His Betrayal, Her Dublin Escape

My ten-year relationship was supposed to end with our future in Dublin, a tribute to my late father. Instead, it ended when I overheard the man I loved call me a "stage-five clinger" he couldn't wait to get rid of.

He had secretly changed our corporate transfer to Austin for a new intern, boasting to his friends that I'd come running the second I found out.

To secure her promotion, he stole my father's priceless hard drive-his entire legacy. When I confronted them, his new girl dropped it into a puddle, destroying it right in front of me.

Ezekiel didn't apologize. He shielded her and screamed at me.

"Your dad is dead, Finley! Does Blake have to die over some dead guy's broken hard drive?!"

He gave me an ultimatum: apologize to her and change my transfer to Austin before the midnight deadline, or else.

He thought he had me on lock.

But as the clock ticked past midnight, I was on a one-way flight to Dublin, my old SIM card snapped in two. This time, I was choosing my father's legacy over him.

Chapter 1

Finley Church POV:

The ten-year relationship I thought was leading to our future in Dublin ended in a crowded office hallway, with a single, dismissive scoff from the man I loved.

Today was the deadline. The final day to confirm our corporate transfer. Dublin. It was more than a city; it was a promise, a tribute to my late father and his legacy in the gaming world. I held the confirmation form in my hand, the paper slick with the sweat from my palm.

I saw Ezekiel Phillips, my Ezekiel, leaning against the water cooler, surrounded by his team. His laughter, a sound that usually felt like home, now sent a shard of ice through my veins.

Mark, one of his project leads, clapped him on the back. "Austin, huh? Bold move, man. But what about Finley? I thought you two were set on Dublin."

Ezekiel waved a dismissive hand, as if swatting away a fly. As if swatting away me. He didn't even look in my direction, though I was standing just ten feet away, partially hidden by a potted plant.

"What's to worry about?" he said, his voice laced with an arrogance I'd always mistaken for confidence. "I didn't block her on LinkedIn. Her salary is nothing without my connections. The second she sees I've switched to the Austin office, she'll come running."

The air left my lungs in a silent gasp. The hallway seemed to warp, the cheerful office chatter fading into a dull roar in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back the hot sting of tears.

When I opened them again, he was still talking, his friends chuckling along. "Finley? I've got her on lock," he boasted, puffing out his chest. "She's a stage-five clinger."

My stomach clenched. Stage-five clinger. Is that what I was?

"You have no idea how annoying it is to have someone that attached," he complained, shaking his head as if he bore the world's greatest burden. "But I couldn't leave Blake to handle the new Austin project alone, so Finley will have to take one for the team."

Blake Whitaker. The new intern. The one with wide, innocent eyes who always seemed to need Ezekiel's help with the simplest tasks. The one he' d been staying late to "mentor" for weeks.

I felt frozen, rooted to the spot. The transfer form in my hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. I had excused his distance. I had told myself it was just stress about the move. I had made a hundred excuses for him. Ninety-nine steps I had taken toward him, over and over again.

This move to Dublin... this was supposed to be the first step I took for myself, for my father. And he expected me to abandon it. Just like that.

I turned and walked away before anyone could see the tears finally break free.

That night, in the quiet of our shared apartment, the silence was a physical weight. I opened my laptop, my movements stiff and robotic. I unfriended him. I blocked him. I went through our mutual connections, one by one, and erased every digital tie that bound us. I pretended nothing had happened.

He was important, yes. But my father' s legacy was more important.

For two days, I lived in a self-imposed silence. I packed my things in a daze. He never called. He never texted. It was as if I had simply vanished, and he hadn't noticed.

Then, on the third day, a text finally came through. Meet me at the food truck park near the university. We need to talk.

A flicker of hope, stupid and stubborn, ignited in my chest. If he apologizes, I told myself. If he just says he was wrong, I'll forgive him. Ten years. I couldn't just throw away ten years.

I waited for three hours under the sweltering Texas sun, the heat pressing down on me, mirroring the suffocation in my heart. He never showed.

Defeated, I started the long walk home. As I passed the coffee shop near our office, a familiar sight made me stop cold.

There he was. The man who stood me up. And he was with Blake. She was crying, her shoulders shaking, and he was tenderly wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

"You're too sweet, Zeke," she sniffled, looking up at him through her lashes. "Changing your entire international transfer just for me... I don't know what to say. Will Finley be upset?"

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. I took a step forward, ready to confront them, to scream, to shatter this perfect, deceitful little scene.

But Ezekiel's words stopped me, freezing the blood in my veins.

"Finley?" He said her name with a sigh, a weary sort of patience in his voice. "She has no real ambition. She's happy wherever I am. But you... you just joined my team. I can't let you go it alone."

My heart didn't just break. It shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

I watched, numb, as he bought them a boba tea. They shared it, passing it back and forth, each taking a large sip from the same thick straw. Just like we shared a milkshake on our first date, all those years ago.

This wasn't an accident. This was a replacement. This was a deliberate, disrespectful, and final erasure of me.

This relationship had to end.

Back in the apartment, I pulled up my transfer application. My cursor hovered over the destination field. Dublin.

I didn' t change a thing. I clicked submit.

Finley Church POV:

Later that night, I was pretending to be asleep when a familiar pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind. The scent of Ezekiel's cologne, usually a comfort, now made my stomach turn.

"Sorry, had a last-minute work thing," he whispered against my hair, his voice a low murmur. "You didn't wait, did you?"

I didn't answer. I lay there, rigid as a board, every muscle in my body screaming.

He seemed to take my silence as confirmation, and I could feel the relief in the way his body relaxed against mine. "Good girl. I knew you wouldn't. You hate the heat."

He tried to press a kiss to my neck, but I flinched and shoved him away, rolling over to face him in the dim light. "That's right, I didn't wait. Happy now?"

His eyes widened, stunned by my sharp tone. For a moment, he just stared at me, his mouth slightly agape. "Finley, what the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "You've stood me up ninety-nine times for Blake since she started six months ago. Ninety-nine times I made excuses for you. I told myself you were busy. I told you I didn't wait so you wouldn't feel guilty. And you just took it for granted."

Just then, his phone, lying on the nightstand between us, buzzed. The screen lit up with a notification.

Blake: Goodnight, Zeke. Sweet dreams. <3

He snatched the phone, his movements jerky, and quickly silenced it, turning the screen down. "It's just a coworker thing," he lied, and he was terrible at it. His eyes wouldn't meet mine.

He tried to change the subject, to smooth over the crack that had just split wide open between us. "We have the company farewell party tomorrow. Let's just get some sleep."

He reached for me again, trying to pull me into an embrace, but I scrambled away, moving to the very edge of the bed. His face hardened. With a frustrated sigh, he got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the guest room door behind him.

The next day at the party felt like a waking nightmare. It was supposed to be a celebration of our next chapter, but instead, it was the final, ugly scene of our ending. Blake was attached to Ezekiel's arm, her fingers laced through his, looking every bit the triumphant victor.

When she saw me approach, she put on a show of feigned panic, her eyes wide. "Finley! Don't get the wrong idea. Zeke just felt bad for me since I don't know anyone here, so he offered to be my date."

I met her gaze, my own expression cold as ice. "So? Don't create drama where there is none."

As if on cue, Blake's eyes welled up with tears. Her lower lip trembled. It was a performance she had perfected over the last six months.

Ezekiel immediately rounded on me, his fingers clamping down on my wrist like a vice. "Finley! Have you had enough? Blake is my intern. I invited her. We'll talk about this at home. Now, apologize to Blake!"

I laughed. A raw, humorless sound that turned heads nearby. I yanked my arm from his grasp, the stinging sensation on my skin a dull echo of the pain in my chest. "What if I say no?"

Six months. Blake had been here for six months, and he had fought with me more in that time than in the previous nine and a half years combined. All she had to do was look sad, and I was automatically the villain.

I turned and stormed out of the ballroom, my heart aching with a familiar, sickening thud. This wasn't the first time. I remembered the day I came home to find Blake in our bedroom, a necklace Ezekiel had given me for our anniversary clasped around her neck. He hadn't even let me explain before he was yelling at me for "making her uncomfortable."

When I got back to the apartment, he was already there, pacing in the living room. His face was a thunderous mask of impatience.

"Finley, can you stop being jealous over nothing? It's exhausting," he said, the moment I closed the door.

"You're right," I said, my voice flat and devoid of all emotion. "It is exhausting." I looked him straight in the eye. "Let's end this. It's better for everyone."

He stared at me, his jaw working silently. I expected him to argue, to yell, to try and manipulate me again. Instead, he just nodded slowly, a dark look in his eyes.

"Fine. We'll cool off for a bit." He took a step closer, leaning in so his voice was a low, menacing whisper. "But listen to me, Finley. That transfer application can still be edited until midnight tonight."

He smirked, that old, confident smirk that I used to find so charming. "Look at my LinkedIn profile carefully, Finley. Don't fill it out wrong."

Finley Church POV:

I scoffed internally. He was so arrogant, so utterly convinced of his own power over me, that he wouldn't even say the words out loud. "Look at my LinkedIn." He actually thought I'd see his public post about transferring to Austin and immediately scurry to change my own plans, like a well-trained dog.

I pushed him away, the contact with his chest making my skin crawl. "Get out of my way."

I locked myself in my room. On my desk was an unopened box. Inside was a custom gaming mouse, a top-of-the-line model I'd bought for myself. I remembered ordering it, a knot of anxiety in my stomach, worried I'd be too lonely in a new country without him. Now, looking at the sleek packaging, all I felt was a strange, hollow relief.

The next morning, I packed. It didn't take long. My suitcases were surprisingly light. All the expensive bags, the jewelry, the designer clothes he'd bought me over the years-I left them all behind. They weren't gifts; they were gilded chains, and I was finally cutting them loose.

As I was about to close the last suitcase, a wave of panic washed over me. I scanned the room, my eyes darting frantically. It was gone.

My father's hard drive.

It wasn't just a piece of hardware. It was his life's work. The original, priceless source code for the revolutionary game engine he'd developed, the one he was never credited for. It was my most important possession, the very reason I was going to Dublin.

I kept it in a small safe hidden in my closet. And only one other person knew the combination.

Ezekiel.

A sickening feeling coiled in my gut. I snatched my phone and dialed his number. It rang twice, then immediately went to voicemail. He had declined the call.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a message from my best friend, Chloe. It was a photo from Instagram, posted just minutes ago. Ezekiel, at a downtown bar, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table in front of him, his eyes glazed over.

I didn't even bother calling a cab. I ran.

When I burst into the dimly lit bar, he was alone, slouched on a leather couch in a private booth.

"Finley?" he slurred, a drunken smile spreading across his face as he saw me.

I ignored him. I grabbed his briefcase from the floor, dumped its contents onto the table, and began rifling through the papers. Nothing. I moved to him, patting down his pockets, my hands shaking with a mixture of rage and desperation.

As I frisked him, his hands shot out, grabbing my waist and pulling me down into his lap. A low, rumbling laugh vibrated through his chest. "Eager, aren't we?"

The smell of stale whiskey and his cloying cologne made me want to gag. "Give me the hard drive, Ezekiel."

He ignored my demand, his fingers tracing patterns on my back. "Stop being so angry, Finley. Just come back to the bedroom tonight, and I'll give it back in the morning."

My blood ran cold. That code was everything. It was my father's legacy. A "Women in Gaming" historical exhibit in Dublin was waiting for my submission, ready to finally give my father the credit he deserved after all these years.

The submission deadline was today. Midnight.

"Give it back!" I said, my voice as cold as steel. I raised my hand to slap the smug look off his face.

He caught my wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. "Temper, temper. How about this? A little trade." He leaned in, his hot, alcoholic breath washing over me. "Once we're settled in Austin, we'll get engaged. You always wanted to live in a fun city like that, right?"

The hypocrisy was nauseating. I glanced at the time on my phone. 11:15 PM.

"We are broken up," I bit out, struggling against his grip. "Give me the code. Now. I need it for my transfer!"

He just smiled and let his head loll to the side, pretending to fall asleep. "Shhh. Too loud, baby."

Desperation clawed at me. I frantically waved down a waiter, ordering a pot of the strongest black coffee they had. I forced the bitter liquid down his throat, but he remained limp, a infuriatingly peaceful smile on his face. "What's the rush, baby? I'm so tired. Let's just nap right here."

Panic was a physical thing, clawing its way up my throat. "Ezekiel, this isn't a joke! This is my father's entire legacy!"

My phone pinged. An email from the exhibit organizers. Friendly Reminder: Submissions close in 30 minutes.

I begged him. I pleaded. I even choked out an agreement to his twisted terms, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "Okay. Okay, Austin. Just give it to me."

He just kept smiling, his eyes closed.

The clock on my phone ticked past midnight. 12:00 AM.

A final email notification popped up on my screen.

[We regret to inform you that your submission was not received by the deadline.]

At that exact same moment, a message lit up Ezekiel's phone, which lay face-up on the table. It was from Blake.

[Zeke, it worked! The Austin team loved the algorithm! Thanks to the code you gave me, they've already approved me for the lead developer role on the new project. I can't wait to keep working with you!]

I stared at the screen. My nails dug into my palms, drawing blood.

They dared. They stole my father's work, his soul, for her career.

I didn't scream. I didn't cry. A cold, terrifying calm washed over me as I shot out of the bar and into the night.