The Secret He Couldn't Keep

Morning sunlight streamed into the hotel room as I opened my eyes. For the first time in years, I felt more clear-headed than I ever had waking up beside Rhys.

I called an Uber and returned to the ocean-view penthouse I had inhabited for four years. The moment I stepped inside, however, I thought I was in the wrong house.

The minimalist space that had once been ours was now drowning in opulent, unfamiliar decor.

In a corner, all my personal belongings were piled up like trash—a heap of what I had once cherished.

The out-of-print book of poetry Rhys had given me lay desecrated—pages scattered, the imprint of a stiletto heel marring its cover beyond recognition.

Rhys was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, sipping coffee. He turned at the sound and sighed softly.

"None of this is worth much. Just toss it. If you need anything, make a list. I'll have accounting expense it."

Not worth much?

My gaze fell on the shattered poetry book.

Tucked inside was the first love note he had ever written me, the foolish proof of a future I once believed in.

I picked up the broken cover and, under Rhys's astonished gaze, tossed it into the nearby trash can with the rest of the debris.

"You're right, Mr. Sterling." I dusted off my hands and gave a faint smile. "Things that aren't valuable should be thrown away when they get dirty or broken."

Including my foolish, misplaced feelings.

I ignored the way his expression darkened, lowered my head, and pulled the resignation letter from my bag.

"Mr. Sterling, this is my—"

Before I could finish, his phone rang.

In the quiet living room, Cassidy Hayes's voice came through, crystal clear.

"Rhys, it's raining. Come pick me up."

The gloom on his face vanished, replaced by an urgent concern. Without a second glance at the document in my hand, he scribbled his name at the bottom.

"Get a cab. Text me when you get back."

He threw the words over his shoulder, grabbed his car keys, and rushed out.

As Rhys drove away, the drizzle turned into a downpour.

The apartment was halfway up a hill in Queen Anne, making it impossible to hail a cab. I opened my umbrella and started the long walk down against the wind.

My foot slipped on the wet pavement, and I went down hard. A sharp, grinding pain shot up from my knee and elbow.

Ignoring the sting, my first instinct was to clutch my bag. My signed resignation was inside. If it got wet, I’d have to see him again, and that was the last thing I wanted.

Just then, a familiar black Bentley sped towards me.

Instead of slowing, it accelerated, sending a wave of muddy water crashing over me. I was drenched from head to toe.

Through the passenger window, I saw her: Cassidy, makeup flawless, sitting beside Rhys. He was smiling tenderly at her, completely oblivious to the woman who looked like a drowned rat on the side of the road.

I clenched my jaw as a salty taste filled my mouth. Rain or tears, I couldn't tell the difference.

I hauled myself up from the cold, wet pavement. A fiery pain shot through my knee, but I straightened my spine and walked in the opposite direction of the car.