Chapter 30 030
EMILY
I sat across from Aaron in his sleek downtown office, the city skyline glittering behind him like it was mocking how small my problems suddenly felt.
Glass. Steel. Money.
Everything about this place screamed permanence—like nothing bad ever really happened here, like people didn’t lose sleep or businesses or marriages. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city in sharp lines, the sunlight bouncing off neighboring buildings and casting faint reflections across Aaron’s desk.
The default notice was still folded in my purse.
I could feel it there, like it had weight. Like it was burning a hole straight through the leather, into my thigh, into my bones. Twenty days. Repossession. Acceleration. Legal action.
I’d already laid everything out.
Every late payment. Every excuse. Every month I’d told myself next month I’ll catch up. Every decision to pay payroll instead of the bank. Rent instead of suppliers. Suppliers instead of myself.
The numbers didn’t lie.
Sugar Rush was bleeding.
And I was the one holding the bandage, watching it soak through faster than I could stop it.
Aaron didn’t interrupt while I spoke. He didn’t rush me or soften his face like he was preparing bad news. He just listened. Quiet. Focused. Flipped through the financials I’d brought, the pages neat and color-coded because chaos looked more manageable when it was organized.
He asked questions without judgment.
Cash flow. Customer retention. Seasonal dips. Rising costs. Staffing ratios. Overhead.
I answered as best I could. My voice sounded thin even to me, stretched tight like it might snap if I pushed it any further.
When I finished, there was silence.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
After about twenty minutes, Aaron closed the last folder and set it aside. He leaned back in his chair and looked at me—not like an investor evaluating risk, but like someone who’d known me before everything fell apart.
Before the mistakes.
Before the damage.
“Emily,” he said softly, “can we talk?”
My stomach tightened. My throat felt like sandpaper. “About what?”
He didn’t smile. Just watched me with those steady brown eyes that always saw too much. “What happened three years ago?”
Heat rushed into my face instantly. It bloomed across my cheeks, down my neck, into my chest. Shame and anger tangled together until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
“Is that why you told me to come?” I asked sharply. “Did he put you up to this?”
Aaron shook his head slowly. “No.”
The word landed firm. Certain.
“Ryan was drunk the night he finally told me,” he continued. “He never said the words out loud before that. Not to me. Not to anyone. But that night… he broke. And he told me you cheated on him. With your boss.”
The room shrank.
The walls felt closer. The air thinner, like someone had turned down the oxygen without warning. I dropped my gaze to my hands resting in my lap.
My nails were bitten short.
I hadn’t even noticed.
“I didn’t cheat,” I said quietly. The words came out steady, even though my chest ached. “I mean… I didn’t sleep with Frederick. Not once.”
Aaron didn’t interrupt.
“But I let my feelings control me,” I continued. “I let him flirt. I flirted back. I liked the attention. I liked feeling seen.” My voice cracked, just slightly. “And Ryan… he was working so much. Traveling. Distant. I was lonely. And stupid. And wrong.”
The confession sat between us.
Ugly. Naked.
Aaron stayed quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “I don’t think he knows you’re sorry.”
I laughed before I could stop myself—a short, broken sound that surprised even me.
“Aaron,” I said, shaking my head, “he ignored me for weeks. Months, even before I finally gave in to Fred. He packed a bag and walked out without a word. He sent divorce papers two weeks later. Not like he was pure either. He could have stayed. He could have fought. He could have talked to me. But he didn’t.”
Aaron leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. His tone didn’t change, but his words cut deeper.
“I’m not saying he was perfect,” he said. “I’m saying he was destroyed. And you were the one who destroyed him. So maybe… maybe he needed time to breathe before he could hear you.”
That one landed.
I turned away, staring out the window at the city below. Cars moved like ants. Lives intersected and separated without consequence. People went to lunch. Made plans. Lived in worlds where one mistake didn’t detonate everything.
“If we’re going to keep talking about him,” I said quietly, “I might as well take my leave.”
Aaron exhaled. “I’m sorry. I crossed a boundary. That wasn’t fair.”
I turned back to him. My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall here. “It’s fine. Just… the loan. Can you help?”
He studied me for a long moment. Not as Ryan’s ex-wife. Not as a guilty party. Just as a woman fighting to keep something alive.
Then he nodded once.
“I can,” he said. “But I need a real plan. Not promises. Numbers. A path forward. Send it over by end of day tomorrow. I’ll review it with my team.”
Relief hit me so hard my vision blurred.
“Thank you,” I breathed. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said calmly. “This isn’t charity. This is business. And if the numbers don’t add up—”
“I know,” I whispered. “I’ll make them add up.”
A small smile touched his lips. “I believe you will.”
The tension in the room lingered. Heavy. Unspoken. Neither of us moved right away.
“How about we continue this tomorrow?” he said. “Fresh eyes. Fresh coffee.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
I stood, grabbed my bag, and walked to the door. My legs felt unsteady, like adrenaline had finally started to drain from my system.
Just before I left, he spoke again.
“Emily?”
I turned.
“He still loves you,” Aaron said quietly. “He just doesn’t know how to say it without breaking again.”
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
I walked out of his office, down the long hallway, and into the elevator. The doors slid shut with a soft ding. I leaned against the wall and let the tears come—quiet, hot, unstoppable.
By the time I reached my car, my hands were shaking.
I drove home on autopilot, barely registering traffic or turns. I didn’t even think about going back to Sugar Rush. Eddie could handle closing. I needed silence. Space. Air.
The second I pulled into my driveway, my phone rang.
Ryan.
I stared at the screen through blurred vision. Three rings. Four. My heart pounded like it already knew something was wrong.
I answered.
“Hello?”
“Emily,” he said.
His voice was tight. Urgent.
“Zara’s in the hospital.”