Chapter 9 Unwanted Past, Relentless Future.

Riley's POV

I had barely recovered from the emotional whiplash of Michael's visit when the doorbell rang again. My stomach tightened. I wasn't expecting anyone, and after the day I'd had, I wasn't in the mood for surprises.

I opened the door... and my heart sank.

"Eric?"

He stood there like he still had a right to look that confident, hands in his pockets, eyes soft with feigned regret, like a man who had dropped his keys instead of my heart.

"Riley," he said, voice dipped in guilt I didn't buy for a second. "Can we talk?"

I stared at him, unable to believe the audacity. He looked good, like betrayal didn't wrinkle a man's face. Same crisp shirt, same boyish smirk. But something about him felt... cheap now.

"There is nothing to talk about," I said flatly, crossing my arms.

His shoulders slumped, like I was the one being unreasonable.

"I made a mistake," he said. "Celeste...didn't mean anything to me."

I laughed, sharp and humorless. "You threw away three years for a woman who signs my paycheck, Eric."

"I was not thinking clearly," he said. "I was... confused."

"You were horny and selfish," I snapped.

Silence settled between us, he shifted on his feet, then took a step closer.

"I miss you," he whispered. "You look... you look like you haven't been sleeping."

I almost slammed the door in his face.

Instead, I held it open wider, just enough to let every ounce of fury I had spill out.

"You don't get to miss me," I said. "You lost that right the moment you started screwing my boss behind my back."

"I still care about you."

"Then do me a favor, never come here again."

He flinched like I slapped him.

Then he dropped his gaze to the floor, like a man searching for pieces of a woman he shattered.

And that's when it hit me, I was not the broken one anymore.

"I will be fine, Eric," I said quietly. "Just not with you."

I closed the door gently, but firmly.

And this time, I didn't cry.

****

Michael's POV:

The next day, I sat at the head of the boardroom table, the sleek surface reflecting the cold gleam in my eyes. The meeting had gone smoothly, reports were on track, profits were surging. My recently opened luxury club was already the talk of the elite.

But as always, someone had to poke the bear.

"Michael," came the clipped voice of Mr. Howards, one of the older shareholders. "We are all impressed with the company's growth under your leadership, no doubt. But there was talk going around."

My brow lifted lazily. "Talk?"

"Yes." Mr. Howards adjusted his tie. "About your personal life. Investors felt more confident when their CEO appeared settled and stable, with a wife, or at least a steady girlfriend. And at twenty-nine, you were still flying solo."

A low murmur passed around the table.

I showed no reaction."I was not aware my relationship status was now part of the quarterly report."

A few of the board members chuckled nervously, but Howards wasn't backing down.

"You are the face of this company, Michael. The media has started to speculate, and frankly, some of our more conservative partners are questioning your image."

I leaned back, fingers steepled beneath my chin. "Duly noted."

That was all I said before I stood, adjusted my black suit jacket with practiced grace, and walked out of the room.

My assistant knew better than to follow.

Back in my office, I adjusted the cufflinks on my shirt, the small ritual grounding me as the city glowed beneath my windows. I didn't care for gossip or image. But perception? That was power.

I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, the city skyline glittering beneath the setting sun.

A girlfriend.

A fiancée.

Someone to shut the whispers up.

My jaw tightened, and then relaxed as a memory flashed across my mind: Riley standing in my hotel room, furious, proud, rejecting my offer like a queen dismissing a servant.

She didn't even blink when she tore up my check.

And yet... I saw the eviction notice. I saw the desperation in her eyes.

She was vulnerable, cornered and broke.

Perfect.

I let my hand rest on the desk, tapping once against the polished wood before pulling it back.

If charm wouldn't work, desperation would.

I walked back to my desk, pulled out my phone, and called my lawyer.

"Draft a new contract," I said evenly. "Make it longer, more detailed... something she won't be able to refuse."

"Yes, sir. Any specific terms?"

I smiled coldly.

"She will be everything I need her to be."

Then, I leaned back, eyes glinting with something dark and deliberate.

"She just doesn't know it yet."