“Can you get my car here?” she whispers.
Her body is shaking and I know she’s close to breaking. I don’t want her to leave. I want to explain, ease her pain somehow. But she’s not in a position. Too much has happened in such a short span of time.
And I clearly see her eyes growing more panicked with each beat of my heart. I can’t have her drive like this.
“I’ll drop you home, baby,” I say hoarsely. “I’ll give you time. Space. Whatever you need. Just…”
Don’t leave me.
“…I’ll drop you home.” Somehow I know I’ve made the right choice here. But it’s further confirmed when her frame relaxes a fraction.
We remain silent for the rest of the day. No messages. Nothing.
It takes restraining every cell in my body to leave Cece at her apartment. But I’m not sure whether it’s because I don’t want her to be alone or because I have this sinking feeling that if I’mnot with her, I’ll lose her.
Utterly. Fully. Irrevocably.
??????
I jolt out of my Cece stupor when I hear a rather aggressive bang of my front door opening.
A moment later, I watch a frantically seething Taewon stride down the hall toward me.
“Tae—”
My words cut off when he angrily throws his iPad across the counter. A tab is open on his browser.
“What is this—”
“Read it,” he grits out, promptly shoving both his hands into his already disheveled hair.
I bring my attention to the screen. The more I read, the more rage fills every vein—every single cell of my blood.
What. The.Fuck.
It’s a news article posted merely two hours ago.
Astor Heir Caught in Love Contract Scandal
Sources close to the Astor family have confirmed the existence of a marital clause in Levi Astor’s engagement to the famous economist Celestine Wentworth. Their engagement is now known to be a matter of Levi Astor being able to maintain his presidency at Astor Holdings. And if that weren’t enough, an exclusive photo obtained by The Daily Ledger shows the Astor heir in an all-too-familiar embrace with a former
flame—identity unknown.
The whole article lays out the intricate details ofthe clause that shouldn’t exist outside of mine and Cece’s families.
It’s even prefaced by two pictures. One—of me and Cece at a random gala. Looking fairly nonchalant and distant. This was definitely in the early days of our relationship.
But the second image has my whole body vibrating in fury. My hands shake as I pick the damn iPad up, bringing it closer to the destruction that I feel—that I am.
It’s the same picture. The one taken in the Astor cafeteria from yesterday. The one sent to Cece anonymously.
The damning manifestation of the stupidity I could’ve avoided, had I been transparent with Cece.
Iris isn’t visible but it looks so indisputably intimate that I want to hurl the dinner from last night onto the counter.
And now I know why they chose that picture of me and Cece. To show the damning contrast to the world that our relationship was nothing. That it was a transactional error compared to the real-seeming rapport between me and Iris—the unknown ex-girlfriend.
Jesus fucking Christ.
