Chapter One
2001 Words
Emily's First Person P.O.V
I knew something was off the moment Christian walked up to me with that stupid grin on his face.
"Babe,” he tugged me gently by the hand. His cologne—like everything else he owned—choked me. “I want you to meet someone. He’s the reason this new project is even possible.”
I turned around slowly, polite smile ready.
And my heart stopped.
Standing in front of us was the man of my dreams.
And nightmares.
Grayson Cole.
He’d grown out of his boyish build and into the strong physique of a man who obviously spent a lot of time at the gym. He looked older and more sophisticated than before, but I would know those eyes anywhere.
I never in a million years expected this.
“Emily, this is Mr. Grayson Cole,” Christian continued to ramble, completely oblivious to the reactions of the two people standing with him. At least to my stunned reaction.
Grayson didn’t look surprised to see me. In fact, he even looked a bit... well... smug as he stretched his left hand out for me to shake.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hayes,” he said.
That same hand slipped a petite diamond ring onto my ring finger during a small holiday rendezvous in his grandmother's cabin in Brentwood.
The same hand of the man who slept with my sister a day before our wedding.
Yeah, I would shake him. When hell freezes over.
Christian subtly pinched my waist. Hard.
I couldn’t move. I stared at it like it would burn me.
Say something. Do something. Prove to him that you’re not the same girl he left. You’re engaged. You’re over this.
I blinked hard and forced a nod, ignoring his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
My voice cracked halfway through.
Christian laughed awkwardly. “Wow, sorry about that. She’s just—Emily, babe, you okay?”
“She’s fine,” Grayson said, smirking. “Maybe she just forgot how to breathe.”
My chest tightened.
Christian turned to me, confused. “Wait... do you two know each other?”
I looked straight at Grayson. My lips trembled. “No. Never met him.”
Grayson chuckled, slow and low. “Are you sure? I feel like you’d recognize me. You, after all...”
“I said no,” I replied, sharper this time.
He tilted his head. “Hmm. Maybe I just know someone close to you. How's Cassandra, by the way?”
"You rotten bastard." I lunged at him.
“And your dad?” he leaned in slightly, teasing. "Does your mom still make her famous banana white bread?”
Christian frowned. “Okay, what’s going on here?”
My heart thudded so loud I was sure they could hear it.
Grayson turned to him casually. “Nothing at all. Just having polite conversation.”
Christian narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, but how do you know so much about her family?”
Grayson straightened, casually brushing lint off his sleeve. “Read about them. You know, public records and all.”
Christian laughed. “Damn, you’re good. I really gotta start doing my homework before showing up to events.”
“You should,” Grayson said, eyes on me. “You never know what you might find.”
“Mr. Christian? Can you come here for a minute?” one of the company's investors called out.
I tensed immediately. I didn’t want to be left alone with Grayson. We would hardly be alone in the traditional sense, but being in the same room having a discussion was more intimate than we’d experienced since the day we separated.
“Please excuse me.” Christian smiled and clapped Grayson on the back before he left.
Alone with him, I'm not quite sure what to do.
What am I supposed to say to the boy—man—who broke my heart all those years ago?
“You’re looking well, Emily,” Grayson said. He was clutching a glass tumbler of scotch in his hand as his dark eyes raked over my body from top to bottom. “That emerald dress suits you. It brings out the green in your eyes.”
So we're settling for Polite.
“Thank you. I would compliment you, but I think we both know there's no part of you that I like.”
He chuckled at my choice of words. “Still as beautiful as ever, Emily.”
“And you're still as heartless as I remember.”
He glanced down at the hand holding my glass.
“Not married yet?” he asked.
My eyebrow arched in surprise and confusion at his question.
“Yet? Don’t you mean married again, Mr. Grayson?”
He just shrugged off my challenge with a roll of his eyes.
“As far as the state of New York and your family is concerned, you’ve never been married, Emily. And neither have I. It never happened. That’s why you mailed the ring back, remember? What we had together doesn't mean anything. I mean, especially that day in the cold tennis ball field when—”
"Will you shut it?" I bit out angrily. I quickly looked around at the people nearby to see if anyone was listening. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be involved in their own discussions.
A tall blonde woman in a red dress strolled up beside Grayson and looped her arm through his.
My body shook in anger.
Mary.
My best friend.
The same woman I called just two weeks ago, laughing about some childhood memory, ranting about my thesis, promising to get drinks “soon.”
She’s here.
On his arm.
Grayson’s.
My ex-husband.
The man who ruined me.
The man she advised me to leave.
Did she lie the entire time?
Did she know she would end up here—from the moment she whispered, “You deserve better,” and handed me tissues while I cried over Grayson’s betrayal?
Was she already setting the trap back then?
My heart doesn’t just ache. It burns.
Twenty-two years. Birthdays. Secrets. Sleepovers. Breakups. Reunions.
And now this.
I couldn’t stop the words before they slipped out.
“Mary? What are you doing here?”
She turned. Her smile faded fast.
“Emily.”
Her tone was flat, like she was scraping my name off her shoe.
Christian looked between us. “You two know each other?”
“We went to high school together,” Mary said with a fake grin.
“Small world,” Christian beamed, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it. “You look incredible.”
“Christian,” I hissed under my breath.
“We need to find our seats. The auction is about to start,” Grayson said, steering Mary toward the VIP seating area.
Christian leaned in, eyes still following Mary’s figure.
“You should really lose a little weight before the wedding, babe. Just saying—you’d look amazing in something tight like that.”
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached.
We followed behind them, seating ourselves at our table. Grayson and Mary sat at the same table, directly facing us.
Could this night get any worse?
At first, dinner went on like nothing had happened.
Small talk. Wine pouring. Plates clinking.
We watched the auction display silently.
Then Grayson spoke. Loudly.
“It’s funny how people say the past is the past. When really... it’s just hiding under new dresses and fake smiles.”
My fingers clenched around my fork.
“And some people use sarcasm to cover their lack of substance.” I forced a smile.
“You're always so good with words. Too bad you couldn’t keep a good man,” Mary giggled.
I looked her dead in the eye.
“Too bad some people have to crawl into beds of snakes just to feel important.”
Grayson raised a brow.
“Careful, Emily. Wouldn’t want you unraveling at the table.”
Christian gripped my thigh, painfully digging his fingernails in.
I quickly tried to shift my leg away.
My eyes fell on Grayson's phone carelessly left on the table.
His phone vibrated.
An address blinked on the screen—my address. I knew it by heart.
My breath caught.
Was he tracking my house?
Had he been doing this the whole time?
I looked up at him. He was already watching me.
He knows I saw it.
He smirked.
"What is all this about, Grayson?” I hissed at him through clenched teeth.
He crossed his arms over his chest, straining the shoulders of his designer tuxedo.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The hell you don’t. How did you appear here tonight?”
“I was invited,” he replied with a satisfied smirk.
I growled in frustration.
“Did you plan this? To weasel back into my family?”
“Why would I want to be in your family, Morgan? For the few moments I spent with the Hayes family, I was treated like dirt.”
There was audible venom in his voice.
“I never wanted anything from you but your love, Emily. And your family wouldn’t even let me have that.”
A flicker of pain danced across his eyes. But he had caused me a greater amount of pain.
“No, they wouldn’t. But you seemed all too happy to settle for a night with my sister instead.”
Grayson stiffened at my words. He narrowed his dark sapphire gaze at me for a moment, then let his arms fall helplessly to his sides.
“If that’s what you really think of me, then maybe it's a good thing we didn't go through with the wedding. We never would’ve made it.”
My jaw dropped. What was I supposed to say to that?
“But tell me one thing: do you still tell yourself you were the victim, Emily? Or do you finally realize you were just scared of being with someone your family couldn’t control?”
“Why would my family want to control you?”
Did he know of the mess left behind?
He hadn’t been there. He had no idea what I went through because of him.
"Still wearing your emotions on your sleeve, I see. I expected you to be a little more... composed after five years.”
“And I expected you to have grown a conscience. But I guess we both disappoint.”
Grayson leaned closer.
“Do you think anyone here knows the truth, Emily? That the woman with the superb charity pitch left her poor husband at the altar?”
My grip on the champagne flute tightened.
I could feel my pulse hammering in my ears as the heat of his words ate at my composure.
I leaned in sharply, my voice low but firm.
“Better that than the truth about the man who thought he could have both sisters.”
His expression darkened.
“Careful now, Emily,” he gritted out. “Mmmm.”
My breath caught, and my voice grew louder.
“Advising me? That’s rich coming from the man who used me to get closer to my family. And when that wasn’t enough, moved on to my sister.”
Grayson smirked, his gaze raking over me with infuriating ease.
“Still as dramatic as ever, I see. But here you are, putting on a show of perfection for everyone. Do you think they’d still applaud if they knew you’re just as broken as the rest of us?”
Without a second thought, I hurled the drink at him, the liquid splashing across his impeccably tailored suit.
The room fell silent. The music slowed.
The clinking of glasses and murmurs of conversation stopped as all eyes turned toward us.
“Don’t you dare lecture me on being broken, Mr. Grayson Pierce. Not when you're the one who broke me.”
Well, there goes my composure.
- Writer
