Chapter 3
The air felt frozen.
Outside the window, the city pulsed with life, skyscrapers scraping the clouds while traffic flowed like a river of light.
Yet it remained a world preserved behind glass, one I could see but never touch.
But Emily sat at the very peak of that world, looking down on me with cold detachment.
She had taken my pride and ground it into dust under the heel of her designer shoe.
I had thought she might at least ask if I was doing okay.
I had thought she might mention the note she left on graduation day.
It had just four words, promising she would pay me back.
Instead, she had given me the most brutal humiliation of my life.
I took a shaky breath, ready to get up and walk away.
I couldn't stand to be in this room a second longer.
"Wait."
She spoke again.
I froze, looking at her.
She rose from her chair and walked to the massive floor-to-ceiling window, the sunlight tracing the silhouette of her expensive suit.
"40,000 dollars."
She said the number out of nowhere.
A jolt went through me.
She remembered our past.
After all this, she actually remembered.
A stupid flicker of hope ignited in my chest.
Could it be that her icy disdain was merely a test?
"I remember the number," she said, turning back to face me. Her eyes were devoid of warmth, like she was discussing a business deal that had nothing to do with her. "Four years of tuition, plus some small fees."
She paused and began walking toward me.
The click of her heels on the floor sounded like a countdown, feeling like deliberate stabs into my very core.
"Alex, you made a very poor investment back then."
I was floored.
She was calling what I did an investment.
"Extremely low rate of return, exceptionally high risk. And worst of all," she said, stopping right in front of me, looking down at me from her superior height, "you invested in the wrong asset.
"However, in light of that failed investment, I can't let you leave empty-handed."
Her expression softened into something that looked almost like pity.
"There is an opening for a management trainee in logistics. You'll be responsible for the warehouse and inventory. The work is demanding, but the position is stable."
At her offer, I felt a rush of hot blood surge to my head.
This wasn't a job offer. It was charity.
It was the most insulting act of pity I had ever experienced.
She had quantified my deepest feelings into a failed business transaction, and now she was offering me a dead-end job as a "return."
"So? What do you think?" she asked, tilting her chin up slightly. "For someone in your position, it should be an attractive offer."
I just laughed.
I looked right at her, letting a jagged smile crawl across my lips.
That ridiculous, pathetic ember of hope inside me was finally extinguished, leaving behind nothing but cold ashes.
Slowly, I pushed myself to my feet, and for the first time, I met her gaze on equal footing.
"No, thank you," I said.
My voice was quiet, but it was clear and steady.
For the first time since she walked in, her mask of indifference cracked.
A flicker of surprise crossed her face.
She clearly hadn't expected that even at this absolute rock bottom, I would actually refuse.
I straightened the collar of my cheap suit.
"Ms. Warren, thank you for your time."
Without another look at her, I turned and walked toward the door.
As I pulled it open, I could feel her sharp gaze burning into my back.
I didn't turn around.
I squared my shoulders and walked out.