Dismantling the ex
944 Words
Harper
If there was one thing I was learning about Alexander’s world, it was that nothing ever stayed quiet for long.
Not even for a day.
By midweek, whispers had started circulating again — gossip with sharp edges and polished smiles. I overheard two employees in the hallway talking about me as I walked past, their voices hushed but not enough.
“Apparently, she’s only here because of him,” one said.
“Figures. No one climbs that fast without… help,” the other replied.
I didn’t stop walking. I didn’t even flinch. But my pulse thundered in my ears. Vivienne’s fingerprints were all over this.
⸻
Inside the elevator, I pressed the button for the top floor and exhaled slowly. I couldn’t let this get to me. The truth was simple: Vivienne wanted me to react — to lose control, to give her something she could twist.
When I entered Alexander’s office, he looked up immediately, reading the tension in my face like a headline.
“What happened?” he asked, voice low and sharp.
“Rumors,” I said, crossing my arms to hide my shaking hands. “Vivienne’s spreading them. That I’m only here because of you.”
His jaw tightened, and I saw something flicker in his eyes — anger, quiet but deadly. “That’s not acceptable,” he muttered. “I’ll handle it.”
I shook my head quickly. “No, you won’t. That’s exactly what she wants — for you to jump to my defense publicly. If you do, you’ll validate her gossip. I can handle this myself.”
He hesitated, then nodded slowly. His respect for me, for my independence, was one of the things I loved most about him — though I’d never dare say that aloud.
“Then handle it,” he said, his voice softer now. “But know that I’m behind you. Always.”
That single word — always — hit deeper than it should have.
⸻
That evening, the company hosted a networking event at a sleek downtown hotel. The room shimmered with expensive suits, champagne flutes, and the scent of polished ambition. Vivienne, of course, was already there — stunning, confident, her charm as dangerous as it was practiced.
I wore a deep navy dress — simple, elegant, nothing flashy — but I knew I could hold my own. Lila had texted earlier, her usual pep talk:
Lila: Confidence is your best weapon. Remember, she’s all performance. You? You’re substance.
I clung to that.
Vivienne approached halfway through the evening, a glass of champagne in her hand and a sweet, poisonous smile on her lips. “Harper, darling,” she said, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “I must say, you’ve adjusted remarkably fast. Not many people could… transition so easily into Alexander’s circle.”
The words were a trap, polished and deliberate. The small crowd around us turned slightly, curiosity flickering.
I met her gaze calmly. “It’s less about adjusting,” I said evenly, “and more about working hard. I find that’s a concept that never goes out of fashion.”
A soft ripple of laughter moved through the group. Vivienne’s smile faltered — just slightly — but I saw the flash of irritation behind her eyes.
Alexander appeared at my side then, perfectly timed, his hand brushing the small of my back in a subtle but unmistakable gesture of solidarity. His voice was smooth, controlled.
“Harper’s talent speaks for itself,” he said quietly, his gaze fixed on Vivienne. “I don’t mix business and gossip.”
The room went still for a beat. Vivienne’s composure cracked just enough for me to see it — the brief flicker of wounded pride.
She smiled again, brittle this time. “Of course,” she murmured, her tone honeyed with humiliation.
And just like that, she excused herself.
⸻
As the evening wound down, I stepped outside onto the terrace to breathe. The city stretched before me, endless lights twinkling against the night sky. My pulse finally began to slow.
Alexander joined me a few minutes later, two glasses of champagne in hand. “That was impressive,” he said quietly, handing me one.
I smiled, feeling both exhausted and elated. “Thank you. I didn’t plan to make a scene, but she left me no choice.”
He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You didn’t make a scene. You dismantled her. Gracefully.”
I felt warmth flood through me — not just from the champagne. “I just… didn’t want to give her control.”
He stepped closer, his expression softening. “You didn’t. You’ve got more strength than you realize, Harper.”
The way he said my name — low, steady, deliberate — made my stomach tighten.
I turned to face him fully, and for a heartbeat, the air between us shifted. The city noise faded, replaced by something quieter, heavier. His gaze dropped to my lips before he caught himself and looked away, jaw tense.
“I should—” he began.
“Yeah,” I whispered, voice barely audible.
Neither of us moved for several seconds. The electricity in the space between us was unbearable, humming with everything we weren’t saying.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
I nodded, stepping back, my pulse hammering as I watched him walk away. The night air felt colder suddenly, and yet, deep inside, a quiet warmth spread — dangerous, thrilling warmth.
Because for the first time, I was certain of two things:
Vivienne wasn’t done with her games.
And Alexander Cole was no longer pretending.
- Writer
