The morning after always came with coffee and denial.
Rosaline's apartment smelled faintly of both bitter and grounding. She stood by the kitchen window, watching the early traffic crawl beneath a gray sky, her cup cooling in her hand. Sleep had been elusive. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him the way he looked at her in the boardroom, utterly unaware that the woman sitting across from him had once been in his bed.
She told herself this meeting would be easier. The first had been shock; the second would be strategy. She'd built her career on control; she just needed to remember who she was before last weekend.
By the time she reached Harvey & Co., she was wrapped in her armor again, a charcoal suit, hair twisted into a sleek knot, a hint of perfume that said power, not apology.
Claire greeted her with a stack of folders. "Morning, Rosaline. Mr. Reid confirmed for two o'clock. He's bringing his VP of communications, and Eleanor said she might drop in, too."
Rosaline nodded, her heartbeat steady. "Perfect. Make sure the slides are ready by one."
Claire hesitated, studying her boss. "You okay? You look tense."
"Just a big account," Rosaline said smoothly, offering a faint smile. "I'll be fine."
But fine was a lie.
At exactly two o'clock, the glass doors to Boardroom Two slid open. Conrad Reid entered first. Power walked beside him like a second skin, easy, unforced. His suit was navy this time, tie loose, confidence sharpened to precision. Behind him trailed a woman with red lipstick and an iPad, who introduced herself briskly as Lydia Mercer, VP of Communications.
"Rosaline," Conrad greeted, his tone professional yet laced with something softer. "Thank you for seeing us again on short notice."
"My pleasure," she said, and meant none of it.
Their eyes met, and for a second, she felt it again, that quiet pull she couldn't name. He looked the same, and yet everything about him had changed. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was the secret she carried between them like invisible glass.
The presentation began.
Rosaline clicked through the slides, her voice steady as she spoke of post-acquisition image management, brand synergy, and strategic transparency. Lydia took notes, nodding occasionally. Conrad, though, watched Rosaline. Not her slides. Not her words. Her.
Every time she looked up, his gaze met hers, unguarded.
By the halfway mark, she was fighting to breathe evenly.
When the meeting finally wrapped, Lydia excused herself to take a call. Eleanor hadn't shown, thankfully. That left Rosaline and Conrad alone again, a pattern she wished wasn't becoming familiar.
"Impressive as always," Conrad said, breaking the silence. "You make complex things sound simple."
Rosaline gave a polite nod. "That's the job."
"You were always good at it," he replied. "Even back when we,"
She cut in smoothly, "Worked together? Yes. I remember."
His mouth curved slightly. "You also remember how much we disagreed."
"I remember you being impossible to please."
His laugh was low, genuine, and dangerously disarming. "Still am."
Rosaline forced herself to gather the presentation notes, keeping her tone neutral. "If you're satisfied with the direction, I'll send the full rollout schedule by Friday."
Conrad didn't move. He leaned against the edge of the table, folding his arms. "Can I ask you something?"
Her pulse faltered. "Of course."
"Do you ever see Nora much these days?"
The question landed like a dart.
Rosaline's fingers tightened around her pen. "Occasionally," she said. "She's busy."
"She mentioned that," Conrad murmured, eyes thoughtful. "I ran into her at the gala, you know. I told you that."
"I remember," Rosaline replied carefully.
"She seemed different," he continued. "Quieter. More grounded."
Rosaline's throat went dry. "People change."
"Do they?" His gaze lingered. "She reminded me of someone else for a moment."
Rosaline felt her heartbeat spike for just a fraction of a second before she managed a smile. "Maybe you're just seeing what you want to see."
Conrad's lips quirked. "Maybe."
He straightened, pushing off the table. "Anyway, I won't keep you. I have another call in fifteen."
"Of course," she said again.
But as he moved toward the door, he paused, his reflection briefly caught in the glass panel, looking back at her.
"It's good working with you again, Rosaline," he said, his tone quieter now. "I didn't realize how much I missed this."
Her heart twisted. "The work?"
He smiled faintly. "Something like that."
Then he left.
When the door closed, the air seemed to exhale.
Rosaline sank into a chair, her pulse unsteady. It wasn't supposed to be this hard not to breathe, not to think, not to separate what was real from what had only been one reckless night.
She stared at her reflection in the glass wall, the same face that had fooled him, that had ruined everything.
Her phone buzzed.
NORA: How did the meeting go? Did he flirt again?
ROSALINE: Stop it.
NORA: Come on. He's into you, you know.
Rosaline typed slowly.
ROSALINE: He's into you. He just doesn't know it's me.
There was no reply for a minute. Then Nora finally sent:
NORA: So what's the difference, Rosie? He wants one of us. For once, maybe don't overthink it.
Rosaline dropped her phone on the desk, the words stinging sharper than they should have.
Because the difference was everything.
She'd spent her whole life being the shadow twin, the one who stayed put while Nora burned bright. But now, for the first time, she wasn't invisible. And it wasn't because of her. It was because of a lie.
Later that night, as she walked home through the quiet streets, the city lights reflected against the wet pavement. A cool breeze brushed her face, and for a moment, she let herself imagine what it would feel like if things were different, if he'd known it was her all along.
But that fantasy dissolved as quickly as it came. Because when Conrad looked at her, he didn't see Rosaline Clarke, the woman who'd once challenged him and still haunted his thoughts.
He saw Nora, the twin, who didn't even remember what they'd talked about that night, because she hadn't been there at all.
Rosaline stopped at a red light, her reflection ghosted faintly in the shop window beside her.
Same face. Different truth.
She swallowed hard, whispering into the rain-damp air a promise, or maybe a warning.
"This ends before it begins."
But even as she said it, she knew it was already too late.