Chapter 2: I Quit, Celeste.

Riley's POV

I barely had the strength to move.

I sat curled into the corner of the couch, the soft pink blanket wrapped tight around me like a shield. My eyes were swollen. My throat burned. The ache in my chest didn’t loosen, it pulsed like a wound.

Three years. For this.

A knock at the door. Two sharp taps.

I dragged myself up, the blanket trailing behind me like the weight of my own heartbreak.

When I opened the door, Aria didn’t say a word. She just saw my face, and pulled me into the kind of hug that tells you, you're not alone.

I broke. Fully. Loudly.

My sobs were jagged and wet and ugly, but she never let go. Just held me and whispered:

“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”

“I gave him everything,” I cried. “And he chose her. My boss. The woman I looked up to.”

“You don’t have to be strong right now,” she murmured into my hair. “That’s what I’m here for.”

She rocked me like I was something fragile. Something worth saving.

Eventually, she guided me back to the couch and pulled a bag from the doorway.

“I brought ice cream. And the emergency chocolate.”

I let out a broken laugh. “The I-don’t-need-a-man-to-be-happy chocolate?”

“The very one.” She winked. “Tonight, we watch trash TV, cry, scream into pillows,,,and tomorrow, we rise.”

“You are insane,” I whispered. “But you are the best kind of insane.”

“Tell me everything,” she said. “Start from the top. How did it happen?”

I told her. Every awful detail. The way his back curved between Celeste’s legs. The sound of her voice. How I had stood there like I was invisible.

Aria’s mouth tightened. Her hands balled into fists.

“And Celeste?”

“She didn’t flinch,” I said. “She actually smirked. Told me I wasn’t supposed to be in until ten.”

Aria sat back, furious. “That woman needs therapy. Or an exorcist.”

I wiped my eyes. “She made it seem like I was the one out of place.”

“Well, guess what,” Aria said, standing. “Tomorrow, you go in there and set fire to their comfort.”

I didn’t answer. But I nodded.

And I meant it.

***

The Next Morning

I stood in front of the mirror, dressed in my usual soft blouse and tailored slacks. But nothing about me felt the same.

My reflection looked foreign, eyes dull, face pale, lips pressed tight.

The mascara was war paint.

The smile was gone.

In my bag: a resignation letter.

On my phone: a text from Aria.

“Want me to slash his tires?”

I actually smiled. Just a little.

Then I picked up my bag, squared my shoulders, and left.

****

West Enterprises

The office smelled like ambition and fake lavender.

Everyone greeted me like nothing had happened, like I wasn’t walking through the wreckage of my trust. I ignored them.

Walked straight past Eric’s desk.

Past the photo frame still showing us smiling like idiots.

And straight into Celeste’s glass castle.

She looked up from her laptop, lips painted predator-red.

“Riley,” she said smoothly. “You are early.”

“So were you,” I said coldly. “When you decided to sleep with my boyfriend.”

I placed the envelope on her desk, calm but deliberate.

She blinked. “What’s this?”

“My resignation.”

She stared, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I quit.”

Her smile faltered.

“Now isn’t the time to be impulsive, Riley. If this is about,,,”

“This is about betrayal,” I snapped. “From someone I loved, and someone I trusted. But don’t worry. You can keep him. He fits your aesthetic. Trash.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Watch your tone.”

“Or what?” I leaned in. “You will seduce someone else’s boyfriend next time?”

She flinched.

I turned to leave. Then paused.

“One more thing, your latte smells bitter. Just like you.”

I walked out.

My heels echoed through the corridor like applause.

My chest tightened. But it wasn’t grief this time.

It was freedom.

****

Later That Day

Aria burst through my apartment door like she owned the place.

“You did it?” she asked, breathless.

“I did it,” I said. And for the first time in twenty-four hours, I exhaled.

“Then get dressed, honey. Tonight we are dancing. And drinking. And if needed, getting revenge in the form of fun.” she declared, “we reclaim your damn life.”

I hesitated,

“No men.”

“No regrets,” she added.

We smiled.

Tonight, I would dance.

Laugh.

Drink.

Forget.

Or at least try.

****

As I stood in front of the mirror again, fixing my earrings and straightening my dress, my phone buzzed.

Unknown Number:

“Leaving Gray Enterprises doesn’t mean you have escaped her.”

I froze.

Another buzz.

“She’s not done with you yet.”