Lara's POV
I thought I knew pain. I had felt it when my father walked out on us and never came back, leaving my mother to hold everything together while I tried to be strong for my younger brother. I had felt it in the years that followed, when I learned that love was something people could promise and still take away. But none of that compared to what I felt the moment I saw Marco kiss Serene.
It was as if time stopped. My heart didn't just break, it splintered in silence, slowly and cruelly, while the rest of the world kept moving. I knew who Serene was. Everyone did. She had been his fiancée for five years, the woman who stood proudly by his side, the one he had chosen long before I even stepped into his life.
I should have been prepared. I should have remembered my place. But I wasn't.
I remembered that night years ago when he announced their engagement during the company anniversary dinner. I had forced a smile as everyone clapped and cheered, and when no one was watching, I slipped away to the restroom and cried quietly behind a locked door.
It was pathetic, really. I had even been the one who ordered the flowers for the proposal, the same flowers Serene was now holding in her hands in every magazine photo. I had called the florist myself, written the card, arranged the delivery. I had done it all, not knowing I was preparing for my own heartbreak.
And now, after I had given him my trust, my body, and my first time with a man, I stood there watching him hold another woman like she was his entire world.
I told myself not to look, but I couldn't help it. My eyes found them anyway. The way his hand settled on Serene's waist. The way she smiled up at him like he was her forever. The way he kissed her like nothing else existed.
That was the moment something inside me broke beyond repair.
The air felt too thick to breathe. My chest hurt so much that I pressed a hand against it, as if I could stop my heart from falling apart. My knees trembled, and for a moment, I thought I might collapse.
He had held me just hours ago. He had whispered my name like it meant something. And now he stood there, kissing Serene in front of everyone as if last night had never happened, as if I had never happened.
When they turned to leave, walking past me without so much as a glance, I felt the cruel, hollow silence he left behind. It was the kind of silence that screamed louder than words.
It was as if he had taken my heart with him when he walked away.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't even cry. The pain was too deep for tears, too sharp for words. It felt like something inside me had been carved out, leaving me empty and trembling.
Maybe I was foolish to think that one night could mean anything to a man like Marco Blackwell. Maybe I was even more foolish to hope that it had meant something to him too.
But as I stood there, surrounded by people who didn't see me, didn't know what had just been taken from me, I understood something with painful clarity.
I wasn't just heartbroken. I was invisible. And somehow, that hurt even more.
The moment I stepped into the van, I chose the very last seat and sank into it, clutching my bag tightly to my chest. The air inside was thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and exhaustion, but all I could think about was how glad I was that it was nearly empty.
Most of my officemates were already gone, picked up by their partners or families waiting outside with flowers, laughter, and open arms. I should have been happy for them, but I wasn't. Watching them made me feel smaller, invisible even, like someone no one was waiting for.
No one came for me.
I was about to close my eyes and drown in that miserable thought when Julie slid into the seat beside me, her bright smile dimming the instant she saw my face. We had joined the company on the same day and had been friends ever since. She worked in the Marketing Department, while I ended up as secretary to Marco Blackwell himself, the man who had turned my life upside down.
"Hey," she said softly, nudging my shoulder. "You okay?"
I tried to smile, but my lips trembled. "I'm fine," I lied, my voice thin.
Julie studied me for a moment, then sighed. "Lara, you can't lie to me. I know how much you like our boss."
Her words stung. I forced a small laugh, though my chest felt tight. "He's engaged, Julie. He belongs to someone else. There's nothing I can do about it."
Julie nodded sympathetically, then ruined it by saying, "They look perfect together, though. Like they were made for each other."
I felt my throat close up. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. So I turned toward the window and pretended to sleep, watching the city lights blur into gold and shadow as the van rolled on.
When I got home, the familiar scent of my mother's cooking greeted me, warm and comforting. I managed a weak smile, said hello, and went straight to my room before she could ask questions. The moment the door closed, I collapsed onto my bed, pressing my hands over my face as silent tears escaped.
I felt pathetic.
One night. That was all it took for me to lose myself completely.
I looked around my small room, my eyes landing on the photos pinned to my wall, pictures of Marco that I had secretly saved from the company files. Some were candid, others from magazines or company events. He looked powerful in all of them, confident, untouchable.
With trembling hands, I began taking them down one by one.
Each photo I pulled off felt like ripping another piece of my heart out. My tears fell faster, blurring his face on the glossy paper. I whispered his name under my breath, as if saying it might ease the ache.
I had loved him silently for years. Admired him from afar. I told myself I was fine just being near him, hearing his voice, watching him work. But last night changed everything. After giving him my trust, my body, my first time. I had given him everything I had, but of course, he still chose Serene. His fiancée and his perfect match.
I shut my eyes, remembering the way his hands felt against my skin, the way his voice broke when he whispered my name. I missed him so much it hurt to breathe. My body ached for his touch even as my heart begged me to forget.
Desperate to stop the pain, I turned on my laptop and opened a blank document. My fingers shook as I began typing my resignation letter. Each word felt like a farewell I didn't want to say, but had to. When I was done, I read it over once and pressed save. The emptiness that followed was unbearable.
I curled into myself, clutching my pillow tightly, letting the tears come until there was nothing left. I told myself this would be the last time I cried for him. The last time I'd let him break me.
"I didn't know how long I was staring at my screen when a soft knock interrupted the silence."
"Lara, my dear," my mother called from outside.
"Mom, I told you I'm not eating dinner," I said weakly, wiping my face.
"Lara, someone's here for you!" my mother called, sounding far too thrilled. "And he's quite the looker, I must say. I told him to come in, but he insisted on waiting outside. You'd better hurry, or he might think you're not interested!" She added.
I frowned as I suddenly remembered Corbin. The realization hit me. I had completely forgotten about my promise to him.
Guilt pricked at me for standing him up, but I was in no state to see anyone. Still, I forced myself to get up, running a hand through my tangled hair, not caring how I looked or if my eyes were still swollen from crying.
I opened the door, ready to apologize, and froze. It wasn't Corbin.
It was Marco Blackwell standing outside our house. He looked tall, composed, and devastatingly handsome in his dark shirt, as if he hadn't shattered my world just that morning. For a heartbeat, I couldn't breathe. My heart leaped before I could stop it.
He had never been here before. Marco Blackwell didn't belong in places like this, where the paint on the walls had already faded and the potted plants by the door leaned toward the light as if struggling to survive. Seeing him there, framed by the soft glow of the porch bulb, felt unreal.
He looked out of place and yet impossibly right, as if the universe was playing some cruel trick on me. For a moment, I simply stood there, unable to move. How did he even know where I lived? The thought sent a rush of unease through me, followed by a sharp awareness of how small our house really was. The narrow porch, the worn curtains behind me, even the faint sound of my mother's footsteps inside, they all seemed to shrink under the weight of his presence.
Marco Blackwell, the man who ruled boardrooms and commanded respect wherever he went, was standing in front of my humble home like it was the most natural thing in the world. And somehow, that made everything inside me tremble.
"Ms. Quinn," he said in that calm, commanding tone that both thrilled and infuriated me. "Get dressed. We are having dinner."
For a second, I just stared at him, trying to understand what he was doing here, why he even cared. He was the last person I expected to see on my doorstep. And yet, despite everything, a small, foolish part of me fluttered with excitement. The man I had loved in silence, the man who had broken me, was asking me to dinner.
But I knew better. With Marco Blackwell, hope always came with pain. No matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise, disappointment was the only thing he ever truly gave me.
Something inside me snapped.
"You don't get to bark orders at me anymore, Mr. Blackwell," I said coldly, forcing my trembling voice to sound steady even though my heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear myself. "As of today, I am no longer your secretary."
He tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow lifting, his lips curving into that familiar look of quiet amusement that always made me want to scream. "What do you mean by that?" he asked, as if he didn't already know.
"I'll hand in my resignation tomorrow," I replied, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "Effective immediately."
For a moment, silence stretched between us. The porch light flickered faintly, casting shadows across his face. Then his expression changed. The hint of humor vanished, replaced by something darker and colder.
"You can't do that, Ms. Quinn," he said finally, his tone low and deliberate. He took a step closer, the scent of his cologne surrounding me, familiar and maddening.
"Have you forgotten your cash advance? Until it's paid in full, you are still under my employment."
My hands clenched at my sides, the sharpness in his words cutting deep. I wanted to scream at him, to tell him that no amount of money could ever make me stay near him again. But the words that came out were even sharper.
"Do you really think," I began, my voice rising despite myself, "that after what happened at the cabin, I will still go back to your office and pretend nothing happened? Do you think I can just sit there and take your orders as if I am made of stone?" I took a step closer, my anger trembling just beneath the surface. "I am human, Mr. Blackwell. I am not a robot."
The air between us thickened, heavy with everything left unsaid. For the first time, I saw something flicker in his eyes, something uncertain that almost looked like regret. But I refused to let it soften me.
Because no matter what he said or how close he stood, I knew one thing for sure. Whatever we had at the cabin, whatever that night had meant to me, it clearly meant nothing to him. And I would not let myself break again.
My breath caught as his nearness washed over me. The warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne, the quiet power that always surrounded him. His gaze lingered on mine with the same intensity that used to undo me, as if he had the right to look at me that way.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Quinn," he said, his tone calm but edged with quiet authority. "You are still under contract, and you cannot simply hand in your resignation and walk away from the company whenever you please. Unless, of course, I decide to terminate your employment myself."
His words were smooth and deliberate, the kind that reminded me exactly who he was, a man who always had the final word.
My face burned with humiliation and something else I hated myself for feeling. I wanted to stay angry, to stand my ground, but the moment his eyes softened for just a heartbeat, my resolve cracked.
He was the same man who had made me fall apart, and yet standing this close to him again made my heart race like it was the first time.
And that was the cruelest truth of all. No matter how much he hurt me, I still wanted him, even when I knew I shouldn't.