chapter twenty three: New look

Lily's pov….

Andrew parked the car in front of my apartment building, the low hum of the engine the only sound between us. The city outside glimmered faintly in the night — streetlights, distant laughter, the world moving on while I sat there, staring at the dashboard, not sure what to say.

“Thank you,” I finally murmured, breaking the silence.

He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “You should rest. You’ve had a long week.”

I nodded, but the words that came out weren’t the ones I’d planned. “Do you ever… feel like everything’s spinning out of control?”

His jaw twitched. “Every day,” he said quietly.

For a moment, it felt like we weren’t boss and assistant — just two people with too many ghosts in their heads. I wanted to ask more, wanted to know more. But he turned away first, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.

“Goodnight, Lily.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Sterling,” I whispered, stepping out of the car.

He waited until I was safely at my door before driving off. The sound of his engine faded into the distance, leaving me with an odd ache in my chest.

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I spent the next morning cleaning like my sanity depended on it. Dishes. Laundry. Scrubbing countertops that were already spotless. Anything to distract myself from replaying every word Andrew had said — and everything he hadn’t.

By noon, I was exhausted and restless. I caught my reflection in the mirror: dull hair, tired eyes, a woman who looked like she needed a change.

“Maybe a haircut will help,” I muttered to myself. Something new. Something bold. Something that didn’t remind me of the version of me that loved a liar like Ryan.

I grabbed my bag and headed out, the warm air kissing my cheeks as I walked down the street. My mind was already on what style to get — maybe something shorter, lighter — when that all-too-familiar voice stopped me cold.

“Lily.”

The sound of his voice made my stomach twist. I turned slowly.

Ryan.

He stood by the corner café, looking just as polished and confident as always — white shirt open at the throat, sleeves rolled up, eyes shining with that same arrogance I once mistook for charm.

“What do you want?” I asked flatly.

He smiled, stepping closer like nothing had ever happened. “You’ve been ignoring my messages. Thought I’d check if you were alive.”

“I was hoping you’d take the hint,” I said.

He chuckled, tilting his head. “Still sharp-tongued. I missed that.”

“Cut the act, Ryan. What do you want?”

He sighed, pretending to be hurt. “Maybe I just want to fix things between us. I know I messed up. I shouldn’t have—”

“Cheated?” I snapped. “You shouldn’t have cheated on me and harassed me?”

His smile faltered. “It wasn’t serious. I was drunk. I thought—”

“Don’t you dare,” I hissed. “Don’t you dare make excuses for it.”

He exhaled harshly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Lily, I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks. Didn’t you get the roses?”

My heart skipped. “What roses?”

“The ones sent to your office,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Red, every morning. You didn’t even thank me.”

My skin went cold. “That was you?”

He smirked. “Who else? You think your knight in shining armor is sending you flowers?”

“Stop calling him that,” I said, voice trembling. “And stop sending me anything.”

His smirk deepened. “Why? Is he the reason you’re ignoring me? The great Andrew Sterling?”

I rolled my eyes and turned to leave, but his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His grip was tight — too tight.

“Let me go, Ryan.”

He leaned in, voice low and dangerous. “I could make things very hard for you, Lily. For him too. You think the press won’t love the story of a CEO sleeping with his assistant?”

My chest burned with fury. “You’re pathetic.”

“Maybe,” he said, eyes flashing, “but I’m not stupid. I know how men like him operate. You’re just another plaything to him. And when he’s done, he’ll throw you away — just like I did.”

The slap came before I could stop myself. It echoed down the street, sharp and satisfying.

His head snapped to the side, cheek red, eyes wide. For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Then he laughed — a low, bitter sound that made my skin crawl. “You’ve changed. I liked you better when you were sweet.”

I yanked my wrist free. “Stay away from me, Ryan. You come near me again, and I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what you are.”

He straightened, fixing his shirt like nothing had happened. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I can end both of you with one phone call.”

I glared at him, heart pounding. “Do your worst.”

He took a slow step back, that same cold grin spreading across his face. “Oh, I will.”

And then he walked away — calm, collected, like he hadn’t just shattered my peace all over again.

I stood frozen for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. My hands were shaking, my pulse racing. The world felt like it was spinning.

The stylist from the nearby salon must have noticed me lingering, because she stepped out and smiled warmly. “Hi there! You have an appointment?”

I forced a smile. “I do now.”

She ushered me inside, and the scent of hair products and vanilla shampoo filled the air. The soft hum of blow dryers and quiet chatter was oddly comforting after the chaos outside.

“So, what are we doing today?” she asked, running her fingers through my hair.

“Cut it,” I said. “Shorter. Something that doesn’t remind me of… anything old.”

She nodded knowingly. “Fresh start. I get it.”

As she snipped away, strands of my old self fell around me — the girl who tolerated betrayal, who second-guessed her worth, who couldn’t let go.

When she was done, I looked up at the mirror.

The woman staring back at me looked… stronger. Her eyes sharper. Her chin tilted higher.

“Wow,” the stylist said softly. “You look incredible.”

I smiled faintly. “Thanks. I think I needed this.”

She grinned. “New hair, new chapter.”

I left the salon feeling lighter, even though my heart still ached. The sun was setting, painting the sky gold and orange. I should have felt better — I wanted to. But Ryan’s words echoed in my mind like poison.

I can end both of you with one phone call.

I pressed a hand to my chest, forcing a deep breath. No. He didn’t get to control me anymore.

If he wanted a war, he’d get one.

But not before I figured out how to protect myself — and Andrew — from whatever he was planning next.

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