Chapter 22 Troy slammed his fist against the dashboard as he sat inside his parked car, his knuckles already bruised from the fight earlier. Travis and Van stood outside the boutique, blocking his path-again. "Get out of the way!" Troy shouted, his voice ragged. "No," Van said, his jaw set. "It's over, Troy. You need to let her go." "You don't get to say that!" Troy yelled. "She's mine-she was my wife! I loved her first!" Travis stepped forward. "Then maybe you should've acted like it." Troy's chest heaved. "You think I don't know I was a fool? You think I don't regret it every damr day? I do! Every time I close my eyes, I see her… I remember everything." He stumbled back to lean against the hood of his car, sliding to the ground as memories assaulted him- Taylor's smile when she showed him her first dress design, holding it up with trembling hands and hopeful eyes, asking, "Do you think they'll like it?" And he had only nodded, barely glancing at the details, too busy on his phone to even notice the effort she poured into every stitch. He remembered the quiet mornings-when she would rise before him, brew his coffee just the way he liked it, and hum softly while setting his favorite mug on the table. He never thanked her Not once. The way she would curl into his side on stormy nights, pretending she wasn't scared of the hunder. She'd hold on tight, breathing steadily against his chest like he was her anchor. And he et her, without ever once realizing that he was the storm she feared most. She gave him her world-her loyalty, her time, her heart-and he never once asked how she was doing. Never asked what she wanted. He remembered the last time she looked at him… and it hit him like a punch. She used to look at im like he was everything. Now, she didn't look at him at all. I was an idiot," Troy whispered. "I chose Vanessa. I believed her lies. I made Taylor feel like she vas second choice, when in truth… she was the only one." Travis knelt beside him. "We all failed her, Troy. Not just you." /an nodded, voice thick. "We loved her too late." Troy's fists clenched. "And now she doesn't even look at me." She's happy now," Travis said gently. "Isn't that what you want for her?" 'I want her with me," Troy choked. "But yeah… I want her happy too." Later that night, Troy sat alone in his penthouse, lights off, a bottle of whiskey halfway gone. His phone vibrated endlessly-calls from his staff, investors, his secretary. 'Sir, the board is asking if you'll attend the quarterly meeting…" 'Mr. Troy, the expansion for the Dubai branch-" He didn't answer. He didn't care. "I just want to die…" he muttered, staring at the bottom of the bottle. But then Travis's words echoed in his head: Even if you die, she wouldn't care. And that's what did it. That broke him. That made him stand up. The next morning, with bloodshot eyes and trembling hands, Troy showered, dressed, and walked into his office like a man with nothing left to lose-but something to prove. "She won't notice," he whispered to himself, buttoning his shirt. "But I'll make sure she does." From that day on, Troy began attending every event that featured Taylor's designs. Quiet, in the back row, always watching. He bought full racks from her boutique anonymously. He posted glowing reviews under different names. He sent floral arrangements-not with love notes, but with simple congratulations. Just her name, nothing more. He didn't send letters. He didn't try to meet her. Not yet. He just wanted her to see that he was still there. Still choosing her. But one evening, when he found out Taylor would be at a private launch party for her spring collection, he couldn't help himself. He waited by the exit, hands clammy, heart pounding. When she didn't appear alone, but beside Scott, Troy stepped forward anyway. 'Scott," he called out, voice cracking. Scott turned slowly, his arm instinctively tightening around Taylor's waist. She hadn't seen Troy /et-she was busy greeting guests inside. Troy stepped closer, desperation in his eyes. "Please. I'm not here to fight. I just want to talk to 1er." 'No," Scott said sharply. "You've talked enough." 'Just five minutes," Troy begged. "Just let me say I'm sorry-" 'You already did. On her wedding day," Scott cut in. "That's all she needed to hear. And all she needed to move on." Troy's lips trembled. "You don't understand. I loved her. I still do. I'm trying to fix this." Scott stared at him, unblinking. "Then fix yourself. But leave her out of it." 'Please, Scott-man to man, I'm begging you-help me make it right." Scott's gaze hardened. "You don't get to beg now. You had years. You chose Vanessa. You destroyed her. And now, she's finally healing-and I won't let you take that from her again." Meanwhile, Travis and Van, weighed down by years of guilt, began their own journey. They wrote letters. They emailed. They sent gifts-not expensive, but meaningful. Photos from childhood, old home videos, a preserved copy of one of Taylor's childhood sketches with a note: You've always been brilliant. We're just sorry it took us this long to say it. But none of them got a reply. "She's done with us," Van said one night, staring out the window. "She has every right to be, Travis replied. "We failed her." They both sighed, sitting in silence for a long time, knowing maybe this was the price of finally seeing the truth. And then, days later, the silence was shattered by a frantic call. It was the hospital. Travis grabbed the phone. "Hello?" The nurse's voice came through, breathless. "Are you relatives of Vanessa?" Van, hearing the name, turned quickly. 'Yes," Travis answered, alarmed. "What happened?" She was found wandering the road barefoot, screaming at passing cars. She had a breakdown. She's… not well." The room fell silent. ravis gripped the phone tighter. 'an's face paled. he nurse added quietly, "She keeps saying someone stole her life. That they ruined her… and ow she's ruined herself."