Chapter 4

The next morning, a sharp, insistent knocking yanked me out of a restless sleep.

I figured it was the property manager. Still groggy, I shuffled to the door and squinted through the peephole. The person standing on my doormat made my blood run cold.

It was Charles. He stood there in an immaculate suit, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding a paper bag. Steam curled from the top.

What was he doing here? How did he know my address?

I froze, unsure if I should open it. The knocking came again, harder this time.

"Anna. Open the door." His voice was low and firm through the woods.

I took a shaky breath and unlocked it. I stood there in my rumpled pajamas, my hair a wild mess, my eyes swollen from the night before.

His gaze swept over me, and something flickered behind his eyes.

"I did not approve your resignation," he said, each word deliberate and slow.

He filled my doorway, his broad frame blocking the hallway light. I had to tilt my head back to see his face.

The bag in his hand was from Rosie's Diner, the little corner spot where I picked up pancakes on Sunday mornings.

I could see the grease spots blooming through the brown paper, and the smell of maple syrup and butter curled into the air between us.

But the scent only made my stomach turn. The man who had shoved me off a cliff yesterday was now on my doorstep with pancakes and coffee, telling me I could not quit.

Was this a joke? A slap across the face followed by a stack of flapjacks?

"Why are you here, Mr. Reed?" I planted myself in the doorway, a clear signal that he was not welcome inside. My voice was rough and flat.

His eyes lingered on my tired face, then dropped to the puffy redness around my eyes. His frown deepened.

"I'm sorry. About yesterday," he said. His tone was softer than it had been in that conference room.

I almost laughed in his face. "Which part are you sorry for, Mr. Reed?

"Humiliating me in front of the entire team before I could speak a word in my defense?

"Destroying years of my hard work over a mistake I did not make?

"Or demoting me, slashing my pay, and turning me into a cautionary tale? So much of a disaster that my own engagement fell apart?"

With each question, I stepped forward, closing the gap between us.

Surprise flashed in his eyes. "The engagement fell through?"

"Yes," I said, my gaze frozen. "Thanks to you, the Harris family wants nothing to do with a woman who was publicly shamed and stripped of her title. I am a stain on their precious reputation.

"Happy now, Mr. Reed?"

Charles's face darkened. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words.

"Anna, it's not what you believe," he said slowly. "I had my reasons for what I did."

"Reasons?" A bitter laugh escaped my throat. "What reason could excuse treating someone like this?

"You're the CEO. You sit in your tower and make your decisions. You can ruin a person's career on a whim.

"I'm nobody. A former team lead. A regular employee now.

"My opinion means nothing. I don't get to ask about your reasons.

"I only want to scrub every trace of this company from my life."

I moved to shut the door, but his hand shot out, palm flat against the wood. He held it firm. I pushed, but it did not budge an inch.

"Have some breakfast first," he said, lifting the bag toward me. "I got your usual."

"I don't want it." I looked away.

"We can talk after you've eaten."

"There is nothing left to discuss. I sent my resignation. Please process it.

"If you refuse, I will be gone in thirty days regardless. That's the law."

I wasn't backing down.

Charles stared at me, his jaw tight. A neighbor walked past in the hallway, her curious gaze darting toward us.

He seemed to realize this was not the place for a standoff. His voice shifted, dropping to a low, serious pitch. "Don't you want the Southside Renovation Project back?"

My breath caught. That project had been my life for six months. My biggest professional achievement.

Vivian had snatched it away and turned it into my personal failure.

Of course, I wanted it back. But wanting something and getting it are two different things, and I knew better than to hope.