Step Aside: Dear Ex

Episode7

Thora’s POV

I didn’t sleep that night.

It sounded in my head like a curse, what Quentin said. Ask him about five years ago.

Five years ago, I was married to Quentin, trying to survive in his cold mansion, playing the role of the perfect wife while secretly suffocating. What could Luke possibly have been doing back then that linked him to me… or to Quentin?

I turned those words over and over until morning light seeped through the curtains.

But I couldn’t ask him. Not yet. I couldn’t give either of them that power over me again.

By noon, I was at Vexler, burying myself in work, Faking I was not a woman who had a child whose very existence bound me to two men I hated.

In the elevator doors I saw a perfect image of myself, red lipstick, tight dress, the cold grace of a woman who is in charge.

The whispers started the moment I stepped into the open floor.

“She’s the one from the papers, right?”

“Both Palmer brothers? Messy.”

“Still gorgeous, though.”

I ignored them, walking like a queen through the gossip storm. Queens didn’t flinch.

But my calm cracked the moment I reached my office. I had a bunch of lilies on my desk, which was white and snowy. There was a small card pinned in that merely said:

Q.

I gritted my teeth, ripping the note in half. He had people everywhere. Even behind bars, Quentin knew how to haunt me.

“Beautiful choice of flowers,” a voice drawled from the doorway.

I spun around, pulse racing. Luke leaned casually against the frame, suit pressed, expression unreadable.

“Get out.”

“Not until we talk.” He entered unauthorizedly and closed the door. “You avoided me all night. That’s not like you.”

I crossed my hands and did not want him to notice the shakiness of my hands. You had no business to appear at my door last night. Or to… to say what you said.”

His gaze lingered on me, sharp and heavy. “I had every right. You’re carrying my child, Thora. You can’t keep pretending otherwise.”

A scalding came into my cheeks, anger and shame. And don’t you tell me what I can or what I cannot do with my life. You don’t own me.”

There was a while of silence that strained between us, as thick as glass. Then his voice lowered, a sort of a whisper.

“I don’t want to own you. I just… can’t stay away from you.”

That was worse than shouting. Worse than manipulation. Since it sounded true, and truth was more perilous than falsehood.

I faced away fronting him, and stared at the city skyline over the window. “You need to stop this, Luke. Whatever is this obsession--get it out of the way before it ruins whatever little peace I still have.

His steps stepped over the carpet until he stood so near I could feel the breath of his mouth on my neck.

“Peace?” he murmured. “You don’t want peace, Thora. You want justice. And you want someone who actually sees you.”

I spun on him, anger sparking. “You don’t see me. You see a weapon. Just admit it.”

His jaw clenched. “Maybe that’s how it started. But it’s not what I see now.”

My chest tightened. For one dizzy second, I believed him.

Then my phone buzzed again.

I grabbed it off the desk and my stomach sunk with the news: there was a new voicemail by the prison. Quentin.

Eyes that had darted to the screen read my reaction like an open book. His face smiled a grim line.

“He’ll never stop, you know. He’ll haunt you until you’re nothing but ashes. Unless you let me finish this.”

“Finish what?”

“Destroy him completely.” His voice was cold now, steel beneath velvet. “With me by your side, we can end him once and for all.”

I should have said no. I should have thrown him out. But my throat was dry, my mind torn between fear and temptation.

Because as much as I hated both men… a part of me wanted Quentin destroyed more than anything.

Before I could answer, the office door flew open.

A reporter shoved his camera into my face. “Thora! Thora Greenwood! Are you really pregnant with Luke Palmer’s child? Is it true? Did you cheat on Quentin with his brother?”

My entire office froze in shock. Gasps, whispers, the clicking of phones recording.

And in the middle of it, Luke stepped forward, placed his arm protectively around my waist, and pulled me close.

“Yes,” he said smoothly, eyes locked on the reporter’s lens. “She’s mine now.”

The room erupted into chaos.