The news came in a quiet, calculated way. Veronica, determined to regain influence, had reached out to Jennifer, Frederick's mother. Her words were carefully crafted, designed to spark outrage and mistrust.
"Jennifer," Veronica's voice had been honeyed but sharp, "I wanted to tell you the truth. Frederick… he's moved on. He broke up with me months ago. And now… he's dating a local girl. A poor girl."
Jennifer's grip on the phone tightened, fury rising. "What? That's… unacceptable. Frederick, how could you? After everything we've done, how could you—?"
Veronica cut in smoothly, her lies precise. "It's not what it seems, Mrs. Carter. Frederick never truly cared for me. I took care of myself without asking him for anything. He never sent me money, never helped me, never valued me. That's why I ended things. I was left to fend for myself, Jennifer, and he… he moved on."
Jennifer's knuckles turned white on the phone. "I raised him better than that! He… he can't be dating someone like that! He needs a woman of our standing, someone from a respectable family!"
Meanwhile, Frederick's phone buzzed repeatedly. Jennifer's name flashed on the screen. But he ignored it. His jaw tightened, his mind already calm and resolved. He knew his heart, and he knew Jane.
Ignoring the call wasn't out of disrespect—it was deliberate. He would not allow lies, jealousy, or societal pressures to dictate his life. He would not let Veronica's manipulations poison what he had built with Jane.
In the apartment, Jane noticed Frederick's furrowed brow as he stared at his phone. "Is everything okay?" she asked gently.
Frederick placed the phone down, exhaling. "Veronica's lying to my mother," he admitted, his tone steady. "She's telling Jennifer that I abandoned her and… that I'm dating someone beneath our social circle."
Jane's eyes widened slightly, but she stood tall. "And what are you going to do?"
He looked at her, and in that gaze was absolute certainty. "Nothing. I will not argue with lies. I know the truth. And I know who I choose."
Jane's chest swelled with quiet pride. She didn't need him to fight the battles for her. She only needed him to believe in their truth—and he did. Fully, without hesitation.
Frederick picked up his pen and returned to work, letting the buzzing phone sit silent. Outside, the city moved on, oblivious to the drama in the apartment. Inside, two people shared a quiet strength—the kind built not on wealth, status, or approval, but on trust, loyalty, and choice.
And somewhere in that quiet, Jane realized: no lie, no manipulation, no bitterness from the past could touch them if they refused to let it.
The afternoon sunlight fell harshly through Carrick's office windows, highlighting the disarray of papers scattered across his desk. The phone buzzed incessantly with reminders, missed calls, and emails—none of them good. His business, once stable, was steadily declining, profits shrinking week by week.
Elizabeth, his mistress, had grown increasingly difficult to tolerate. That afternoon, she stormed into the office, her anger spilling over in sharp words and impatience. Every little misstep he made seemed to ignite her fury.
Carrick leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. The stress of failing business decisions, combined with Elizabeth's constant hostility, pressed on him like a weight he couldn't lift.
And then, as if mocking him, memories of Jane's presence and guidance flashed vividly in his mind. Her calm voice offering insight into marketing ideas, her meticulous attention to strategy, the way she understood business intuitively—talent she must have inherited from her late biological father, Steven Owens, although Jane herself didn't know the truth of her parentage.
Carrick closed his eyes, feeling a sting of regret so sharp it made his chest ache. He remembered how she had encouraged him, how she had believed in his potential even when he faltered. Every good idea he'd dismissed, every clever suggestion he'd brushed off in pride, now seemed like a missed opportunity.
"Why didn't I listen?" he muttered under his breath. The room felt colder, emptier, and even Elizabeth's shouting seemed distant, meaningless.
He thought of how Jane had transformed under pressure, how she had thrived despite setbacks, and how she had a rare combination of humility and brilliance that made her unforgettable. Carrick's jealousy and pride had blinded him. His bitterness toward her independence now seemed petty, almost absurd.
Elizabeth's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and accusing. "Carrick! Are you even paying attention? The client's pulling out, and the numbers are—"
He turned to her, but his mind was elsewhere. He realized that no amount of pleading, no amount of anger, could fix what he had lost. Jane's quiet influence, her encouragement, her talent—all of it had been something he had taken for granted.
And now, he was left with nothing but regret.
Outside, life moved forward. Jane, unaware of Carrick's spiraling thoughts, continued building her own path, her independence and confidence growing with each choice she made. She didn't know that the very skills she had inherited, that natural intelligence and insight, had once been a lifeline for someone who now wished desperately he had recognized her worth.
Carrick sank into his chair, staring blankly at the fading sunlight, understanding—too late—that some losses could not be repaired, and that brilliance and kindness, once ignored, could never truly be replaced.