Chapter 1 The Breakup

The soft hum of the dishwasher filled the silence in Jade Carter's apartment, though the last load had finished over an hour ago. The rain outside cast liquid shadows on the windowpanes, and city lights shimmered through them in fractured gold and neon blues. The kind of night that begged for jazz music, a shared bottle of wine, and warm laughter curling through the air. Instead, all Jade had was silence. A deep, heavy, unforgiving silence.

She sat on the edge of her kitchen island, barefoot, wearing one of Damon's old college sweatshirts-oversized, worn at the cuffs, and so threadbare it had started unraveling at the seams. She used to love how it smelled like him. Now it smelled like betrayal. Fabric softener. And endings.

Her wine glass sat untouched beside her, fingers wrapped around the stem like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the floor. But the moment had already arrived-the tipping point, the unraveling. There would be no redemption. No miracle apology. The damage had been done.

The affair.

The lies.

The woman.

*The betrayal.*

Jade stared at the apartment as if she were seeing it for the first time-or maybe for the last. The cream walls, the minimalist black-and-gold accent pieces she'd picked out with such careful precision, the framed photos of their fake little life. The apartment was modern, clean, stylish. Everything looked curated.

But beneath the polish, the place felt like a museum of a love that had already died.

A key turned in the lock behind her. The door clicked open. She didn't turn.

"Hey," Damon's voice came softly, laced with forced casualness. Like nothing had happened. Like they were still pretending.

Jade's spine went rigid. She let out a breath so slow it barely made a sound.

He walked in, dripping with that smug after-work energy. Leather shoes polished. Jacket sharp. Smile lazy. That smile had once made her stomach flutter. Now it made her want to throw the wine glass across the room.

Instead, she stood and turned, letting her eyes trail over him like he was a stranger. And in many ways, he was.

"Did you have a good day?" she asked coolly, voice flat, devoid of its usual warmth.

Damon blinked. His mouth twitched at the corners, searching for some footing. "I mean, yeah. Work was work." He stepped further inside. "You okay? You're quiet."

Quiet? She had screamed inside her head for two straight days.

Still, she nodded. "I'm fine."

She walked to the coffee table, picked up the folder she'd prepared, and handed it to him without a word. Confused, he opened it. His face lost color almost instantly.

Screenshots. Emails. Text messages. Photos.

Tasha's name in bold. Her messages filled with winks and hearts and "next time" and "can't stop thinking about last night." And Damon-her Damon-replying in kind. Eager. Flirty. Like a man without a girlfriend. Without a conscience.

He closed the folder.

"Jade-"

"Don't." Her voice cracked like a whip. "Don't insult me with excuses. I gave you every opportunity to come clean."

"I was going to-"

"Were you?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "When? After the third time you fucked her? Or the fourth?"

Damon's jaw clenched. He sat down slowly, the weight of it all finally registering in his body. "It wasn't-It didn't mean anything."

She laughed, hollow and dry. "God, men really love that line, don't they? *It didn't mean anything.* Like that makes it better. Like screwing someone you don't even care about makes you less of a liar."

"I made a mistake," he said, quieter now. "A stupid, selfish mistake."

"No, Damon." Her voice rose, trembling with years of suppressed emotion. "For something to be a *mistake*, it has to be an accident. You made a choice. Over and over again."

He looked away.

"And the worst part," she continued, "is that you didn't even try to hide it well. You got lazy. You got cocky. You thought I was too in love to notice."

Damon stood, moving toward her like proximity might earn forgiveness. "Jade-please. We've built so much together. Don't throw it away."

"I'm not throwing anything away," she snapped. "I'm walking away from trash."

His face twitched, and for the first time, she saw it-regret. But it wasn't for her. It was for being caught. For losing control. For no longer being the hero in their story.

"I love you," he whispered.

"No," she said, voice breaking. "You loved what I gave you. Stability. Admiration. Sex. Support. But not me. Not really."

A long, agonizing silence hung between them.

"Where is she now?" Jade asked. "Tasha. Is she waiting for you to come running? Or does she even know you were still living with me?"

He didn't answer. Which told her everything.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I was enough, Damon. I was *more* than enough. You just didn't know what to do with a woman who didn't need you to feel whole."

He didn't fight anymore. He picked up the box she'd left near the door-his things, neatly packed: shirts, shoes, the cologne she used to love, the hoodie she'd stolen from him during a trip to Lake Tahoe.

She opened the door.

"I hope she was worth it," Jade said.

He paused, standing in the doorway, looking back at the woman he'd once loved. Or maybe just used. Maybe he didn't even know the difference.

"I'm sorry," he said, and for the first time, he actually sounded like he meant it.

Jade nodded once. "Too late."

She shut the door before he could say anything else.

No crying. No chasing. No second-guessing.

She leaned back against the door, every muscle in her body aching from the emotional exorcism. She closed her eyes. Felt the silence settle in again. But this time, it didn't feel like absence. It felt like peace. A heavy, aching, *earned* peace.

She pushed away from the door and walked into the bathroom. The mirror caught her reflection, and for a moment, she paused. Her face looked tired. Her eyes dull. Hair pulled into a loose knot. But beneath it all, she could see the woman she used to be-sharp, fierce, capable.

And she would be again.

Jade reached for the bathroom drawer and pulled out her hairbrush, running it through in slow, deliberate strokes. She took off the sweatshirt, dropped it into the laundry bin, and stood in just a tank top and underwear, the cool air kissing her bare skin.

In the mirror, she didn't look like someone who had just been betrayed.

She looked like someone reborn.

She went to the kitchen and poured another glass of wine. This time, she drank it slowly, savoring it. The warmth rolled through her belly and spread into her chest.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Lexie:

***"Need me to bring tequila and matches?"***

Jade smiled.

***"No matches. But bring the tequila."***

---

It was 11:42 PM when Jade made a decision that would reshape the rest of her life.

No more lies. No more half-love. No more shrinking herself to fit inside a man's limitations.

She would take back control.

She would date. She would have sex. She would let herself *want*-without guilt, without shame, without pretending she wanted more than what was offered.

But love?

No.

Love made people blind.

Love made people stay.

Love turned intelligent women into fools who ignored all the signs and called it hope.

*Never again.*

No feelings.

Just sex.

And this time, she would be the one making the rules.