Chapter 5: Breaking Point

Samantha's POV 

"Who the hell is R?" Marcus demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet, venomous register.

I stood frozen, the guilt of almost shattering my principles for Rick rushing back to choke me. But as Marcus stepped closer, his chest puffed out in a display of righteous fury, he threw his wrinkled blazer onto my kitchen island. The heavy fabric hit the marble, and as it slid, a small, glossy slip of paper slipped out of the pocket and fluttered directly onto the counter right next to my phone.

My eyes instinctively tracked it.

It was a restaurant receipt. From last night. The Sapphire Room—the most expensive steakhouse across town. The timestamp read 11:45 PM.

And the table count? Two guests.

The world seemed to stop spinning. 

The suffocating guilt that had been weighing down my chest for the last ten minutes suddenly evaporated, replaced by a cold, blinding wave of clarity.

"A server crash?" I whispered, my voice trembling, though not from fear anymore. From absolute rage. "You were stuck at the office until three in the morning, Marcus?"

Marcus blinked, his eyes darting down to the receipt. For a fraction of a second, pure, unadulterated panic flashed across his face before his mask hardened again. "Sammie, that’s—I had to take a client out. It was business—"

"At midnight? On our anniversary?" Chloe stepped in, her jaw practically on the floor as she grabbed the receipt and looked at it. "With a bottle of vintage champagne on the bill? What kind of business were you doing, you lying piece of garbage?"

"Stay out of this, Chloe!" Marcus snapped, turning his venom back to me. "Don't try to change the subject, Samantha! Who the hell is R? Who is texting you telling you they can't get you off their mind?!"

"Someone who actually treats her like a queen!" Chloe countered, stepping right between us like a human shield. "Oh, look at that. A real man who actually appreciates her while you’re out spending her anniversary money on some other woman!"

"Chloe... it's fine," I said, my voice suddenly deadly calm. I reached out and gently pulled my best friend back. I didn't need her to fight this for me anymore.

I looked at the cheap, pathetic bouquet of roses sitting on my counter. I looked at the man I had spent two years compromising my standards for, the man who had just tried to gaslight me into thinking I was the problem. Then, my eyes flicked to the glowing text from Rick on my screen.

I can't get you off my mind, Sammie.

A switch flipped inside me. The compliant, submissive girlfriend who accepted his excuses died right then and there.

"Get out," I said, staring Marcus directly in the eyes.

"Sammie, be reasonable—"

"I said, get the hell out of my apartment, Marcus." I picked up the roses and threw them straight at his chest. The thorny stems hit his expensive shirt, dropping scattered red petals all over the floor. "We are done. Take your cheap-ass flowers, take your lying mouth, and get out before I have building security throw you out.”

Marcus's face went purple with rage, but seeing the absolute defiance in my eyes—and Chloe already reaching for her phone to call the front desk—he realized he’d lost. He snatched his blazer off the counter, giving me one last venomous glare.

"You're going to regret this, Samantha," he spat, before turning on his heel and slamming my apartment door so hard the frames on the wall rattled.

The heavy silence that followed was broken only by Chloe letting out a breath she’d been holding for a century.

 "Holy shit. You actually did it. You threw the whole man away."

"I did," I whispered. My hands were shaking, but for the first time in months, I could finally breathe. The phantom weight of a dead-end relationship had vanished in a split second.

"Good riddance," Chloe said fiercely. 

"Now... what are you going to do about him?" She gestured toward my phone.

My hands were shaking as I reached for my phone on the counter. I unlocked the screen, staring at Rick's message.

I can't get you off my mind, Sammie. 

Please grace me with the privilege of spending time with you.

The suffocating guilt I’d been nursing all morning had completely vanished, replaced by the lingering adrenaline of finally throwing Marcus out. I tapped out a quick reply, keeping my guard up just enough to protect what was left of my peace.

I don't feel good today and I need some time to think.

I pressed send and waited. A moment later, his reply clicked over the screen.

Rick: Okay.

It was short. Blunt. I stared at the single word, a small pang of disappointment hitting my chest. I supposed I couldn't blame him; a man like Rick didn't chase women who threw up walls.

"Well?" Chloe asked, leaning against the counter as she watched my face fall. "What did he say?"

"Just 'okay’, I muttered, setting the phone down. "Which is fine. I honestly just need to breathe for a minute anyway."

In less than an hour, Chloe helped me clear the wreckage of Marcus's visit. We swept up the scattered red petals from the floor and tossed the cheap bouquet straight into the trash chute. By the time we were pouring a fresh round of coffee after hitting the shower, the initial shock of the breakup had faded into a quiet, exhausting ache in my temples.

Then, my phone vibrated on the counter. It wasn't a text this time. His name flashed across the screen, and I answered it while trying to get rid of the sudden butterflies in my tummy.

"Look out your window, Sammie," his deep voice rumbled through the line, sending an immediate shiver down my spine.

I frowned, walking over to the living room window and pulling back the sheer curtains to look down at the street. My breath caught completely in my throat.

Parked directly across from my building's main entrance was a sleek, matte-black motorcycle. Leaning back against the leather seat, one heavy boot resting on the asphalt, was Rick. He tilted his head up, his striking green eyes locking accurately onto my fourth-floor window even from across the street. One couldn't miss those eyes, piercing and intense even at a distance.

“Damn girl”. Chloe exclaimed. “That's a fine ass man.”

“Right” I answered, smiling. 

He looked absolutely dashing. I had only ever seen him suited up, even at The Foundry during his formal meetings with high-end investors, he was always the epitome of tailored perfection. But today? He looked devilishly handsome in dark jeans, heavy boots, and a black leather jacket that hugged the broad expanse of his shoulders.  

"I know you said you need time to think," Rick said into the phone, his tone entirely respectful but carrying an underlying weight that commanded attention. "But you also said you don't feel good. I'm not leaving you alone like that. Do I have permission to come up?"

Before I could answer, a pristine, purring black Lamborghini pulled up seamlessly right behind his motorcycle. The driver’s side door swung open, and Rick’s personal chauffeur stepped out. My jaw nearly dropped as the chauffeur began unloading the trunk—revealing a literal mountain of beautifully wrapped luxury gift bags, fresh flowers, and a distinct brown paper bag from a premium pharmacy.

Rick had ridden his bike just to cut through downtown traffic and get to me faster, but he had ordered his staff to trail him with everything a sick girl could possibly need.

He looked so incredibly attractive standing there, a powerful man completely at my mercy, waiting for my word.

A soft smile broke through my exhaustion. "Come on up," I said.

“Yes ma'am.”