Snowbound Strangers Chapter 2

I said nothing, my hands twisting the hem of my shirt.

"I've paid you back," I finally managed. "From now on, we owe each other nothing."

I just wanted to escape, but Seraphina's voice stopped me.

"Wait."

She walked toward me, pulled a single dollar coin from her purse, and tossed it at my feet.

"Thank you for the entertainment today," she said, an eyebrow arched in contempt. "Here's a buck for your trouble."

I looked at the coin on the ground, a small, shining monument to my humiliation. Then I looked at Caleb, still leaning in the doorway, smoking, watching me with that same dismissive look in his eyes.

"Thank you for the kind offer, Ms. Dubois," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "But I think you should keep it."

With that, I turned and fled.

I returned to my shoebox apartment, a sub-level room no bigger than a parking space. The bed was just a few feet from the toilet. It was dank and windowless, a concrete tomb.

Yet, it gave me a strange sense of security.

I never thought I would see Caleb again. I certainly never imagined it would be like this.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, which was covered in a dense mosaic of photographs. Hot tears traced paths from the corners of my eyes.

One hundred and two photos. Every single picture we had taken in our seven years together.

He wasn't that boy in a school uniform anymore, the one who shouted to the world, "I will only ever love Stella Knight!"

Now, he was the heir to an unimaginable fortune, the future CEO of the Sterling Corporation, and Seraphina Dubois's fiancé.

We were worlds apart.

I took a deep breath, pulled down every single photo, and stuffed them into a dusty old box.

But when I opened the box, the first thing I saw was a painting.

A girl in a pristine white wedding dress, her smile radiant.

Caleb had painted it himself.

He had told me the girl in the painting was me, and that one day, he would be the one to put that dress on me.

A wave of bitter sadness washed over me. I traced the faded lines of the painting.

I wonder, I thought, if, in a way, this counts as having married him?

I let out a dry, self-mocking laugh and closed the box.

Then I called my boss.

"Mr. Wallace, I'll take the Apex Group project."

Last week, Mr. Wallace had suddenly assigned the Apex project to me. Everyone in the office knew that landing the Apex account wasn't about experience or skill. There were unspoken rules, and everyone knew what they were.

But right now, all I wanted was to live.

"I'm glad you've come to your senses," Mr. Wallace said on the phone, his voice slick. "Look at you, a pretty face, you're a smart girl. Sometimes, you just have to be… flexible."

He sent me an address. A private room at a high-end club.

"Be there tonight. And wear something nice."

"Okay," I whispered, and hung up.

When I pushed open the door to the private lounge, the first person I saw was Caleb, sitting with a few of his old friends.

The project manager from Apex Group, a man named Harrison, grinned at me.

"You must be the little lady from my nine o'clock," he said, his small, puffy eyes raking over my body with a look so vulgar it made my skin crawl.

He patted his thigh. "Come on, sit right here. We'll have a good, long talk about this project."

Beside him, Caleb’s eyes were arctic.

He stubbed out his cigarette, his voice a low, mocking drawl. "I didn't realize you were scraping the bottom of the barrel these days, Harrison."