When Love Becomes a Cage (Melanie)

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Clyde's words hit me like a freight train. After all these years together, he knew what strings to pull, leaving no room for excuses.

I forced my eyes wide open, fighting back tears and refusing to let my eyes redden, especially not before him and Kayla. I didn't want to show weakness.

I nodded and left the office without another word in the end. Clyde was right. I had no say in the matters of the Patterson Group, and I certainly couldn't speak on its behalf.

Everyone knew I was the unwanted Mrs. Patterson, and my promises were worth only as much as I could personally uphold. But I had to take responsibility for this mess. I owed Jake an explanation.

When I arrived at his office, Jake smashed a coffee mug on the floor right before me. The mug shattered with a loud snap.

"Melanie, this isn't how we handle things. Do you know how much I've had to adjust our production schedule for the Patterson Group project?" Jake exploded. "Now you're pulling the rug out from under me? Is this your way of saying you don't want to work with me?"

I was at a loss for words. The Patterson Group had decided to go with Apex Group, leaving no room for a deal with Jake. I kept apologizing, trying to calm his anger.

But Jake was livid, standing up abruptly and shoving me toward the door.

Suddenly, I felt something trickling from my nose, and then I saw the shock in Jake's eyes. "Melanie, Ms. Crawford, Melanie!"

I gently touched my nose and saw blood on my hand, momentarily stunned.

Jake then yelled, "Call 911, now!"

I wanted to tell him I was okay. It was probably just a side effect of some medication. But I couldn't utter a word, collapsing to the ground.

I didn't lose consciousness entirely. I was vaguely aware of people lifting me onto a stretcher, chaotic footsteps around me, and someone repeatedly calling my name.

When I finally came to, night had fallen.

Jake and his wife were by my bed. Seeing me awake, they hurried over.

"Ms. Crawford, are you okay? How are you feeling?" Mrs. Stone looked genuinely concerned.

I shook my head slightly and immediately apologized, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Stone. I couldn't secure the deal, and now, you get caught up in this mess."

"Let it go. I know it's not your fault. You've had it rough." Jake waved it off, distressed.

Losing such a significant contract would upset anyone. It was more than just a financial hit.

Mrs. Stone gave me a glass of

water, glancing disapprovingly at her husband. "Ms. Crawford, the doctor said it was a reaction to the medication, but they didn't specify which one. Jake already called Mr. Patterson, but his secretary mentioned he's too busy to come."

Her eyes met mine, full of sympathy. I got the message loud and clear.

Hours had passed, and Clyde hadn't shown up. He probably wouldn't come at all. Either Kayla hadn't mentioned my situation to him, or he didn't care to visit.

I sighed, hiding my disappointment, and reached for my phone. "Mr. Stone, my visit wasn't just to apologize. I'm here to make things right."

gave him contacts of several

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with. "These folks all have projects, needing supplies, and I've spoken with them. They're very interested in working with your company. Lkriow this mishap with the Patterson Group is our fault. Apologies are meaningless now. It's up to you to renegotiate with them."

Jake's lips curled into a smile as he scrolled through the contacts I sent him. Then he sighed, "Ms. Crawford, why go through all this trouble for us?"

I smiled, not sure how to explain. Jake and his wife knew my story, so they referred to me as "Ms. Crawford," not "Mrs. Patterson."

The doctor confirmed it was a side effect of the medication. It was nothing serious.

The Stones insisted on driving me home, but I refused. I was willing to appear vulnerable for work's sake, but I didn't want pity from anyone. Returning to the apartment felt suffocating.

If I could, I would leave this place. I was already planning my exit. When I opened the door, the cold emptiness of the living room greeted me. Seeing a figure on the couch, I instinctively grabbed a vase from the shoe rack.

"Huh, you don't recognize me anymore?" Clyde stepped forward, turning on the living room light.

Squinting, I finally saw his furious expression. I didn't engage, simply switching to slippers.

But he grabbed my wrist, pinning me against the wall. "Why didn't you answer your phone? What are you trying to do? Isn't work your priority? Do you know how many things got delayed because you weren't there? Can you take responsibility for that?"

He seemed genuinely angry, his grip tightening to the point where I thought my wrist might break.

I inhaled sharply, then glared at him. "If you break my wrist, would that be considered assault? I could file for divorce for domestic abuse. Have you thought about how much you'd have to pay me?"