I’m packing up my things when I sense someone in my doorway.
I look up to see Daniel hovering over me. He looks terrible, his tie loosened, his hair a mess, as if he has dragged his hands through it a hundred times. His eyes flick to mine and away again.
“I saw the video,” he says quietly. “I’m finding out who leaked it.”
I don’t respond.
“Bailey—” He steps into my workspace. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”
“You made it clear what I am to you, remember?” I ask coldly.
His face crumples slightly. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.” I stand, gathering my bag. “You meant every word. And honestly? You were right. This—” I gesture between us, “—was always going to end badly.”
“Bailey, please—”
“I have to go.”
I brush past him, not trusting myself to stay a second longer.
The elevator ride down feels endless. I keep my eyes forward, jaw clenched, holding everything in.
The doors open on the ground floor.
I make it to my car before the tears come. That night, I collapsed on my bed fully clothed.
Gretchen has texted seventeen times. Trevor called twice. Even my mom left a voicemail asking if the “rumors” are true.
I ignore all of them. Instead, I stare at my ceiling, palm flat on my stomach.
There’s a slow, rolling nausea flooding me. Gretchen blames stress, and maybe she’s right, but this doesn’t feel like my usual brand of falling apart.
My chest feels weirdly tight, my appetite vanished, and I gagged while brushing my teeth earlier.
I close my eyes and whisper into the dark, “I’m just tired.”
But this doesn’t feel like normal exhaustion.
18
Daniel
The board meeting drags on for three hours, but I stopped listening somewhere around hour two.
“Daniel.” The board president, Maxwell Silvan, leans back in his chair, fingers drumming the table. “Are you with us?”
“Yes.” I lie.
“Then answer the question. How exactly do you plan to restore our clients’ confidence when you’re currently the poster child for workplace impropriety?”
Before I can respond, Marvey Draycott, a short, balding man who thinks his money makes him important, cuts in.
“Oh, come on, Richard. Let’s call it what it is. The boy is thinking with his dick instead of his brain. The tale is as old as time!”
My jaw tightens. “Excuse me?”
“What? I’m just saying what everyone is thinking.” Marvey waves his hand dismissively. “You hired a pretty girl, started screwing her, and now it has all gone tits up. Pardon the expression.”
