Page 25 of Obsessing Over His Favorite

“She’s just a childhood friend.”

“Stop doubting me. You’re always so dramatic. I told you she needed help. I came home after.”

“Why are you always so suspicious?”

“God, you’re unreasonable.”

“Stop wasting my time with your jealousy. Grow up!”

Her chest tightened. Tears prickled in her eyes, but she blinked them back.

Then his voice cut through her thoughts again—this time sharper, more venomous.

“What was the point of wasting my damn money?” Lucas’s anger was boiling. “Why did you hire a damn photographer to stalk me?”

Emily blinked, still caught in the haze of his past words, her heart aching.

He took another step forward, towering over her.

“Since you’ve got so much money to waste on nonsense like this, you won’t get another penny from me until you fix your damn head!”

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

As the door slammed shut behind Lucas, Emily turned slowly toward the dressing table. Her hands slammed down against it, her chest heaving, breath ragged and shallow.

Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her—eyes wide, haunted, and shimmering with pain. Her heart ached, not just because of what had happened moments ago, but because of everything that came rushing back with it.

This wasn’t the first time photos like that had ended up in her hands. It had happened more times than she could count. And every single time, Lucas had dismissed her, told her she was jealous, wasting his money and time on "nonsense."

Each time, Lucas had looked her in the eye and told her she was being ridiculous. Jealous. Immature.

But the pain she felt now wasn’t fresh. It was old. Deep. Buried and forgotten... until those photographs had brought it all rushing back.

Tears stung her eyes—not because of what was happening today, but because of everything she had already endured. It was the flood of hurt from every moment she had ignored, every time she had swallowed her pride, just to stay by Lucas’ side when she was blindly in love with him. Back then, all she wanted was to please him. To be enough.

“This is not the kind of man I ever wanted to spend my life with,” she whispered, staring into the mirror, her hands trembling against the wooden surface. Her heart thundered in her chest.

“This was never the kind of man I dreamed of. No wonder it hurts so much when he’s careless with my feelings.”

She let out a harsh breath, memories crashing through her mind.

That man didn’t even know what kind of coffee she liked.

He never cared about the pain he put her through with his punishments, his silence, his cold stares. All he cared about was why she was so jealous—why she kept ruininghistime.

Her eyes flicked to the photos still scattered on the dresser. One by one, she gathered them, sliding them back into the envelope with calm, patient movements.

“Good. Someone’s doing the hard part for me,” she muttered with a small, bitter smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “These will help me walk away from him even faster.”

***

Dillon burst into Lucas' office, his footsteps quick and urgent.

The sleek space reflected the precision of its owner. Glass walls framed the room, offering a panoramic view of the city skyline, while minimalist décor accented by dark wood and brushed steel spoke of understated luxury.

A large mahogany desk held neatly stacked files and a state-of-the-art laptop.

Lucas sat behind it, buried in paperwork and contracts for Cantrell and Co., the elite luxury jewelry business known for crafting masterpieces that adorned the world’s most discerning clientele. The air was cold, quiet, and intense—mirroring the man himself. He didn’t look up until Dillon was at his side.