Chapter 4 Give Us A Minute

Zane ran after me once I walked away. He caught my arm, held it tight.

"Just... let me drive you."

I didn't look at him. I was too tired to argue. I just let him drag me into his parked car.

The car was silent. The smell of Jovi's perfume, that light, floral scent that was just her, still hung in the air. He started the engine, the sound too loud.

A block passed. Then another.

"So... he's your new boss?" Zane asked, grasping for something normal.

"Yes."

Another block. The tension grew tighter.

"Nerissa, I'm so sorry." The words burst out of him. "This is all my fault. All of it. Please... don't blame Jovi. She's fragile. She was scared of him. You saw how he is."

A sound left me, not a laugh, but a puff of pure disbelief. "It always comes back to her, doesn't it? How fragile she is. What she needs. What she's afraid of."

"She was our friend first," he said, as if that made the betrayal okay.

"Was that the reason?" My voice was low and quiet. "Friendship? When you were with her in our bed, was it out of loyalty?"

He winced, gripping the wheel. "That's a cruel thing to say."

"Cruel?" I turned to face him. "I was here when she left you for someone with more money. I was here to help you through it for months. We built a life, Zane." My voice shook, but my eyes were dry and hot. "Was I just the backup plan? Someone to keep you company until she came back?"

"No! I love you. Our marriage matters-" He struggled, trying to hold two conflicting truths. "But... it's different. With her, it's just... it's always been her."

It's still her.

The three words hung in the perfumed air, unspoken but heard by both of us.

I thought about Vance. About the way he'd looked at me in the bar, at the hotel, in the hallway. The flicker in his eyes-not love, not want, but recognition. Like he saw me. Like he'd always seen me.

"I can't help it... When it comes to her, there's always this piece of me that wants to protect her. That wants to put her before everything. She was always so fragile, so kind, so easy to get hurt that it makes my heart ache for her every single time I see her tears..."

He tried to make me understand his pain, his struggle, his love. But to me, it all felt like a blade, cutting my heart pieces by pieces every time he told me how deep his love for her.

"Stop the car."

"We need to work this out-"

I ignore his plea and reached for the door handle.

"Okay! Okay!" He swerved to the curb.

I was out before the car stopped, the slam of the door final. I didn't look back. I stepped to the curb, raised my arm, and got into the first taxi I saw.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"The Astera Spire," I said.

Not home. There was no home. There was only what to do next.

The elevator at Astera was a smooth, quiet ride up. In the polished doors, my reflection stared back-a woman with empty eyes and a tight jaw. The fight with Zane replayed.

A hot tear fell, then another.

The elevator chimed. The doors opened.

Vance Blackwood was there, talking to his assistant. He took one look at my face and stopped.

His assistant, a sharp woman in her fifties, saw me and went quiet.

I turned away, quickly wiping my cheek. I stared at the floor, hoping the doors would close.

"Give us a minute," Vance said to his assistant, his voice quiet. She left without a word.

He stepped into the elevator. The doors closed. A heavy silence filled the space between us. I stared at the numbers, breathing carefully, hating that he was seeing me like this.

"Are you alright?"

His voice wasn't cold. It was quiet. Close.

I didn't trust myself to speak. I shook my head once, a sharp, small movement.

I felt him move beside me. In the reflection, I saw him hesitate. He saw the tear on my cheek. Something in his expression changed, a reminder of the hotel, the shared disaster. His jaw tightened. He looked like my tears were a problem he didn't know how to fix.

Then, slowly, he reached out and pressed the 'HOLD DOOR' button. The hum stopped. We were stuck between floors, in a private, silent box.

He didn't try to comfort me. Instead, he shifted, putting himself between me and the security camera in the corner.

He didn't look at me. He stared at the doors, perfectly still.

But I saw it. The same flicker from seven years ago. There and gone. Like he was looking at me and trying not to.

"Harrington is in the boardroom in fifteen," he said, his voice low. He was giving me something solid to focus on. "He's worried about the Zenith data. You did the Scandinavia reports."

It wasn't a question. It was a rope to pull me back.

I swallowed, forcing my voice to work. "Yes. The raw data shows a significant efficiency gain they're missing. They're only looking at the cost."

"Good." He paused. "Get the data. Meet me in the boardroom in twelve minutes. You'll present the findings to him and his board."

I looked at him. "Me? I'm a data analyst. Harrington will expect you. Or the CFO."

Vance finally turned his head. His eyes held mine, and I saw no pity, but a clear, direct challenge.

"He'll get the person who knows it best. The person who isn't afraid of the truth in the numbers. Can you do it?"

His eyes held mine. Calm. Expectant.

As if he wasn't asking whether I could impress Harrington.

As if he was asking whether I intended to stand up again.

The tears stopped. The empty feeling was pushed aside by a sudden, sharp focus. He hadn't patted my shoulder, but he'd given me something better: a job to do and a reason to do it.

"Yes," I said, my voice firming up. "I can do it."

He gave a short nod and released the 'HOLD' button. The elevator hummed back to life. As the doors opened, he spoke without turning back, all business again.

"Twelve minutes, Ms. Sullivan."

He walked out, leaving me in the elevator.

I took one deep, steadying breath. My reflection in the brass no longer showed a crying wife, but a woman with a task. I had a presentation to get ready.

Zane had spent five years making me feel like I wasn't enough.

Vance had spent less than five minutes reminding me what I was good at.

I walked toward the boardroom with new confident.

If love couldn't protect me...

Then I would protect myself.