Chapter 2

The hallway was dead quiet. I lingered for a bit, hearing him inside. He was probably yelling into his phone, but I couldn't catch a word. Not that I cared. I just walked toward the elevator.

As I reached the elevator, I thought there was no point mailing it later. I might as well get it over with now.

I dug through my bag and pulled out the velvet box. When I opened it, the diamond ring inside flashed. Three years ago, he'd knelt down and promised I was the only one for him.

I left the box on the windowsill in the hallway.

Then I got into the elevator.

As the elevator descended, I got a message from Michael, a client on a project we'd worked on together. We'd met a few times but barely exchanged more than a few words.

Michael: [Ms. Lane, I checked out the proposal. Are you free tomorrow? Want to meet up and talk details?]

Sophie Lane: [Sure.]

Michael: [Cool, 10 AM tomorrow. You pick the place.]

*****

My phone kept ringing all night.

I didn't pick up.

When I woke up, there were thirty-seven missed calls from Alex. Tons of messages, but I didn't even bother to look. I got washed up and dressed, and before heading out, I remembered I'd agreed to meet Michael to discuss the proposal. I picked up a coffee downstairs and made my way to the place we'd agreed on.

I arrived right at ten.

Michael was already there, sitting by the window with his laptop open. He looked up, spotted me, and nodded for me to come over.

I walked over, sat down, and pulled up the design draft on my laptop.

"Need anything to drink?" he asked.

"I've got my coffee right here," I said, holding up my cup.

He nodded, his eyes still on the screen.

I hadn't worked with Michael much. I only knew he was in the same industry as Alex, and the two of them were fierce competitors. Among the city's wealthy heirs, Michael kept a relatively low profile. He rarely showed up at those flashy social gatherings, but every project he took on made waves.

"This traffic flow," he said, pointing at the screen, "you've revised it four times?"

"The client thinks the sofa's in the wrong spot," I replied.

"Where the sofa goes depends on what people see when they sit down." He leaned back in his chair. "In a living room, the focal point matters most. Right now, the sofa's turned away from the window, so all anyone sees is the television."

I paused, surprised. All my previous drafts had revolved around the media wall. No one had mentioned the view.

"There's a river outside the window," I said.

"Then people should be able to see it," Michael said, turning my laptop toward himself and sketching a few quick lines on the screen. "Angle the sofa toward the window and move the TV to the side. That way, the view becomes the focal point of the room."

I looked at his changes, and suddenly, it all made sense.

"You're more of a pro than our client," I said.

Michael smiled. "Just finished renovating a hotel I invested in. Spent half a year arguing with the designer. Learned a lot in the process."

Just then, my phone lit up again. Alex's name popped up on the screen. I hit reject and tossed it back in my bag.

Michael just glanced over. He didn't ask.

We hammered out the details for another half hour. He was straightforward and efficient, so much better than those clients who need ten meetings just to make up their minds.

When we wrapped up, he closed his laptop. "Want to grab lunch together?"

"Got stuff to do this afternoon," I said.

"Another time, then," he said.

As I stood up to leave, he suddenly said, "Everyone's talking about you and Alex now."

I looked at him, waiting for him to go on.

"No offense," he said, "but he's good at business, not so much at judging people. He mistakes glass for diamonds, and diamonds for glass."

With that, he walked off.

I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what he meant. It didn't sound like a dig, but I couldn't quite make sense of it.

When I got back to the office that afternoon, the receptionist gave me an awkward look.

"Ms. Lane, someone's here for you," she said.

"Who?" I asked.

"Um... It's Mr. Alex Carter," she replied.

I said okay and walked in. The conference room door was open, and Alex was sitting there, his tie loose and eyes bloodshot, like he hadn't slept all night.

When he saw me, he immediately stood up.

"Sophie," Alex said.

I paused at the doorway. "What is it?"

"Let's talk," he said.

"What's there to talk about?" I said.

He walked over, reaching for my hand, but I stepped back. His hand froze mid-air, and then he balled it into a fist and dropped it.

"I messed up yesterday. Said things the wrong way," Alex said, lowering his voice. "But you can't just be so heartless. Three years together, and you just toss it all away like it's nothing?"

"I'm being heartless? You're the one who married someone else, sir," I said.

"I told you I was just trying to save her!" Alex insisted.

"Then congratulations. Mission accomplished. You married her," I shot back.

He was stunned, left speechless.

People were starting to peek out of their offices, so I headed farther down the hallway, and he followed. When we reached the stairwell, I stopped and turned to face him.

"You should go," I said.

"I'm not leaving," he said, locking eyes with me. "Come with me, and we'll just act like none of this ever happened. Once Emily's surgery is done, I'll divorce her, I swear."

"You swear? On what?" I shot back.

"I..." he stammered.

"What if she cries? What if she says she's scared? What if she says she needs you?" I pressed. "How are you going to tell her that you're leaving her?"

He stayed silent.

"The truth is that you never knew how to turn her down. When she left the country, you took her to the airport and then spent a week drinking, telling me you'd never get over her. I knew all of it, and I never said a word, because it was the past. But now, you two are married, and you want me to act like it never happened?'

His expression shifted several times before he finally said, "She had her reasons back then."

"Whatever her reasons are, they have nothing to do with me," I said.

"Can't you just be a little more big-hearted?" he asked.

I just laughed.

"I am being big-hearted," I said. "You two got married, and I gave you my blessing. What more do you expect from me?"

He looked at me like he'd never met me before.

After a moment, he demanded, "What's up with you and Michael Anderson?"