Chapter 161: Do You Love Me?

Chapter 161: Chapter 161: Do You Love Me?

The key turned in the lock with a loud click, but the only sound greeting Zoey was the low hum of the kitchen refrigerator.

She stepped into the dark foyer and slipped off her heels. She expected Gregory to be sitting in the living room chair. She expected the television to be playing on low volume. She braced herself for the tight jaw, the pointed questions about her unanswered text messages, and the passive aggressive remarks about her schedule.

She walked into the living room. It was dead quiet.

Zoey frowned. She turned on the hall light and walked upstairs. The bedroom was empty. His watch box sat on the dresser. His suits hung neatly in the open closet. His things were all here, but he was not.

She pulled out her phone. She dialed his number.

The call rang four times and went to voicemail.

She hung up and dialed again. Still nothing.

For a brief, strange moment, an unfamiliar sensation twisted in her stomach. Worry. It was not born out of a frantic, burning love for the man missing from the house. It bloomed because the pattern was broken. Gregory was always waiting. Gregory always chased her. Gregory never just disappeared. Something about his absence felt distinctly wrong.

She opened their message thread and typed three words.

Where are you?

She watched the screen for five minutes. No typing bubble appeared. No read receipt ticked over.

Zoey left the phone on the nightstand and went to sleep alone.

The sound of the front door opening woke her up.

Zoey sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She checked the digital clock on the nightstand. Seven in the morning. She threw off the covers, grabbed her silk robe, and walked downstairs.

Gregory walked into the kitchen just as she reached the bottom step.

He looked frustratingly normal. He did not stumble through the door with a guilty, chaotic entrance. His suit jacket was unbuttoned and he looked tired, but his expression was calm. He took off his coat and draped it over the back of a dining chair.

"Morning," Gregory said.

Zoey stared at him. "Morning."

He turned his back to her and walked toward the espresso machine. He pressed the power button like this was just another Tuesday.

The casual domestic routine irritated her more than an actual argument would have.

Zoey followed him into the kitchen. She leaned against the marble island, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I won’t ask where you’ve been," Zoey stated.

Gregory stopped. His hand hovered over the coffee mug. He turned his head and looked back at her.

"That’s generous of you," Gregory replied dryly.

Zoey did not drop her gaze. "You’re a prominent lawyer, and I’m a celebrity. Everyone knows we’re together." She paused, letting the reality of their public lives sit in the room. "If someone sees you somewhere, eventually I will hear about it."

Gregory let out a short, quiet scoff. He turned around fully to face her.

"Are you implying I cheated?" Gregory asked.

Zoey did not answer right away. She watched his face for any micro expression of guilt.

"That could be the case," Zoey said. "But I wasn’t even thinking about the possibility of you cheating."

She gestured vaguely toward the empty living room.

"You could have been drinking yourself unconscious," Zoey continued. "You could have been working. You could have gotten into trouble. You could have decided you needed space." She looked him right in the eyes. "There are plenty of explanations."

Gregory studied her. He did not look angry. He just looked like a man reading a very sad, predictable script.

"And cheating is one of them," Gregory said.

"Yes," Zoey agreed. She tilted her head. "But I didn’t accuse you of it."

She watched his face, waiting for something. An excuse. An alibi. Anger over the messages she’d ignored the night before. Anything that would tell her where he had been.

Instead, Gregory bypassed the trap entirely. He changed the subject with one brutal question.

"Do you love me?"

Zoey froze.

The kitchen went deadly silent. The coffee machine beeped, signaling it was ready, but neither of them moved to touch it.

That specific question was infinitely more uncomfortable than asking where he had been all night. Because Zoey could handle an argument about schedules. She could handle managing a PR crisis if he had been seen with someone else.

But she could not lie to him when he looked at her like that.

Gregory watched her carefully. His eyes searched her face, looking for a lifeline.

"Do you love me, Zoey?"

She opened her mouth. No sound came out.

She tried to find the answer. She truly did. Her brain raced through the catalog of their relationship. She thought about the expensive dinners. The weekend trips to the coast. The massive bouquets of flowers arriving at her agency. The beautiful apartment. The fierce security Gregory always provided. The constant, unwavering attention.

She thought of all the things he gave her. And none of it produced the answer he actually wanted.

She finally took a breath. "Gregory..."

He closed his eyes briefly.

That one fragmented word was enough.

"You don’t," Gregory said.

Zoey kept her mouth shut. She did not defend herself. She did not deny it.

Gregory opened his eyes. He looked remarkably calm. There was no screaming. There was no desperate begging. There were no wild accusations about Alexander or her career.

"I have spent months trying to figure out what I was doing wrong," Gregory said. His voice was steady and quiet.

Zoey stayed silent. Her fingers gripped the edge of the marble island.

"I thought you were tired," Gregory continued. "I thought you were just busy. Stressed with the new campaigns."

He let out a small, hollow laugh that did not reach his eyes.

"I kept buying things you never asked for because I thought maybe if I gave you enough, you would eventually want to stay."

The words landed like physical strikes. Zoey felt a sharp ache in her throat.

"But you don’t want to stay," Gregory concluded.

Zoey took a step forward. "Gregory..."

"No." He shook his head and held up a hand to stop her. "Don’t make this easier for me."

He looked at her standing in the morning light.

"We’re done."

Zoey stood rooted to the floor. Shock radiated through her system.

She had expected him to keep chasing her. That was the dynamic they had built. She pulled away, and he worked harder to reel her back in. She expected another long argument. She expected another dinner reservation designed to fix things.

Instead, he was simply ending it. He was dropping the rope.

"Just like that?" Zoey asked softly.

Gregory looked at her.

"No," Gregory answered. "Not just like that."

A long beat of silence stretched between them.

"I have been trying to leave for a while," Gregory admitted quietly. "I just didn’t know how to admit it."

The brutal honesty stung. It was a clean, precise cut.

Gregory turned away from the kitchen island. He walked past her without brushing her shoulder. He headed straight for the staircase to collect his things for work.

Zoey remained downstairs. She did not follow him.

Her phone buzzed against the marble countertop.

She looked down. The screen lit up with an email from her agent about the Alexander campaign schedule.

She looked at the glowing screen, then looked toward the empty staircase. She listened to Gregory’s footsteps moving across the hardwood floor above her.

For the very first time, she tuned into the feeling sitting in the center of her chest.

She wasn’t heartbroken.

She was relieved.

The suffocating pressure was gone. The performance was over.

And that realization hurt far more than the actual breakup.

Zoey sat alone in the quiet room, staring at the phone resting in her hand.

She had just lost her boyfriend.

And the worst part was that she could not convince herself she had lost anything she wanted.