“You’ll think about it,” he says, not a question.
I force my voice flat. “I won’t.”
His smile stays. “We’ll see.”
I turn and walk out before my hands start shaking where he can see them.
Outside, the cool air hits like a punishment. My breath fogs, my heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature. I make it half a block before I stop, pressing my palm to my stomach through my coat like I’m apologizing to the baby for being so lost.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
I pull it out expecting—God knows what. Aidan. Angela. Another unknown number. A reminder that I’ve stepped into something ugly. But instead, it’s a calendar invite from the events team at V&B.
Voss & Bartley Charity Gala: Guest of Honour—A. Swan
I stare at it, uncomprehending, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less insane.Guest of honor. My name. Formal. Public. Unavoidable.
My throat closes. My first thought is ridiculous and immediate.
Anthony. Of course it’s Anthony.
This is him trying to fix the mess with something grand and controlled, a public gesture that saysyou belong with mewithout having to say the words that scare him.
My second thought is worse.
What have I done?
My phone buzzes again.
Anthony Voss:
[Attachment: 1 Image]
It’s me, sitting in the café. Aidan across from me, close enough to look intimate, his hand hovering over the folder. The kind of candid shot that lies by omission, cropping out the hostility, cropping out my rigid posture, cropping out the fact that I wanted to bolt.
Anthony Voss:
You said you’d be loyal.
My lungs stop working for a beat.
For a second, the street tilts. Noise rushes in, horns, footsteps, city life…then fades again as my pulse roars louder than all of it. My fingers go numb around the phone.
I can see his face in my mind as if he’s standing in front of me: jaw tight, eyes cold, the old Anthony coming back like a guillotine dropping. I can hear the unspoken part of the message, the part that isn’t written but is screaming anyway.
You betrayed me.
Just like his ex-wife did.
My stomach twists with guilt so sharp it feels physical. I didn’tmeanto. I didn’t want this. I just—I needed air. I needed an exit. I needed to know I wasn’t trapped. I needed?—
I stare at the screen until my vision blurs, thumb hovering over the keyboard, trying to find words that don’t make it worse.
It wasn’t like that.Too weak.
I only met him because…Too defensive.
I’m sorry.Too small.
