đź‘‘ Tyla đź‘‘
I locked the door behind me.
Chest heaving. Hands shaking.
My room felt too small, too bright.
I ripped off my heels. One hit the vanity; the other slid under the bed.
I paced.
Then I broke down.
Collapsed to the floor like my bones had given out.
And for a moment, I let myself cry, not the silent, neat kind.
Ugly. Loud.
Because for the first time in my life, I wasn't in control.
The knock came minutes later.
Soft at first.
Then again.
"Tyla?" Lena's voice.
I didn't move.
Another knock.
"I'm coming in."
The door opened.
"Tyla..."
"I'm fine."
"You're crying on the floor."
"I said I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
I turned my back to her. "Don't you have a photoshoot to get to or something?"
She didn't answer. She sat beside me, pulling me into her arms.
I didn't resist.
"I hate him," I whispered.
"I know."
"I hate Dad."
"I know." Her voice was soft.
"He didn't even ask me, Lena. He just… said it. Like I was some fucking business deal."
"I know," she whispered.
Her silence was the kind that understood too much.
I stared at the ceiling like it had answers.
Another soft knock. This time, the door didn't hesitate.
Ethan walked in, quiet. Calm.
"You okay?" he asked.
I let out a broken laugh. "Do I look okay?"
He shrugged. "Didn't want to assume."
I rolled my eyes, but it lacked energy.
"Tyla," Lena said.
But I didn't answer.
Lena looked between us. "You've spent your whole life being the polished Jackson girl. Always in control. Always untouchable. But I see you, Tyla."
Her voice cracked something in me again.
"You pretend like none of this gets to you. But it does. I know it does."
"You carry everything and still manage to look flawless doing it. But that doesn't mean it's not heavy."
I looked away. Her words hit too close.
"You're allowed to be angry," she continued.
"You're allowed to be hurt. You're allowed to feel betrayed. You don't owe anyone your silence or your acceptance, not Dad, not Shane, not this stupid engagement."
She took my hand in hers and squeezed it.
"You are not some pawn in a deal. You're Tyla Jackson. And even if you've forgotten what that means, I haven't."
My throat tightened. I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
"You don't have to pretend with us," Ethan whispered.
I blinked fast, trying not to cry again. But it was too late.
"I don't want this life," I finally said. "Not like this."
"Then don't take it," Ethan said. "Fight for the version you want."
I looked at him.
"No one wins with silence, Ty," he added.
And in that moment, I let them see me, the real me.
Not the polished heiress. Not the calculated fighter.
Just the broken girl underneath.
Scene: Williams Corp Headquarters
By 4:00 p.m., I was standing in the lobby of Williams Corp.
Dressed in a fitted red pantsuit, sharp blazer, low neckline, every inch the woman who meant business. The outfit hugged my shoulders and waist, tailored for power, not vulnerability.
No slits. No see-through fabric. Just confidence.
My heels? Black, with silver spikes on the toes. If I kicked, it'd leave a mark.
My hair fell straight and smooth past my shoulders. Makeup? Sharp eyeliner, dark red lips.
No tears. No smudges. Just control.
I walked in like I owned the place.
The receptionist glanced up. Barely. Then dismissed me with a flick of her wrist.
"Do you have an appointment?"
I smiled. Not kindly.
"No."
"Then I suggest you schedule one. Mr. Williams doesn't—"
SLAP.
My hand struck before she could blink.
She gasped, stumbling back, her palm pressed to her cheek.
"I don't need an appointment to fix my life."
Immediately, the tension in the lobby snapped.
Gasps. Phones frozen mid-scroll. The building stopped breathing.
The security guard behind the desk jumped up.
"Ma'am," he barked, rushing forward.
"Don't," I warned.
Two more guards approached from the elevator hall.
I didn't flinch. Didn't back down. I didn't even look at them.
Behind me, the elevator dinged.
"Tyla!" Shane's voice.
He stormed out, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.
I didn't blink.
The second he made eye contact—
SLAP.
I hit the receptionist again, harder this time.
Gasps echoed again.
"Back off!" The guard's hand flew to his hip, gripping his pistol.
I slowly turned to them.
"Touch me," I told the guards, "and your next job will be folding clothes at a strip mall."
Then I turned and walked out.
Like I owned the damn building.
🔥 SHANE 🔥
The moment he left my office, I lost it.
I swept everything off my desk. The photo frame shattered against the floor.
"Who the hell does he think I am?" I shouted.
I grabbed my laptop and slammed it to the ground.
"A pawn? A machine? Someone with no damn feelings?"
I didn't think. Just grabbed my keys and stormed into the elevator.
When the doors opened—
Pa! Pa!
A slap. Then another.
My eyes locked onto the scene: Tyla, slapping my receptionist. Security was surrounding her.
"Did she just—?"
"TYLA!" I yelled.
She looked straight at me… and slapped the girl again before walking off like nothing happened.
I turned to the lobby.
"You're all fired."
Silence.
"If any of you speak to the press or post one goddamn thing online, I'll bury your careers."
Nobody moved.
Then I ran after her.
"Hey! Stop!"
I caught her arm.
"Let me go!" she snapped, trying to pull free.
I didn't relent. Just smirked. "You think you can walk in here and hit my staff?"
She glared. "What the fuck, Shane? Who gave you the right to play with my life? And now you want to talk about your staff?"
"I should be asking why you're even here."
"I want to know what you're planning with my father. Whatever it is, end it. You have two days to cancel this merger."
"I can't."
"What?" Her voice cracked. "You can't or you won't?"
Silence.
"Do you really hate me that much?"
"Yes," she whispered. "I hate you, Shane Williams. I hate everything about you."
"Why?" I asked, softer.
She didn't answer. Just yanked her arm free, got in her car, and drove off.
I stood there, frozen. Thirty minutes passed before I could move.
Then I got in my car and left.