Chapter 2

At ten that night, Elina arrived.

She had fingerprint access to my home. The lock beeped, and she pushed open the door as if nothing had happened.

She hung her coat on the left side of the entryway, set her bag on the console table, and changed into the beige slippers she usually wore at my place.

I was sitting at the dining table, eating a bowl of mac and cheese.

When she saw them, her brows furrowed. "Where's Francesca?"

"She's on vacation."

“Is this all you’re eating?”

"It's convenient."

Elina walked over and pulled out a chair. She still wore a faint trace of perfume. She hadn't taken off her makeup, and the diamond earrings dangling from her earlobes were the ones I bought for her birthday last year. They cost eight figures.

Back then, she had wrapped her arms around me, her eyes reddening, and asked, "Bridger, why are you so good to me?"

I'd told her, "Because you deserve it."

After sitting down, Elina didn't apologize. The first thing she said was, "Lance didn't know who you were."

I lifted some mac and cheese with a spoon. "You did."

She choked on her response. Then her tone softened. "The company is at a critical stage right now. Everyone has their eyes on me—investors, the media, suppliers, the team. We can't afford any trouble."

"So I'm the trouble?"

"Do you have to interpret it that way?"

I smiled faintly. "How else am I supposed to interpret it?"

A hint of irritation finally surfaced in Elina's eyes. "Bridger, you haven't managed the company in three years. You have no idea how hard I've worked to convince people that this company has value in its own right, that it's not just some toy you decided to raise on a whim."

Steam rose from my food. Suddenly, I'd lost my appetite. "A toy?"

She looked away. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

She fell silent for a while.

When she spoke again, her voice had turned cold. "I don't want people saying I got where I am because of you."

I nodded. I understood that much.

"Elina." I set down my spoon. "When you wanted a team, I built your first one. When you needed products, I helped you establish your first supply channels. When the platform restricted your traffic for the first time, who stayed up for two days straight to get it lifted?"

Her lips pressed together. "I'm not denying that you helped me."

"You just think none of it should be brought up anymore."

She suddenly stood. "Do you have to settle scores with me today?"

"Isn't that why you came here—to make amends?"

The air between us went still.

Elina's expression darkened. She probably hadn't expected me to throw her own casual promise from her text message right back at her.

After a few seconds, she picked up her bag. "You're upset right now. We'll talk another day."

She walked to the entryway, then stopped. "Don't go to the office again before the press conference."

I watched her back. "What if I insist on going?"

She didn't turn around. "Then I'll have to let them handle it according to company policy."

The door closed. Silence settled over the apartment again.

I returned to my chair. The mac and cheese had gone cold, the sauce congealing around it.

My phone buzzed again.

It was a message from my dad, Wesley Hart.

[ I heard you got thrown out of your own territory today? ]

I typed back: [It's nothing.]

He replied instantly: [Did you get dropped on your head as a kid?]

Three seconds later, his call came through.

I didn't answer, not because I was afraid of him, but because I was afraid he would yell at me through the phone until next year.

I set the phone face down on the table and stared at the doorway for a while.

When Elina left, she'd lined up her slippers neatly, as if she were still planning to come back.