“Possibly,” I say. “But he escalates anyway. At least this way, it’s documented.”
There’s a beat. Then Sasha nods, already moving. “I’ll loop legal.”
I follow her to the dining table. Soon it's full of papers and laptops.
Legal language fills the screen. Cold. Precise. Powerful.
Sasha types as I dictate.
This isn’t about revenge.
It’s about boundaries.
When we finish, I sit back, oddly calm. Like something in me finally stood up straight.
I reach for my phone on instinct and light up the screen. There’s still nothing from Cam.
I lock it again before I can stare too long.
“Cam should know,” I say. “Before this goes out.”
Sasha nods. “He will.”
***
Cam's been gone all day.
I move through the penthouse like I’m retracing steps. Kitchen first. Then the living room. Then the small balcony he likes to use in the afternoons.
Empty.
The quiet has shifted. It’s no longer neutral. It’s pointed.
Manny is on a call near the entry, voice low and clipped. He looks up when he sees me and gives a nod that’s meant to be reassuring.
“Do you know where Cam is today?” I ask lightly.
“Yeah,” he says. “Early meetings at the stadium. Then his agent pulled him into a last-minute thing.”
Of course.
Football doesn’t pause for emotional revelations.
“That makes sense,” I say. I even smile.
Sasha passes through with her tablet, already half distracted. “He’ll be late tonight,” she adds. “Long day.”
Late.
Every time my phone buzzes, my heart lifts before reality steps in. A publicist. A group text. A calendar alert.
Never him.
By midafternoon, the rational part of me starts stacking explanations like sandbags.
He’s busy. This is normal. Last night was intense. Anyone would need space.
But there’s another voice. Smaller. Sharper.
