Iris’s POV”Julian, calm down, I didn’t mean—”
”Don’t you dare tell me to calm down!” Julian barked out.
He lunged again, faster this time, and I heard the crash of something… a cup, maybe, or a stapler?
It swept off the desk and hit the floor.
Damian shouted, stumbling back into his chair, “Get off me, Julian—”
”Three years!” Julian’s voice cracked, somewhere between fury and heartbreak.
“Three years of hiding, of waiting for you to actually choose me, and this is what I get?
You’d rather protect her than tell me the truth?”
”It’s not about protecting her—”
”Then what is it about?!”
Another crash, and it was louder this time.
I heard Damian grunt in pain.
Down the hall, I noticed doors were opening, with heavy footsteps approaching.
“What’s going on in there?” a man’s voice was heard from a distance.
The fight didn’t slow down though.
“I don’t care anymore!” was Julian’s roar.
Amidst the fight, Damian was still whispering something to Julian.
I didn’t want people to find me here eavesdropping instead of calling security, so I hurried towards the rest room.
Behind me, security guards pushed past the gathering crowd moments later, and I was glad I’d put distance between myself and the door as they went in.
By the time I was about to leave the restroom, the whole floor already knew.
I remained hidden in a stall just as some colleagues walked in, still mid-conversation, clearly assuming they had the room to themselves.
“What do you mean you didn’t notice? I swear the whole fourth floor heard it.” That was Priya, from accounting, her voice pitched low but unable to hide the excitement underneath.
“Damian’s assistant was screaming like someone murdered him.
They got into some messed up fight!”
”I heard Damian hit him first.” The second voice, Sasha from HR, sounded almost gleeful.
“Actually hit him!
Security had to go up there at once.”
”No way.” said another voice.
“I’m serious.
I saw them dragging Julian out, and he had a mark on his face and everything.”
”Why though?
What could have started it?”
There was a pause, “Come on.
You’ve seen how those two are together.
Everybody’s seen it.”
”You think Julian found out about something?”
”I think,” Sasha said, lowering her voice further, though not nearly enough, “that Damian’s face didn’t get scratched up last week from ‘slipping in the shower,’ and I think Julian finally put two and two together.”
Priya laughed under her breath.
“Poor Iris.” Priya said.
“She’s in there smiling at everyone like nothing’s wrong, and meanwhile her husband is out there…”
”Shhhh!
What if she walks in and hears you!”
”She won’t.
She’s still up in that meeting with Marcus.”
I stayed very still, listening to their gossip about my life.
Then waited until the restroom door swung shut behind them before I let myself out.
Back at my desk, I drafted up a message to send to Damian, thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before I typed it out.
It had to be a “concerning” message.
I was still his wife after all.
Hours passed, but got no response from him.
I didn’t mind the silence.
It told me plenty on its own.
At noon, I was able to send back Ryder’s shirt, then settled back to my desk.
I opened my contacts and scrolled to his name, staring at it for a moment longer than I meant to.
Ryder Lancaster.
I dialed more options and found it.
The Block button.
“Right. It’s been over since, why don’t I just confirm it now?” I hit the button and dropped my phone down quickly.
Not like I felt any relief.
Still…maybe it was the right thing to do?
My desk phone rang, “hello Mrs. Lancaster? Mr. David Whitfield is here to see you.”
I blinked, sitting up straighter.
“Send him up.”
David walked in a few minutes later smiling brightly.
All that negative energy from that dinner had disappeared.
This was rather… a businesslike enthusiasm, with the way that his leather folder was tucked under one arm.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by unannounced.”
”Not at all.
What can I do for you, Mr. David?”
”I’ve been thinking about our conversation the other night.” He set the folder down on my desk, flipping it open to reveal a proposal already drawn up.
I had to manage my composure, blinking hard to the numbers.
Oh geez!
Are these numbers correct?
“Whitfield Realty would like to move forward on the downtown development contract. Three point two million, if the terms work for you.”
I stared at the paper for a second longer than was probably professional.
“You want to sign this with me directly?”
”I want to sign it with someone I trust.” He smiled, easy and genuine.
“You handled yourself well that night, even under pressure. That told me more about doing business with you than any pitch deck could.”
I signed my name at the bottom of that contract with a steadiness I didn’t entirely feel, my heart hammering in my chest.
My first deal.
Mine, not something inherited, not something handed to me through Marcus or the company name.
Something I’d actually earned.
“This calls for a celebration,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face.
“Let me take you to dinner.
My treat.”
”I’d like that.” David closed his folder, already reaching for his phone.
“We should invite your uncle, though. Ryder Lancaster.”
My smile faltered in an instant.
What?
Invite Ryder??
“That’s really not necessary.” I tried for my persuasive voice.
“Nonsense! I insist. The man practically vouched for you without saying two words that night. The least I can do is thank him properly over a good meal.” He was already dialing before I could think of a graceful way to stop him.
“Besides, it’d be good for business.
Whitfield and Lancaster Holdings, all in one room.”
”Mr.
David, really, he’s probably busy—”
He held the phone to his ear, already walking toward the window, voice brightening.
“Mr. Ryder! It’s David, from the other night… Yes, exactly. I have wonderful news, and I’d love for you to join us to celebrate…”
I sat there, the contract still warm under my palm.
Was my success suddenly all tangled up now?