The rag drops from my hand. "What? Why?"
"No concrete evidence linking him to the scene. And he had an alibi for the time of the break-in. Ironically, he was at the police station filing a counter-complaint about your boss assaulting him."
A bitter laugh escapes me. "You've got to be kidding."
"I'm sorry. Without physical evidence or witnesses placing him at the scene—"
"Thanks," I cut her off. "I appreciate you trying."
I hang up before she can say anything else.
My hands shake as I pocket my phone. Daniel was at the station. Filing complaints about Reeves while his hired thugs destroyed my workplace. Because of course he was. That's exactly his style—cover his ass while someone else does thedirty work. Too much of a coward to swing the bat himself, but arrogant enough to make sure he's untouchable while it happens.
Heat floods through me. Rage, pure and sharp.
I get it now… the reason Reeves confronted him. The reason Julian wants to punch more than just a wall. This helpless fury, watching him get away with everything while playing the victim.
But storming over there won't work. Neither will threats or violence—that's what he expects, what hewants. Ammunition to use against us.
No. I need to be smarter.
I grab my phone again, pulling up Daniel's contact. My thumb hovers over his name.
Honey, not vinegar. That's how you catch someone like him. Feed his ego, let him think he's won, get close enough to—
What? What exactly am I planning?
I don't know yet. But sitting here doing nothing while he terrorizes everyone I care about isn't an option anymore.
I delete the half-formed text. Not yet. I need a real plan first.
But soon.
That night, I sit cross-legged on Julian's bed, laptop balanced on my thighs, cursor blinking at me like an accusation.
Two hours. That's how long it takes to craft the perfect lie.
Dear Daniel,
I've been thinking about you. About us. About everything that’s happened, and I owe you an apology.
My stomach turns as I type, but I keep going.
You're a wonderful man. Intelligent, sophisticated, successful—everything I thought I wanted. The problem was never you. It was me, my inability to appreciate what we had when we had it. You tried to take care of me, to build a life together, and I sabotaged it.
The words taste like poison, but I force them out.
I remember when you first asked me out. How nervous I was, how flattered. You could have had anyone, and you chose me. We had something special—those quiet mornings with your perfect omelets, the way you'd wrap your arm around me while we watched documentaries. I was too immature to see the gift I'd been given.
I pause, wiping my eyes. Not from sadness. From rage at having to grovel like this.
But Daniel, we aren't meant to be together. As much as it hurts to admit, we want different things. I need you to understand that and let me go. Please.
Julian means nothing. We're not serious—honestly, I think I latched onto him as a rebound, a way to hurt you. I'm already looking for my own place. By next month, I'll be gone from his life completely.
But I'm begging you, please leave him alone. Leave Reeves alone. They're innocent in all this. Whatever anger you have, it should be directed at me, not them.
You deserve someone who appreciates you, who won't throw away what you're offering. I hope someday you'll forgive me for not being that person.
