He averted his eyes.
I opened it.
“Elena.”
I froze.
“I loved you.”
His final word cracked.
The sound hurt.
Because I trusted its sincerity.
Once.
Perhaps even recently, within his distorted understanding of love.
Yet love without respect turns possessive.
Possession breeds anger when its object refuses.
“I loved you too.”
I left.
Sloane waited beside the elevators.
She’d traded last night’s red dress for gray tailoring.
Away from the chandeliers, she looked younger.
Less imposing.
Merely human.
“Elena.”
I summoned the elevator.
“I didn’t know he was going to do it publicly.”
I met her gaze.
“You altered my records.”
“I moved them back into review.”
“You knew what it would look like.”
Her eyes watered.
I didn’t want to console her.
“I thought he’d divorce you.”
“And then?”
She swallowed.
“He said after the CEO announcement, things would change.”
There it was again.
