All Chapters of One Night, Wrong Man: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

-POV Derby The message came at 9:47 PM and killed two years in ten seconds. I think you deserve to know. Three cold sentences from a girl I’d never met. Rian had been fucking her for eight months. Eight months of him coming home late, smiling at his phone, telling me “it’s just work” while I kept convincing myself the cracks in us were normal. I wasn’t stupid. I’d seen the signs. I just chose not to name them, because naming them meant admitting I was the second choice again. Like I always had been. My mom used to say I was too much and never enough. Rian made me believe I’d finally found the middle — wanted, but not desperately. Stable. Safe. Until safe turned into invisible. I read the message three times. Then I typed one word — Okay. — and hit send before my brain could scream at me for how small and pathetic it sounded. I wasn’t going to cry in the apartment that still smelled like his cologne. I wasn’t going to let the silence finish what he started. So I grabb

-POV Derby By Monday I’d almost convinced myself it was over. Not in some dramatic way. Just… closed. Like shutting a tab you left open too long. Done. Forgotten. Moving on. I made coffee that tasted like nothing. Went to work. Answered emails like the weekend had never happened, like I hadn’t spent Friday night letting a stranger finish my sentences and Saturday morning sneaking out of his bed with his scent still on my skin. I kept repeating I’m fine until the words almost felt real. But the name kept snagging somewhere deep. Vasquez. It tugged at my ribs every time it crossed my mind. I’d googled it once on Saturday, told myself it was harmless curiosity, then slammed the tab shut when the results looked too important. Smart move. I’d made it. I was done. The office was the usual Monday chaos — Maya waving from accounts, the printer jammed again, my manager’s 8:54 “quick sync” that was never quick. I sat at my desk, opened the backlog, and tried to disappear into

-POV Derby I told myself I wasn’t going. I stood in the elevator, finger hovering over the button for my own floor, heart slamming so hard I could feel it in my throat. Just go back to your desk. Pretend you never saw that email. Pretend he never said your name like that. The doors started to close. I slammed the 15 button instead. The private lounge on the fifteenth floor was quiet, all dark wood and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Empty except for him. Jordan was already there. He stood by the window, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up, one hand in his pocket like he had all the time in the world. When the door clicked shut behind me, he turned. Those calm eyes found mine instantly, and the same dangerous stillness from the bar settled over the room. “You came,” he said. Low. Certain. Like he’d never doubted it for a second. I clutched my bag strap tighter. “You didn’t exactly give me a choice.” He took one slow step closer. “I gave you a cho

-POV Derby The elevator doors slid open. My heart stopped. Tamara Hayden stepped out — cream silk dress hugging her figure, perfect posture, the kind of beauty that made the whole room feel colder. She smiled when she saw us, polite and polished and sharp enough to cut glass. “Jordan,” she said smoothly, voice like honey over steel. “I thought we were having dinner tonight.” Jordan didn’t flinch. His hand was still hovering near my waist, close enough that I could feel the heat. He straightened slowly, turning toward her with that same calm control he’d used when he was buried deep inside me. “Change of plans,” he answered, voice even. “Business ran late.” Tamara’s gaze slid to me. She took me in from head to toe — flushed cheeks, dress clinging to my curves, the way I was standing too close to her fiancé. Her smile never wavered, but her eyes turned icy. “Assistant staff, right?” she asked, sweet but poisonous. “Derby… Odellia?” She knew my name. Of course she