Chapter 41: ~ 40 ~

LILA

The second I stepped back into Novoux, the pulse of the store wrapped around me like a living thing.

The energy was intoxicating—staff buzzing between racks and counters, customers weaving through displays with eager hands and curious eyes. The scent of rich leather, fresh linen, and expensive perfume hung in the air, a cocktail of luxury that clung to my skin.

I tucked my folder under my arm, smoothing my blouse with a swift, unconscious gesture, and slipped seamlessly into work mode.

No time to bask in the aftermath of the elevator confrontation. No time to replay Victoria’s stunned face. Novoux needed me. And right now, I needed it too.

I moved through the floor, checking displays, answering quick questions from associates, tweaking a few of the featured layouts to boost visual appeal. Every action had purpose. Every step was deliberate.

By the time an hour had blurred past, my body was humming from the adrenaline of a productive day.

I was near the accessory section, speaking with Naomi about reorganizing the new arrivals shelf, when I felt a presence approach behind me.

I turned to find Ethan, my assistant floor supervisor, his sandy hair slightly mussed and a clipboard tucked under his arm.

“Hey, boss,” he said with a half-grin, wiping his palm on his slacks before flipping through a few sheets. “By the way... there was a delivery for you earlier. They left it in your office. Meant to tell you sooner, sorry—kinda hectic today.”

I blinked.

A delivery?

I wasn’t expecting anything.

“Thanks, Ethan,” I said, curious despite myself.

I finished giving Sophie the final nod of approval before heading towards my office door. As I walked, my mind played an endless reel of possibilities.

Maybe it’s a congratulations gift from Mr. Harris for the sales strategy. Or a thank-you from one of the vendors.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized...no one had said anything about sending something over.

Pushing open the door to my office, I stepped inside—and immediately froze.

There, perched in the center of my desk, was a bouquet of flowers.

Not just any flowers.

White tulips.

My favorite.

The bouquet was understated but stunning, wrapped in brown parchment tied with a satin ribbon. The blooms were fresh, their soft, creamy petals curling outward like whispered secrets.

I crossed the room slowly, heart beginning to pick up an uneasy rhythm.

Who..

A small slip of pink fluttered from the bouquet, landing lightly on the surface of my desk.

I bent to pick it up, my fingers brushing over the smooth paper.

The handwriting was instantly recognizable—sharp, arrogant strokes that sent a shiver crawling down my spine.

My stomach twisted before I even read the words.

I already knew.

I forced my eyes to the note.

> “Still think you’re better off without me?

You’ll realize soon enough—you’ll always belong to me.

You’re just pretending otherwise.

– Damien.”

The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in around me.

The scent of the tulips—sweet, delicate—suddenly felt suffocating.

I stood there, the pink note trembling slightly between my fingers, my chest tightening with a familiar, unwelcome ache.

Damien.

Of course it was him.

Only he could take something beautiful and twist it into something suffocating.

I swallowed hard, forcing air into my lungs, my gaze glued to the note as if by sheer will I could erase the words printed there.

But they were already etched into me.

Just like him.

\----

The note slipped from my fingers, fluttering to the desk like a wounded bird.

I stared at it, my chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths.

Panic clawed at my throat.

I snatched the pink slip up again, reading the words for the third, fourth, fifth time, as if somehow they would change. As if the cruel ink would rearrange itself into something less terrifying.

But no.

Still the same poison.

Still the same Damien.

My palms were clammy. My heart raced so fast I could feel it in my ears, a violent thudding that made it hard to think.

Damien had found me.

Again.

Not just my apartment.

Not just the random corners of my life.

Now here—my office.

My store.

The one place that had begun to feel safe. Sacred.

A fresh beginning.

I staggered back a step, feeling the edge of my chair press against the backs of my knees. I sank down into it, the soft leather creaking faintly under my sudden weight.

How had he even gotten in?

Had he come here himself?

Had he walked through the store, pretending to be just another customer, just another face in the crowd, while I was mere steps away?

The thought made my skin crawl.

I needed help.

I needed Liv.

With shaking fingers, I grabbed my phone from the desk and dialed her number.

She picked up on the second ring, her voice bright, the faint sounds of a bustling Parisian street in the background.

“Lila? Everything okay?”

I didn’t waste time.

“No,” I said, my voice cracking embarrassingly on the word. “Liv, he found me.”

“What?” she demanded, instantly serious. “Who found you?”

“Damien,” I whispered, pressing my hand to my forehead. “He sent me flowers. White tulips. To my office. Liv, he knows where I work.”

There was a beat of silence, the only sound the rush of cars on her end, before she cursed under her breath.

“Jesus, Lila. That’s... that’s not good.”

Tears prickled at the back of my eyes, hot and furious, but I refused to let them fall.

“What do I do, Liv? What can I even do?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“File a restraining order,” she said immediately. “You should have done that after the apartment incident.”

“I’m scared,” I admitted, hating how small my voice sounded.

She sighed, her frustration aimed at Damien, not me. “I know, honey. I know. But you can’t let him scare you into doing nothing. That’s exactly what he wants. You have to protect yourself.”

I bit my lip, staring at the wilting bouquet sitting too innocently on my desk.

“He probably didn’t deliver them himself,” Liv said, her tone turning more analytical, more reassuring. “People like him, they don’t get their hands dirty unless they have to. There’s a delivery record. A courier. Somebody. We find out who delivered them and get Damien’s information from there.”

I exhaled, a shaky sound that felt too loud in the small office.

“But I’m not there yet,” she continued gently. “I’m sorry, Lila. I’m still in Paris until Friday. I can move up my flight if you need me to.”

I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me.

“No. No, you don’t have to do that. Just... just get back before Saturday, okay? I don’t want to deal with Dad alone during Mom’s memorial.”

Her voice softened. “I’ll try, babe. And even if I can’t, I’ll call Tessa and Mia. We’ll make sure you’re not alone.”

A lump formed in my throat at the reminder of my friends, the family I had chosen for myself. Their unwavering loyalty was a balm to the raw fear scraping at my insides.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice hoarse.

We stayed on the phone a little longer, deliberately steering the conversation to lighter topics—the new bakery Liv had found in Paris, the absurdly tiny hotel room she was staying in, the shopping sprees that had left her luggage dangerously overweight.

I smiled through it all, grateful for the distraction, for her ability to pull me back from the edge without even trying.

Finally, we hung up, the call ending on a promise: she’d be home as soon as she could, and until then, I wasn’t to do anything drastic without calling her first.

I sat there for a moment longer, letting the quiet hum of the building steady my nerves.

Then I stood.

I grabbed the bouquet with careful, disgusted fingers, holding it away from me like it might bite.

I marched to the trash can tucked near the corner of the room and shoved the flowers deep inside, watching the delicate white petals crumple under the weight of the discarded paperwork and old coffee cups.

Good.

Let them rot.

Just like the memory of him.

I dusted my hands off on my skirt and turned back to my desk, lifting my chin higher, forcing my shoulders back.

He wasn’t going to ruin this for me.

Not today.

Not ever again.

Pasting on a fresh, composed smile, I stepped back into the vibrant pulse of Novoux, ready to lose myself in work and pretend—for now—that the pink slip of paper hadn’t just cracked open a part of me I thought I had finally sealed shut.