CHAPTER NINE - TANYA

I finally made it in and quickly locked the door behind me.

My phone pinged again.

A message from the same unknown number.

You can’t keep her from me.

At this point I knew the texts were coming from the low-life abusive boyfriend whose number I never bothered to save. Maybe I was a little confrontational by nature, but the dude wasn’t getting a reaction out of me. That was exactly what he wanted.

I slipped the phone into my pocket and quietly stepped into the bedroom.

Meghan was snoring lightly. Her cheeks were faintly pink, probably from wiping her face too much. She’d been crying—no doubt about that. My chest tightened at the sight of her curled under the blanket, trying to sleep through something that shouldn’t have happened to her.

I wanted to report him. I wanted to do something that would make him stop.

But I had to respect Meghan’s decision.

At least for now.

I took a cold shower, letting the chill burn away some of the anger still sitting under my skin, then slid into bed beside her. She shifted slightly, her fingers brushing my arm before relaxing again.

Exhaustion took me before I could think too hard about anything.

I woke to the smell of toast and cheap instant coffee.

Meghan was standing in the kitchen in one of my old T-shirts, moving carefully, like her body still hurt in places she didn’t want to acknowledge.

“You didn’t have to,” I said.

“I wanted to,” she replied, offering a small smile.

We ate quietly. Not awkward—just tired.

Afterward, we left together, stepping into the morning air and catching the subway in silence. When we reached her stop, I hugged her tight.

“Call me if anything feels off,” I said. “Even if the wind blows wrong.”

She laughed softly. “I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Watching her disappear down the stairs made something heavy sit in my chest.

I didn’t like leaving her alone right now.

But I didn’t have a choice.

LH was still asleep when I arrived.

I scanned my card, stepped inside, and rode the elevator up the executive wing of Judgment Day

New day.

New shift.

New chance to avoid embarrassing myself in front of Damien-freaking-Lockewood.

The executive floor greeted me with its usual eerie silence— that I preferred to Damien’s unsettling presence. Hold on…did I really?

Come to think of it, what kind of CEO was in the office even before the sun kissed the sky?

Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Asshole.   

I grabbed my cart and started my route.

Wipe the tables.

Check the conference room.

Don’t touch anything that costs more than three months of rent.

When I reached Damien Lockewood’s office, my pace slowed.

I hated that it did.

The memory of yesterday flooded me—him sitting there with that unreadable face, his fingers tapping against the desk like he was calculating something dangerous.

And the look he’d given me.

Not anger.

Something else.

Something that had made my stomach tighten in a way I didn’t want to think about.

I pushed the door open quietly.

His office was just as pristine as I’d left it: sleek desk, dark wood, faint scent of cedar and something expensive I couldn’t name. His coat from yesterday was gone.

Good.

I worked fast, careful not to move anything. Dusting, wiping, polishing. The space felt more like a museum than a workplace.

When I finished the glass table, my phone buzzed again in my pocket.

I froze.

Slowly, I checked.

Nothing new.

Just my lock screen staring back at me.

I exhaled shakily.

I was letting him get to me, and I hated that.

I wheeled my cart out into the hallway, finished the last conference room, then checked the time.

6:58 a.m.

Perfect.

I turned toward the elevator.

Greyson stood there.

Of course she did.

She looked impossibly composed, like she’d been awake for hours already. Her eyes flicked briefly to my cart before meeting mine.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning.”

The elevator doors slid closed, and we descended in silence.

After a moment, she said, “Mr. Lockewood will be out of the office for a few days.”

“Oh.”

Not relief. Definitely not.

Just information.

When the doors opened, she stepped out first. “You did well yesterday,” she said without turning back.

I blinked.

“Not many people do.”

And then she was gone.

The café was warm and noisy compared to LH. I tied my apron, took orders, smiled at customers, and let the rhythm of work pull me back into something normal.

For a while, it worked.

Then my phone buzzed.

I didn’t check it right away.

When I finally did, my chest tightened.

You think she won’t come back to me.

I locked the screen and shoved the phone into my pocket.

Not today.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over.

Not even close.