His Lovable Klutz (Completed)

Segment Twenty-five.

♥ Not As I Remembered ♥

      "I tried to stop her, sir. But she just went in," Susan said apologetically as Stefan approached his office door.

      She was clearly anxious, wringing her hands together as she glanced between Stefan and the closed door behind her.

      Stefan sighed heavily, his patience already frayed from the morning's earlier confrontation with Coby. Without a word to Susan, he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

      Amanda stood by the large window, her back to him, watching the bustling cityscape below. The sunlight streamed in, casting her in a sharp silhouette. Stefan's jaw tightened at the sight of her. He had made it abundantly clear she was not welcome in his life—or his company.

      "Amanda, get out," Stefan commanded coldly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "I told you never to step foot in this company again."

      Amanda turned slowly, her face calm but her eyes pleading. "Stefan, I'm sorry for what I did the last time I was here. But I need to talk to you," she said softly, her tone almost maternal.

      "I don't want to hear it," Stefan snapped, stepping further into the room. "You've said enough. Now leave before I have security throw you out."

      But Amanda didn't move. Instead, she stood her ground, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him hesitate. "I'm going to tell you what happened the night your father died," she blurted out, her voice trembling slightly but resolute.

      Stefan froze, the anger on his face faltering for a moment. He stared at her, disbelief and confusion crossing his features. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, though his voice had lost some of its earlier edge.

      Amanda took a deep breath, bracing herself for the conversation she had long dreaded. "Stefan, your father and I were arguing that night," she began, her eyes searching his for any sign of understanding. "We were talking about getting a divorce."

      Stefan's eyes narrowed, the coldness returning. "A divorce? And you think that justifies what happened?"

      Amanda shook her head, quickly stepping forward, her hands clenched at her sides. "No, Stefan, listen to me. It wasn't about us not loving each other anymore. It was about trying to save him—save your father."

      Stefan's skepticism was evident, but Amanda pressed on, her voice growing more desperate. "Your father was an addict, Stefan. He had an opioid addiction. He was spiraling, and I—I didn't want you to know. You were too young, and I didn't want to change the way you saw him."

      Stefan's face was a mask of disbelief. "You're lying," he accused, though there was a faint quiver in his voice. "My father wasn't—"

      "He was, Stefan," Amanda interrupted, her voice firm yet filled with sorrow. "I wanted to get him help, but he refused. That night, I told him I would file for divorce if he didn't get clean. I thought maybe that would shock him into doing something, but instead, it just made everything worse."

      Stefan's hands curled into fists at his sides, his breath shallow as he struggled to process her words. The memories of that night were hazy, shrouded in the confusion and grief of a child, and now they were being twisted in ways he hadn't imagined.

Amanda reached into her bag, pulling out a small card and setting it gently on Stefan's desk. "This is the number of his therapist," she said quietly. "Call her. She'll tell you the truth. I never wanted to hurt you, Stefan. I was just trying to protect you."

      With that, she turned and walked toward the door, leaving Stefan standing alone in the middle of his office, staring blankly at the card on his desk. The room seemed to close in on him, the walls pressing in as he tried to reconcile the new information with the painful memories he'd carried for so long.

      Amanda paused at the doorway, looking back at him with a sad, wistful expression. "I'm sorry, Stefan," she whispered before slipping out the door, leaving him to grapple with the weight of her revelation.

      Stefan finished typing on his laptop, his fingers slowing as he leaned back in his chair. The tension in his shoulders persisted, even as he tried to ease it by stretching his neck from side to side. His gaze drifted across his desk, landing on the small card Amanda had left behind. It sat there, innocuous yet heavy with the promise of truths he wasn't sure he wanted to uncover.

      But curiosity gnawed at him, mixing with the faint, distorted memories of that night. He could still hear the echoes of his parents' voices arguing, the sharp, heated words that cut through the air just before the fire consumed everything.

      Stefan sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stood up. He grabbed his car keys, suit jacket, and the card, slipping them all into his pocket with a sense of determination he hadn't felt in a long time. He needed answers, no matter how painful they might be.

      As he exited his office, he caught Susan's eye at her desk. "Susan, I'm stepping out for a while. Keep an eye on things while I'm gone."

      Susan nodded, concern flickering in her eyes, but she simply said, "Of course, Mr. Reynolds. I'll take care of everything."

      With a curt nod, Stefan made his way to the parking lot. He unlocked his car with the key fob, the familiar beep and the flash of lights signaling his sleek car was ready. The sound was comforting in its routine normalcy, a brief respite from the storm brewing in his mind.

      Climbing into the driver's seat, Stefan pulled the card from his pocket, his thumb brushing over the embossed letters: LaToya Donovan. Below the name was a phone number and an address, along with the title Therapist in small, understated print.

      He took a deep breath, then pulled out his phone. Punching in the number, he held the phone to his ear, the dial tone ringing in the silence of the car. It rang once, twice, and then a soft, clear voice answered.

      "Hello?" The woman said, her tone polite and professional.

      "Hello," Stefan replied, glancing at the name on the card again. "Am I speaking to Mrs. LaToya Donovan?"

      There was a brief pause, and then the woman's voice warmed. "Yes, this is she. And you must be Greg's boy."

      Stefan's grip tightened on the steering wheel at the mention of his father's name. "Yes," he confirmed, trying to keep his voice steady. "I was hoping you might have some time for a chat."

      There was a soft chuckle on the other end. "I've been expecting this call. I'm available for a chat, yes. I'll text you my address—"

      "No need," Stefan interrupted, glancing down at the card. "I already have your address here."

      "Good," Mrs. Donovan said, her voice calm and composed. "I'll see you soon, then."

      Stefan ended the call and quickly typed the address into his GPS. The route appeared on the screen, guiding him out of the parking lot and onto the streets. The drive ahead felt heavy with the weight of anticipation, but Stefan pushed forward, his thoughts swirling as he sought the answers that had eluded him for so long.

      The truth, no matter how painful, was within reach. And he wasn't going to turn back now.