Page 50 of Obsessing Over His Favorite

Her brows furrowed. “I’m Empress?” she asked quietly, still struggling to make sense of it. “Do I own a company or something?”

“You don’t just own a company,” he replied. “You own the whole ‘Empress’ brand. You’re the majority owner. Sixty percent is yours. I have the other forty. I handle logistics, negotiations—you handle the designs. We’ve been partners for years.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide, stunned. Her chest tightened as reality sank in.

All this time, she had thought she was just Lucas’s shadow. That her value began and ended with him. She believed she had nothing of her own. But now—this? This was proof she had a life outside of him. A thriving brand. Real success.

And she’d handed it all to Lucas. Willingly. Blindly.

Jacob’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “You said you resigned from Lucas’s company. Is that true?”

“Yes,” she said. “I walked out today.”

He didn’t smile, but something in his expression softened.

“Then take this as your chance,” Jacob said firmly. “Step back into your real life. You’ve been giving him your best work for years without a name, without credit. It’s time to take it back.”

His eyes met hers. Steady. Certain.

“It’s time to become Empress again.”

***

Lucas sat in the boardroom, completely checked out of the meeting unfolding around him.

Slides flickered across the screen. Graphs. Forecasts. Strategies. A blur of voices droned on about projections and market shares—but none of it registered.

He wasn’t listening.

His eyes kept drifting toward the glass wall, toward the hallway beyond, hoping, waiting for a glimpse of Emily.

But she never came back.

She was always quick to cool down. Her temper, though fiery, never lasted long—especially not with him.

But this time… it had been over an hour.

Still, no sign of her.

His fingers tapped restlessly on the polished table, the sleek pen in his hand twisting back and forth with mechanical agitation. His knuckles were white. His jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. His brows stayed furrowed, locked in frustration.

The tension radiating off him filled the room like thick smoke. Everyone felt it. People fidgeted in their chairs, eyes darting toward him, avoiding eye contact just as quickly. No one dared speak.

The presentation dragged on, a painful background hum to the storm building behind his eyes.

Then—crack.

The pen in his hand snapped clean in half.

The sharp sound sliced through the silence, followed by the clatter as he tossed the broken pieces onto the table. Everyone jumped.

The room fell dead silent.

His chair screeched across the floor as he stood abruptly, the sharp sound making the entire boardroom flinch. Several of them glanced up, startled, eyes wide with unease, wondering if they’d said something wrong.

But Lucas didn’t say a word.

He turned without a glance at anyone and walked out of the room, his face blank but his eyes dangerous.