Chapter 5 Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Lena’s POV
The door to Sebastian’s office clicks shut behind me like a final judgment, sealing in all the humiliation and rage that’s churning inside my chest. My legs feel like jelly as I stumble down the hallway, my heels wobbling on the polished marble floor. I can still hear his voice echoing in my head—cold, commanding, like I’m nothing more than a bug under his shoe. “You are expected to learn and not to talk back.” Who the hell does he think he is? My father? No, worse. At least a father might show some damn compassion.
I press my back against the cool wall, sliding down a bit until I catch myself.
Breathe, Lena. Just breathe.
But the air feels thick, suffocating, like it’s laced with his expensive cologne that still clings to my memory from that night at the club.
God, why does everything circle back to that?
I shake my head, trying to clear it, but the anger just boils hotter.
I need Avery. She’s the only one who can talk me down from this ledge and make me laugh about how ridiculous it all is.
I fumble for my phone in my bag, my fingers trembling as I scroll to her name. I press the call button. It rings once, twice, three times, but it goes to voicemail.
Damn it.
“Hey, it’s Avery. Leave a message or text me, because who even leaves voicemails anymore?” Her voice is light and teasing, like always, but right now it just makes me want to scream.
“Ave,” I start, my voice cracking a little as I lean my head back against the wall. “It’s me. Lena. I just… I just got out of Sebastian’s office, and oh my God, he’s such an asshole. He dragged me in there like a kid in trouble and lectured me about respect and professionalism, like Tessa didn’t start the whole thing. He’s overbearing, Ave. A total jerk. How could he be so mean to me? I didn’t do anything! Call me back, please.”
I hang up, staring at the screen as if willing it to ring back immediately. But it doesn’t. The hallway is quiet except for the distant hum of printers and keyboards clacking from the open-plan office nearby. People are probably staring at me through the glass walls, wondering why the new girl is fussing about. Let them stare. I don’t care. The anger is still simmering, and I need to let it out before it burns me from the inside.
I switch to texts, my thumbs flying over the screen in a frenzy. Ave, where are you? I hit send, then keep going, the words pouring out like I can’t stop them. How could he be so mean? He acts like he doesn’t even remember me from the club, but I know he does. And now he’s treating me like dirt? Like I’m some naive little girl who needs to be put in her place?
I pause, breathing hard, my chest rising and falling. The texts sit there, unread, the little “delivered” mocking me. She’s probably mixing drinks at Onyx, flirting with customers, and living her chaotic life while mine falls apart.
The silence drags on, and the anger doesn’t fade. It twists, sharpens. I start typing again. I feel like such an idiot for even taking this job. Knowing he’s Wes’s dad? I think he enjoys watching me squirm. Send. How am I supposed to work here?
I’m mid-sentence on the next one—something about how his voice makes my skin crawl and tingle at the same time—when a shadow falls over me. I glance up, squinting against the fluorescent lights. A woman stands there, tall and sleek, with glossy black hair cascading over one shoulder and a red dress that hugs her curves. Her lips are painted a bold crimson, and her eyes—dark, calculating—scan me like I’m a puzzle she’s already solved.
Do I know her? She looks familiar, tugging at the edges of my memory, but everything’s hazy right now. Maybe from the office? No, that doesn’t feel right. She’s too…polished.
She tilts her head, a slow smile spreading across her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Well, well. If it isn’t Wes’s virgin ex-girlfriend.” Her voice is smooth, laced with mock surprise, like she’s just bumped into an old acquaintance at a party.
“Yeah, I recognize you now. He told me all about you—how much of a prude you were. He said you were bad at even giving head. Never sloppy, always holding back like it was your first time every time.”
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, freezing me in place for a split second before the heat rushes back, fiercer than before.
Sienna. Sienna Rowe.
The woman from the penthouse. The one arched over the couch, moaning his name while I stood there in that stupid costume, my world crumbling. She introduces herself like it’s nothing, like we’re at a networking event. “Sienna Rowe,” she says, extending a manicured hand that I ignore.
I’m boiling now, the rage from Sebastian’s office mixing with the fresh betrayal, creating a toxic storm inside me. My hands clench around my phone so hard I hear the case crack.
“You have some nerve showing your face to me. Huh?” I spit the words, standing up straighter, my voice low and trembling with fury. “After what you did? Walking up to me like we’re friends? Like you didn’t just destroy my relationship?”
She laughs, a light, tinkling sound that grates against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “Oh, honey, don’t flatter yourself. Destroy? Please. Wes was already looking for an upgrade.” She steps closer, her perfume overwhelming, something floral and cloying that makes my stomach turn.
“He’s so good in bed, isn’t he? That way he takes control and makes you beg for more. The stamina, the intensity… Oops!” She presses a hand to her mouth in fake shock, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Wait, you can’t relate, can you? Too scared to even see his dick, from what he told me. Always turning away, making excuses. ‘Not tonight, Wes.’ ‘I’m not ready.’ Pathetic.”
Every word is a knife twist, digging into the insecurities I’ve buried deep.
Wes told her that? Shared our private moments like gossip over drinks?
My face burns, hot tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. No way am I crying in front of her. “You don’t know anything about me,” I hiss, my voice shaking but gaining strength. “And you sure as hell don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She waves a hand dismissively, her nails flashing. “Oh, I know enough. Wes was bored out of his mind with you. All that potential, wasted on a girl who couldn’t keep up. But hey, if you want him back, go ahead. You’re free to try. I’ve moved on—I’ve got my eyes on someone else now. Someone with real power, not just Daddy’s money.” Her smile turns predatory.
The only thing stopping me from slapping her—hard, right across that smug face—is my last modicum of self-restraint. I’m in the office building, for God’s sake. I won’t do that with cameras everywhere and people milling about. One wrong move, and I’m out on my ass, job gone, reputation in tatters.
Although, I can’t deny that the temptation is biting at me. My hand twitches at my side, imagining the sting of contact, the shock on her face. Instead, I force myself to step back, breathing through my nose like Avery taught me during one of her yoga phases. In, out. Don’t let her win.
She glances at me again, like she’s bored already. “So, what are you doing here anyway? Slumming it in corporate hell? Doesn’t seem like your scene—too buttoned-up for a prude like you.”
Before I can snap back and tell her I’m here to build something real, something Wes could never touch, she looks at her wristwatch, a flashy gold thing that probably costs more than my rent.
“Oh, would you look at the time? I need to run off. Got a meeting with the CEO. Wish me luck.” She winks, slow and deliberate, like she’s letting me in on a secret. “Hope to see you another time, Lena. Or should I say, prude?”
She turns on her heel, sauntering away with that hip-swaying walk that’s meant to draw eyes. I watch her go, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. A meeting with the CEO. Sebastian.
Of course. She’s aiming higher, trading Wes for his father. The thought makes my stomach churn—jealousy? No, that’s ridiculous. But it’s there, a sharp pang I can’t ignore.
My phone buzzes in my hand, jolting me back. Wes’s name flashes on the screen, the photo of us from better days popping up. Him grinning, arm around me, both of us sun-kissed from that weekend in Ohio. I stare at it, the anger intensifying, roaring in my ears like a freight train. He’s calling again, probably to whine or beg or feed me more lies.
How many times has it been today? Ten? Each one a reminder of his betrayal, of Sienna’s taunts, of the life he shattered.
I let it ring, watching the seconds tick by until it goes to voicemail. No more. I’m done being the victim, the one who hides in wardrobes and cries in cars. Something snaps inside me, a resolve hardening like steel.
I will hurt him back, however I can. Make him feel this pain, this humiliation. Twist the knife until he bleeds. I don’t know how yet—maybe through work, maybe something darker—but I will.