I Was the Last to Know

Seraphina's POV

"Wow, Summer, your boyfriend's voice is amazing. He really spoils you."

The operations director sitting beside Summer was the first to break the suffocating silence in the private dining room.

Summer flinched so hard that her phone nearly slipped from her hand and crashed onto her plate.

She scrambled to hang up. Her fingers trembled so badly that it took two tries before the call finally disconnected.

"Um… My boyfriend just likes using nicknames."

With her head lowered, Summer spoke so softly she was barely audible. She did not dare look in my direction.

"What's there to be embarrassed about? We're all adults here."

Leo from Human Resources chuckled, but his gaze kept darting between Summer and me.

I picked up my glass of warm water and took a small sip. The water had long since gone cold. As it slid into my stomach, it stirred the familiar dull ache waiting there.

"Yeah, that's nice." I set down the glass and looked at Summer's pale knuckles. "Mr. Brooks is always so serious at work. I never expected him to have such a gentle side in private."

The room froze again.

Everyone had recognized Conrad's voice. After all, we had worked together for years. His cold, measured tone during executive meetings was practically carved into everyone's memory.

No one dared say it out loud.

"Seraphina, you heard wrong. That wasn't Mr. Brooks." Summer suddenly lifted her head. Her eyes were already red. "My boyfriend just sounds a little like Mr. Brooks, that's all."

She rushed through the explanation, twisting the hem of her shirt so tightly her fingers had gone white.

"Maybe I did hear wrong." I pulled out a napkin and calmly dabbed at the corner of my mouth. "After all, Mr. Brooks is on a business trip. He should be on a flight back from Valoria right now."

I met Summer's eyes. My voice was so calm that even I found it surprising.

"Right, right. Mr. Brooks went to Valoria. You'd know better than anyone, Seraphina."

Several coworkers immediately seized the opportunity to move on, awkwardly steering the conversation elsewhere. For the rest of the dinner, everyone tried their hardest to keep the atmosphere lively.

Summer excused herself to use the restroom and never came back.

When it was time to pay the bill, I pulled out my phone. A WhatsApp message from Conrad appeared on the screen.

"I've landed. Get some sleep."

I stared at the message for a long time. Gradually, my vision blurred. In my mind, I kept hearing that sugary-sweet "babe" from the speakerphone.

I did not reply. I simply locked the screen.

Outside the restaurant, the chilly breeze of early spring hit me head-on.

"Seraphina, need a ride home?" The operations director rolled down his window. Sympathy and curiosity mingled in his eyes.

"No thanks. I feel like walking."

Pulling my coat tighter around my neck, I turned and headed in the opposite direction. The streetlights stretched my shadow across the pavement.

The pain in my stomach intensified. It felt as if countless rusted saws were scraping back and forth inside me.

I stopped and leaned against the trunk of a sycamore tree by the roadside.

Digging through my purse, I found my pain medication and swallowed two pills dry. They caught briefly in my throat, leaving behind a bitter taste.

Seven years ago, Conrad had drunk himself into a stomach hemorrhage while trying to secure funding.

In the middle of the night, I had carried him to the hospital and stayed awake beside him until morning.

Back then, he had gripped my hand with reddened eyes. "Seraphina, once the company is stable, I'll give you everything I have."

Now, the company was more than stable. It was preparing to go public. Yet he could not even give me the truth.

My phone vibrated. A bank notification popped up. Conrad's supplementary credit card had just been charged 280,000.

The merchant was the most exclusive luxury jewelry boutique downtown, the one with a waiting list months long.

I stared at the number on the screen. Somehow, the pain in my stomach seemed to fade.

There was no anger. No heartbreak. Only the exhaustion that came when the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.