Too Late, Mr. Matthews

2: 2

Jerome had, in fact, booked the most expensive rotating restaurant on the top floor.

He slid a velvet jewelry box across to me. Inside lay a diamond necklace worth a small fortune.

Over the soft rise and fall of a violin, he took my hand, his gaze tender.

"Regina, happy third anniversary. Don't take what happened today to heart. Lola is just an ugly scar from my past. You're the future I want to spend the rest of my life with."

I looked at the glittering necklace and was about to speak when his personal phone, sitting at the edge of the table, rang out of nowhere.

An unsaved number flashed on the screen.

Jerome frowned faintly and answered.

The next second, Lola's shrill sobbing spilled into the quiet restaurant.

"Jerome! They've got me locked up at the Nightfall Club. They're going to break my legs! Please, save me…"

Jerome shot to his feet so hard he knocked over the wine glass beside him.

Crimson splashed across his custom white shirt, and he didn't even notice, his grip clamped tight around the phone.

He drew a deep breath, and when he turned to me, he forced a vicious, sneering smile to the corner of his mouth.

"Regina, that reckless little bitch Lola crossed the wrong people and got herself held at the club."

"I have to go over there. I want to see this show for myself, see how someone so arrogant ends up on her knees kissing the ground and begging."

He ground out the words as if he really were rushing off to kick her while she was down.

But his stride toward the elevator was a mess, so frantic he forgot the suit jacket draped over his chair, and the fingers gripping his car keys were even trembling faintly.

Going to enjoy the show?

Whoever heard of a man rushing off to gloat over an enemy running as if his own life depended on it?

I stayed where I was and watched him vanish from sight like a gust of wind, never once looking back.

I pulled out a napkin, calmly wiped the wine off the table, then raised a hand to call the waiter over.

"The check."

Once I'd paid, I sat alone by the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

The glass reflected my expressionless face and the untouched French meal on the table.

I took out my phone, opened the company's internal system, and found the posting HR had sent out just yesterday: 【Regional Director Transfer — Chicago Branch】.

Without a moment's hesitation, I typed in my own name and pressed submit.

The screen showed: 【Your transfer application has been submitted and is awaiting head office approval.】

I locked the screen, picked up the cold lemon water beside me, and took a sip.

Outside the window lay New York's dazzling, glittering night. Once I'd thought Jerome was my home here.

But now, I had to go find a new place to belong all over again.