Tit for Tat

(Jane’s POV)

I stared at the screen long after the message faded, spit trailing down my mouth as hot tears streamed down my cheeks, smudging the already ruined mascara. My fingers clenched around the phone, knuckles aching.

“Maybe the divorce will give us both the peace...”

The words hung in the air like the stench of something decayed.

It was one thing to be lied to, to walk in on the man you swore you could vouch for buried in someone else’s arms. But this?

This was him giving up.

And maybe that was what hurt the most.

Not the act itself—

But how easily he was unwilling to take responsibility for his actions.

If anyone should be asking for a divorce, it ought to be me. I’m the one who’s been hurt here.

I paced the room like a woman on the brink—six steps to the window, six steps back. The city glittered beneath me in a thousand indifferent lights, each mocking my unraveling sanity. Just outside my door, the faint murmur of heels clicking and laughter echoed through the hallway.

“Girl, I swear Club Mevron is just a block from here,” one woman’s voice drifted through the corridor.

“Ugh, thank God. I need a drink and a distraction,” another giggled.

I stood stupefied. Club Mevron. A block away.

A distraction.

It wasn’t a plan. It was an impulse. And right now, that was all I had.

I didn’t think—didn’t want to. I grabbed my clutch, slipped into the red cocktail dress I’d never worn, and left the hotel like my sanity depended on it.

The night air slapped me in the face, but it was better than the heaviness weighing down inside me. The doorman barely glanced up as I stepped onto the sidewalk and followed the pulsating sound of bass and laughter down the street.

Five minutes later, I pushed through the gilded doors of Club Mevron.

The bass thrummed through the walls like a second heartbeat. Velvet lounges, silver-trimmed tables, and mirrored ceilings gave the place an illusion of grandeur—like money had dressed up pain and called it a party.

I slipped into a booth at the far end. The red dress clung to me firmly, putting my curves on full display. I didn’t care how many people stared. Let them. Let them wonder what kind of woman comes alone to a place like this—eyes dead, lips tight.

"Double gin. No lime," I told the bartender when he stopped in front of me.

He raised an eyebrow, probably noticing the damage. "Rough night?"

I laughed—hollow, sharp. "You could say that again."

He didn’t press. Just nodded and slid the glass toward me.

I downed the first sip like it owed me something. The burn hit hard, and I welcomed it. It was familiar, the kind of pain I could control. I wasn’t the type to drink like this, but right now, my body felt like a stranger’s.

Within minutes, two men approached. Slick suits. Colognes that screamed distaste.

“Hey there, pretty thing,” the first one drawled. “What’s a beauty like you doing all alone tonight?”

“Plotting a murder,” I said flatly.

They laughed—one nervously, the other still cocky. “Feisty. I like that.”

“I don’t like you,” I snapped, eyes flashing. “Now run along before I pour this drink on your stupid face.”

They got the message. Mumbled something about ‘crazy women’ and drifted away.

I ordered another drink.

“You really do know how to clear a room.”

The voice came from behind me—deep, amused, male.

I turned.

A man stood there, tall, rugged in a suit that didn’t try too hard. He didn’t smile like the others. He watched me like he already knew the story.

“And you are?” I asked, eyebrow raised.

“Andrew,” he said. “Andrew Dole.”

The name clicked in my head like a drawer I’d long forgotten slamming open.

“Nathan’s friend?” I asked, blinking harder now, trying to focus on the man sitting across from me.

The club lights shimmered off the whiskey in his glass, off the sharp edge of his jawline. Everything about him was too put-together for someone supposedly estranged.

He gave a wry smile, the kind that suggested history—deep, bitter, complicated. “Used to be. Childhood friend, yes. ‘Estranged’ would be the polite term now.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And you just happened to be here tonight?”

“No,” he slid into the booth without asking, the scent of something expensive and dangerous trailing behind him. “I saw you walk in. Recognized you immediately. Couldn’t resist.”

I scoffed. “Well, congratulations. You found the broken wife.”

“No,” he said, voice softer, deliberate. “I found the woman he didn’t deserve.”

That silenced me.

I stared at him. He stared back.

Something in the way he looked at me—steady, unflinching—made me feel seen in a way Nathan never had, not even on our best days. And that terrified me. “How much do you know?” I whispered, my voice barely above the pulse of the music.

He tilted his head, eyes dark with something unreadable. “Not enough to have all the pieces… just enough to know you shouldn’t be here alone.”

I narrowed my gaze. “That’s not an answer.”

He shrugged, sipping his drink. “Nathan and I haven’t spoken in years, but people talk. And when they do, they talk to me. Your name came up. Rumors. Whispers. Something about a woman storming out of the Frank estate...…”

I blinked back another wave of dizziness—equal parts alcohol and emotion. “So what, you came to play knight in shining armor?”

He leaned in, close enough for his cologne to drown the rest of the room. “No. I came because I know exactly what betrayal tastes like. And because I figured… you might want someone who understands. Even if only for tonight.”

He smirked, the kind that made it impossible to tell if he was flirting or scheming.

“By the way, I have a proposition for you.”

That pulled me back to full alert. “A proposition?”

He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, eyes never leaving mine. “More like a contract. Between you and me. One that could change everything—if you’re willing to play.”

I tilted my head, the gin buzzing beneath my skin. “I’m listening…”

He leaned in, elbows on the table, his voice smooth but firm. “We get married. For two years. Publicly. Legally. The whole deal.”

I blinked. Then laughed—a short, breathless sound. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You want to marry me?” I asked, barely believing the words coming out of my mouth.

“Not out of love,” he said quickly, eyes never leaving mine. “This is strategy. Optics. Leverage.”

“Against Nathan?”

“Partly,” he admitted. “But it’s more than that. You need protection right now—real protection. Nathan’s got resources, connections, lawyers who would bleed you dry in a real divorce. I have more power than he realizes. We use my name, my assets, my reputation. You become untouchable.”

I stared at him, my mind racing back to Nathan’s text. “And in return?”

He didn’t flinch. “You help me break into the circle Nathan’s spent years protecting. His investors, his board, his empire. He’s not as clean as he pretends. I’ve been gathering proof. But I need someone close to him.

Someone he still watches… obsesses over.”

“Me,” I murmured.

He nodded. “You were always the part of his life he couldn’t fully control. Now, you’ll be the key to bringing him down.”

My stomach swirled with the alcohol and the weight of his words. “So… I’d be your pawn.”

“No,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face with an ease that sent a flutter through my throat. “You’d be my partner.”

I stared at him, stupefied. “Two years?”

“Two years,” he said. “After that, we part ways. Cleanly. No pressure. No strings. But by then… you’ll be standing stronger than ever.”

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then Andrew reached for my hand—not boldly, but gently, like he was testing if I’d flinch.

I didn’t. “Why are you doing this?” I whispered, my voice barely above the pulse of the music. “You barely know me.”

He didn’t break eye contact. His thumb moved in slow, feather-light strokes over my knuckles, grounding me in a moment I hadn’t expected to need.

“Because I’ve been where you are,” he said quietly. “And because… I think you deserve someone in your corner. Someone who isn’t trying to fix or claim you. Just—see you.”

My throat tightened.

A part of me wanted to pull away, retreat into the safety of sarcasm or silence. But another part—one weary from pretending to be okay—leaned forward.

Our lips met, tentative at first. No urgency. No fire.

Just warmth.

Just human.

He cupped my jaw, fingers trailing behind my ear, and I let myself sink into the kiss—soft, steady, like the kind that whispered you’re safe here.

For one breathless moment, Nathan didn’t exist.

The betrayal didn’t exist.

Even the bracelet

I’d found didn’t exist.

It was just him and me.

And the quiet question hovering between us.

But just as I let myself begin to breathe—

BUZZZZZ.

The phone vibrated on the table, loud against the polished glass.

I glanced down.

[CALLER ID: JULIA]

My breath caught in my throat.

No.

No, no, no.

This had to be a dream.