Chapter 30

Harper’s POV

“Isn’t that the CEO?” Connor whispered, ducking behind his monitor like it would shield him.

Sasha froze mid-keystroke. “Oh God—why is he here?”

I shrank in my seat, hunching so low behind my desk I nearly became one with my keyboard. My sunglasses slid down my nose, but I didn’t dare adjust them.

“Did someone mess up?” Jean craned her neck toward the glass wall where Ethan Reynolds stood, a white-clad reaper of corporate dreams. “No seriously, who did it?!”

Connor leaned toward her. “Ten bucks it’s Keith. Or Sasha. She took a whole donut from the executive fridge yesterday.”

“Guys!” Marco whispered urgently, glancing over. “Relax. Maybe he’s just... inspecting the floor.”

“I’M NOT READY TO BE INSPECTED,” Sasha hissed.

Meanwhile, I was having a full-body crisis.

I didn’t get caught yesterday, right?

I ran off like a cartoon villain the second that elevator door opened. No way he recognized me. There was makeup. The bruise looked different. I’m safe. Totally safe. Probably.

Ding.

My laptop pinged with a new chat notification.

Keith (Dept Head): Speak up if you've messed up. For starters, it wasn't me.

Mike: Not me either, sir.

Petra: I think he’s just watching how we’re working, sir 

I peeked over my screen. Ethan was still there. Standing like a statue. Dead still. Like he had all the time in the world to ruin someone’s life.

Then came the message that killed me:

Keith: Harper?

I choked—actual, real, sputtering choke—and sprayed coffee across my keyboard.

“Harper?!” Jean yelled, half out of her seat. “What the hell did you do?!”

“Nothing!” I coughed, grabbing tissues while Sasha patted my back and Marco knelt beside me like I’d been shot.

“Take the glasses off!” Sasha begged. “Maybe it’s the glasses!”

From the glass wall, Ethan watched us like a man watching ants squabble. David stood beside him, very still, very unreadable. Except for his eyes—they were definitely avoiding mine.

HE KNOWS.

HE KNOWS.

I’m going to jail.

(me): m

(me): ME?!?

(me): Because of me, sir?! That’s definitely not true!!

Mike: (=__=)

Keith: Are you typing like a six-year-old on a sugar high?

Keith: Also, why are you still wearing those sunglasses?

(me): lolll

(me): sorry sir... but about the glasses...

I turned just slightly—and he was gone.

“Wait,” I blinked. “He’s… gone?”

“Oh thank God,” Sasha whispered.

“We lived,” Connor muttered.

“Barely,” Marco added.

I took a slow sip of my coffee like I hadn’t just aged fifteen years. ‘Okay. Sunglasses are out. Probably time to start facing reality.’

Then my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen.

Eric.

My stomach twisted.

I slipped out to take the call.

“Hey,” I answered, voice softer. “It’s been a while.”

His voice was fragile. “I… I broke up with Historia.”

Riley’s POV

I was nursing a vending machine soda in the rec room when my phone rang.

“Hey, Dad? You never call during work hours. Everything okay?”

“You’re always out late,” he barked. “So I figured now was the only time I’d catch you.”

I braced for it.

“There’s a dinner this week with Chairman Brown.”

“Why?”

“His daughter wants to see you again.”

I froze. “Absolutely not.”

“You ungrateful brat! You think I’m doing this for fun? It’s business!”

I held the phone away from my ear while he screamed. “This isn’t a date. It’s a negotiation.”

“I don’t want to see Racheal!” I snapped.

“You’ll talk to her, or I’m freezing your card for a month.”

Click.

I stared at my phone, fuming.

“Why is that witch still in my life?” I groaned, dragging a hand through my hair.

Another buzz.

Unknown number.

Great. Racheal already?

“Hello?” I sighed.

“Riley. This is David. Is this a bad time?”

I shot up so fast I nearly fell off the bench. “D-David?! No! I mean, yes! I mean—no! I’m free!”

He sounded composed. “Ethan gave me your number. I needed to talk to you.”

“Oh my God, I forgot to ask for his number… Ethan’s actually good for something.” I smiled into the phone.

But two minutes later, my smile was gone.

“What...? My friend…?” I repeated, ice running down my spine.

Harper’s POV

“Riley!” I waved as I saw her leaning against her car.

She looked up with a soft smile. “Hey. You’re late.”

“Couldn’t escape the chaos. Thanks again for picking me up.”

“I promised I would until the bruise cleared,” she shrugged. “And actually… I’ve got news.”

“News?” I asked, heart skipping.

“You’re…” She sighed, then looked at me seriously.

“…fired.”

My brain short-circuited.

“Excuse me?” I croaked. “Fired? As in… FIRED-fired?!”

I almost dropped my bag. “So that’s it? I’m done? Gone? He’s coming to take my kneecaps???”

Riley grabbed me. “No, no! Not from your actual job. Just the freelance gig! The fake dating one!”

My face morphed from panic to confusion to joy so fast it gave me whiplash.

“Wait—what?!”

“You’re free,” she confirmed. “My David told me directly.”

“THANK YOU JESUS, BUDDHA, AND BEYONCÉ!” I shouted, arms to the sky. “I believe in everything now!”

I turned to her, eyes narrow. “You’re calling him ‘my David’ now?”

She blinked. “I mean… he’s not yours, is he?”

I punched her shoulder. “Rude.”

She grinned. “Anyway. I’m buying dinner. Celebration time!”

“You’re the best, Riley. Seriously.”

She opened the passenger door for me. I didn’t get in.

“Actually… I have plans.”

She frowned. “With who?”

“Eric.”

I scratched the back of my neck, cheeks warm.

Riley stared. Then groaned. “This is gonna be a mess, isn’t it?”