“I’m fine.” To cover my lie, I take a drink. The taste is sharp and overly sweet, but that doesn’t stop me.
“You’re not fine. You’re a mess.” Tasha busies herself with unpacking the takeout. She’s thought of everything. Napkins, paper plates, plasticware. “We’re here to fix it.”
“That’s not possible.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. I set the cup down, afraid I’ll drop it.
Lila leans forward to open the containers, and the smell of garlic and ginger hits me. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since… When? Yesterday? The day before?
Once our plates are filled, they both look at me.
“Talk to us,” Lila insists.
I don’t want to. But if I have any hope of the two ever leaving so I can have a pity party in peace, I need to tell them something. “He thinks I betrayed him. Again. He looked at me like I was nothing. Like I’d stabbed him in the back.” My throat tightens, and I press my lips together as I fight the sob clawing its way up. “I tried to save him. I told him the Lockhart deal was a disaster. We spent fourteen hours, maybe more, going through every single thing. And he believed them—Walt, Reynolds, their fake report.” I blink to hold back the tears that are stinging my eyes. “Believed them. Not me.”
Lila frowns, her fork pausing halfway to her mouth. “We know Blackheart’s a damn idiot. You laid out the truth, and he threw it back in your face.”
“He didn’t even give me a chance.” The words spill out. Now that I’ve started talking, it’s as if my emotional dam has broken loose.
I tell them about the fake emails, the fake report. “I never sent any of those things. And both of you know I never talked to Marchand. But Xavier never asked. He just assumed that the…evidence against me was true.” My chest aches, a hollow bruise where my heart should be. “I thought he trusted me. I thought…” I stop, unable to say it. I thought he cared about me.
Lila reaches over to squeeze my hand. “You need to fight this, Sera. You can’t let him win again.”
“Win what?” I shake my head. “He’s got everything. His company, his empire, his fucking penthouse and a house. And I’ve got…” I gesture at the mess around me—empty wine bottles, crumpled tissues, a life in ruins. “This. I can’t even afford to move out yet. I’m waiting for him or Walt to kick me out of here. And I haven’t even looked for a job because who’d hire me? The traitor who tanked Blackwell Enterprises. Twice.”
Lila’s face becomes a knot of fury. “You didn’t tank anything. You were right about Lockhart. You said it’s a disaster waiting to happen, and we believe you. Lane Marchand’s probably laughing his ass off right now. Lockhart will slow Blackheart’s growth.”
I flinch at Lane’s name.
Tasha tilts her head, her voice gentle. “You could reach out to him, you know. Marchand. I’m sure he’d still be interested.”
The idea makes me queasy, and I shake my head. “I won’t work for Xavier’s biggest competitor. Not after everything. I’ll scrub floors again first.”
My friends exchange glances again.
Lila picks up an egg roll. “Pride doesn’t pay the bills.”
More than anyone, I know that. But I’ve done it before. I can do it again.
Thanks to him, I got my full deposit back, and I’d had the foresight to ask for severance. All that will help me get by for a little while.
My eyes burn. Even though I blink fast, a tear escapes, hot against my cheek. “I gave him everything—my work, my trust, my…” My heart. I can’t say it. I won’t.
Tasha slides closer, wrapping an arm around me. “You’re Seraphina fucking Hollis.”
Lila chimes in. “You called him out when you were twenty-two. You can do it again.”
I shake my head, the weight of it all pressing me down. “I’m not that girl anymore.” My voice is a whisper, barely audible. “I thought I could handle him. I thought I could play his game and win. But I didn’t. I fell for him.”
The admission hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. Lila’s eyes soften, and Tasha pulls me closer, her warmth a lifeline I don’t deserve.
“Oh, Sera,” Tasha murmurs. “You love him.”
I nod, a sob breaking free. “And he thinks I’m a liar. A traitor. I’ll never be the same.” The words rip out of me, leaving me exposed. “I love him, and it’s killing me.”
Lila sets her wine down, her jaw tight. “Then you fight for you. Not for him. For the woman who deserves better than this couch and these PJs.”
I try to smile, but it’s weak, watery. “I don’t know how.”
“You start by showering.” Tasha nudges me. “And eating. We brought enough food for a week. You’re not alone, okay?”
