You're angry because he was right.
My thumbnail dug into the styrofoam cup. A crescent appeared, then another.
I hated that voice. The one that always cut through my bullshit.
But it wasn't wrong.
I would have lost everything—because my morals wouldn't bend.
You needed him.
My whole body rejected it. Shoulders tightening. Jaw clenching.
No.
I don't need anyone.
I built Elion from nothing. I survived my mother. I clawed my way out of a childhood designed to break me and I did it alone, without help, without—
Except, I hadn't.
Hadn't survived my childhood, not really. My mother's voice still ringing in my head, poking holes in the confidence Damien was trying to mend.
But I didn't need anyone to do that. I could.
I could be the woman who could handle her own problems, who didn't require someone to swoop in and save her from herself.
That's not what this is.
The promises. The vows.
This is what that looks like, Emma. Even when it's messy. Evenwhen it's hard.
He'd done exactly what I'd asked him to do.
And I'd punished him for it.
The tea had gone cold.
The bagel sat untouched now, cream cheese congealing at the edges.
Someone behind me ordered an everything with lox—the smell sharp, almost aggressive—and the register slammed shut with a metallic clang.
I'd been sitting here for over an hour. My back ached from the cracked leather booth.
Unethical, I catalogued.Morally gray at best. Criminal at worst.
But also: necessary.
Also: effective.
The bagel shop had filled slightly—a few more early risers trickling in, lost in their own thoughts, their own crises.
My phone sat dark on the table. I'd silenced it hours ago. Hadn't checked it since.
I knew what I'd find if I did. Missed calls. Voicemails.
The audio proof of a man on the edge. Pacing the penthouse, calling my name, wondering if I'd remain.
