Jerry looked absolutely unreadable. Cold as ice, wearing her black sunglasses like a shield, she turned away from Mira without a word and walked straight into her office. Her tall frame and commanding stride made everyone step aside, as if sensing the storm brewing around her.
Mira stood there frozen, her hand slowly lowering after the cheek kiss. Her heart was pounding—not just from what she'd done in front of everyone, but from the way Jerry hadn't reacted. No smile. No blush. Just silence.
Thirty minutes passed. Mira busied herself with papers she couldn't even read, her mind racing with what-ifs and regrets. She finally stood and walked toward Jerry's office, determined to make things right. But the moment she reached the door, she stopped in her tracks.
Jerry was on the phone, her voice low but clear.
"Yeah, Grandpa… she's the best. Your granddaughter-in-law is strong, soft-hearted, and beautiful. She takes good care of me—even if she doesn't know it."
Mira's breath caught in her throat. Granddaughter-in-law?
"…Any progress?" her grandfather asked over the phone, chuckling.
Jerry gave a tired laugh. "We sleep beside each other, Grandpa… that's something, right?"
Her heart thumped louder, blood rushing to her ears.
"You want to talk to her?" Jerry asked. "She's probably busy, but—"
"I'm not," Mira said, walking in and picking up the second receiver. Jerry's eyes widened.
"Hello, Grandpa," she said softly.
"Ah! My beautiful granddaughter!" his cheerful voice echoed.
"Are you… okay? Jerry doesn't irritate you, right?"
Mira smiled despite the tension. "No, she's very kind. But yeah… she does get angry sometimes."
"Good, good. Take care of her. Sleep next to her every night. You know how many girls want to take her from you? They're crazy for her!"
Mira froze, her cheeks burning. Jerry turned her face away.
"Don't worry," Mira said, voice trembling. "I'll… take care of her."
"Good girl." And with that, the old man hung up.
Mira turned to look at Jerry. "You didn't tell him I rejected you?"
Jerry's jaw clenched, and she suddenly slammed her palm against the desk. "Why would I, huh?! So he'd be disappointed too?!"
Her voice was low but angry. "You made me fall, then rejected me… and now you're calling my family behind my back like nothing happened?"
"That's not what I meant," Mira whispered.
Jerry grabbed her sunglasses, shoved them into her pocket, and stepped forward. Her eyes were burning not with hatred, but with hurt.
"You broke me once, Mira. You don't get to break me again."
Then she walked out of the office, leaving Mira behind, shaken and speechless.
Later That Day…
Mira tried everything—gentle apologies, office coffee deliveries, even sneaking post-it notes on Jerry's desk with scribbled "I'm sorry" doodles. But Jerry remained distant. She barely spoke unless it was work-related. No teasing smirks. No playful glances.
Only silence.
That silence hurt more than any argument ever could.
And it followed her like a shadow all day.
Back home, the silence between them was louder than any argument they could've had. Mira sat curled up on the couch, her legs pulled close to her chest, wearing a loose top and shorts—her eyes fixed on the door of Jerry's room like it might open any second and fix the storm in her chest.
It did.
And Jerry stepped out like a walking contradiction—heartache wrapped in sinful beauty.
A fitted black shirt hung half-unbuttoned on her frame, revealing a tantalizing sliver of her pale skin and the delicate silver chain around her neck. The sleeves were rolled up, veins subtly visible, a silver watch catching the dim lights of the room. Her dark pants hugged her in all the right places, commanding presence in every step.
Mira's breath hitched. Her heart skipped. She looked away, cheeks warming just from the sight of her.
Jerry stood for a moment by the doorway, checking her phone, a small smile tugging at her lips. It wasn't for Mira, and that made Mira's chest squeeze.
She couldn't take it anymore.
Just as Jerry reached for the door handle, Mira stood.
"Jerry…" she called softly.
Jerry paused and looked over her shoulder.
"Where are you going at this hour?"
Jerry sighed, tucking her phone into her pocket. "Miss Mira, I'm Kingston's heir. I have my own company to run. I'm your assistant, not your servant."
Jerry turned to leave.
But Mira moved—on impulse, on heartbreak—and hugged her from behind, pressing her cheek against Jerry's warm, bare back. Her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, and her fingers brushed over the skin exposed by the open buttons.
Jerry froze.
"I'm sorry…" Mira whispered, her voice cracking. "I'm sorry I rejected you. Sorry I hurt you. Please forgive me…"
Jerry didn't move. But she felt it—the tear that slipped from Mira's cheek and landed just above her waistband. Warm. Real.
Mira turned Jerry by the arm, lowering her head. "If you want to punish me… do it. Take what you want. But please don't stay cold to me like this."
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the tie of her nightdress.
Jerry's eyes widened, stunned.
But before Mira could undress, Jerry gently grabbed the blazer hanging off her shoulder, wrapped it around Mira's shaking body, and pulled her close into a hug.
Her lips landed softly on Mira's forehead, lingering.
"I never wanted your body," Jerry whispered hoarsely. "I wanted your heart."
Mira's lips trembled. "And you have it. Only you have it…"
Jerry held her tighter. And for the first time in a long while, she let herself believe it.
Mira blushed but whispered against her skin, "I love hearing it from you…"
Jerry turned her head, eyes narrowing with heat, locking with Mira's.
"Do you want to be my wife today, hm?" Jerry teased, her voice low, seductive.
Just as their lips were about to meet, Mira smirked—and slipped Jerry's phone out of her pocket.
Jerry blinked. "Hey—!"
Before Jerry could grab her, Mira dashed across the living room, phone in hand like a thief caught mid-heist.
"Who were you smiling at on your phone?" Mira shouted over her shoulder, running.
"Mira, don't—!" Jerry chased her, but Mira was fast, slippery.
In one smooth move, Jerry caught her by the wrist and spun her into her arms, both of them landing on the couch in a tangled mess. Mira ended up straddling Jerry's lap, breathing hard, phone clutched to her chest.
"Give. It. Back," Jerry growled, gripping Mira's waist firmly.
But then Mira's breath hitched. Her body stiffened in Jerry's lap.
Her eyes darted down—feeling something.
Her cheeks turned crimson. "Jerry… you… you're wearing it?"
Jerry stood up quickly, flustered, adjusting her shirt. "I-It's not what you think!"
Mira stood too, arms crossed, trying to appear serious despite the heat rising in her cheeks. "After wearing that, where were you planning to go?"
Jerry avoided her gaze. "It's not like that…"
"Oh?" Mira raised a brow. "And why were you smiling at your phone, hm? You looked like a cheating husband caught red-handed."
Jerry sighed and scratched the back of her neck. "You… you talked to Grandpa. He kept asking for pictures of us together… so I was gonna edit a photo. With another girl. Just for him to stop asking…"
Mira's expression darkened.
She stepped forward, grabbed Jerry by the collar, and yanked her closer.
"Don't you dare go out with another girl," Mira said firmly, her voice low and jealous. "If you ever do… I'll show you what real revenge looks like."
Jerry blinked, wide-eyed. "You sound like my wife choking her poor husband…"
"Exactly," Mira whispered with a pout. "Because I am your wife from now on."
Jerry smiled, letting her forehead rest against Mira's. "Then stop running away from me, Mrs. Kingston."
Mira wrapped her arms around Jerry's waist, pressing her body against hers. "Only if you promise to never smile at any girl like that again."
"Deal," Jerry whispered, before planting a soft, lingering kiss on Mira's temple.