Witnessing Brandon’s infidelity had rocked Phoebe to her core. In her mind, Brandon had always been the epitome of discipline and dignity, a veritable patriarch from bygone days. His marriage with Mrs. Reynolds had seemed harmonious, and Phoebe never imagined he would stray.
Empathizing with Mrs. Reynolds, particularly with Ted’s current entanglement with Vanessa, filled her with deep sorrow.
Once she started crying, she couldn’t stop.
It was as if all the grievances she had suffered these days, months, or even years needed to come pouring out. Her legs gave way, and she slid to the floor.
Startled, Ted quickly caught her in his arms. Her sobs deeply distressed him; brows knitted in concern, he didn’t know how to react. “What’s wrong? Who’s hurt you?”
Phoebe hardly ever wept this way; even when they had lost their child, she hadn’t shown such grief. Ted was at a loss as her tears fell.
As the elevator doors closed slowly, his gaze narrowed toward the hallway outside, a dangerous and intimidating look in his eyes.
Back at the top floor, Theodore bent down and scooped her up horizontally from the elevator.
Phoebe was so terrified she forgot to cry, quickly wrapping her arms around his neck, “Put me down, it’s not good if someone sees.”
“I’m holding my wife, who cares who sees?”
Theodore, set in his ways, wasn’t about to listen to her. He carried her out with a swagger, thankful that it was still early and the office area was deserted. He didn’t set her down until they were back in his office, gently placing her on the couch.
Towering over her with his piercing blue eyes and aquiline nose, he exuded an overpowering presence. “Now, can you tell me why you were crying?” Phoebe uneasily wiped the tears from her face, avoiding his gaze, “I…”
“Did Dad call you in to yell at you?” he pressed on.
“No,” she averted his sharp gaze, getting up from the couch in a flurry, “I need to get to work.”
As soon as she stood up, Theodore pushed her back down. She bounced a couple of times on the couch that sunk beside her.
Theodore braced his hands beside her and leaned down, enveloping her in his embrace, “Should I go and confront Dad?” Phoebe pursed her lips, looking up at him.
Their noses were almost touching; at such proximity, Theodore could only see the redness around her eyes and those watery orbs. Stubborn and defiant, she held his gaze.
His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, battling the urge to kiss her there and then. For three years, apart from being intimate, they rarely shared kisses. And if they did, it was often to punish or humiliate her.
Now those lips were tantalizingly close, stirring restlessness within him. He took a deep breath, straightened up, and turned to walk away.
The moment of ambiguity shattered instantly.
When Phoebe saw him heading for the door, fearing he was going to confront Brandon, she jumped up and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go, Dad didn’t yell at me.”
Theodore paused and turned back to stare at her, “Then why were you crying?”
Phoebe looked down, staring at the tips of her shoes, unsure if she should tell Theodore what she had seen that morning.