Chapter 3

As Gracie walked away, Aaron's tears finally fell.

He forced himself up, grabbed a broom and mop, and cleaned through the pain.

A few coworkers pitched in, their eyes full of pity.

"I heard him ask for iced, no sugar. Now he's blaming you? Aaron, did you piss him off?"

"Like he needs a reason. Everyone says he's a spoiled bully. Anything goes wrong, he takes it out on someone.

"Plenty of his friends can't stand him, but Ms. Weinstein lets him get away with everything."

"I've never seen her care this much about anyone. Watch your back, Aaron. People like us can't take on a rich guy with her backing him.

"We just get stuck taking their crap."

They meant well. Aaron knew that.

But he was too choked up to answer.

Once, a client had blamed him for a contract problem their own company had caused.

Gracie had trusted him. Through every accusation, she'd had his back until she proved he'd done nothing wrong.

Now Julian told one lie, and she blamed Aaron. No questions. No chance to explain.

'After all the work I've done, all the problems I've fixed, she still won't trust me?

'Or does she only care that Julian's happy?'

His chest ached.

By the time he finished cleaning, he was wiped out. He dragged himself home.

He'd just washed up when Gracie called.

"Bring over some stomach medicine and a heating pad."

He grabbed them and rushed to her mansion.

He'd been gone two or three days. The place already looked nothing like the simple, elegant home he remembered.

The peach tree her grandfather had planted was gone. Tulips filled the space.

Blue and yellow furniture had replaced the black and white. Her least favorite colors.

Luxury watches, car keys, and gifts filled the display cabinets.

Julian's style. Obviously.

Aaron said nothing. He went to the bedroom with the light on and knocked.

Gracie opened the door and took the things. Then she looked up and froze.

Without the coffee covering his face, his injuries looked worse.

"You're hurt that bad? Did you go to the hospital?"

He shook his head.

She rubbed her forehead, her voice softening. "Julian wasn't feeling well. He didn't mean to lash out. Don't take it personally. I'll put your docked pay in your year-end bonus. Go get checked out. If it's serious, take a few days off. No paperwork needed."

"No need. At the end of this month, I'll—"

She cut him off and held out a card.

"Listen to me. I still need you to plan Julian's welcome-home party. Rest up."

The rest caught in his throat.

"Okay."

He took the card and left.

As the door closed, Julian called, "Gracie, got my medicine? Come warm me up."

"Coming. Just lie still and rest."

Her soft voice drew a bitter smile from Aaron.

He'd had stomach pain so bad he'd passed out at work. More than once, coworkers had rushed him to the hospital.

Gracie had approved his leave. That was it. No visits. No medicine. No heating pad.

He'd told himself she was too busy.

'She didn't love me. She didn't care.'

He left and went to the hospital to get his wounds bandaged.

After a few days of rest, Danny sent over the party plans.

Everything had to be perfect. Flowers, desserts, even the servers' outfits.

Aaron had three days. He pushed through and got it all ready.

The party started at seven that evening. Right on time.

Julian walked in wearing a custom designer suit. Every head turned.

Guests swarmed him, piling on compliments. He loved every second.

"Years later, and you still look like a million bucks. All this just to welcome you home? Gracie's still crazy about you."

"Remember when someone at school told Julian they liked him? Gracie made them transfer. She ripped up every love letter he got. Some punks talked trash about him once, and she broke their bones..."

"Everyone knows Julian's her first love and her favorite person. Those diamond cufflinks alone must cost millions! And that suit? One of a kind. Gracie's never cared what it costs to make him happy."