CHAPTER 11 — WHEN THE PAST WALKS INTO THE ROOM

Monday morning arrived with a quiet heaviness.

Dianne stood in front of her mirror in her small Notting Hill apartment, smoothing down her blouse for the third time. She didn’t know why she was nervous. Maybe it was because of Roy’s confession the day before. Maybe it was because she hadn’t slept properly after replaying his voice in her head all night.

Or maybe because she knew—deep down—that her life was about to shift again.

She grabbed her bag and headed to work.

The moment Dianne stepped into the Mayfair’s Consulting building, her stomach tightened. People were whispering again. Not as cruelly as during the wedding scandal, but still enough for her to feel it.

She kept her head high.

She had survived worse.

As she settled into her desk, Tessa walked in with her usual cheerful expression—except today she looked… tense.

“Morning, Dianne.”

“Morning.” Dianne smiled faintly. “You look like you have bad news.”

Tessa bit her lip.

“We… have new additions to the Hamilton Project team.”

Dianne shrugged. “Okay. That’s normal.”

Tessa hesitated.

“Roy said they’d be coming in today. They’re already in the conference room.”

Something about Tessa’s expression made anxiety crawl up Dianne’s skin.

But she forced a smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

She picked up her files and walked toward the conference room.

Each step felt strangely heavy.

She opened the door—

And froze.

Her breath vanished.

Her vision dimmed around the edges.

Standing at the head of the conference table was…

Damian.

Her ex-fiancé.

The man who humiliated her publicly.

The man who let Chloe tear her apart without blinking.

He looked good.

Too good.

Clean-shaven. Tailored navy suit. Confident posture.

And right next to him—clinging to his arm like a badge of victory—

Chloe.

Her ex–best friend.

Her betrayer.

Her heartbreak in human form.

Chloe’s lips stretched into a slow, venomous smile.

Damian’s eyes widened briefly, then darkened with something she couldn’t read.

Dianne stood rooted to the spot, files in hand, body trembling before she could hide it.

No… Not here. Not now. Not them.

Her pulse thrashed in her ears.

Damian leaned slightly forward, smirking.

“Well… this is unexpected.”

His voice sliced through her chest.

Chloe giggled viciously and tightened her grip around his arm.

“Dianne Blake. You work here? Oh wow.”

Her tone was sweet but poisonous.

“This is going to be… fun.”

Her stomach dropped.

She felt like she was falling backward into the nightmare she had just escaped.

Dianne forced herself to walk to the table, shoulders stiff, face blank.

She sat down.

Damian sat across from her, blatantly watching her with the satisfaction of a man who enjoyed her discomfort.

Chloe whispered something in his ear loudly enough for Dianne to hear:

“She looks like she barely recovered. Shame.”

Dianne clenched her jaw.

Inside, her heart was clawing its way out of her chest.

Outside, she didn’t flinch.

The meeting began.

She tried to focus on the numbers, the strategies, the presentation slides—but Damian’s eyes kept dragging her back.

Judging her.

Mocking her.

Measuring her.

Chloe kept leaning into him, placing her hand on his thigh, whispering, giggling, doing everything she could to reopen wounds Dianne had stitched with her bare hands.

Finally, while discussing a client pitch, Damian spoke directly to her:

“Let’s hope you don’t mess this up… again.”

Dianne’s blood turned to ice.

Her hand trembled under the table.

But she lifted her chin.

“Let’s remain professional, Damian.”

Her voice was steady.

Cold.

Sharp.

Chloe laughed mockingly.

“Professional? Says the one who got caught in a hotel room scandal before her own wedding.”

A few people shifted uncomfortably.

Dianne’s eyes burned, but she refused to cry.

Not here.

Not in front of them.

Never again.

As everyone filed out, Dianne stayed behind pretending to gather her notes.

Her knees were weak.

Her throat tight.

Every breath felt like glass.

Chloe sauntered up to her, still wrapped around Damian.

Her smirk was cruel.

“You know, I used to feel guilty.”

She flicked imaginary dust off her dress.

“But honestly? Damian deserves someone who knows how to please him.”

Dianne closed her eyes briefly.

Her voice came out soft but firm:

“Leave my workspace, Chloe.”

Damian stepped forward, eyes narrowing.

“You haven’t changed. Still dramatic. Still fragile.”

She met his gaze.

“And you’re still a coward.”

He stiffened.

Chloe gasped.

Dianne didn’t wait for their response.

She walked out.

The moment the door shut, her façade crumbled.

She gripped the sink, chest heaving.

Tears threatened, but she blinked them back.

Why are they here?

Why are they on this project?

Why now—when Roy… when everything was beginning to feel okay?

Her reflection stared back at her—tired, hurt, strong but cracking.

She whispered:

“You survived them once. You’ll do it again.”

A knock at the door startled her.

Tessa’s voice floated in.

“Dianne? Roy called the office. He asked for a quick check-in with you.”

Her heart skipped.

Roy.

Just the sound of his name steadied her breathing.

She wiped her eyes.

“Tell him… I’ll call back in a few minutes.”

She needed to breathe, collect herself, and hide the earthquake happening inside her.

Because the past had walked back into her life…

And it wasn’t leaving quietly.

Dianne dabbed her face with makeup, desperately trying to erase any trace of the tears she had just swallowed. Her eyes still looked red around the edges, but she forced a smile at her reflection anyway.

No one can know I cried.

Especially not Roy.

Not when he thinks I’m strong…

She inhaled sharply, fixed her blouse, and stepped out of the restroom with her spine straight even though her insides felt like broken glass.

Roy wasn’t in the conference room earlier — he had a senior leadership meeting downtown. He had no idea Damian was involved in the Hamilton Project. No idea that Chloe came with him. No idea that Dianne’s world had just been cracked open again.

Her phone buzzed.

Roy Sinclair.

Her heart jumped.

She wasn’t ready. Not like this.

She closed her eyes before answering, steadying her shaking voice.

“Hello…”

His voice poured through the speaker, warm and steady.

“How did the meeting go? Tessa said the new partners arrived today.”

Her chest tightened. She swallowed.

“Y-yes… they did.”

A pause.

Roy immediately caught her tone — he always did.

“Dianne? You sound… off. What happened?”

She bit her lip hard, fighting the flood rising in her chest.

Don’t cry. Not again. Not on the phone.

But the second she heard the real concern in his voice, her restraint shattered.

“It was them,” she whispered, voice trembling.

Her breath hitched.

“Damian and Chloe. They’re… they’re the new partners.”

There was a long, dangerous silence.

Roy’s tone dropped, colder.

“…Who?”

“My ex-fiancé,” she breathed. “And Chloe. My ex–best friend. They—”

Her voice broke.

“They walked into the room like they owned it. Chloe kept taunting me. Damian too. I— I tried to stay professional but—”

She choked on the words.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting back sobs.

Roy’s voice sharpened instantly.

“Hey. Hey. Slow down.”

He sounded like he was physically restraining himself from exploding.

“What exactly did they say to you?”

Dianne wiped her nose, pacing in the hallway.

“They mocked me,” she whispered. “They— Chloe kept making snide comments. Damian kept looking at me like I… like I disgusted him.”

A tear slipped down her cheek.

“I held it together until the end but I—I just…”

Her voice cracked completely.

Roy inhaled unsteadily on the other end.

She could hear the tension in his breath.

He wasn’t calm.

He wasn’t composed.

He was livid.

“Dianne,” he said, voice low, controlled but trembling at the edges,

“why didn’t you call me immediately?”

Her mouth parted.

“I didn’t want to seem weak. You already think I’m—”

“Weak?” he cut in sharply.

“You are the strongest person I know.”

His voice softened, rough with emotion.

“Tell me everything. Don’t hold back.”

She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

And then she let everything spill — every insult, every smirk, every humiliating moment. Word after word poured out of her like she’d been holding her breath for months.

Roy listened. Not interrupting. Not breathing too loudly. Just absorbing her pain and anger like it was his own.

When she finished, there was silence.

But not the empty kind.

The heavy kind.

The dangerous kind.

Finally, he spoke.

“I’m coming back to the office.”

“W-what? Roy, no—”

“I don’t care.”

His voice was steel.

“They don’t get to walk into my company and torment you.”

Her heart slammed into her chest.

“Roy, please… I don’t want to make this worse.”

He exhaled — a slow, controlled release of fury.

“It’s already worse, Dianne.”

His voice softened again, painfully gentle.

“And you’re shaking. I can hear it.”

Her bottom lip trembled.

He continued, quieter:

“You’re not alone anymore. Not while I’m here.”

Her throat tightened so hard it hurt.

His voice dipped lower.

“Stay where you are. I’m on my way.”

The call ended.

Dianne stared at her phone, breath unsteady.

God… why does he care this much?

Why does he make it so hard to keep boundaries?

Why does it feel so safe when he speaks like that?

She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling her heartbeat slam against it.

Roy Sinclair was on his way.

And something told her this day was far from over.