Erased vows

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I didn’t wait to hear another word. The moment Liam turned his attention to Clarisse’s flirty whisper and placed a hand on the small of her back, something snapped inside me.

The air felt tighter. Sweat trickled down my spine, and my throat tightened. I murmured an excuse and left Liam’s office as fast as I could without drawing attention.

As soon as I shut my office door behind me, I leaned against it and exhaled shakily.

I needed to breathe. To think.

I was running out of time.

I don’t even know why MG hates me so much.

Or whatever happened after the accident.

I ducked into my tiny office. Trying to keep my trembling hands stable, I repeated the breathing exercise my therapist taught me.

But the calm I was reaching for shattered at the sharp click of heels approaching.

Before I could even turn to look, the handle twisted, and the door swung open without a knock.

Clarisse.

She stood in the doorway like she’d rehearsed the entrance. Dressed in an ivory silk blouse and a tailored wine-red skirt, her expensive perfume announcing her arrival.

She was adjusting the waistband of her skirt as if she'd just finished... something. And by the faint scent of Liam’s cologne clinging to her like a bee to honey, I had a sinking suspicion what that might’ve been.

My chest tightened.

“I heard you were back, came to see for myself,” she sneered, stepping inside uninvited, her eyes scanning me with venomous amusement. “Back from the dead, huh?”

“I am not interested in talking right now Clarisse.”

She took another step closer, her arms folding in front of her chest smiling like we were friends catching up after a long week.

“Tell me, Elsie did the scar I gave you that night in the kitchen not leave a big enough reminder to stay the hell away from this family?”

My stomach twisted.

My hand instinctively went to the side of my neck where the faint mark still lived faded, but forever etched into my skin.

“That was a warning,” she continued, her voice low and cold. “And yet here you are, parading around under a fake name like a bad soap opera character looking for attention like you always do.”

I rose slowly, unwilling to let her tower over me.

She came to a stop just in front of my desk.

My fingers clenched at my sides, but I kept my voice even. “That scar is the only reason I remember what kind of woman you are.”

Her smug smile vanished.

“That man over there, my Liam,” I pointed towards Liam’s office “you don’t deserve him, none of you do.”

“You must be feeling very brave, bold of you to step your foot into this city,” she clapped “and coming back to the Grey’s Life, you deserve an Oscar.”

I rolled my eyes at her pathetic attempt to sound intimidating.

“I work here now, Clarisse,” I said calmly, though every nerve in me itched to scream. “And I suggest you don’t barge into employees’ offices unannounced.”

“Whatever your fairytale plan is, abort it as you can see he just finished pleasuring me and you must have heard the date has been set, we are getting married soon,” she spat.

Walking to the door, she stops right before opening the door.

“I suggest you leave before MG decides to take drastic actions,” she paused “God knows your mother didn’t have the opportunity to decide.”

And with that, she left.

Just that.

My mom?

She must be blabbering.

Mom didn’t know MG.

I sank slowly into my chair. My hand automatically touched my neck, the ghost of pain still lingering beneath the skin. Clarisse hadn’t changed—still venomous, still ruthless. And Liam… if he was marrying her, then maybe the man I once loved was gone forever.

——-

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Meetings. Reports. Silent glares I threw at Liam during the meeting who avoided me like I carried a contagious virus. He hadn’t even looked up from his tablet when Clarisse left his office.

Typical.

The board meeting stretched well past closing hours. By the time I returned to the executive wing, most of the staff had left. The office was eerily quiet. I was supposed to deliver the summarized board notes to Liam.

I lingered in the executive suite, waiting to deliver Liam’s board summary. Through the glass walls of the conference room, I could see him finishing a call with a foreign investor. His posture was relaxed, his tone clipped but efficient. Business as usual.

So I waited.

I returned to my desk and tried to distract myself by organizing files. But I couldn’t shake off Clarisse’s words. Her threat. That scar. My fingers curled into the hem of my blouse where the faint mark lay hidden.

I glanced at the clock.

Still not done.

I sat down and absentmindedly opened my laptop. There was something I had to dig into anyway.

Opening my web browser, I typed in Neurologist Harvey McMillan.

Pictures and articles popped up but nothing recent, the last was from two years ago.

Interesting.

I changed tactics. Searched **St. Albans Medical, Emergency Neuro Division.** Scrolling through hospital directories and archived photos, looking for any other doctor I could contact. Then I saw it.

Aunt Natty.

Bingo.

She stood at the far end of one of the hospital's recent pictures in shrubs, still very beautiful even in her fifties.

My phone beeps.

Liam.

*” You can email the reports”*

I stared at the message. Then at printed the file on my desk.

‘Why not give him the hard copy instead’ I thought.

I shut the laptop, picked up my bag and the folder, and left my office.

It took only five minutes and I was knocking gently at Liam’s office.

His door was partially ajar so I stepped inside.

Liam sat on the couch near the window, his navy-blue blazer tossed over the armrest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the glow from his desk lamp casting warm shadows over his angular features. A few strands of dark hair had fallen onto his forehead.

“It’s late,” he said, looking up. “Didn’t expect you to still be here.”

“I was waiting to deliver this,” I said, holding out the report.

His gaze flicked to the folder but he didn’t take it. Instead, his gaze moved past me toward the window, where the skyline shimmered under a curtain of heavy rain.

“You should’ve gone home,” he said quietly, still staring out at the downpour. “No need to wait around after hours.”

“I figured it was important,” I replied, stiffly. “But I’ll go now.”

I moved to grab my bag but paused when the lights flickered. The thunder cracked loud enough to shake the windows.

“You can’t leave in this rain,” Liam said, turning around.

“I can manage.”

“I’ll have the driver take you.”

“No, thank you.”

All I wanted to do was go home, the last 24hours have been a lot. And after Clarisse's visit today, I was afraid Liam might be in love with her.

His brow furrowed. “Why are you so... stubborn all of a sudden?”

I laughed bitterly. “Maybe I don’t feel like sharing a ride with my boss, who according to his girlfriend, is getting married this fall. Congratulations by the way.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Is that what this is about?”

“You tell me.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Then: “Clarisse said something to you.”

“She didn’t have to, she made herself pretty clear.”

“If you won’t let my driver drop you off, you could probably join me here because I am not leaving you alone here,” he said firmly.

“I wi….” I was about to protest”

“This isn’t a debate, Elsie,” he said, voice dropping a register. “Right now, like it or not, you’re my responsibility.”

Reluctantly, I sat down beside him.

His office was warm, darker than the main floor, lit by a desk lamp and the gray sheen of rain across the glass walls. He pulled out a drink from the side cabinet and poured himself one.

“Want some?” he asked.

“No.”

He sipped and turned toward the window. “You’re difficult.”

“You’re arrogant.”

His brow lifted, and for the first time, a real smirk surfaced at the end of his lips. “So it’s mutual.”

“Why haven’t you fired me yet?”

“I’m still trying to figure you out.”

He set the glass down and looked at me.

“Something about you feels… familiar. But also not.”

I tensed. “Is that your way of saying I annoy you?”

“No,” he said softly. “You confuse me.”

The air thickened between us.

“You confuse yourself,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

He stepped closer. “You act like you know me.”

“I don’t.”

His hand reached up and touched my face, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

“I shouldn’t….” he murmured.

“Then don’t.”

But I didn’t pull away.

He leaned in slowly, as if asking for permission. I didn’t move.

And then he kissed me.

It was gentle at first, uncertain. Then deeper. His hand cradled the back of my neck, pulling me closer. I kissed him back, and just for a second I felt the version of him I’d once known. For the memory of us.

But just as quickly as it started, a knock came on the door.

The driver.

“It’s stopped raining, sir.”

We broke apart just as fast as it began.

I stood, breathless. “Thank you for the ride offer. But I’ll take a taxi.”

He didn’t stop me this time.