Entangled With My Rival CEO

Chapter 48

Clarissa's chest heaved with a deep, shaky breath as she again clutched Reynold's hand tightly.

"Reynold, please, think about the kids. How will they feel when they find out about this?" Her voice quavered with pain.

"I've endured this long for them, but if we keep going like this, they'll eventually notice the changes between us. It's better this way," Reynold explained calmly, though his eyes belied the turmoil he felt inside.

Clarissa shook her head, the sorrow and desperation in her eyes palpable.

"No, it's not," she declared firmly, refusing to accept his reasoning.

"How can you say that it's better for us to separate? It will shatter them," she implored.

"I know," Reynold said, his voice soft and soothing, "but they will heal with time."

Clarissa's voice trembled with emotion as she asked, "What about me, Reynold? Don't I matter in all of this?"

She was desperate for some reassurance that he still cared for her, that he still wanted to be with her.

Reynold hesitated before answering, struggling to find the right words.

"You'll...you'll be okay, Clarissa," he said, his voice filled with uncertainty.

Clarissa was not satisfied with his response.

She glared at him through her tears, her frustration and anger boiling over.

"Fine, I'll be fine? That's all you have to say?!" she exclaimed, standing up abruptly and storming off to the closet.

A few minutes later, she emerged holding a white button-up shirt. She held it up to Reynold, her eyes flashing with fury.

"Where did you find that?" he asked, his eyes darting towards the white button-up shirt she was holding.

"I've been searching for this shirt everywhere. Since..." his voice trailing off as he struggled to recall the memory.

"Since the night you came home smelling of another woman's perfume," Clarissa snapped, her voice filled with fury and disgust, finishing his sentence for him.

She glared at him with intense anger as she spoke.

Reynold's face fell as he realized what she was implying. "Women's perfume?" he repeated, his voice trembling with disbelief.

Clarissa nodded firmly. "Yes, women's perfume," she confirmed, holding up the shirt to reveal a lipstick stain on the collar.

"Is she the reason you're breaking up our family, Reynold?" she accused, throwing the shirt to the ground.

Reynold rose from the bed, confusion etched on his face as he picked up the cloth from the floor.

His eyes were fixed on the lipstick mark as he wracked his brain to recall how it got there.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Flashback

•~•~•~•~•~•

He had just arrived at his art gallery that day, ready to retreat to his office, when his assistant informed him of a potential customer waiting to see him.

Upon entering the showroom, Reynold found a woman there dressed in luxurious but unusual attire.

The overpowering scent of her perfume hung in the air.

"What's going on?" he asked his assistant.

"She came in looking for a painting to gift her mother, and I guess it got her emotional," the assistant replied with a shrug. "That's when she requested to speak with you, sir."

As soon as the words left her mouth, the woman turned towards them and burst into tears.

"Mr. Becknard, it's such a pleasure to meet you. Please excuse my tears, but this painting reminds me so much of..." She trailed off, her sobs becoming louder and more dramatic.

Suddenly, she lunged towards Reynold and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his clothes.

Reynold was caught off guard, feeling her tears soaking through his shirt.

"Excuse me, miss," he said, his voice firm but polite. "I understand that the painting has stirred up some emotions for you, but please let go of me."

The woman quickly released him, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking. "I guess I got a little carried away."

The woman sniffled and looked at Reynold with red eyes. "It's just that this painting reminds me so much of my mother, who recently passed away. I want to buy it as a tribute to her," she explained, her voice quavering with emotion.

Reynold felt a pang of empathy for the woman and he softened his voice. "I'm so sorry for your loss, ma'am. I understand how difficult it can be to deal with the passing of a loved one."

The woman's eyes brightened a bit and she nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

Reynold nodded,"Of course. Please, take your time. And let me know when you're ready for any of my assistance."

"Thank you, I actually need you to help me choose a suitable frame for it," she said, wiping away her tears.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Flashback Ends

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Reynold's gaze lingered on the lipstick stain, his memory jogged back to the incident at the art gallery.

It was then he realized that the stain might have come from the woman who had hugged him that day.

Regrettably, he had not noticed the stain at the time so he could have cleaned it up.

Clarissa's accusatory glare jolted him back to the present.

"So are you going to explain or you gonna keep staring at that lipstick stain," she demanded, her tone laced with anger and impatience.

Reynold hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether to divulge the truth or not.

Eventually, he let out a sigh and shook his head. "No," he said firmly,

Clarissa's face twisted into a frown as she looked at him with confusion etched on her features. "No what?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration.

He held her gaze firmly, "No, she's not the reason why I'm asking for a divorce. Because there is no 'she'," he said with conviction.

Clarissa let out a scoff of disbelief. "And what about the lipstick stain and the perfume I smelled on you that night?" she retorted.

"Did they just magically appear? Or are you saying that no one is really behind all this craziness you're displaying now," she said with biting sarcasm.

Reynold's tired voice trailed off as he sat himself back on the bed and pulled the duvet over his body.

"What's the point?" he muttered to himself.

"You won't believe me anyway, even if I explain. You've been suspicious of me for a while now."

He closed his eyes, seemingly ready to drift off to sleep.

Clarissa was taken aback by his indifference.

She couldn't decipher whether he was confessing to cheating or not.

Her confusion quickly turned to anger as she confronted him. "So you're fine with me thinking you cheated on me? You don't even care enough to defend yourself?"

"What's the use of fighting for something that's already been decided in your mind? Your perception of me is your reality, and no matter what I say or do, it may not change what you think of me," he explained, his voice laced with weariness.

"Sometimes it's better to let go and allow the truth to reveal itself, rather than exhaust yourself trying to defend it." He finished and let out a deep sigh, shifting to a more comfortable position on the bed.

Meanwhile, Clarissa remained standing, staring at him with a mix of confusion and frustration.