“Do it,” she said.
Jax hit Enter.
On the screen, Chad's Outlook signature updated in real-time. The autocorrect entries saved. The calendar hold locked into place. The auto-forward rule activated.
April turned and found him already there. Their faces were inches apart. She could feel his breath, warm in the cold room.
His gaze caught on her mouth. April watched him lick his lips, and then his gaze came back up to meet hers.
The servers hummed. The blue lights blinked.
April pulled back enough to reassert their separate bubbles.
The joy in Jax’s eyes shuttered.
Her eyes darted away, and landed on something behind him. Pinned to the server rack—a card with a Post-it note on top.
“What’s that?”
He followed her gaze and shot his hand out, slapping a spare parts manifest over the card.
Too late. She'd already seen enough: corners soft with handling, a Post-it labeled reasons not to quit.
April looked away. Filed the moment underDefinitely Not Now. Swallowed the urge to ask anyway.
Then Jax spoke again, voice sharper. "Nice ring, Feuller. Killian’s grandmother must be spinning in her grave knowing it’s being used for petty revenge."
April froze. "How did you—"
"I own these cameras."
"I saw you go into the supply closet. I saw you come out. I even saw the 'practice' kiss in the CEO’s office."
Jax had been watching. All day. Probably longer.
But all she could think was: he saw.
He saw the patterns. He documented them.
"Did you send me that text? The Poe quote?"
Jax looked at her for a long moment. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because it was true. Years of love, forgotten in the hatred of a minute. You spent three years with him. You found out this morning. And by lunch, you were wearing another man’s ring."
When he said it like that, it sounded like a police report. All timestamps. No context.
"Poe understood rapid emotional pivots," Jax said. "Obsession. Betrayal. The speed at which things can flip." He paused. "I thought you’d appreciate the literary precedent."
"It was unsettling,"
He held her gaze, long enough for her to see he'd meant every word, then shrugged.
"Good quote, bad timing, story of my life."
April didn’t respond, instead she watched him move back to the keyboard, his hands returning to that same focused precision
