Chapter 4 I Won't Be A Bother

• Wrenley never fathomed encountering anyone in his office. After all, she had once delivered dinner to him, only to have it rejected and instructed her not to return. His aversion to visitors at the office was apparent, especially since he swiftly departed for a meeting thereafter.
• Yet here he was, indulging in cake with another woman.
• The commotion caught Yalena's attention, causing her to turn around and lock eyes with Wrenley. A fleeting moment of surprise crossed her features, followed by a self-conscious glance at her attire.
• Wrenley, however, knew the source of her bewilderment all too well. In this instance, both women had long, black hair falling down their backs and donned strikingly similar white dresses, with a hint of resemblance in their demeanor. Yet, for the past year, her wardrobe had been exclusively curated by Spencer.
• The depths of this man's deceit knew no bounds. It was one thing for their voices to bear an uncanny resemblance, but to go as far as dictating her attire and appearance to mimic another person was beyond contemptuous.
• A brief pallor washed over Wrenley's complexion, and her strength weakened momentarily. Clutching the door handle, she steeled herself against undue humiliation. Her gaze flickered past the woman before her as she uttered, with forced composure, "I've come to take what's mine."
• Yalena's glance toward Spencer revealed a chilling transformation. Despite his previous demeanor toward her, Wrenley's arrival seemed to darken his expression further, his gaze turning icy. As a trace of suspicion flitted through her thoughts, she approached Wrenley and extended her hand while donning a gentle smile.
• "Hello, Miss Mitchell. I'm Yalena Stewart, Spen's..." Her voice trailed off momentarily, betraying a hint of uncertainty before she added in a hushed tone, "Spen's friend."
• Wrenley lowered her gaze, masking her emotions behind a veneer of indifference, as she reciprocated the gesture by extending her hand.
• "Nice to meet you. I'm Wrenley Mitchell."
• Then, there was no further dialogue, and they sized each other up.
• Spencer observed the scene before him, where the two figures stood together, and he felt an inexplicable discomfort gnawing at him. He rose from his seat and walked over to his desk while gesturing for her to enter. "Come in."
• Wrenley acknowledged Yalena with a cool nod before making her way over. Her demeanor was distant and composed. She didn't meet Spencer's gaze but instead cut straight to the point with her inquiry, "Where are the documents?"
• Spencer's attempt to glean something from her expression was met with a steely resolve. He handed over the divorce agreement while silently noting the coldness that she exuded.
• When Wrenley reached out to take the document, she encountered an unexpected resistance. Reluctantly, she lifted her eyes to meet his intense stare and heard his voice, which was like a whisper in the stillness of the room. "Wouldn't you like to sit and review it more carefully?"
• Wrenley's lips twitched with restrained emotion. "No need," she replied curtly. With that, she forcefully took it back, took out her own pen, and quickly signed her name on the last page.
• With two copies now in her possession, she held them tightly, her departure wordless yet laden with unspoken tension.
• Throughout their encounter, Spencer remained stoic while his gaze was fixated on her signature. It was bold, assertive, reflecting the woman before him—direct and uncompromising.
• His lips formed a thin line as he watched her retreating figure and felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through him. He couldn't help but step forward and reach out to grasp her wrist.
• Caught off guard by Spencer's sudden touch, Wrenley's instinctive reaction bordered on excessive, her body jerking away with an almost exaggerated swiftness. In her haste to free herself from his grasp, she inadvertently sent the contents in her hand scattering across the floor.
• Yalena frowned as she watched the scene before her, her once bright gaze dimming as she took in the sight before her. She bent down to pick up the scattered documents from the floor, but when her eyes fell on the bold letters, a sudden spark of recognition ignited within her, suffusing her heart with a rush of unexpected joy.
• "Miss Mitchell, you dropped something."
• Spencer's face darkened as he stared at the woman in front of him, his eyes probing as if searching for hidden truths within her soul.
• Meanwhile, Wrenley teetered on the brink of emotional collapse, her fragile composure threatening to shatter at any moment. With a heavy heart, she averted her gaze, unable to withstand the weight of his scrutiny.
• "Thank you. I won't intrude any further," she murmured, her voice trembling with unspoken emotion. She cast a fleeting glance at the food on the coffee table before swiftly turning on her heel and making her exit.
• Liam watched the scene unfold and followed Wrenley out.
• Yalena stepped forward and grabbed Spencer's hand with a smile playing on her lips. "Are you planning to divorce her?"
• Spencer finally tore his gaze away, his eyes meeting hers in a fleeting moment of intensity before he gently withdrew his hand. His voice, like ice over a winter lake, cut through the air. "My divorce is not your concern, and I'd appreciate it if you refrain from seeking me out at the company."
• The warmth that had suffused Yalena's expression froze momentarily, and a flicker of disappointment crossed her features before she composed herself with a slow, steadying breath. Despite the chill in his words, she maintained her gentle demeanor, as though he was just throwing a tantrum with her.
• "Alright then, I'll leave you to your work." With that, she cast him a lingering glance, her eyes sparkling with unrestrained delight. His impending divorce was cause for genuine celebration in her eyes.
• "Don't forget your things."
• Because she was too happy, she didn't insist on staying.
• "Madam, allow me to escort you," Liam offered, his voice polite but carrying an undertone of concern.
• When Wrenley heard how he addressed her, she swiftly turned around on her heel, her face cool and distant. In her eyes, there was a hint of emotion that was hard to decipher, a blend of bitterness and aloofness, as she responded with biting sarcasm, "Perhaps it's best if you stick to addressing me as Miss Mitchell."
• Liam, replaying the recent events in his mind, felt a knot of discomfort tighten in his stomach. Why did he suddenly fear Yalena's misinterpretation? What was there to fret over? Hadn't he already acknowledged the folly of his actions? He had indeed managed to offend someone, that much was certain.
• As they walked out of the building, Mitchell was about to hail a taxi when she heard that gentle voice from behind.
• "Miss Mitchell, please, just a moment of your time. May I speak with you?" The tone was gentle, tinged with a hint of urgency.