Chapter 44
Sienna's POV
The stairwell was dim, lit only by a weak green emergency light. The air was cold and smelled like concrete.
I yanked my wrist free and stepped back, my voice shaking. "What are you doing?"
Hayes didn't answer right away. He just stood there, chest rising and falling like he'd just run a marathon, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made me tense.
Then he asked what seemed like the question that had been tormenting him all night.
"When you're with him—do you feel happy?"
I froze.
His voice was low, hoarse, barely controlled. "When you're sitting there with Aiden, laughing, talking like nothing's wrong—do you feel relaxed? Safe?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
"Answer me, Sienna."
"I don't—"
"ANSWER ME."
The words exploded out of him, echoing off the concrete walls.
And I broke.
"Yes!" I shouted back, tears burning behind my eyes. "Yes, okay? At least when I'm with him, I don't have to worry about losing control every single second!"
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them.
Because Hayes looked like I'd just gutted him.
His face went pale. His jaw clenched so hard I heard his teeth grind. His hands curled into fists at his sides, knuckles white.
"So you think..." His voice cracked. "You think being with me would destroy you."
I bit my lip, tears streaming down my face.
"That's what you're saying, isn't it?" He took a step closer, his voice raw and broken. "That I'm a mistake. That choosing me six years ago was the worst decision you ever made."
I couldn't answer.
So I stayed silent.
And that silence shattered him.
He moved so fast I didn't have time to react.
His hand came up, fingers tangling in my hair, tilting my head back. And then he kissed me.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't tentative. It was desperate, furious, violent—like he was trying to prove something, or destroy something, or both. Rage, grief, and desperation all poured into that kiss.
I shoved at his chest, but he pressed me back against the cold concrete wall, his other hand gripping my waist, holding me in place. I couldn't breathe. My brain screamed at me to push him away, but my body was frozen, caught between shock and something far more dangerous.
Then the taste of iron flooded my mouth.
I bit down hard on his lower lip.
He jerked back with a hiss, blood welling at the corner of his mouth.
And I slapped him.
The sound echoed through the stairwell like a gunshot.
Hayes stood there, one hand touching his bleeding lip, his chest heaving, his eyes wide and unfocused.
I was shaking. My whole body was shaking.
"I hate you," I whispered, my voice breaking.
He stared at me for a long time. Blood dripped from his lip onto his collar. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a bitter, broken laugh.
"You hate me." His voice was hoarse, wrecked. "Then why the fuck did you get together with me in the first place?"
The question hit me like a physical blow.
My legs gave out. I slid down the wall, my hands covering my face, sobs tearing through me.
Because I couldn't answer that question.
If I said I loved you, it would make everything I'd done—leaving him, signing the agreement, carrying this lie for six years—meaningless.
If I said I didn't love you, it would erase every beautiful thing we'd ever had.
So I said nothing.
Hayes looked down at me for a long time. Long enough that I thought he might say something else.
But he didn't.
He turned, pushed open the emergency exit door, and walked out.
The door slammed shut.
And I stayed there, alone in the stairwell, curled up and crouching, tears streaming down endlessly.
---
I forced myself back into the private room. The bathroom mirror had already given me the answer—swollen eyes, red nose, the kind of face that screamed something happened. I'd pressed cold paper towels against my skin until my cheeks went numb, but it barely helped.
The room was loud again. Laughter, clinking glasses, someone telling a story about their startup exit. Everything felt too bright, too normal.
Hayes's seat was empty.
No one mentioned it. No one asked when he left.
Aiden's gaze lingered on my red eyes, his brow furrowing slightly. 'You okay?
I nodded too quickly, wrapping both hands around my water glass to stop them from shaking. The rim was cold against my palm, barely giving me enough strength to force out a weak smile. "Yeah. Just needed some air."
He didn't look convinced, but he let it go.
I sat there for another hour, mechanically nodding at conversations I didn't hear, pushing food around my plate, laughing when everyone else did. My brain kept replaying the same loop—Hayes's voice, broken.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur.
By the time Payton walked me to the parking lot, my jaw ached from clenching it so hard.
"Sienna." Her voice was sharp, cutting through the cold night air. "What happened?"
I kept walking, keys jangling in my hand. "Nothing."
"Bullshit." She grabbed my elbow, forcing me to stop under a flickering streetlight. Her eyes searched my face, and I watched the realization dawn. "It's Hayes, isn't it?"
My throat closed up.
"He left right after you did," Payton pressed. "And you come back looking like someone died. So what the hell happened?"
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. How could I explain it? How could I tell her that six years of silence, six years of carefully built walls, had just collapsed in a single violent kiss?
"I was the one who left first," I finally whispered.
Payton's grip softened. "What?"
"Six years ago. I was the one who walked away." My voice was barely audible. "I'm the one who broke us."
She pulled me into a hug, and I let her, even though I didn't deserve it. For a moment I just stood there, letting her hold me together.
"Sienna," she said quietly, "do you know what was obvious tonight?"
I pulled back, wiping my eyes with the heel of my hand.
"Hayes can't let you go either." Her voice was gentle but firm. "The way he looked at you all night, the way he lost it when Brianna brought up that post—that's not someone who's moved on."
My chest tightened.
"If there's some kind of misunderstanding," Payton continued, "why can't you two just talk? Really talk, not whatever the hell that was tonight."
Because talking means telling the truth. And the truth means admitting that I chose to protect him by destroying us. That I signed an NDA, lied to his face, and spent six years watching him from a distance, convincing myself it was for his own good.
"I can't," I said.
"Why not?"
"Because..." My voice broke. "Because I don't know if I did the right thing. And if I tell him the truth now, it won't fix anything. It'll just make it worse."
Payton looked at me for a long moment, her expression somewhere between pity and frustration. Then she sighed. "Just promise me you'll think about it, okay? Because this—whatever you two are doing—it's killing both of you."
I nodded, even though I knew I wouldn't. Thinking about it wouldn't change anything. His family's lawyers still had my signature. And Hayes still believed I'd thrown him away like he meant nothing.
"I need to go home," I said quietly. "I'm exhausted."
Payton hesitated, then squeezed my shoulder. "Call me if you need anything. Even if it's three in the morning."
I forced a smile. "I will."