Chapter 1 – When Everything Fall Apart

Aria's POV

I balance the Chinese takeout bag against my hip while fumbling with Tyler's apartment key. The smell of kung pao chicken makes my stomach growl - I skipped lunch for the third time this week.

The key finally turns. I push the door open with my shoulder, already planning how I'll surprise him.

Then I hear it. A woman's laugh, breathy and intimate, coming from his bedroom.

My hand freezes on the doorknob. The takeout bag crinkles as my grip tightens.

"Tyler?" My voice comes out smaller than I intended.

Footsteps scramble across hardwood. Something crashes - maybe a lamp. The bedroom door is half-open, and through it I see a flash of bare skin, tangled sheets, two bodies separating in a panic that confirms everything.

I take three steps forward before my brain catches up.

Jessica from accounting stands next to Tyler's bed, clutching his sheet, covering one breast, and the other still exposed pale and full showing her pink hardened nipple. Her red lipstick is smeared. Her blonde hair - the hair she always flips during meetings - is a wild strands plastered on her sweaty forehead. They must have had series of wild sex.

Tyler on the other side of the bed, naked, his skin slick with sweat; He struggles to cover his dick, pulling on his jeans, hopping on one foot. "Aria, wait, this isn't"

"How long?" The question falls out of me.

Jessica has the decency to look away, she tugs the sheet up fast, covering her other breast. Tyler's mouth opens and closes like a fish drowning in air.

I already know the answer. The late meetings. The texts he angled away from me. The way Jessica smiled at me in the break room last week, knowing something I didn't.

The takeout bag slips from my fingers. It hits the floor with a wet splat, sauce seeping through the paper.

"Aria, please, let me explain." Tyler reaches for his shirt, still half-naked and pathetic.

I turn and walk out. My legs move automatically, carrying me down the hallway, into the elevator, through the lobby. The doorman says something but his voice sounds like it's coming from underwater.

I sit in my car for twenty minutes, staring at nothing. The steering wheel is cold under my palms. I watched a couple walk past, his arm around her shoulders and something twist my chest. I spent some quality of my years with someone who could look me in the eye mornings and assures me he’ll always be there, sleeping with my colleague at work.

Then the tears came. Ugly, gasping sobs that shake my whole body. I gave him everything - my time, my trust, my future and He threw it away for her.

My phone buzzes. Tyler's name flashes across the screen. I decline the call and start the engine.

The office looks the same as it always does, gray cubicles, fluorescent lights, the hum of computers and coffee makers. I should've gone home. I should've called in sick. Instead, I'm here, numb and moving through the motions because I don't know what else to do.

"Aria!" My manager's voice cuts through the afternoon’s chatter. "Conference room. Now."

Something in his tone makes my stomach drop.

I follow him past rows of curious stares. Jessica's already seated at the conference table, her hair perfect now, her expression carefully neutral. Sitting across from her is Richard Chen, our biggest client, and the two executives who handle his account.

"Ms. Holt, please sit." My manager gestures to the empty chair.

The room is too quiet. Richard Chen's staring at me with an expression I can't read.

"Your last name is Holt." He says it like an accusation. "David Holt's daughter."

My throat closes. "Yes, sir."

"The David Holt whose company killed that girl eight years ago?" Richard's voice hardens. "Whose negligence destroyed how many families?"

"Mr. Chen, I assure you…" My manager starts, but Richard raises a hand.

"I lost a friend in that accident. Did you know that?" Richard stands, gathering his papers. "I will not work with anyone associated with the Holt name. Not now. Not ever."

"My father paid for his mistakes." My voice shakes but I force the words out. "I wasn't involved in…"

"Your father is a murderer who got off easy." Richard's face is cold. "Three years in prison for destroying lives? For cutting corners that killed people?"

He walks out. The door closes behind him with a final click.

My manager won't look at me. One of the executives shifts uncomfortably in her chair. Jessica examines her manicured nails, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

She knew. She knew about my father before Richard walked in here. I can see it in the set of her shoulders, the way she’s radiating quiet satisfaction. This wasn’t just about stealing boyfriend - she wanted everything.

"Aria, I'm sorry." My manager finally meets my eyes. "We can't afford to lose Chen Industries. You understand."

"You're firing me." It's not a question.

"We'll provide two weeks severance and a neutral reference. But you need to clear out your desk today."

Jessica's smile widens just a fraction.

My desk looks smaller when it's empty. Eight months of work fits into a single cardboard box - a coffee mug, some files, a photo of my parents I kept hidden in a drawer because I learned early that the Holt name attracts questions I can't answer.

Someone's left a Post-it on my keyboard: Karma's a bitch.

I crumple it and throw it in the trash.

My phone rings as I'm taping up the box. Unknown number. I almost don't answer, but something makes me swipe to accept.

"Ms. Holt?" A woman's voice, professional and crisp. "This is Elena Santos from Cross Technologies. Mr. Cross would like to schedule an interview with you tomorrow morning at nine."

The box nearly slips from my hands.

Cross? As in Damien Cross, whose sister died because of my father, Whose family lost everything in the lawsuits that followed.

"Ms. Holt? Are you there?"

"Yes." My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. "Yes, I'm here."

"Wonderful. I'll send you the details via email. Do you need the address?"

"No." I replied.

Everyone in the industry knows Cross Technologies. The forty-story glass tower downtown, rebuilt from ashes and rage. "I know where it is."

"Excellent. We'll see you tomorrow morning." Elena hangs up before I can respond.

I stand in the middle of the office, holding my pathetic box of belongings, my phone still pressed to my ear.

Damien Cross, who has every reason to hate everyone with my last name, wants to interview me.

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