Chapter 6
757 Words
Selene
Present Day
I stared at my reflection, clutching a curling iron like it might give me strength.
Power hair. Power heels. Power voice.
That’s what Lana called it. “If you can’t kill them with calm, blind them with confidence.”
I wasn’t going in to kill him.
I wasn’t.
I was going in for the story. For closure. For the version of myself that needed answers.
Still, as I painted on lipstick—nude, sharp—I wondered who I was trying to convince. Him or me?
The mirror stared back at me like it didn’t believe either of us.
I grabbed my tote, laptop, phone, and mental armor.
It was harder to wear this time.
I kept hearing his voice from yesterday, the quiet regret woven into every word. The way he said my name like it still tasted like something sacred.
No.
He didn’t get to do that. Not anymore.
This is business. This is nothing.
I repeated it in my head all the way to the Voss Enterprises building. Past the gold-trimmed lobby. Past the receptionist who clearly recognized me and tried to pretend she didn’t. Up the elevator with walls that reflected too much.
By the time I stepped into the top-floor hallway, I had tucked every emotion neatly into a box labeled: Not Today.
But when the door opened and I saw him—black suit, hands in his pockets, eyes already locked on mine like I was gravity—I knew today was going to hurt too.
"Ready for round two?" he asked, voice like espresso and sin.
I nodded, ignoring the ache in my chest.
"Always."
Present Day
She came in like she hadn’t haunted my sleep the night before.
Hair sleek. Eyes sharp. Voice calm.
But I saw the tiny shift in her breath when she looked at me. The way her fingers tightened just slightly on the strap of her bag. She was wearing armor again.
I’d spend the rest of my life learning how to undo it—if she let me.
“Ready for round two?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
“Always,” she said, and I wanted to believe that was strength and not pain.
She took her seat across from me, clicking her pen with that quiet authority she always had. Professional. Controlled. But I noticed how she didn’t meet my eyes until I sat down, like she needed one last breath before diving in.
“Let’s talk about your time off the radar,” she began. “After the scandal. You disappeared.”
“I needed to.” I leaned forward slightly. “Everyone else was trying to save the company. I was trying to save myself.”
She wrote that down, but her jaw tightened like she didn’t buy it. Like it wasn’t enough.
“What were you saving yourself from?” she asked.
You.
The words almost slipped out, unfiltered, dangerous.
“From becoming someone I couldn’t live with.”
Her eyes flicked up. I saw it—the moment something cracked. But she blinked it away.
“You mean someone who breaks trust?”
Direct hit.
I exhaled slowly, nodding. “Exactly.”
She didn’t say anything for a second. Just let the silence stretch, fill the space like pressure.
“I want to ask you something,” I said, my voice softer now. “Off the record.”
Her eyes narrowed, cautious. “There’s no such thing today.”
“Then ask me what you really came here to ask.”
She stilled.
That’s when I knew—she wanted to. She wanted the truth. Not for the article. For herself.
“Did you sleep with her?”
Her voice was low. Controlled.
But this time, the cracks were showing in both of us.
“No.”
One word. The truth. No spin.
She stared at me. I saw her brain trying to reject it. Her heart wanting to believe it.
“I didn’t sleep with her, Selene. I didn’t touch her. Not like that.”
“Then why was she there?” Her voice broke just slightly. “Why didn’t you stop me? Say something? Anything?”
I leaned in, elbows on the table, eyes locked on hers. “Because I thought I didn’t deserve to explain. I thought I’d already lost you the second you saw her. And I was a coward.”
Silence again.
But this time, it was full of something heavier.
Not anger.
Not hate.
Possibility.
- Writer
