Chapter 19: Opposing Worlds (Part 1)

POV: Archer

The harsh Manhattan sun bled through the slats of my blinds, carving jagged lines across my mahogany desk. Even with the AC humming at a steady sixty-eight degrees, the air in my office felt stifling. Heavy. Like a storm was about to break.

I leaned forward, digging my fingers into my scalp, tugging at hair that hadn't been trimmed in weeks.

Since dawn, I’d been a ghost haunting her phone. I called until the ringing became a taunt. I sent texts that vanished into a digital void. She hadn’t even glanced at my I*******m stories. Nothing.

I was being erased.

I gripped my iPhone so hard the casing groaned, then hurled it across the desk. It skittered over the leather inlay, the sound of glass meeting wood echoing like a gunshot in the silence of the room.

The screen stayed dark, but my mind was a riot of images. That man at the airport.

He hadn't just been a stranger. He’d been a presence—stoic, tegap, radiating the kind of effortless authority that made my skin crawl. The way he’d pulled Evelyn against him, the way his hand had lingered on her waist... it wasn't the touch of a passing acquaintance.

"Dammit!" I hissed, the word scraping against my throat.

I massaged my temples, trying to drown out the questions. Who was he? How long had she known him? Had she been keeping him in reserve while we were still together? Was I the only one who had actually cheated, or was she just better at hiding it?

The phone buzzed, vibrating against the desk like a dying insect.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I grabbed it, my thumb hovering over the screen, only to feel the air leave my lungs.

Sienna.

I stared at the name, the disappointment tasting like copper in my mouth. I waited four beats before sliding the green icon.

"Hey, babe," I forced out, my voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel.

"Hey, Archer! Are you coming to pick me up for lunch?"

I went still. My mind raced through the Rolodex of excuses—meetings, deadlines, a sudden migraine—but they all felt flimsy. Transparent.

"Archer?" Her tone sharpened. The sweetness was gone, replaced by the demanding edge she used when she wasn't getting her way.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm coming. Wait for me at your building," I replied. My voice was flat. Dead.

I tossed the phone back down and stood up, reaching for my blazer. I smoothed the lapels, adjusting my mask of professional composure before stepping out into the bullpen.

I spotted Sophie Marlowe near the breakroom. She was the only tether I had left to Evelyn’s world. I didn't think; I just moved. I cut through the rows of cubicles and caught up to her in the hallway, my hand reaching out to grab her upper arm to stop her.

"Hey!"

Sophie wrenched her arm away as if I’d tried to brand her. She spun around, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated disgust.

"Don't you ever touch me," she snapped.

I stumbled back half a step, my hands up in a placating gesture that felt pathetic even to me. I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

"I’m sorry, Sophie. I just... I wanted to ask about Evelyn. Is she okay?"

I looked down, taking a jagged breath. Sophie didn't blink. She didn't soften. She just stood there, looking at me like I was a stain on the marble floor.

"Why do you care?" she asked, her voice a low, dangerous hiss. "Don't you have Sienna to worry about now? Go focus on her."

I shook my head, the desperation beginning to leak through the cracks. "I just need to know."

Sophie exhaled, a sharp, dismissive sound. "She's fine. In fact, she’s better than fine. She’s finally free of you."

She turned to leave, her heels clicking decisively against the floor.

I couldn't let her go. Not yet. I reached out again, my fingers brushing her sleeve, but Sophie was faster. With a sharp, practiced motion, she slapped my hand away. My knuckles barked against the corridor wall.

"Son of a—" I winced, cradling my hand.

"If you lay a finger on me again," Sophie said without looking back, her voice vibrating with cold intent, "I’m going straight to HR. Try me, Archer."

I froze. My breath was coming in shallow hitches. As she walked away, the panic finally boiled over.

"Wait, Sophie! That guy... the one with her at the airport... who was he?"

Sophie stopped. Her shoulders went rigid. Slowly, she turned her head, one eyebrow arched in a perfect arc of mockery. "What guy?"

"The one holding her! The one who stepped in when I—" I cut myself off. I couldn't finish the sentence. I couldn't admit out loud what I’d done.

Sophie squinted at me. She hadn't talked to Evelyn since the flight, but her instinct for blood was sharp.

"I have no idea who you're talking about," she lied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And frankly? I don't give a damn."