The Edge of the Map
995 Words
Ariana adjusted the collar of her navy blouse for the third time that morning, her fingers fumbling with the small mother-of-pearl buttons.
It’s just a day, she told herself. Just another day at work.
But the tension twisting in her stomach made a liar out of her.
When she’d first accepted the position at Vance Holdings, it had seemed like a miracle—one last chance to reclaim a version of herself that didn’t belong to him. She’d told herself she could be anonymous here. Invisible.
Yet ever since she’d overheard Gregory on the phone with Williams Corp, the illusion of safety had begun to crack.
She’d barely slept, her mind returning again and again to memories she tried to bury.
---
Xavier’s mouth on hers.
The scrape of his stubble on her throat.
His voice, rough and possessive: You’re mine, Ariana.
---
She sucked in a sharp breath and shoved the memory away.
Focus.
She checked her phone, relieved to see a message from Lena waiting.
Dinner tonight. No excuses. I’m cooking.
The simple note grounded her more than she wanted to admit. She typed back quickly—Wouldn’t miss it.—then tucked the phone in her bag and pushed open the door to the office.
---
Gregory Vance was already there, a stack of folders spread across the glass conference table. He looked up as she entered, his lined face creasing into a kind smile.
“Morning, Ariana.”
“Morning.” She tried to match his calm, but her voice wobbled.
He paused, studying her with that gentle perceptiveness she both respected and dreaded. “Rough night?”
“You could say that.”
Gregory hesitated, then lowered his voice. “You know…whatever happens with the merger, you don’t have to be afraid. I’ve worked with Williams Corp before. They’re…intense, but professional.”
She swallowed hard. Intense didn’t begin to cover it.
Still, she forced a small nod. “Thank you.”
He didn’t press. He never did. That was part of why she respected him—he let her hold her secrets without demanding explanations.
But a new anxiety pulsed beneath her skin.
What if he finds out everything? What if everyone does?
---
Across the city, Xavier stood at the window of his office, arms folded across his chest. The morning sun cast long stripes of light across the floor, but he felt none of its warmth.
The contract sat open on his desk, the final version awaiting only his signature.
He’d read every line, every clause. He knew exactly how the merger would unfold—how Vance Holdings would become another jewel in the Williams Corp crown.
How Ariana would have no choice but to stand in front of him again.
And still, he couldn’t make himself pick up the pen.
A knock sounded, and he turned, expecting his assistant.
But it was Warren Creed instead.
Tall, dark-haired, impeccably dressed, Warren looked like the man Xavier might have been if he’d never learned to hate the world. He closed the door behind him without asking and sank into the nearest chair.
“You look like hell,” Warren observed, crossing one leg over the other.
Xavier didn’t respond.
Warren sighed. “You know, it’s almost admirable. The way you pretend this is about business when everyone can see you’re circling her like a wolf.”
His jaw flexed. “I don’t pay you to psychoanalyze me.”
“No, you pay me to keep your empire from imploding.” Warren leaned forward, expression sharpening. “But you’re one bad decision away from making this personal in front of an entire boardroom. And when that happens, no amount of money will protect you.”
Xavier’s fingers curled into fists. “It’s already personal.”
“Then maybe ask yourself what you expect to happen when you finally see her again.”
Silence fell between them.
For one brittle moment, Xavier let himself imagine it—her face when she realized he’d found her. The denial. The fury.
And the part of her that would always remember how it felt to belong to him.
He didn’t care if it made him cruel.
He’d never stopped wanting her.
---
Ariana kept her head down as she crossed the lobby that evening, grateful for the anonymity of rush hour.
She’d almost made it to the revolving doors when a voice stopped her.
“Ms. Jones?”
She turned slowly, her breath catching.
One of the Williams Corp executives stood there—a man she recognized from the internal newsletters she used to proofread in her old life. His expression was courteous but curious, as if he were trying to place her face.
“Yes?”
He smiled faintly. “I’m here to finalize some preliminary details for the transition. If you have any questions about the process, feel free to reach out.”
“Thank you,” she managed, her mouth dry.
His gaze lingered another moment, polite but unsettlingly focused. Then he nodded and walked away, phone already in hand.
Ariana gripped the strap of her bag until her knuckles hurt.
It was starting.
---
Later that night, she sat on Lena and Miles’s worn leather sofa, picking at a plate of pasta she couldn’t taste.
Lena watched her carefully. “You’ve been quiet all night.”
“Just tired.”
“Ariana.” Lena’s voice was soft but unyielding. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Not with us.”
She looked up, her eyes burning.
“I don’t know how to be okay anymore,” she whispered.
Miles reached across the table, covering her hand with his. “Then let us help you remember.”
---
And in his high-rise office, Xavier finally picked up the pen.
With one stroke, he signed away any remaining pretense.
It was done.
In a few weeks, the transition would be official.
And Ariana Jones would have nowhere left to hide.
---
- Writer
