We end up in the hotel bar because it's neutral territory. She orders sparkling water. I order whiskey. The first sip burns. I think of my father. I put the glass down.
"You're not marrying me," Bethany says gently. Not a question.
"I'm not." I force myself to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry. The merger—"
"Forget the merger." She says it so calmly it takes a second to register. "I'm not marrying a man who's already bonded, Liam. I'm not a monster."
I meet her gaze for the first time. "You can tell."
"You're flushed. Sweating. I’ve known you for years, and I’ve never seen you perspire, even on a sunny day." She leans forward. "I knew the moment you walked in. Everyone can tell when bonded mates split. It’s never pretty."
The image of my father flashes behind my eyes—grey-faced, weak, dying of a severed connection. She takes my hand, and I flinch. Her touch feels wrong, like another betrayal. "What's her name?"
"Star." It comes out as a rasp.
"That's lovely." She squeezes and lets go. "You need to go to her."
"I will. I am. I just—" I swallow. "I needed to do this right. Not over the phone. Not through lawyers. You deserved better than that."
"I did." She looks away, and for a heartbeat I see the sharp flash of what she's actually losing—not just a merger, but the partnership she mapped out, the dignity of an orderly exit, the months she spent believing this match was stable ground. Then she smooths her blouse, and her face settles. "But I also deserve to not be the villain in this story. So here's what's going to happen: we end the engagement publicly. We'll cite irreconcilable differences. We'll spin it as a mutual decision made after careful consideration."
"Bethany—"
"The merger is shot," she says flatly. "But I won't let you burn the personal bridges. My father respects you. We can salvage a business relationship if we're strategic. But you need to give me two weeks." She holds up a hand when I start to protest. "Not for me. For the press. For the board. I need to brief my team, handle the fallout. If you announce it today, it looks like you left me for another woman."
"I did."
"No." Her voice sharpens. "You left me for your mate. There's a difference. One is tawdry. The other is chemistry. The board will forgive that. They won't forgive tawdry."
I think of Star. Of her saying I'll find another. "I can't give you two weeks," I say. "She's already—she thinks I'm not coming back. She's not answering. If I wait—"
"Then you'll lose her," Bethany says. She studies me for a long moment. "It's really love, isn't it? Not just the bond. It's actually love."
I want to deny it. But the words won't come. "It's real," I say instead. "All of it. The bond. Star. It's the only real thing I have right now."
She nods. Her face softens. "Then you need to go. Now. I'll handle the press release. I'll come up with something. We'll figure out the business fallout after."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me." She stands and smooths her blouse. "Just don't make me regret being decent. And Liam?" She looks at me, and I see the woman underneath the business partner. "When you find her, tell her I said she's lucky. Not because you're some prize. But because you just burned your entire life down to keep from hurting her."
I fly back the same day, nearly two straight days in round-trip travel. Instead of feeling exhausted, I'm energized. I'm flying home to my mate. I spend the return flight texting Star every thirty minutes like a man possessed.I'm coming back. We have a lot to discuss. I ended it with Bethany.Nothing. The blue bubbles sit unread.
The car service drops me off at her shop in the morning. The door is unlocked, and Paula is standing at the worktable. She looks at me and her lip curls. "She's not here."
"I can see that." I look around, trying to control the fraying edges of my temper. "Where is she?"
"Gone."
"Gonewhere?"
"Don't know." She goes back to the roses, stripping them with methodical violence. "She packed a bag, said she needed to get away. Told me to keep the shop running; she'd be in touch."
"Paula—"
"Don't." She slams the shears down. "You don't get to come in here with your thousand-dollar suit and your panic and your where is she like you didn't do this. She was fine before you. Shehad a business, a life, a plan. She was supposed to launch the online branch later this year—the subscription boxes, the cafe partnerships, everything she'd been building since she opened this place. Then you walked in, destroyed everything, and when it got real, you walked out."
"I had to—"
