Chapter 3

The next day, I went to the Harrington Hotel Group headquarters to officially resign from my part-time consulting gig. I'd helped develop pastry menus for a few of their boutique hotels. It was good experience, but the pay was a joke, something Jack had "negotiated" for me.

The HR department was a hushed, carpeted maze. When I finally found the right office, the administrator looked up from her screen, her smile tight.

"Emily Johnson? Oh. Yes." Her eyes flickered over me, a quick, dismissive scan.

The air in the office felt thick with unspoken things. Whispers followed me down the hall.

"That's her... the one who made a scene at Le Cirque..."

"Tried to trap Jackson Harrington, can you believe it?"

"Heard she was after his money..."

My cheeks burned. So, the story was out. Jack's version, no doubt.

As I waited for my paperwork, Blair Kennedy walked in.

She didn't just walk; she glided, a vision in a Chanel suit, a file folder tucked under her arm. She stopped at the HR manager's desk, not even glancing my way.

"Susan, darling," Blair said, her voice carrying easily. "Those reports for Daddy Harrington, are they ready?"

Daddy Harrington. Of course.

Susan jumped up. "Miss Kennedy! Yes, right here."

Blair took the folder, then finally, deliberately, turned her eyes to me. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips.

"Oh, Emily. You're still here?" Her tone was all feigned surprise. "I thought you'd have... moved on by now."

She tapped a perfectly manicured finger on the folder. "Big changes happening around here. Jackson is taking on so much more responsibility. And I'll be helping him, of course. Family business, you know."

She leaned against the desk, casual, proprietary. "He feels terrible about your grandmother, by the way. He told me. He said you were... very attached."

The insincerity was a slap in the face.

I just looked at her. "I'm here to resign."

"Are you?" Blair raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Well, I suppose that's for the best. Things might have gotten... awkward." She let out a little laugh. "Jackson needs people around him who are... team players. Loyal."

The implication hung in the air. I wasn't loyal. I was a problem.

I thought back to how Jack and I met. A university baking club. He wasn't the heir then, just Jack. Charming, funny, a little lost. I was drawn to his vulnerability. He'd loved my pastries, my ambition. He'd seemed to love *me*.

He'd encouraged my baking, even helped me find my first small gigs. Back then, his family's wealth was a distant, almost mythical thing. He rarely talked about it.

Then his father started grooming him for the business. The trips to New York became more frequent. Blair Kennedy, his "childhood friend," was suddenly back in his life, a constant presence in his photos, at his side during family events.

He'd sworn it was nothing. "She's like a sister, Em. It's all for show, for my parents."

I'd believed him. Foolishly.

The proposal, the cheap ring, now felt like a calculated move. A way to keep me quiet, to keep me on the hook while he secured his future with Blair.

My resignation papers were finally ready. I signed them, my hand steady.

As I turned to leave, Blair called out, her voice sweet as poison.

"Oh, and Emily? Jackson asked me to give you this."

She held out a small, velvet box. My stomach clenched.

Not the ring. Please, not the ring.

I didn't take it.

She opened it herself. Inside, nestled on satin, was a single, perfect, diamond stud earring.

"He said you lost one. He felt bad." Her smile was wide, triumphant. "He's so thoughtful, isn't he?"

It wasn't mine. I'd never owned diamond earrings.

It was hers. A deliberate, cruel taunt.

I walked out without a word, her laughter echoing behind me.