Chapter 6

Immersed in the silence as we worked our hearts out, the calm was sharp, nearly sacred. Fingers danced over keyboards, pens scratched across paper, the rhythm of quiet productivity setting the tone—until it shattered. The door burst open with a slam that echoed through the walls, and just like that, peace was gone.

Arian stormed into the room like a thundercloud, her voice already rising.

"How can you be so heartless and inconsiderate?" she snapped, eyes burning holes into Justin. "You do nothing but sit here, and it's still too hard to pick my call?"

The accusation cracked the air like a whip.

She marched across the room, heels hitting the floor in harsh defiance as she closed the space between them. Justin barely moved. He didn't flinch or stand. His eyes, sharp and visibly annoyed, stared at her with cold displeasure, every muscle in his face screaming exhaustion.

"For crying out loud, Arian," he said, exasperation bleeding into every word, "I am at work. Can you at least let me have this moment without you barging in? First, you hired me a PA I never asked for—and now, you won’t even let me work?"

I blinked, staying frozen on the couch, watching as their argument unfolded in front of me like a scene from a movie.

They were clearly a couple—anyone could see that. But something in their dynamic felt off. Twisted. Unsettling. Justin didn’t look at her the way someone in love should. Every move she made, every word she said, only seemed to push him further away.

Disinterest radiated from him like a second skin, while she clung too tightly, trying to hold together what clearly wasn’t working.

Then, suddenly, Justin stood. His tall frame cast a faint shadow across the room, and when his eyes landed on me, I went completely still.

“Let’s go,” he ordered—his voice deep, cutting, impossible to disobey.

Panic surged in me—not from fear, but from confusion. Was I even supposed to follow him? He didn’t hire me; that much was clear. But he was the one signing the checks, so maybe obedience was the smart play.

I hurried to gather the papers and files, fumbling slightly under the weight of his stare. Just as I was about to follow him out, Arian’s hand clamped around my wrist, halting me.

"You know your job. Don’t make me regret taking you in," she said coolly, eyes narrowing.

I gave her a small nod.

My job was simple, on paper. Assist. Manage. Keep things smooth. She was supposed to relax while I took care of everything—but a woman like her? She didn't even trust her own fiancé. Her suspicion ran deeper than paranoia. To her, work was just another excuse for betrayal.

Yet since I'd stepped foot in this office, Justin hadn’t shown the faintest sign of affection or flirtation toward anyone. Male or female. The man was ice, detached and painfully professional. It was hard to imagine him being unfaithful when he seemed uninterested in the entire human race.

Still thinking, I followed him in silence, trying to make sense of the mess I'd found myself in. We got into his car—an elegant, black silhouette of wealth and status. Sleek. Powerful. The kind of car that belonged to someone who had everything… or wanted to look like they did.

As the engine purred and the vehicle glided away from the building, my thoughts began to settle. A wave of quiet wrapped around me like a blanket. Being away from Arian felt like a breath of fresh air after being buried alive.

For the first time that day, I understood why Justin always looked so drained when she was near. She was chaos in heels—loud, unpredictable, emotionally exhausting.

But the peace was short-lived.

The moment the car stopped and we stepped out, reality returned—sharp and unwelcome. He led me into a tall, glass-paneled building. A café. Unexpected. We walked in, found a table, and sat.

Justin’s eyes settled on me like a weight. I held my breath.

What now?

His stare was intense, unreadable, and for a second, I wondered if I had unknowingly made another mistake. My heart pounded.

“Where’s my laptop?” he asked, voice low but firm.

I blinked, startled. “I’m sorry, sir, but you didn’t ask me to take it alon—”

“Are you stupid or something?” he snapped before I could even finish.

His voice rose.

“Must I always tell you what to do? Don’t you have a head? Can’t you use it for once?!”

Each word hit me like a slap. His anger poured out unchecked, like a dam had finally burst—and I was the one drowning beneath the flood.

I clenched my fists under the table as my chest tightened. My heart squeezed painfully in my ribs. I hadn’t done anything wrong. How could he lash out like this? I knew he was angry. Frustrated. But this?

This was cruel.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice small and broken. The strength to speak any further simply wasn’t there. I bit back the tears forming in my eyes, refusing to let them fall—not here, not in front of him.

“I’ll go and get it.”

I stood up, turned on my heels, and left.

Each step felt heavier than the last. My chest burned. The tears that I had tried so hard to hold in finally spilled the moment I stepped outside. My pride, my dignity—they shattered under the weight of that public humiliation.

Never in my life had I been embarrassed this deeply. I felt like nothing.

Maybe I should just quit.

The thought spun through my mind again and again, louder each time. But no. I wanted this job. I had come this far for a reason. I needed to be strong—needed to prove to myself that I wouldn't run at the first sign of trouble, no matter how bitter the taste.

I returned to the office, somehow making the long trip back on trembling legs. I picked up the laptop. On my way back, I hailed a taxi—just to spare myself from further exhaustion.

When we arrived, I paid the driver quickly and stepped out. Just as I turned to enter the building again, something—or rather, someone—caught my eye.

Justin.

He was outside, standing with a blonde girl. They were talking closely, smiling and laughing like they were old flames rekindled. Her body language screamed flirtation—leaning in, touching his arm, gazing up at him with interest.

And Justin?

I couldn’t tell. His face was unreadable.

But it was enough to plant a seed of doubt.

Was Arian right all along? Did he send me away so he could meet this woman undisturbed?

Part of me resisted the thought. It didn’t fit the version of him I’d observed… but what stood before me was damning. And worse, it reopened the wound from earlier.

The sting of his words. The humiliation.

If I couldn’t get revenge myself… maybe Arian could.

With one last look, I pulled out my phone, snapped a discreet photo, and composed a message.

Maybe you were right to be irrational and have doubts about him?

I attached the image and hit send.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I smiled.

I didn’t know Arian well—but after today, I was willing to bet she’d come running without hesitation. And when she did, it would be the perfect storm.

Let him feel frustration. Let him choke on it. Let him taste what he so easily served me.

I walked back into the café and gently placed the laptop on the table in front of him.

"Here it is, boss," I said with a neutral expression, then turned and excused myself.

I knew my makeup was probably smudged. My eyes, a little red. I needed a moment to fix myself before anyone else noticed.

Without another word, I slipped into the bathroom.

And waited.

Waited for the explosion I had lit the match for.