Chapter 6

I closed my eyes briefly.

Of course.

I had barely arrived, and Lucien Loreto was already calling for me.

I dropped my handbag beside my desk and hurried toward his office. Before opening the door, I used my hand to smooth my hair, hoping I could at least make myself look presentable. My eyes were probably red from crying, and I could still feel the sting of Tina’s slap on my cheek, but there was nothing I could do about that now.

I had a job to keep.

I opened the door and walked in.

Lucien was standing behind his desk, looking through a document. He didn’t acknowledge me immediately, leaving me to stand there while he finished reading. When he finally raised his eyes, his expression hardened.

“You’re twenty minutes late, Ms. Sinclair.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I don’t pay you to come to my company whenever you feel like it.” He dropped the document onto his desk. “This is a business, not your personal playground. If you cannot respect the working hours, perhaps I should reconsider whether you’re still suitable for this position.”

I stared at him.

For three years, I had worked as his personal assistant. Three years of arriving before almost everyone else, staying late whenever he demanded it, and making sure every task he assigned was completed. In all that time, I had been late only once, when Maya was sick and I had to take her to the hospital.

That was the first time.

Today was the second.

Not once had Lucien acknowledged all the mornings I arrived early. Not once had he thanked me for staying late or recognized how much work I handled without complaining. But let me arrive twenty minutes late, and suddenly my entire three years of service meant nothing.

Normally, I would have forced a smile, apologized, and promised it wouldn’t happen again. I had become very good at swallowing my irritation around this man.

Not today.

“I understand, Mr. Loreto,” I replied, my voice flat. “It won’t happen again.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

Perhaps he had expected an excuse or an apology delivered with the polite smile I usually wore whenever he was displeased with me. I gave him neither. I was too tired to pretend that everything was fine, and too hurt to care whether my expression pleased him.

For a few seconds, he studied my face.

“Is there something else?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

He kicked back in his chair, staring at me like he sensed something was off but couldn't figure out what it was. “Then get back to work.”

I turned and walked out.

The moment I returned to my desk, I sat down and opened the files he had left for me. There were several reports to review, figures to cross-check, and documents he needed before his afternoon meeting. Under normal circumstances, I would have started working immediately, determined to finish everything before he found another reason to summon me.

Today, I couldn’t concentrate.

I read the same paragraph three times without understanding a single sentence. Every time I tried to focus on the figures before me, everything replay in my head.

Two years. I had defended Ethan when Maya questioned why he was always borrowing from me. I had made excuses for him, even when I was struggling to pay my own bills, because I believed his promises about our future.

And all that time, he had been buying expensive gifts for another woman.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

I quickly wiped it away and looked around to make sure nobody had noticed. The office was busy, with employees moving between desks and phones ringing across the room.

I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

I lowered my eyes to the screen again, but the words blurred. Another tear fell, followed by another. I pressed my lips together, fighting the tightness in my throat, but the harder I tried to hold myself together, the more everything seemed to hurt.

The loan.

The rent.

Maya’s tuition.

I had no idea how I was going to fix any of it. I couldn’t even tell Maya what had happened. She was already worried about our situation, and the last thing I wanted was for her to feel guilty about needing an education.

She had worked too hard to get into college. I was eighteen six years ago when I had promised our father in his dying bed that I would look after her, and I wasn’t going to let her give up her future because of the mess Ethan had made of my life.

But how was I supposed to keep that promise when I could barely keep myself together?

I stared at the computer screen until I could no longer pretend I was reading anything.

Then I pushed my chair back.

I couldn’t stay there.

I stood up, grabbed my phone, and headed for the elevator.

I didn’t know where I was going until I pressed the button marked Rooftop.

Perhaps I only needed a few minutes away from everyone. Somewhere quiet, where I could cry without worrying about who might see me.

The elevator doors slid shut.

I leaned against the wall and covered my face with both hands.

For the first time since leaving Ethan’s apartment, I allowed myself to cry properly.

I cried for the two years I had wasted loving him. I cried for the money I had lost, the debt I couldn’t explain, and the sister who trusted me to make everything right. I cried because I was tired of being strong when I had no idea how much longer I could keep doing it.

When the elevator finally opened, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and stepped out onto the rooftop.

The wind hit me immediately, lifting the loose strands of hair around my face. I walked farther from the elevator.

I stood there wondering how mine had fallen apart so quickly.

I walked toward the edge, stopping a short distance away. For a moment, I thought about how easy it would be to stop fighting. No more waking up every morning with the weight of responsibilities pressing against my chest.

The thought frightened me, I closed my eyes and drew a shaky breath.

Then Maya’s face appeared in my mind… I couldn’t leave her alone to face everything.

“No,” I whispered to myself.

I opened my eyes and stepped away from the edge. My knees felt weak, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to steady my breathing.

I hadn’t come here to do anything reckless. I had only wanted somewhere to be alone. Then I heard a voice behind me.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. Slowly. Get down from there.”

My heart jumped. I turned around and saw Lucien standing several feet away, his expression unreadable as he stared at me. For a second, I couldn’t move. Of all the people who could have found me up there, it had to be him.

“Get away from there,” he ordered.

I blinked at him, startled by the anger in his voice.

“Mr. Loreto—”

“Now, Ms. Sinclair.”

There was no mistaking his tone. I took another step back, moving farther from the edge.

He approached me, his expression still hard. “What exactly do you think you’re doing up here?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” His eyes narrowed. “You leave your desk in the middle of working hours, come all the way up here, and stand near the edge of a story building, and you expect me to believe you’re doing nothing?”

I looked down at where I was standing and immediately stepped farther away from the edge. My legs felt weak, and I hated that he had seen me like that. “Mr. Loreto, I wasn’t…” My voice caught. I swallowed and tried again. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”

Lucien walked toward me, but his eyes didn’t leave the edge of the building. “Do you have any idea what would happen if someone saw you standing there?”

I frowned. “What?”