It’s haunted me for years. How I could have saved us if I hadn’t been so blinded by my own needs…
A tense quiet settles over us, only the sound of my ragged breathing cutting through the silence before Ivan speaks. “And you’re going to unravel all of that trauma for her just to see her again?”
A certainty pierces me as fiercely as it has since the very beginning. It’s a tight grip that I could never shake—the only knowledge that my heart beats just the same as everyone else’s. My features set into something dark and unforgiving. “Yes.”
Ivan blinks away his disbelief before slumping against the backrest of his chair and waving a dismissive hand. “Then I can’t stop you. I’ll relocate you to our New York branch first thing in the morning.”
I’ve won the battle, but I don’t know the cost of it yet. A relief I haven’t felt in years settles into my bones as I rest my head back against my shoulders.
I’m coming, Melody.
“Thank you,” I whisper before lumbering towards the door of the office. I think this is the end until my friend calls after me.
“She’sengaged.”
My blood turns to ice in my veins as I grip the door’s handle. Those words echo through my skull, weaponized as they bounce back at me tenfold.
Engaged.
Melody is engaged.
The word doesn’t just land—itdetonates. Fractals shattering and sending every ounce of hope I once had down the drain.
Engaged.
My hand tightens on the handle, the metal groaning beneath my fingers. For a split second, I forget how tobreathe.
“She’s engaged,” Ivan repeats softly. It isn’t to wound me further, but to make sure I understand.
As if I could understand that.MyMelody is promised to another man.
A slow, hollow laugh leaves my throat. “To who?”
“Dylan Callahan, the CEO and founder of Callahan Software Development.”
Ice freezes through my veins.Dylan.
Always fuckingDylan.
He’s a dead man.
“Thanks for the heads up,” I reply coldly, my plan of attack already unfolding.
“Good luck,” Ivan says quietly.
I don’t need luck. I need a fucking cliff to pushDylanoff of.
Chapter forty
Melody
He’slate.
Again.
I sigh over my glass of wine, taking a big gulp as the bitter red washes down my throat. The food set out, pasta and a vodka sauce, grew cold an hour ago. I prepped it for our anniversary, knowing Dylan would be coming home today from his business trip to his office in California.
Before he hung up, he was arguing with a TSA agent about his cologne bottle being too big, completely ignoring my request to just toss it and get on the damn flight to make it home in time. Now here I am, alone with a candlelit dinner as I stare out at the dark city skyline from our penthouse’s window. New York is still alive below, cars honking and life continuing.
