Shame burns first, spreading through my chest until it’s hard to breathe. Then comes the disgust, curling through my stomach like poison.
But the worst part is the guilt. It comes with the constant reminder that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t opened the door in the first place.
She only ever had access to us because I gave it to her.
And now Ceci and the kids are the ones bleeding for it. I destroyed the foundation that held us together. All of it for nothing.
There isn’t an apology in the world that could absolve me of that kind of sin.
“Ceci,” I manage, my throat dry. “I know my word doesn’t mean anything to you anymore.”
I stop, trying to steady my voice, but it comes out cracked anyway. “But I swear to you—I won’t let her hurt you or the kids again.”
Silence.
Then a soft, hollow, “Okay.”
And the line goes dead.
For a moment, I just stand there, phone clutched in my hand, staring at nothing.
I send a quick text to Jonathan:
Me: Keep leading the meeting. Family emergency.
I don’t wait for his reply.
I’m already moving fast, almost running down the corridor that leads back to my office. I hear the slap of my shoes against the marble, the uneven sound of my breathing.
By the time I reach my office, my hands are shaking. I grab my car keys from the desk and head straight for the elevator.
When the doors slide shut, I catch my reflection in the mirrored panel. All I see is the face of a man who’s nowhere near done paying for his sins.
I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that Philip had an affair. I always saw him as an example, the kind of man I wanted to become.
And to find out he had an affair that lasted almost a year?
Ironically, it makes us alike. The length doesn’t matter, not when both of us made the same choice.
To betray the vows we made. To betray the people we swore to protect.
I want to believe it’s a lie, another twisted way for Maya to inflict pain on the people I love because I finally rejected her. But by the time I park, it’s getting harder and harder to believe that. My pulse is pounding so violently it drowns out everything else.
I get out and head straight for the building. The doorman barely looks up and doesn’t say a word, which can only mean my access is still active.
As I cross the lobby, disgust floods through me, not just for her, but for myself.
For every time I’ve walked this same path, pressed this same elevator button, knocked on that same wooden door, carrying deceit in my hands and arrogance in my breath.
Every step feels heavier now. Each one is a reminder of how easily I sold pieces of my integrity and called it control.
When I knock, the sound is hard, almost violent.
Maya opens the door almost immediately, one heel on, the other abandoned by her feet. Getting comfortable at home again, after tearing mine apart.
I push the door open and step inside without a word.
She slips off the other shoe, turns to face me.
