Chapter 3

Now, in the hallway, his hand was still around my wrist.

“Your mother was right,” I said. “We don’t work.”

He didn’t move.

“We’re done. So let’s leave it at that. Have a nice life”

“Ethan.”

Vivian stepped out of the shadows farther down the hall. I didn’t know how much she’d heard. She held her purse in both hands, her face pale, her eyes fixed on him.

He let go of me.

Then he took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his hand, and dropped it on the floor.

I watched it land.

He turned to Vivian and took her hand. “Let’s go.”

His voice was gentle now.

I stayed against the wall until they were gone, clenching my jaw. Was he angry enough to make trouble for me?

When I went back to the table, I told Sophie and Nina I was worried.

“You think he’d retaliate?” Sophie asked. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know.”

Even if Ethan left me alone, his friends might not.

They never liked me from the start. I could not figure out why, assuming that playing nice would eventually change their minds.

It did not. It took me a while to realize the real reason.

There was Vivian.

She and Ethan had grown up together. She’d wanted him for years, but he’d turned her down and chosen me. His friends seemed to view that as an error he’d eventually correct.

When his startup struggled, Vivian gave up a chance to study abroad and stayed to help him. I kept my job. I wouldn’t join his company, and I refused to do their books in my spare time either..

To his friends, that settled the matter.

“With Vivian, you come first,” one of them had told him. “Clara always puts herself first. What does she have that Vivian doesn’t?”

I’d heard Ethan’s answer. Or the long silence that came before it, while he smoked an entire cigarette.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

I hadn’t understood either. What I did understand was that Vivian occupied a place in his life none of his friends wanted me to question.

When the proposal went wrong, she’d been the first to look furious on his behalf. His friends had followed. Ethan had stopped them from coming at me then.

Now, apparently, I wasn’t his girlfriend anymore.

I wasn’t sure that distinction would improve their manners.

Harborcrest had been one of my regular audit clients for years. A modest company, an annual fee in the low five figures, no serious trouble working with its finance team.

Within days of the breakup, getting a straight answer out of them became impossible.

Their accountant couldn’t give us the banking records because only the owner had access. Then the controller went on unexpected leave. A routine balance confirmation came back unusable four times, each version with something else missing or the wrong person authorizing it.

I’d worked in audit for six years. I knew what a busy finance department looked like. This was different.

I saved the exchanges, compared this year’s delays with our previous schedules, and sent an internal email to my firm: Harborcrest—cooperation delays and possible outside interference.

The next morning, their controller called.

“Ms. Hayes, I’ve sent the corrected confirmation. I’m sorry about the confusion. We had an internal coordination problem.”

“No problem,” I said. “Once the signed original comes through, we can move ahead.”

That evening, Ethan called.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Harborcrest?”

“Because it was my problem, and I handled it.”

“I spoke to Derek. His father gave him hell too. He won’t bother you again.”

Derek Cole. Of course.

I closed my eyes. “Will this be the last time?”

“He—”

“I don’t mean Derek. I mean your friends.”

Ethan went quiet.

“Did you honestly not think they might come after me?” I asked. “If you’re going to stop them, do it before they interfere with my work.”

“Calling after I’ve already dealt with it doesn’t make you the person who fixed it.”