Chapter 5 4

Lena

Thank goodness he doesn't know who I am.

I muttered it under my breath as I tried to focus on the stack of files in front of me. My hands gripped the papers a little too tightly, my pulse skipping every time the thought of Lucas Reed crossed my mind. God. Last night had been a complete disaster for my composure, and yet a complete disaster I couldn't stop replaying.

Focus, Lena. Files. Numbers. Emails. Not him.

I tried to force my eyes on the spreadsheets, reading and rereading line after line of marketing projections and client feedback, but the words blurred together. I should have been thinking about budgets, but instead I was thinking about the tilt of his head, the smirk that had made my knees weak, the way he had leaned close and spoken in that smooth voice and his fucking dick.

No. Stop it. He's the CEO. I'm the PA. Keep it professional. Keep your head in the game.

Which was apparently impossible, because every time I shifted in my chair, every time a shadow passed the window, my heart jumped like he might be standing there, watching, waiting for me to slip up.

By the time lunch rolled around, I felt like I had survived a war since he didn't come out of his office. My stomach growled, reminding me that survival required food, even if my brain was still a tangled mess of last night and Lucas Reed. I grabbed my bag and headed for the cafeteria, sitting at a quiet corner where I could eat in peace and maybe pretend no one existed outside the stack of files I had stuffed in my bag earlier.

And then I froze.

"Lena."

My stomach sank. Of course. Ethan. My fiancé or should I say, ex, depending on how honest I wanted to be and the man who had somehow managed to waste three years of my life.

I paused, taking a breath I didn't quite feel. He was smiling like everything was fine, like nothing had happened, like he didn't owe me a single explanation.

"Lena, can we talk?" he asked, stepping closer as he sat down opposite me with that same self-satisfied expression plastered on his face.

"No," I said firmly, planting my feet. "We cannot talk."

He raised a brow, clearly expecting me to melt at his charm. "I called you last night. You didn't answer."

"That was it?" I asked, voice low but sharp. "One phone call and you think that fixes everything?"

"I... Lena, you don't understand. I was...drunk. I-"

"Don't." I cut him off, louder this time. "I understand perfectly. You were drunk. Next time, try honesty while sober. Might work better than excuses."

He opened his mouth again, and I shook my head. "Save it, Ethan. We are done. Whatever engagement, whatever future you thought you had with me, it's over and to make it easy on you, I'll even mail your ring back. You can pawn it off for all I care."

His jaw tightened. "My mom... she's expecting you this weekend. You can't just-"

I laughed, bitterly. "Expecting me? That's cute. Maybe the woman you slept with can fill that spot just fine. She's probably more reliable than I ever was. Congratulations, Ethan. Truly."

"Stop being childish," he snapped, taking a step closer, voice dropping into that condescending tone he always used when he thought he was being reasonable. "We've been together for three years. Three. Do you have any idea how much time I invested in you? And you're really going to throw it all away over one mistake?"

"Yes," I said, calmly now. "Because you're not worth my future. You never were. I just finally see it."

His smile twitched, confidence cracking for half a second before he recovered. He always did. "You're being emotional, Lena. That's the problem. You never think things through. You were never really there for me. You were always busy, working late, running after your dreams, choosing everyone and everything else over us."

I laughed. "Oh, this again."

"You don't have to get defensive," he continued, warming to his speech. "I just needed more from you. Is that so wrong? A girlfriend should prioritize her relationship. You made me feel lonely, Lena. You pushed me into this."

That did it.

"Oh, really?" I cut in, fire climbing straight up my spine. "So let me get this straight. I prioritize my career and my dreams. You work in the same company as me, climbing up the ladder and because you feel lonely, your solution was to cheat, then stand here and tell me it's my fault?"

"I said mistake," he corrected sharply. "Why do you keep exaggerating everything? Normal couples work through things like this."

"No," I said. "Selfish men expect women to swallow them."

His face hardened. "You're overreacting. This is exactly what I mean. You always make things dramatic."

I picked up my water bottle from the table, my hand steady despite the shaking in my chest. "No," I said quietly. "I'm finally reacting appropriately."

Before he could speak, I tipped the bottle and poured it straight into his face.

Cold water drenched his hair, soaked his shirt, splashed onto the floor between us. He stumbled back, sputtering, his eyes wide with shock.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted.

"Done," I said, louder now, my voice echoing through the empty cafeteria. "I'm done shrinking myself so you can feel important. I'm done apologizing for having a life. I'm done enduring your sulking, your entitlement, your belief that loving you meant erasing myself."

He stared at me like I'd committed a crime.

"You really think you'll do better than me?" he scoffed, wiping his face. "After everything I put into you?"

I slung my bag over my shoulder and stood. "That right there? That's why I already have."

I met his eyes. "Goodbye, Ethan. It's over. Don't call me. Don't text me. Don't show up pretending you deserve access to me ever again."

Then I turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, wet, furious, and finally irrelevant. He was still here, clinging to the last scraps of his pride but I didn't look back. I was done giving him even that.

By the time I reached my office, my hands had stopped shaking.

I closed the door, locked it, and leaned back against it for a brief second, just to let the finality of it settle in my chest.

Then I pulled out my phone.

I opened the food app, scrolled past the things I usually ordered for him and I, and chose what I wanted. Extra sides. A drink, dessert. I added it all without hesitation and hit order.

The confirmation popped up.

Good.

I walked to my desk, set my bag down, and sat in my chair, staring out the window as everything moved on like nothing monumental had just happened. My life didn't pause. The world didn't collapse.

And for the first time in a long while, neither did I.

I was free. And I was hungry.

After a few hours, I buried myself in work, forcing my mind to focus. I attacked it with the ferocity of someone who had just survived a personal apocalypse. Lucas Reed never stepped out, and for that, I was quietly grateful.

By the time the clock neared quitting time, I felt like I might actually survive the day. I zipped my bag, straightened my blouse, and headed for the exit, reminding myself to breathe, to keep control.

As I crossed into the underground parking lot, the sound of a horn cut through the air.

I froze mid-step.

Please don't be.....

I turned.

Lucas Reed.

Of course it was him.

When did he even leave his office? He hadn't moved an inch from his office the last time I saw him in the morning. Had he left while I went to grab coffee? Or when I went back for my bag? Had he been timing me?

My stomach dropped so hard I was pretty sure it hit the concrete.

He was already stepping out of his car, dressed in that sharp black suit like he'd personally declared war on my nervous system. He shut the door with an easy motion and leaned against the car, relaxed, entirely too attractive for a man who was currently ruining my peace.

"I can give you a ride home," he said, like this was the most normal thing in the world.

My brain immediately shut down.

A ride. Home. Alone. In a car. With him.

Absolutely not.

I turned my head slowly, schooling my face into something calm, something adult, something. "That's not necessary," I said, my voice clipped.

He didn't move. He merely smiled.

"It's just a gesture," he said. "Since... we're working together."

Oh God. The pause. The emphasis. The way his eyes flicked over my face like he was trying to read something written between the lines.

No. Nope. This was dangerous territory.

My heart started racing. My palms went damp around my bag strap. I could not let this become a conversation. I could not let him remember last night. Or worse....let me remember it.

My mouth moved before my brain could catch up.

"I'm-" I started, then stopped, then rushed it out in one breath, "I'm married."

The word hung there. It was loud, heavy and a little unhinged.

His expression shifted, not dramatically, just enough. His brows lifted slightly, surprise flashing across his face before he masked it.

"Oh," he said.

Just that. There are no follow up or an awkward response.

He straightened, nodded once like he'd just received new information in a meeting, and turned back toward his car.

"Oh," he repeated, quieter this time.

He slid into the driver's seat, shut the door, and the engine purred to life. Then he drove off, smooth and unbothered, disappearing up the ramp like he hadn't just detonated my entire nervous system.

I stood there, rooted to the spot.

My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure someone could hear it. My legs felt weak, like they'd forgotten their job description. I tightened my grip on my bag, breathing out slowly, like it might float me back into reality.

I let out a breath that sounded more like a laugh and dragged a hand down my face.

"Oh shit," I muttered. "What the hell did I just say?"