Broken

Chapter 49: Out of control

A few days later, Zac wakes up and stretches, his hand sliding across Fatima's side of the bed. His eyes snap open when he feels the cold, empty space. Rolling onto his back, he sits up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. "Ti," he calls out, still groggy.

"Here," she replies.

He turns toward the sound of her voice and sees Fatima seated on the sofa in the corner, slipping on her strappy nude heels. Confused, Zac frowns and leans over to check the time on his phone lying on the nightstand. 8:30 a.m.

"What are you doing?" he asks, watching as she stands and runs her hands down the sides of her fitted, sage green, one-shoulder dress. The fabric hugs her curves, ruched along the sides, ending just above her knees. She looks effortlessly chic, the matching light green Fendi bag draped on the arm of the chair beside her. Her gold earrings glisten under the light as she adjusts them with a casual grace.

"I'm going to go save the little bit of my company that's left," she says nonchalantly, smoothing the dress one last time before glancing over her shoulder. "How do I look?" She gives a playful twirl, her confidence radiating as she strikes a pose for him.

"Sexy—" Zac replies instinctively, his eyes following her every movement. Then his brows knit in confusion. "I don't understand."

Zac rubs the back of his neck, still trying to process what's going on. "What don't you understand?" Fatima asks, her tone sharp but not unkind. She walks over to the mirror, adjusting a loose strand of hair and tucking it behind her ear.

"Being cooped up in this house all day is irritating me," she adds, checking herself one last time, her movements decisive.

Zac watches her closely, noticing the subtle tension in her stance, the tightness in her voice masked beneath her nonchalant words. "Ti, we agreed to take some time—"

"Take time?" she interrupts, turning to face him. "I don't have the luxury of time, Zac. My company is falling apart while I sit here twiddling my thumbs. I can't just do nothing."

"I know you're frustrated, but running out there like this won't solve anything." Zac stands up, walking toward her, trying to bridge the distance between them, both physically and emotionally.

Fatima exhales sharply, crossing her arms. "What do you expect me to do then? Just sit here while the board tries to rip Wilson Construction apart? I have to act, Zac. Waiting around is only making it worse."

He steps closer, placing his hands gently on her arms. "I get it. You're a fighter, and I love that about you. But you don't have to do this alone."

Fatima's gaze softens for a moment before she looks away, her jaw tightening. "Maybe not," she mutters, "but if I don't go, who will?"

Zac sighs, brushing his thumb against her arm. "We'll figure it out together. You don't need to rush into battle without a plan. Let's sit down, talk through the options."

"I don't have time to sit, Zac," she replies, her frustration surfacing again. "I'm losing control. I can't let Denzel or anyone else take what's mine."

Zac searches her eyes, seeing the storm of emotions brewing beneath her composed exterior. "This isn't just about the company, is it?" he asks gently.

Fatima clenches her jaw, then shakes her head. "No," she admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's everything." She sighs, looking away again, the vulnerability she seldom shows slipping through.

Zac's eyes narrow, sensing Fatima's defenses rising again. "Ti, this isn't just about your company—it's about control. You feel like you're losing it, but you're not alone. You have me."