My Fiancé Hung Up While I Died

I walked into Collin's office at nine-thirty without knocking.

He was on a call. I didn't care. I crossed the floor and set the contract amendment on the conference table hard enough that the sound made him look up.

He held up one finger. Wait.

I didn't move.

He said something into his phone about quarterly projections and ended the call. He set the phone down and looked at the document. Then at me.

"Explain this," I said.

He leaned back in his chair. "I made a strategic decision."

"Eight months," I said. "I spent eight months on that deal."

"I'm aware."

"Chicago four times. London twice. I know every clause in that contract because I wrote half of them."

He picked up a pen and turned it over in his fingers. "You're capable of finding another project."

Something inside me went very quiet.

I looked at him. Really looked at him. The sharp line of his jaw. The expensive watch. The way he sat in that chair like the world was a board he'd already won.

I used to think I loved him.

I used to think he was worth it.

"I need you and Harlow out of my office building," I said. My voice was calm. Steady. "End of business today."

His head came up. "What?"

"You heard me."

I turned and walked out before he could say another word.

The text came at two-fifteen.

*Can we talk? Just the two of us. I think we owe each other that much. Café Lune, SoHo, 4 PM?*

I stared at Harlow's name on my screen.

I knew what this was. I knew exactly what this was.

I typed back: *I'll be there.*

Café Lune was the kind of place that served twelve-dollar lattes in handmade ceramic cups and had a waitlist for window seats. I arrived at four exactly. Harlow was already there, tucked into a corner table, wearing cream cashmere and a soft, sad smile.

She stood when she saw me. "Selene. Thank you for coming."

I sat down across from her.

She folded her hands on the table. "I know things have been difficult. I just wanted to clear the air. As old friends."

I said nothing.

"Prison was hard," she continued. Her voice was quiet. Sincere. "I had a lot of time to think. About mistakes I made. About the people I hurt." She looked down. "I'm grateful Collin waited. I really am. But I don't want there to be bitterness between us. I hope you can move forward."

She was good. I had to give her that. The performance was flawless.

I almost believed her.

Then she smiled.

It was small. Just a flicker at the corner of her mouth. The smile of someone who'd already won and just wanted to watch me realize it.

"You were always so patient," she said softly. "Always waiting in the background. I admired that about you."

I felt something crack.

"Is that what you think this is?" I asked. "Closure?"

Her smile didn't move. "I think it's a kindness."

I leaned forward. "You stole my project. You stole three years of my life. You built everything you have on a lie."

Her eyes went cold.

Then she stood up.

And she slapped me.

The sound cracked through the café like a gunshot. My head snapped to the side. Pain bloomed hot across my cheek. I tasted copper.

The room went silent.

I straightened slowly. Touched my lip. My fingers came away red.

Harlow was breathing hard, her hand still raised, her face flushed. "Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't you dare act like you're the victim here."

I looked at her.

Then I laughed.

It came out cold and sharp and wrong, and I watched her flinch.

The door opened.

Collin walked in.

Of course he did.

He took in the scene in one sweep: me standing with blood on my lip, Harlow trembling with her hand at her throat, the entire café watching in frozen silence.

He didn't ask what happened.

He crossed the room and put his arm around Harlow's shoulders. She leaned into him immediately, her face crumpling into something soft and wounded.

"Selene," Collin said. His voice was low. Controlled. "Stop making scenes."

I stared at him.

At the man I'd pulled from a wrecked car on a stormy night years ago. The man I'd loved in silence. The man I'd given everything to.

He was looking at me like I was the problem.

"You want to know what this is?" I said quietly. "This thing you call love?"

He didn't answer.

"It's a transaction," I said. "Built on a lie. And you're both so deep in it you can't even see the bottom anymore."

I turned and walked out.

I didn't stop walking until I reached my office.

I locked the door.

I sat down at my desk.

And I started making calls.