On Our Engagement Stage, He Handed My Ring To Another

Three days after the engagement party, Kai texted me at 7:02 a.m.

*Come to the office. 10 sharp. We need to wrap things up.*

No "please." No "how are you." Just orders, like I was a vendor he was about to drop.

I went anyway. Half my life was still in that building.

Morrow Tech took up the fourteenth floor of a glass tower downtown. For three years, I'd kept a desk in the corner by the window. Unpaid. Unofficial. Kai called me his "partnerships girl" when he introduced me to people, and he always laughed when he said it.

The desk was gone when I walked in.

In its place stood a white marble table, a vase of orchids, and Celeste Arden, sipping something green through a glass straw.

"Oh, good. You're here." She didn't stand up. "I had them move your little things into a box. It's by the elevator."

I stared at the orchids. "That was my desk."

"Was." She smiled. "Kai thought I'd need the light. Investors have to see the view, you know?"

Behind her, the whole office had gone quiet. Twenty-some employees pretended to type. Nobody's fingers were moving.

"Where is he?"

"Right here."

Kai came out of the conference room with a folder under his arm. He wore the gray sweater I'd bought him last Christmas. Somehow that hurt more than the ring.

"Let's do this fast," he said. "I've got a call at eleven."

He dropped the folder onto the marble table. I recognized the cover sheet before he even opened it.

*Northbridge Health Partnership.*

My project. Eighteen months of work. I'd flown to Denver on my own dime four times to get the hospital network to sit down with us.

"Celeste is taking over Northbridge," Kai said. "And the Lumen school district deal. And the city pilot."

"All three?"

"All three."

I laughed. It came out sharp. "Kai, she doesn't know who any of those people are."

Celeste set her drink down with a soft clink. "That's what the transition is for, sweetie."

"The Northbridge board chair hates cold emails. The Lumen superintendent only answers calls before eight a.m. The city guy needs everything in writing twice because he got burned once." I turned to Kai. "You don't even know that. You never asked."

His jaw went tight. "Which is why you're going to write it all down."

He slid a sheet of paper across the table. A blank form with a header in bold.

*Client Contact Transfer.*

"Your personal list," he said. "Every contact you've built. Names, numbers, notes. Celeste gets all of it by Friday."

I didn't touch the paper.

"Those aren't company contacts," I said. "Those are mine. I met those people before I ever set foot in this office."

"And you used them for this company."

"I used them *for you*."

"Exactly." He spread his hands, like I'd just proved his point. "You helped me before. Willingly. So help me one more time. One last sacrifice, Sylvia. That's not too much to ask after five years."

One last sacrifice.

As if the first thousand hadn't counted.

I pushed the paper back toward him with two fingers. "No."

The office went dead silent. Somebody's chair squeaked.

Kai blinked at me. "What did you say?"

"I said no. You took the ring. You took the projects. You don't get my people too."

Celeste let out a soft, pitying sigh. "Kai, I told you she'd be like this."

"Like what?" I snapped.

"Bitter." She tilted her head. "It's okay. Jealousy is a normal stage of grief."

Kai's face shifted. The confusion drained out, and something ugly slid in to replace it.

"That's what this is," he said slowly. "You're jealous."

"Kai—"

"You can't stand that I'm moving forward without you. So you're going to sabotage me. Tank the biggest year of my life because your feelings are hurt."

"I'm not sabotaging anything. I'm keeping what's mine."

"*Nothing* here is yours!"

His voice cracked across the office like a whip. A girl from the marketing team flinched so hard she knocked over her coffee.

Kai jabbed a finger at me. "You were never on payroll. You never signed a contract. You were my girlfriend who liked to play businesswoman. That's it."

My cheeks burned. I could feel every set of eyes on me again, just like the ballroom. Same heat. Same shame.

But this time my voice didn't shake.

"Then you don't need my list," I said. "Right? Since I never did anything."

He opened his mouth. Shut it.

Near the copier, Dana Okafor cleared her throat. She'd been Kai's finance director since the company was four people in a garage. She'd also been the only one who ever brought me a coffee without being asked.

"Kai," Dana said carefully. "Before anything gets moved around, can I ask about the Arden wire?"

Celeste's straw paused halfway to her lips.

"What about it?" Kai said.

"It still hasn't landed." Dana held up a tablet. "It was supposed to clear Monday. Then Wednesday. We've got payroll in nine days, and I've already told the bank we're good."

"It's coming," Celeste said smoothly. "Daddy's legal team is just finishing the paperwork. These things take time when the number has that many zeros."

"Do you have a wire confirmation number?" Dana asked. "Anything I can show the bank?"

"Dana." Kai's voice dropped low. "Are you seriously questioning her? In front of everyone?"

"I'm doing my job."

"Your job is to trust the people who are saving this company." He turned his back on her completely. "Celeste said it's coming. It's coming."

Celeste reached over and rubbed his arm. "You're sweet to defend me, babe."

I almost laughed again. Sixty million dollars, and not one cent had shown up. And he was still standing there in my Christmas sweater, guarding her like a dog.

"Kai," I said quietly. "Listen to Dana. Please. Just check—"

"Security."

He didn't even look at me when he said it.

"What?"

"Security!" he called toward the front desk. "Marcus. Get in here."

Marcus came around the corner, slow and awkward. He'd worked the front desk for two years. I'd sent his daughter a birthday card in June.

"Mr. Morrow?"

"Escort Ms. Lane out of the building," Kai said. "She's not authorized to be on this floor anymore."

Marcus looked at me. Then at Kai. "Sir, she's—"

"*Now*, Marcus."

The silence was so heavy I could hear the elevator humming down the hall.

Marcus stepped toward me. He didn't grab my arm. He just held out his hand toward the exit, his eyes apologizing for him.

"I'm sorry, Sylvia," he murmured.

"Don't be." I picked up my coat. "You're not the one who should be."

I walked past the marble table. Past Celeste, who wiggled her fingers goodbye, my diamond flashing. Past Dana, who stared down at her tablet like it had betrayed her.

At the elevator, I bent and picked up the cardboard box with my things. A stapler. A framed photo of Kai and me in Maine. A sticky note in my handwriting.

*Call Northbridge chair before Thurs — he's leaving the board.*

He's leaving the board.

Kai didn't know. Celeste didn't know. Nobody up here knew but me.

The elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside and turned around.

Kai was already laughing at something Celeste whispered, his hand resting low on her back.

"Hey, Kai," I called.

He glanced up, annoyed.

"When the money doesn't come," I said, "don't call me."

The doors closed on his face before he could answer.

On the ride down, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

*Ms. Voss. Your father asked me to tell you the Arden family accounts are not what they appear to be. He'd like to explain in person. Tonight.*