Chapter 300

Wesley thought his boss looked dangerously calm, yet the man radiated an icy chill that seemed to freeze the air around them. Jorrod stopped right in front of him.

"Mr. Vaughn, I am so sorry. I fully intended to pay for it, but since I had an identical one, I thought replacing it was best."

Jorrod didn't say a word. The heavy silence was far more terrifying than screaming, sending a cold, spine-tingling dread pooling in Wesley's stomach.

"You can't pay for it."

Four simple, hollow words.

Wesley jerked his head up.

The man's eyes were utterly devoid of warmth. He looked down at him through half-lidded eyes, his expression an unreadable mask.

Then, his lips parted. "You crossed a line today. When you break something, your first instinct should be to come to me and wait for my decision, not take it upon yourself to throw it away. Take the rest of the night to think about whether you still have a place working in this house."

Wesley knew he was entirely at fault. Swapping the lamp had just been a cowardly attempt to cover his tracks, foolishly assuming the boss wouldn't notice an identical replacement.

He accepted the calm, quiet dismissal. Muttering another desperate apology, he dragged his heavy feet down the stairs.

Jorrod stepped into his room and shut the door behind him.

His chest was a warzone of crushing emotions.

He tore at his tie, tossing it carelessly onto the edge of the bed. Bending over, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and walked slowly out to the balcony. He sank heavily into the single armchair, letting his body slump back against the cushions.

The soft fabric pressed directly against his unhealed burn, sending a sudden, searing jolt of agony through his nerves.

Jorrod couldn't bring himself to sit up. He didn't even try to support his weight. He just let the torment sink deep into the plush chair along with his body, allowing the pressure to grind into his flesh like a deliberate punishment.

Physical pain was always bearable.

More importantly, it kept him painfully lucid.

When he had rushed downstairs earlier, Wesley had turned off the bedroom lights.

Now, the only illumination in the room came from the cold, white moonlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting his flawlessly sculpted profile into sharp contrast—half bathed in silver, half swallowed by shadow.

He kept his eyes closed. His thick lashes cast long shadows over his cheeks. His breathing was steady. He sat completely motionless.

To anyone else, it looked like a man finally taking a well-deserved moment of rest after an exhausting day.

The phone resting on his thigh lit up as a finger brushed the screen, throwing a harsh glare across his face.

Jorrod lazily propped his chin on his hand and opened his eyes, though they remained half-shuttered. His gaze drifted down to the glowing screen.

He had read the messages on that account far too many times.

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