A Winter's Heartbeat

Leona Everhart had one rule: trust, but verify. It wasn’t that she was paranoid. It wasn’t even that she was insecure. It was just that life had a way of kicking you in the teeth if you weren’t paying attention, and Leona liked to be prepared. Which was why, on the night of the biggest event of her career—the Christmas gala at the Aurelius Hotel—she found herself standing outside a dimly lit hallway on the twelfth floor, heels clicking against polished marble, heart pounding like a war drum. She already knew. Somewhere deep inside, she knew. Maybe it was the way Ian had been distant for weeks. Maybe it was the late nights at the office, the canceled date nights, the sudden change in his cologne—like he was trying to smell like someone else. Maybe it was just women’s intuition. Whatever it was, it had led her here, standing in front of a hotel room door that wasn’t supposed to mean anything. And then she heard it. A laugh. Her laugh. Rachel. Her best friend. Something inside Leona twisted, shriveled, snapped. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen in place. The betrayal was so sharp it cut through her like a blade, leaving her breathless. She could walk away. She could pretend she didn’t hear it. She could go back downstairs, smile for the cameras, and keep playing the role of Ian Caldwell’s perfect, loyal girlfriend. But Leona wasn’t a coward. So she raised her hand, curled her fingers into a fist, and knocked. The laughter stopped. A few muffled whispers. The sound of sheets rustling. And then, after a long, agonizing pause, the door cracked open. Ian stood there, bare-chested, his dress shirt hanging open, his belt undone. Behind him, Rachel lay tangled in the sheets, her perfectly curled blonde hair a mess, red lipstick smeared at the corner of her mouth. It was the lipstick that did it. That stupid, bright red lipstick. The one Leona had helped her pick out. For a second, no one moved. Then Ian had the audacity to smile. “Leona, this isn’t—” She punched him. Right in his stupid, lying, cheating face. Ian stumbled back, cursing, hand flying to his jaw. Rachel shrieked, scrambling to pull the sheets over herself, but Leona was already turning on her heel, storming down the hallway, her breath ragged, hands shaking. Behind her, Ian was still talking, still making excuses, but she didn’t hear a word of it. Because it didn’t matter. She was done. Done with his empty promises. Done with the gaslighting. Done with him. By the time she reached the elevator, her chest was heaving, her heart pounding, her vision blurry with unshed tears. She jabbed the button furiously. The doors slid open. And standing there, whiskey glass in hand, dark eyes watching her with quiet curiosity, was Rhyder Vale. For a second, neither of them spoke. Then, with an amused tilt of his head, he stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. “Rough night?” Leona let out a hollow laugh. “You have no idea.”