The late morning sun spilled softly through the curtains, but inside, I felt like I was still tangled in the night's chaos.
I sat on my couch, scrolling through my phone absently, the noise of the club fading but the buzz lingering in my head. Sharon's energy had been exactly what I needed _ laughing, dancing, forgetting for a little while that my life had suddenly turned into a tightrope walk with no safety net.
I glanced at the message Sharon had sent me earlier.
"Coffee later? You need to vent or celebrate, whichever works."
A small smile tugged at my lips. I typed back quickly.
"Coffee sounds perfect."
I put my phone down and leaned back, breathing in the quiet of my apartment.
Tonight had reminded me how much I'd missed just being _ not pretending, not strategizing, not carrying all this weight on my own.
Maybe that night out wasn't just an escape.
Maybe it was the start of finding myself again.
For the first time, in a long while, I felt a flicker of hope.
And maybe, just maybe, I could face the storm ahead without losing myself in it.
My phone buzzed insistently against the kitchen counter. I grabbed it, expecting dad. I needed that call _ answers, clarity, some form of relief.
"Sienna," his voice came tight and serious. "Damian's company called again."
My stomach clenched.
"They've made it clear. If we want this deal, you're not just delivering proposals anymore. You have to be their liaison _at every meeting, every event, every... social engagement."
I blinked, disbelief rising like a bile.
"You mean.. I have to be with Damian?" Like always? At work functions, parties, dinners?"
"Yes, they want you close. Watching his moves, supporting his negotiations. They made it a condition."
I dropping into a chair, fingers trembling.
Dad sighed. "I know it's hard. But this deal could change everything for us. For you."
My dad had no idea.
He doesn't know anything about me and Damian.
I hated feeling trapped between business and the ghost of a past I thought I'd buried.
I ended the call with my dad.
So he really wasn't backing off.
I couldn't keep running.
That's what I told myself as I got dressed _sharp, tailored, corporate. Professional. Powerful. Unshaken.
I was going to set boundaries. To look him in the eyes. Remind him this was work. Nothing more.
And maybe _ just maybe _ I'd walk away with the last word.
The drive to Damian's company felt longer than usual, even though the traffic was light. My stomach churned with every passing block.
I didn't tell my father _ Didn't tell Sharon.
This was mine to handle.
I arrived just after 11 a.m., head held high, proposal folder in hand, and the tightness in my chest disguised as confidence.
The lobby greeted me with its cold elegance. The receptionist gave me a polite smile, probably recognizing me from last week.
To my surprise, the secretary desk near Damian's office was empty.
Perfect.
Less explaining.
Less waiting.
No one to stop me.
Just get in. Get it done.
I walked straight toward the CEO's office, my heels echoing against the marble floor. My heartbeat thrummed faster with each step, my grip on the folder tightened.
No knocking.
I pushed the door open.
My hand trembling with a mix of fury and desperation.
The office was too quiet _ too quiet.
And then I saw them.
And the world stopped.
There she was.
Her.
They weren't laughing.
They weren't smiling.
But Damian was holding her.
Not loosely.
Not casually.
His arms wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her close.
She leaned into him just enough _ not affectionately.
Her head tilted like she belonged there.
Like she never left.
I stood there, frozen.
My throat went dry.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't speak.
She was the woman.
The woman I saw back then, the one in the hotel room. The one I burned into memories. The lie that ruined everything.
I didn't wait to see his face.
Didn't care what they were saying. What excuse they had.
It didn't matter anymore.
The years of unanswered questions, pains, and betrayal suddenly made sense _ this was what I feared, what I dreaded.
I turned, walked out, and didn't stop walking until I reached my car.
No words.
No confrontation.
Just the cold sting of heartbreak reopening as I entered my car.
I couldn't cry.
I wouldn't.
But my hands were shaking.