Chapter 15
Lena's POV
I picked up the coffee, grateful for something to do with my hands. "Regardless of how it happened, it's done. We work with what we have."
Rachel watched me for a long moment. "You're better at compartmentalizing than anyone I know."
"Practice."
She hesitated, then said carefully, "Lena—you can talk to me, you know. About anything. Not just work stuff."
I met her eyes. Kind, concerned, genuine. Rachel had been my research associate for three years. She was good at her job, loyal, and—unlike most people in this building—actually seemed to care about me as a person.
But I couldn't tell her the truth. Couldn't explain that the reason Nora's presence made my chest tight had nothing to do with professional rivalry and everything to do with the contract marriage I'd been living in for two years.
"I know," I said softly. "Thank you."
She nodded, sensing the boundary. "I'll send you the updated timeline for the Frankfurt meetings."
After she left, I sat back in my chair, staring at the silver picture frame on my desk—the one HR had given me when I made partner. It held a generic stock photo of a beach sunset because I'd never bothered replacing it with an actual personal photo.
What would I even put there? A picture of Rowan and me at some charity gala, playing our parts?
My phone buzzed. Text from Rowan: [Board meeting tomorrow. Need you there.]
I stared at the message. Brief, businesslike. Exactly what it should be.
Exactly what it had always been.
I typed back: [Time?]
[10 AM. Jack will send the agenda.]
[Fine.]
I set the phone down and returned to the contracts. Work. I could always count on work.
---
11:30 AM - Break Room
I needed coffee. Real coffee, not the half-cup I'd been nursing since Rachel brought it an hour ago.
The break room was empty when I entered—rare for this time of day. I headed for the espresso machine, savoring the quiet.
"Lena."
I turned. Nora stood in the doorway, holding a folder, her expression warm and open.
"Oh, hi."
She stepped inside, letting the door close behind her. "I was hoping I'd run into you."
"Were you." I turned back to the espresso machine, pressing buttons.
"I wanted to talk. Privately." She moved closer, her voice dropping. "About more than just the project."
I kept my eyes on the machine. "What about?"
"About Rowan."
The name hung in the air between us. I pulled my espresso cup from the machine, turned to face her.
"What about him?"
Nora smiled, that soft, careful smile. "I just... I know we'll be working closely together. And I wanted to make sure there's no awkwardness. Given that Rowan and I are... close."
"Close," I repeated.
"Well, yes." She tilted her head slightly. "He must have mentioned it? We go way back. And now with this project—" She laughed lightly. "I'm sure he'll be happy about me working with his company. We'll probably be in a lot of meetings together. Coordinating on the European expansion."
I took a sip of espresso, letting the bitter heat ground me. "Probably."
"You don't mind, do you?" Her eyes searched mine, all concern and careful innocence. "I mean, I know you're his wife. But us having work contact—that won't be a problem?"
I set down the cup. "No."
"You're sure?" She took another step closer. "Because the last thing I want is to create any... complications."
Something in her tone—the precise way she emphasized "complications"—made my jaw tighten.
"It won't," I said evenly. "Our contract expires in three weeks. After that, Rowan and I will be divorced."
The words dropped like stones into still water.
Nora's eyes widened. For a split second—barely perceptible—something flashed across her face. Something bright and eager.
Then it was gone, replaced by shock.
"What?" Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God. Lena, I—I had no idea."
"Well, now you do."
"I'm so sorry." Her voice quavered slightly, eyes suddenly glossy. "This must be—God, I feel terrible. Here I am talking about working with him, and you're going through a divorce. I should have been more sensitive."
I picked up my espresso again. "Don't be. It was a mutual decision."
"Still—" She shook her head, looking genuinely distressed. "If I'd known... Maybe I should reconsider this project. I don't want to make things harder for you."
"That's not necessary." I moved toward the door. "I meant what I said. It's mutual. Has nothing to do with you."
"But if it does—" She caught my arm gently. "If my being here, working with him—if that's part of why you're ending things—"
I looked down at her hand on my sleeve, then back at her face. Behind the concern, behind the trembling lower lip, I saw it again. That flash of something else.
Relief. Satisfaction. Victory.
"It's not," I said quietly. "I was the one who chose not to renew the contract. That decision was made months ago."
I pulled my arm free, not roughly, but firmly.
"I should get back to work," I said. "See you at two for our strategy meeting."
I left her standing in the break room, her carefully constructed expression of sympathy still fixed in place.
---
Back in my office, I set the espresso down with slightly unsteady hands.
She'd known. Or at least suspected.
And that little performance—the shock, the apology, the offer to step aside—all of it designed to confirm what she'd hoped.
That I was leaving. That the path was clear.
My phone buzzed again. Another message from Rowan: [Nora mentioned she's on the project now. Good addition to the team.]
I stared at the words.
Good addition to the team.
Of course he'd already talked to her. Of course he was pleased.
I deleted the message without responding.
Three weeks. I could do three weeks.
Then I'd be free.