Chapter 14: Shattered Focus
AVA'S POV
My alarm went off like usual, but it was not the noise that wakened me. It was Julian's words, echoing through my head like a secret I wasn't supposed to hold. "I need you." Three little words, but they cut deep. His voice last night had been bare… raw in a way I'd never heard before. Had left me bare. Made me vulnerable.
And yet. when I rolled over, the empty bed did not feel reassuring. It felt confusing. The sheets were still warm against me, but the memory of Caleb's touch was warmer. The way his hand had wrapped around my hip, the way he looked at me like I was something fragile but not in a way that left me feeling weak. And Marcus, with his solid calm, always providing something more safer. Something that didn't burn.
I lingered in the shower longer than I should have, water slamming into my skin as if I could wash it all away. Like I could wash away the guilt, the wanting, the things I didn't want and the things I couldn't control. I pressed my forehead against the tile, steam curling around me like fog. I wanted something simple. I wanted clarity.
But none of this was simple.
By the time I entered the office at Sterling Architecture, my armor was on. High heels, pointed jacket, makeup perfectly done. All to scream: I'm fine. I'm together. I'm focused. But inside, I was spinning.
I sat myself down at my desk and dove into the Montclair Library project. My fingers danced across the keyboard. Click. Click. Click. Lines, shapes, diagrams. For one brief instant, I could pretend I was just an architect. That nothing was out of the ordinary. That I wasn't stuck in something far darker than office politics.
But of course, peace never lasted long here.
Flinch just materialized. Julian's assistant. Always in control. Always expressionless.
"Mr. Sterling would like to see you upstairs."
Just like that.
My heart was thrumming against my ribcage. I rose too quickly, legs shaking beneath me. I rode the elevator up to the fortieth floor, the walls reflecting back a version of me I barely knew… tense, bewildered, already unraveling.
When the doors opened, I saw him first.
Julian.
He stood behind his giant desk like he was a stone. Icy as a glacier, in total command. Except. not. Not exactly. Something in his quiet was off. Like before the storm.
And then I saw Caleb.
He was standing beside the window, arms tense at his sides, fists clenched. He turned when he heard me. His eyes… those dark, piercing eyes… tracked me like I'd stabbed him. Betrayal. Anger. But something worse too. Possession. Hurt.
Neither of them spoke initially. The silence was thick.
Then Julian stared at me. Slowly. Like it pained him physically to regard me.
He didn't utter a word. He simply slapped a picture on the desk.
I crept in, cautious, but I knew. Before I could even see it.
It was a picture. Of me and Caleb. Taken from afar under a lamp. My face was turned into his. He was brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. We were intimate. Too intimate.
And it wasn't just a bad angle.
It looked like we were about to kiss.
I stopped breathing.
"Explain," Julian breathed. His voice wasn't loud, but it was biting. It bit right through me.
My mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. My head was screaming. Who took this? How did it get here? Why now?
"It's not what it looks like," I finally spoke, but even I didn't sound convincing. "It was a moment. A small one. It didn't mean anything."
Julian's jaw tightened. His eyes were steel.
"Nothing?" His voice was cracking… not with weakness, but with something much worse. With incredulity. With pain.
"This 'nothing,'" he said in a slow, deliberate tone, "is a violation of all we built here. It's disrespect. To me."
The room seemed to close in.
Caleb stepped forward, his words thick with anger. "You don't get to talk about respect," he said. "You spy on your own workers? On her? You treat others like they're possessions. That's what this is? You fear she may love someone nearer to her age? Or is it just me you can’t stand?"
Julian didn't even flinch.
"This is a question of behavior," he said coldly. "Of trust. Of boundaries."
"Bullshit," Caleb spat. "It's control. About you not being able to stomach the fact that maybe… she has a choice."
I stood frozen. I couldn't speak. I was stuck in between them, a battlefield where every word was a grenade.
Julian's gaze sliced through mine once more.
"As of today," he stated icily, "you're off the Montclair Library project. Ava, you'll lead the Heritage Center renovation. Alone."
Then, turning to Caleb: “You’ll take over the Riverside infrastructure analysis. Alone.”
Alone.
The word hit me hard. It didn’t sound like punishment. It sounded like exile.
Caleb looked at me once more, something fierce and broken in his eyes. Then he walked out. The sound of the door slamming echoed through my chest like thunder.
I stood frozen for a second before I could make my way back to my office, legs heavy, whirling head. The white noise of the office was muted down to a buzz, but nothing made it through.
That photograph. That one photograph had blown everything sky-high. My professional relationship with Caleb. My relationship with Julian. My standing at the firm.
Gone.
How had one of them gotten it? Who did it? What kind of person would do that to me? To them?
And Julian… his anger wasn't professional. It was personal. Deep. Raw. The break in his voice, the fact that he could not hold my eyes for more than a few seconds. He was hurt. And Caleb… he was not just angry with Julian. He was heartbroken.
I was stuck in their hurricane. Torn between loyalty, attraction, guilt, and the weight of choices I didn't realize were mine to make.
I curled my fingers into fists on the desk.
Was Julian punishing me? Or protecting me?
Was this game of power. or something much more devious?
Maybe both.
Maybe I didn't want to know.
All I knew was this: whatever it was that we had… whatever was building between me and any of them… now was scorched around the edges. And I was alone in the center of it.
Utterly, achingly alone.