Chapter 2

Amelia Avila POV:

The plush leather of the car seat felt foreign beneath me as my driver, a stoic man Benedict had sent, navigated the familiar streets of Los Angeles. My mind replayed Gabe' s dismissive words, his casual betrayal. The memory was a dull ache, a constant throb behind my eyes. But beneath the pain, a new emotion was taking root: icy resolve.

I' d spent the flight practicing my composure. Every breath was a conscious effort to keep the tremor from my voice, to smooth the lines of grief from my face. I had to appear detached, unbreakable. This wasn't about him anymore. It was about me.

When the car pulled up to the familiar AG Designs building, my stomach churned. Our building. My building, just as much as his. The name, "Avila-Gabe Designs," flashed in neon above the entrance, a cruel reminder of the intertwined lives we had built. I pushed open the heavy glass door, the familiar hum of the office a distant echo.

The receptionist, a young woman named Brenda, looked up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Ms. Avila? You're back early."

I offered a tight, polite smile. "Just a few things to clear up, Brenda." My voice was even, betraying nothing.

I walked directly to Gabe's office, the hub of our shared universe. The door was ajar. A wave of nervous energy, or perhaps disgust, washed over me. I pushed it open the rest of the way.

The scene inside was exactly as I had pictured: Gabe, leaning back in his expensive ergonomic chair, a smug look on his face. And there, perched on the edge of his desk, was Cortney. Her blonde hair, usually meticulously styled, was slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed. She was holding a crisp white document, waving it playfully. My eyes narrowed. It was undoubtedly the marriage certificate.

Cortney' s gaze met mine. Her eyes, usually wide and innocent, now held a flicker of triumph, a smug satisfaction that made my blood run cold. She didn't flinch. Instead, a slow, predatory smile spread across her face.

"Amelia!" Cortney chimed, her voice sickly sweet. She practically skipped towards me, holding out the paper. "Look! Gabe and I got married! Isn't it wonderful?" She emphasized the word "married" with a venomous sweetness, her eyes daring me to react.

Gabe, startled by Cortney's sudden movement, looked up. His eyes, usually so confident, flashed with something akin to panic. My sudden appearance had clearly caught him off guard. He swallowed hard, his carefully constructed facade momentarily cracking. But just as quickly, the panic vanished, replaced by his usual arrogance, tinged with annoyance.

"Amelia? What are you doing here?" His tone was sharp, impatient, as if I were an unwelcome distraction. He didn't even bother to hide the irritation in his voice. "I thought you were taking a few extra days."

A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. The sheer audacity. He had casually married someone else, then expected me to be gone, out of sight, out of mind. The irony was a punch to the gut. Seven years. Seven years of my life, my talent, my unwavering loyalty.

I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. I thought of the prestigious MIT scholarship I had given up to help him build this firm. I thought of the countless all-nighters, the sacrifices, the times I had put his dreams above my own. "AG Designs." Avila-Gabe. My name, half of the brand. My vision, half of the foundation.

He had promised me the world. A shared future, a family, a home filled with laughter and love. He had promised a grand wedding, a celebration of our union, a future together. Every promise, every shared dream, now felt like a cruel joke.

My hand reached into my bag. I pulled out the small velvet box containing the custom rings. Gabe' s eyes, fixed on Cortney just moments before, now widened in confusion, then alarm.

"What's that?" he asked, a hint of unease finally creeping into his voice.

I opened the box. The interlocking rings gleamed under the office lights, a stark symbol of a love I had believed unbreakable. "These," I said, my voice clear and steady, "were meant to be our future." I extended the box, holding it out to him, not with an offer of love, but with an act of severance. "Consider them returned."

Gabe stared at the rings, then at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Amelia, what's gotten into you?" He glanced at Cortney, then back at me, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. "Are you really going to make a scene over a stupid bet?"

Cortney, ever the opportunist, sidled up to Gabe, placing a hand on his arm. She batted her eyelashes at me, a calculated look of concern on her face. "Amelia, darling, don't be silly. It was just a bit of fun. Gabe loves you, of course." Her words were saccharine, laced with triumph.

I looked at her, then back at Gabe. His face was a mask of annoyance, not regret. My love was not "silly." My seven years were not "fun." The depth of his disregard, the casual cruelty of his dismissal, crystallized everything. The tiny spark of defiance from last night now roared into a blazing inferno.

My fingers went to my phone. I tapped quickly, not looking away from Gabe. I drafted a short, concise email. "To whom it may concern at AG Designs," I began, "Please accept this email as my formal resignation from my position as Chief Architect and Co-founder, effective immediately." I attached a more detailed letter, already prepared. With a final, decisive tap, I sent it.

Gabe's eyes, drawn by the screen, watched me send the email. His jaw dropped. "Amelia, what have you done?" His voice was low, dangerous.

A sharp, almost physical pain shot through my chest. Not from love, not from sadness, but from the brutal severing of something that had been my entire world. AG Designs. It was more than a company; it was the physical manifestation of my dreams, my hard work, my very identity. I had poured my soul into every blueprint, every client pitch, every late night. I remembered the fledgling days, the cramped apartment we used as an office, the desperate hope in our eyes. I remembered when Gabe was down, when he thought he'd lost everything, and I was the one who pulled him back, who believed in us. He had promised me a future, and I had built it with him, brick by painful brick.

Now, on the precipice of our greatest success, with an IPO on the horizon, he had traded it all for a "stupid bet" and an intern. My name, Avila, forever etched into the company's proud title, was now a monument to his betrayal. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth.

"I've set myself free, Gabe," I said, my voice barely a whisper, yet it echoed with a newfound strength. "And from this moment on, you and I are nothing but strangers."

I turned on my heel, leaving the velvet box and the rings on Gabe' s desk like a forgotten relic. The pain was immense, a dull ache that threatened to consume me. But it was a pain I had chosen. A pain that would carve out a new path.