Because he won’t even know it was me.
Not until the headlines hit.
Not until his lawyer stops returning his calls and his bank account is locked down.
Not until he realises his empire is built on sand and someone just pulled the tide in.
Even then… he’ll never be able to prove a damn thing.
I turn and walk away, slipping my hands into my coat pockets. The late afternoon air is crisp, clean, and sharp.
I don’t need credit. I don’t need thanks.
I just needed justice.
Finally, he’s getting what he deserves.
Quiet. Legal. Ruthless.
Exactly how I like it.
20
Lila
My body is deliciously sore, every inch of me humming with the memories of last night. After the kitchen, twice in my apartment. A deep, satisfied ache settles into my limbs, but the warmth spreading through my chest is what really does me in.
It wasn’t just sex.
It was something else entirely. Something I refuse to name. Something dangerous.
I stretch, rolling onto my side, reaching for him.
But the space beside me is empty.
My stomach drops.
I push up on my elbows, blinking away sleep, scanning the dim light filtering through my apartment. No sound of the shower running. No rustle of movement. Just me.
Alone.
He left.
A lump lodges in my throat as panic kicks up, irrational and sharp. I don’t know what I expected, but waking up alone wasn’t it.
I press my fingers against my temples, forcing down the stingin my chest. Had last night meant more to me than it did to him? Was I just a closure fuck? A goodbye?
Then, I see it.
A single note on the pillow beside me. Folded. Neat. Precise.
Meet me at the park at 12.
No explanation. No apology. Just a request. I suck in a shaky breath, my chest tightening.
What have I done?
***
