Shattered Promises, New Beginnings

Two days had passed since I'd discovered Gabriel's betrayal, and the pain hadn't subsided—it had only crystallized into something harder, sharper. I stood in the upscale florist shop, my fingers tracing the edge of my credit card as I placed my order.

"I'd like three dozen white lilies," I said, my voice steadier than I expected. "Delivered to Wright Corporation by noon."

The florist looked up, her eyes widening slightly. "White lilies? Are you sure, miss? Those are typically—"

"For funerals," I finished for her. "Yes, I know."

She didn't ask further questions, just nodded and began arranging the flowers in an elegant crystal vase. The white blooms seemed to mock me with their pristine beauty as I scribbled on the small card that would accompany them.

"For what died."

No signature. None needed.

I watched from across the street as the delivery boy carried the massive arrangement into Wright Corporation's gleaming headquarters. Even from this distance, I could imagine the whispers that would follow in his wake.

"Who sent funeral flowers to the CEO?"

"Did someone die?"

"Isn't that the girl who used to work here?"

My phone buzzed almost immediately. Gabriel. I let it ring until it stopped, then started again. And again. On the fourth call, I silenced it and watched as voicemail notification appeared.

"Madelyn, what the hell? Call me back immediately."

I could hear the fury in his voice even through the brief message. Good.

---

The parking garage was nearly empty when I arrived that evening. I'd waited until after normal business hours to collect my belongings, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. But as I approached my old office, I saw him leaning against my car, arms crossed over his chest.

Gabriel.

He still wore his wedding ring—that band of gold catching the fluorescent light and sending shards of pain through my chest. His tie was loosened, and his usually perfect hair was slightly disheveled. He looked like a man who'd had a rough day.

"Finally decided to show up," he said, pushing off from the car as I approached. "I've been calling you all day."

"I know," I replied, keeping my distance. "I heard."

"Then you know I want you in my office. Now."

"No."

His eyes narrowed. "No?"

"I'm not going to your office, Gabriel. I came to get my things and turn in my keys."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, running a hand through his hair—that familiar gesture that once made my heart flutter but now only reminded me of all the lies he'd told while doing it. "We need to talk about this like adults."

"Like adults?" The laugh that escaped me was sharp and bitter. "You married someone else while I was waiting at the airport for you to propose to me. What exactly about that should we discuss 'like adults'?"

He glanced around the garage, clearly uncomfortable with the public nature of this conversation. "It's not what you think."

"It's exactly what I think," I said, moving to unlock my car. "Now please move so I can get my things."

"Madelyn." His voice dropped to that low, intimate tone he'd always used when trying to persuade me. "The marriage to Eden—it's just for appearances. A business arrangement with her family's connections. Nothing more."

I froze, my keys suspended halfway to the lock. Slowly, I turned to face him.

"Just for appearances?"

"Yes," he said, stepping closer. "It means nothing. You're the one I love. You know that."

The audacity of his words left me speechless for a moment. "You expect me to... what? Be your mistress while you're married to another woman?"

"Don't be dramatic," he snapped, his mask slipping further. "This is temporary. Once the deal goes through—"

"No," I cut him off, finding strength in my anger. "Our relationship is over, Gabriel. And I'm resigning from Wright Corporation, effective immediately."

His expression darkened. "You're overreacting. We have years together, Madelyn. Everything we've built—"

"You destroyed it," I said, my voice breaking slightly despite my resolve. "When you chose her."

Suddenly, his hand shot out and gripped my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. "You don't get to walk away from me," he hissed. "Not after everything I've given you."

"Given me?" I pulled away, rubbing my arm where his fingers had left red marks. "What exactly have you given me, Gabriel? Besides empty promises and broken dreams?"

His eyes flashed with something dangerous. "I gave you everything. And you owe me understanding on this. It's just business—it doesn't change what we have."

But as I looked at him—really looked at him—I realized something had changed. The man I thought I loved was a stranger to me now.

"I owe you nothing," I said quietly, getting into my car and locking the doors before he could follow.

As I drove away, his words echoed in my mind: *You owe me understanding. You owe me patience. You owe me.*

Was I being unreasonable? After everything we'd been through, did I owe him this?

The question followed me home, planting seeds of doubt I wasn't ready to examine.