His Wicked Obsession (Archer and Virginia) novel Chapter 219

Later that same night.

Zachary approached his boss's desk, gingerly sliding a thick manila envelope over the polished mahogany. Archer was still buried in late-night paperwork.

"Mr. Vanderbilt. The files you requested."

Archer paused. Laying down his fountain pen, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before tearing open the seal.

Inside were a stack of incredibly high-definition photographs.

The first shot: Valentin gallantly holding open a car door for Virginia.

The second shot: The two of them seated across from one another at a candlelit table. Valentin was staring at her with unabashed adoration, while she laughed softly at whatever he was saying.

The third shot was devastating: Valentin's arm was wrapped intimately around her shoulder, his lips hovering mere inches from her earlobe. It looked like he was whispering sweet nothings, or leaning in for a kiss...

And there was a fourth... then a fifth...

Archer stared at the third photo for a horrifyingly long time.

Standing across the desk, Zachary watched as his boss's large hand slowly turned into a vice. The edges of the glossy photo crinkled violently before Archer completely crushed it into a tight, mangled ball.

"Boss..."

"Get out."

Archer's voice was deathly quiet—so unnervingly soft it stripped away any trace of humanity.

Zachary's heart lurched into his throat. He practically sprinted backward out of the office in blind panic.

In all his years, he had never seen his icy boss completely lose control. It was genuinely terrifying.

The following day.

Looking utterly ravaged, Archer marched back into Virginia’s clinic. Only this time, he demanded an audience with Kian.

Kian sat in his consultation room, dressed sharply in his lab coat, a rapidly cooling Americano resting on his desk.

Seeing who barged through the door, he raised a mocking eyebrow.

"Mr. Vanderbilt? What an incredibly rare honor. Please, take a seat."

Archer gave a barely perceptible grimace before sinking into the chair opposite him.

His posture was impeccably rigid, back painfully straight, his dress shirt buttoned to the very top in a desperate display of control.

Aside from the brutal, bruised shadows under his eyes, he looked like a machine.

"Insomnia. I need a session, Dr. Shaw."

Forty minutes later, the session officially concluded.

Kian snapped his notebook shut, took off his glasses, and rubbed the bridge of his nose in exhaustion.

Leaning back in his leather chair, he leveled Archer with a burning, intensely hostile glare. All professional courtesy evaporated, leaving behind a sharp sneer.

"Mr. Vanderbilt. Forgive me for being blunt, but do you have any goddamn clue what you actually want?"

Archer scowled, clearly not understanding the sudden aggression.

Slipping his glasses back on, Kian threw his hands up in sheer disbelief.

"You are clearly obsessed with Virginia, yet you refuse to admit it or face your own damn feelings. Now that she's finally moved on and found someone else, you're drowning in anxiety, staying up all night, throwing temper tantrums..."

"What, Mr. Vanderbilt? Do you actually view yourself as some kind of tragic, self-sacrificing romantic hero?"

Archer didn't say a word, though his fists were trembling with barely restrained rage.

Kian scoffed loudly, picking up his cold Americano and taking a spiteful sip.

"Let me remind you of a little fact—you have a wife and kid at home."

"If you want to drag this out and torture yourself, fine. But stay the hell away and stop torturing her."