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CHAPTER 75 — You Don’t Own Me
publish date:
2026-07-25 11:31:34
Latest chapter
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 77 — The First Strike
*POV Derby* Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow across the private dining hall of the Hayden estate, where the soft strains of a live string quartet drifted over polished silverware and quiet laughter. The air smelled expensive—a mix of white lilies, vintage champagne, and the understated perfume of high-society power. I smoothed the side of my tailored navy suit jacket, checking my tablet one last time to ensure the regional financial briefs were loaded for the board members. I was here as part of the Vasquez Group operations team—a buffer meant to keep technical details running smoothly while the families discussed the merger terms over dinner. "Derby, darling." A smooth, melodic voice cut through the background hum. Tamara Hayden glided across the parquet floor toward me, her ivory silk dress catching the light with every grace-filled step. She didn't march like an enemy. She moved like a hostess welcoming a valued guest, her smile warm, radiant, and utterly flawless. She
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 76 — That’s Exactly the Problem
*POV Derby* The automated coffee machine on the thirty-fourth floor hummed as it poured two shots of espresso into a paper cup. I pulled the rim away, tossed the plastic lid into the trash, and walked back to my desk without looking toward the corner office. Three days had passed since the Hayden estate gala. Three days of cold, surgical discipline. I no longer waited for his approval before logging data changes. I stopped staying past seven. When Jordan sent memos regarding the regional distribution audit, my replies were strictly professional: Acknowledged, Mr. Vasquez. Updated as requested, Mr. Vasquez. The informal boundaries we had bled into over weeks of late-night takeout and rain-soaked drives were erased overnight, drawn back into concrete lines. It was exhausting, but it was safe. Inside the glass-walled executive conference room, the morning strategy briefing for the Apex project was already halfway through. A dozen department heads sat around the oval table, quiet
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 75 — You Don’t Own Me
*POV Derby* A sudden gust of wind swept through the open terrace archway, rattling the dead leaves along the damp stone tiles and sending a sharp chill through the silk fabric of my dress. My fingers pressed firm against Jordan’s wrist, forcing his grip to loosen until his hand dropped to his side like lead. For months, I had been the one shrinking into corners, waiting for his subtle nods, adjusting my heart to his unpredictable shifts between distant corporate strategist and desperate, protective lover. I had accepted the secret looks in late-night conference rooms because I thought we were fighting the same war. I was done hiding behind his strategy. I stepped back, putting two clear paces between us, and looked him straight in the eyes. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't break into tears. The quiet calm settling over me felt far more dangerous than anger. "You don't get to stop me either," I said, every word crisp, clear, and unyielding in the empty corridor. Jordan stood m
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 74 — Don’t Walk Away
*POV Derby* Cold night air whipped through the narrow archway of the east gallery, carrying the faint, muffled thrum of the orchestra playing inside the Hayden ballroom. I pressed my palm against the damp stone wall to steady my knees, my breath coming in shallow, jagged hitches that burned my throat. Tears were a luxury I refused to grant Tamara or the dozens of cameras waiting at the front gates. I just needed to reach the side gravel driveway, find a quiet ride back to my apartment, and disappear before the last shred of my dignity buckled under the weight of his "shared future." A pair of heavy, hurried footsteps echoed against the marble flagstones behind me. I didn't turn around. I didn't stop. I hitched the hem of my black silk dress higher in my fist and quickened my pace toward the iron garden gates. "Derby!" The low, gravelly shout cut through the dark corridor, completely devoid of his usual controlled corporate tone. It sounded raw, unpolished, almost desperate.
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 73 Jealousy Gets Ugly
*POV Derby* Cameras flashed in a terrifying, continuous rhythm, blinding white against the grand marble courtyard of the Hayden estate. Engine hums of executive town cars echoed against the manicured hedges as the city’s high society poured out onto the velvet carpet. I leaned against a stone pillar near the edge of the terrace, my fingers tightening around my champagne flute until the glass groaned under the pressure. My black silk evening gown was simple, professional, and entirely invisible—exactly what was expected of a junior analyst representing the Vasquez Group task force. I stood with Megan and two logistics managers, holding a tablet with live feed updates on the Apex investor arrivals, doing my absolute best to act like an employee. Then the headliner vehicle pulled up. A deep charcoal Maybach glided to a stop at the base of the steps. The valet opened the door, and the entire perimeter of reporters instantly surged forward like starving hounds scenting blood. Tamara
One Night, Wrong Man CHAPTER 72 — No Name, No Exit
*POV Derby* Blue glare of the presentation monitor flickered against the darkened walls of the thirty-fourth-floor conference room, humming with a quiet, monotonous drone. It was nearly nine at night. The rest of the floor had gone black hours ago, leaving us stranded in a bubble of artificial light, surrounded by halfeaten takeout containers and stacks of revised Apex distribution charts. Life at the office continued in its relentless, mechanical rhythm. There were standard morning briefings, tight deadline reviews, late-night data audits, and quiet dinners ordered directly to the executive floor. We inhabited the exact same routine as before, as though the heavy, suffocating silence of our last conversation had simply dissolved into the background noise of the corporate machine. That was the cruelest part. Jordan hadn't changed his behavior by a single fraction. He still remembered to order my coffee without milk. He still held the elevator doors whenever my arms were full
One Night, Wrong Man Chapter 2 — Morning After.
-POV Derby I woke up first. My heart was already hammering before my eyes could adjust to the ceiling that wasn’t mine. The room still smelled like him — clean soap, warm skin, something that still clung to me from last night, the same scent that had wrapped around me last night when he paused r
One Night, Wrong Man Chapter 1 — Okay.
-POV Derby The message came at 9:47 PM and killed two years in ten seconds. I think you deserve to know. Three cold sentences from a girl I’d never met. Rian had been fucking her for eight months. Eight months of him coming home late, smiling at his phone, telling me “it’s just work” while I k
One Night, Wrong Man Chapter 4 — Impulse
-POV Derby I spent most of Thursday morning pretending my life hadn’t become significantly more complicated over the course of a single night. By the time I slipped into a seat near the back of the conference room, my presentation was already open on my laptop. The slides waited patiently on the s
One Night, Wrong Man Chapter 3 — Just a Name.
-POV Derby By Monday I’d almost convinced myself it was over. Not in some dramatic way. Just… closed. Like shutting a tab you left open too long and deciding not to open it again. I made coffee that tasted like nothing. Went to work. Answered emails acting like the weekend had never happened,
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