Chapter 4
The next four weeks unfolded with military precision. Six AM wake-up calls, seven AM training sessions, strictly controlled diet, even water intake was regulated.
But the results were undeniable. The numbers on the scale steadily dropped, clothing sizes in my closet grew smaller and smaller. More importantly, I had grown accustomed to Howard's presence.
He wasn't always there, but he made time every day to observe my training. From initial stern instruction to occasional approving glances, then lingering for a few extra minutes after sessions ended—I could feel some subtle shift between us.
Yet even amid these changes, I found myself drifting off. Especially during repetitive exercises, my mind would conjure inappropriate images.
That afternoon, I zoned out again during weight training and nearly dropped the barbell on myself.
"Focus." Howard frowned as he took the barbell. "What's on your mind?"
I avoided his gaze. "Nothing."
He studied me quietly for several seconds, then asked, "Have you seen Citizen Kane?"
I nodded. "Required viewing in film school."
"Rosebud..." Howard seemed thoughtful. "People always cling to what they've lost, blind to the value right in front of them."
I looked at him, realizing he was referring to Fletcher. "You think I'm dwelling on the past?"
"I think you deserve a better future." His gaze was profound. "And I'm going to give you that future."
In that moment, my heart skipped a beat.
On the last day of the fourth week, it happened. I was doing balance exercises when Howard positioned himself behind me, his palms pressing against my lower back through the thin workout top—warm and steady.
"Your center of gravity is off." Howard moved behind me. "Let me help."
His chest pressed almost against my back, arms coming around from both sides to cover my waist. The position had us nearly embracing.
"Relax, follow my rhythm." His voice was right by my ear, warm breath teasing my skin.
I could feel his solid chest muscles pressed against my back, his palms burning hot, almost searing through the thin sports bra. Worst of all, when I readjusted my position, I accidentally leaned back closer, my bottom lightly brushing against his—
"Focus." His voice suddenly turned husky, fingers tightening around my waist.
My face instantly burned red, heart pounding like a drum. This ambiguous physical contact made the air itself feel thick and heavy.
Just then, my phone rang with a specific ringtone—one I'd set specially for Fletcher. A news alert flashed: he and Susan had gone public with their relationship. The accompanying photo showed them intimately entwined, vacationing in the Maldives.
The headline burned like fire: "Bachelor Golden Boy Fletcher Kane Finds True Love!"
Fletcher's quote leaped off the screen: "Susan is everything I want—smart, beautiful, elegant. Some women are just practice, but Susan is my endgame."
Practice. He actually used that word.
That word cut through my heart like a blade. Three years of relationship, countless embraces and promises, reduced to mere "practice" in his mouth? I was like a stand-in, a test subject, honing his skills so he could love someone else more perfectly?
Tears blurred my vision, dripping onto the yoga mat. I wiped my face hard, but couldn't stop more tears from flowing.
Why did it still hurt this much? Hadn't I decided to move forward? Wasn't I working hard to become better? But seeing their sweet photos, seeing him casually dismiss our past, my heart felt hollowed out.
Most ridiculous of all, here I was desperately working out and losing weight, trying to become a better version of myself. For what? To prove he was wrong about me? Or to prove I was worthy of love?
Now it all seemed so laughable. He never truly loved me—why should I suffer for someone who considered me "practice"?
But the tears kept flowing, my heart still aching like it would split apart...
Suddenly, strong arms pulled me into an embrace.
Howard's hug was unexpectedly warm. His hand pressed steadily against my back, voice low as he said, "He's not worth your tears, Laney."
I looked up, vision blurred. His eyes flickered with sincere light. "Why are you being so good to me? This is just a transaction, isn't it?"
"Transaction?" His pupils darkened, thumb gently stroking my cheek. "You think I'd hold someone like this for a transaction?"
My heartbeat skipped.
"Look at yourself now." His voice carried a hint of helplessness and heartache. "You've become so beautiful, so excellent, yet you're still crying over a man who doesn't know how to cherish you."
"I'm not—"
"Still going to deny it?" Howard's finger lifted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Laney, you still can't let him go, can you?"
His direct stare left me nowhere to hide.
"What about him is worth your heartbreak?" Howard's voice gradually deepened, carrying a dangerous magnetism. "A waste of space who considers you 'practice'—what gives him the right to make you cry?"
His jealousy was so naked it shocked me. "Howard, are you jealous?"
"Jealous?" His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I just don't understand why a waste who doesn't know how to cherish you can still shake you this much."
"I don't understand why you need to..." My voice trembled. "You don't have to compete with him over me."
Howard's gaze instantly turned scorching. "Because seeing you cry for someone else makes me want to destroy everything."
His confession hit like lightning.
"Because I already consider you mine." His thumb stroked my cheek, wiping away tears. "From the moment you signed that contract."
The air crackled with electricity.
"Howard..."
"Stop thinking about him." His voice was hoarse. "Think about me."
Then he kissed me.
This wasn't a gentle exploration, but a possessive conquest. His lips were fierce and determined, as if trying to completely drive Fletcher's shadow from my heart.
I should have pushed him away, but I didn't. Instead, I found myself responding to his kiss, drowning in this dangerous intimacy.
When we separated, we were both breathless.
We stared at each other like that, the air still thick with the afterglow of that kiss. My heart thundered, mind in complete chaos. Everything had happened too fast—I couldn't even tell if this was genuine feeling or performance.
Howard reached out to smooth my disheveled hair, the gesture so gentle it made my heart tremble.
"Laney..." he began.
Just then, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, something flickering in his eyes, then answered.
Whatever the caller said made Howard's expression turn meaningful. "I understand."
After hanging up, he looked at me, the tenderness in his eyes instantly replaced by something more dangerous.
"Get ready." Howard's voice was still hoarse. "I'm taking you to try on evening gowns tonight."
"Evening gowns?"
"That loving couple is back from the Maldives." Howard's mouth curved into a meaningful smile. "It's time to show a certain someone what a real 'upgrade' looks like."