I Fell for the Man Who Ruined Me, Then He Forgot He Ever Loved Me Back novel Chapter 311

Behind the desk, a flicker of emotion crossed the man's eyes for a fleeting second.

Director Yates didn't catch it, rambling on, "It's a real shame, and I did try to get her to stay. Unfortunately, her mind was made up, and it wasn't really my place to pry into her personal life..."

"I understand. You can go," Jorrod Vaughn interrupted, his tone indifferent.

Rowena Yates immediately shut her mouth, stealing a quick glance at Mr. Vaughn as she turned to leave.

His expression seemed normal enough, but there was an unmistakable heaviness in the air around him, thick and suffocating.

She figured it was just the lingering toll of his recent hospital stay.

-

Jorrod didn't wait until the end of the workday.

He drove straight to Sycamore Grove.

The route was deeply ingrained in him by now, and for once, he was making the trip while actually in good health.

Sienna Quinn was busy cleaning the apartment. When the knock came, she assumed it was the clothing donation pickup she'd scheduled, opening the door absentmindedly in her dust cap and apron.

"Sienna."

Jorrod stood on her doorstep.

Gone was the rigid business suit. He wore an oatmeal-colored cashmere coat, left casually unbuttoned over a chunky cream turtleneck, the collar gathered softly beneath his throat. The look gave his tall, broad-shouldered frame a distinct, cozy autumn vibe.

It was the first time Sienna had seen him dressed in such soft, muted tones, masking the usual sharp, predatory edge he carried.

But he looked slightly hurried, a few strands of hair falling messily across his forehead.

She froze for a second. "What do you want?"

Instinctively, his gaze flicked past her into the apartment, lingering for just half a second before pulling back.

That brief glance was enough. The chaotic scatter of boxes and bags confirmed Rowena's claim—she really was moving.

"You're quitting?"

"Yeah."

Even though he already knew, hearing her say it aloud sent an unbearable tightness blooming in his chest.

The man's lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw flexing in the heavy, stagnant silence before he finally swallowed hard.

"Is it because... of me?" he asked.

He desperately hoped it was, yet terrified it might be.

Sienna jumped back in shock.

Memories instantly flooded her mind.

He'd done things like this before, but that had been with a flimsy wooden bedroom door, not a solid steel security one.

His hand remained wedged in the gap, knuckles turning white as thick veins bulged all the way up to his cuff. A raw, red indentation was already forming, the skin broken and seeping blood.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sienna snapped.

Over the past few weeks, she had noticed a pattern—he always showed up at her door battered and bruised.

Even today, starting out perfectly healthy, it only took a few sentences for him to find a way to hurt himself again.

"What is this, a guilt trip? You think I'm going to feel sorry for you?"

A guilt trip required a desire for sympathy.

But Jorrod was just thinking.

He never had the chance to talk to her; she never allowed it. The only time she ever showed any reaction—whether a frown, a scolding, or a mocking remark—was when the body she had once loved and touched was in pain.

Sticking his hand in the door just now had been pure instinct.