Chapter 23

She stood at the door, her eyes rimmed red.

The night wind tangled her hair, and the scent of alcohol hung thick in the air. I frowned, instinctively taking half a step back.

"Ryan Gallagher, do you hate me that much?" Her voice trembled.

I looked away in silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her clenched fists, nails digging deep into her palms.

"I'm with Ethan Winslow now." She suddenly laughed, bitter and sharp. "Guess what? He’s not even half the man you are."

The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered. I checked my watch—2:17 AM.

"Do you need me to call you a ride?" I pulled out my phone.

She lunged forward, snatching it from my hand and hurling it against the wall. The sound of shattering glass pierced the quiet night.

"That night, I waited in the café until they closed!" Her voice was raw. "The servers looked at me like I was some pathetic joke!"

I bent to pick up the broken pieces. The battery had popped out.

"Ryan Gallagher, you have no heart." She swayed, gripping the doorframe for balance. "I hate you."

The elevator dinged. Ethan burst out, breathless, and immediately wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Don’t touch me!" She struggled, but the fight left her the moment she saw the redness in his eyes.

Ethan glared at me. "What the hell did you do to her?"

I stepped aside. "Take her home."

Vivian Lancaster gave me one last look. Her gaze was like a dull blade, slowly slicing open old, buried memories.

Later, I heard her company was in chaos.

An old colleague mentioned Ethan had thrown a teacup in a meeting. Important client documents were scattered across the floor, stained with coffee.

"Ms. Lancaster hasn’t been herself lately," the colleague said hesitantly. "Once, when we worked late, we saw her crying alone in the parking lot."

Occasionally, photos of them would surface on social media—Ethan’s arm around her shoulders, her hollow stare fixed on the camera.

Those pictures always disappeared quickly. As if they’d never existed at all.