When she arrived at the office, she immediately felt something was off. Silence. The kind that settled deep, where even her own breathing felt loud. At this hour, Troy was usually inside his office, either on a call or going over reports. But when she knocked, no one answered. The room was spotless. No signs that he had been there.
"Have you seen the CEO?" she asked the receptionist after more than an hour of his continued absence. They had a scheduled meeting that afternoon with the event organizers for the upcoming company anniversary. They needed Troy's final approval on everything.
"He'll be late, ma'am. He went with Ma'am Trina to help her choose a dress for her parents' anniversary."
Her jaw tensed as her teeth bit into her lower lip. Of course. Trina, once again, was the reason Troy pushed work aside.
"Noted," she replied softly, forcing a polite smile. No one in the office knew the truth about her and Troy—and she had no intention of telling anyone. The last thing she'd ever be proud of was being someone's secret. Especially someone disposable.
Before lunch, Danica arrived carrying two Starbucks drinks and a mischievous grin.
"Guess who I saw in the elevator?"
She frowned. "I'm not in the mood, Dani. Why are you here? Bored again at your mansion?"
Danica handed her a cup. She took a sip—iced matcha latte, her favorite. A small comfort in the middle of everything.
"You're so grumpy. I'm talking about Seymour. Isn't he your ex? I recognized him from a photo on your phone once. And girl… he's handsome. Rich, too. You wouldn't be losing if you had a kid with him."
She shot her a look. "Stop it, Danica. Yes, he's a CEO now. And a client."
"Still hot, though," Danica whispered, leaning in. "Seriously, bestie, I'm rooting for that man. He looks like a gentleman. Smart, wealthy, gorgeous... though, I have a feeling he's not really your type?"
"Stop talking like that. Someone might hear you. And don't mention names."
A message popped on her phone screen. It was from Seymour.
Lunch?
"Say yes!" Danica said, clearly reading over her shoulder. "Tell him I'll tag along. It'll be less awkward."
Under Danica's persistent grin, she gave in. They met at a restaurant just across the building. Seymour arrived wearing a tailored navy-blue dress shirt, looking every bit the man, he was: refined, confident, effortlessly charming.
"Maxine," he greeted with a smile. "And this must be Danica."
"The best friend and unpaid therapist," Danica quipped.
Seymour shook Danica's hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet the woman Max always defended."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't exaggerate."
"I'm not," he replied, eyes twinkling. "You light up when you talk about her."
Danica raised an eyebrow. "You're good. Are you flirting with both of us?"
"Just being honest," he said, then turned to Maxine. "I missed seeing you like this."
Seymour turned to Danica with an easy smile. "Did you know Max used to talk about you all the time?" he asked, just as they settled into their seats, waiting for their order to arrive.
Danica grinned with pride. "Of course. I'm the best friend. We've been through every kind of madness together."
Maxine just shook her head. She had been drowning in silence back at the office — now that the noise had returned, she strangely found herself missing the quiet.
"Really?" Seymour chuckled. "Did she ever tell you how she once snuck out just to go on a date with me?"
"I didn't sneak out," Maxine cut in, eyes narrowing playfully. "Marco knew. Don't flatter yourself."
"Your brother knew," Seymour said, laughing. "But your mom didn't and Marco ratted you out."
"Wait, seriously? Marco did that?" Danica gasped, eyes wide with interest. Anything about her brother was practically tabloid-worthy to her.
"Yup," Seymour nodded. "Next thing you know, Maxine's grounded. Her phone was confiscated, and she had to be escorted everywhere by two bodyguards. Made sneaking out a lot more complicated after that."
Danica burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the story. The two carried on, talking like they'd known each other forever. And she could already tell, Danica was hooked. By tonight, she'd be hearing all about Seymour.
"He's sweet, Max. You sure you don't want to try again?"
She could already imagine it. Danica knew exactly which buttons to push and now, Seymour had clearly won her over too.
Back at the office, Danica excused herself to the restroom, mentioning she'd be heading out soon. That left her and Seymour alone in the hallway.
And of course, fate had its perfect timing.
The elevator dinged. Troy stepped out.
He was in his usual crisp white button-down. The moment he saw them, his expression darkened, like they'd committed a sin right in front of him. His jaw tightened, and a vein pulsed visibly in his neck.
What did she do now?
"Where have you been?" he demanded. "I've been looking for you in the office."
Seymour spoke first. "We had lunch. I thought she needed a break."
Troy's gaze shifted sharply. "So, lunch breaks are for catching up now?"
She didn't back down. "I filed for an early lunch. The receptionist knows."
"Really? Because I thought you'd be at your desk reviewing the revised budget sheets. You're aware there were discrepancies in the cost breakdown, aren't you?"
There it was, the loophole.
"I sent them last night," she replied coldly. "But if you'd rather assume I was slacking off than check your inbox, be my guest."
Troy took a step closer. "Careful, Maxine. You're forgetting who signs your paycheck."
Seymour arched a brow. "Or maybe you've forgotten—she doesn't owe you all her time."
Troy ignored him. "So you prioritize lunch dates over your work now?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Funny. You skipped work to shop for someone's dress. So who's really got their priorities wrong?"
Before he could respond, Danica returned.
"Is everything alright here?" she asked, clearly sensing the tension.
She looked Troy in the eye. "You know what, Sir? If you think I'm dispensable, just say it. But don't lash out at me just because I stopped waiting around for someone who'd rather play house than run his own company."
Troy's nostrils flared. "Watch your tone."
"No," she snapped. "You watch how you treat people who still stand by you when walking away would've been easier."
She turned without hesitation. Her heels echoed down the corridor like punctuation marks. No one followed her. Not even Danica, who simply gave her a nod and mouthed, "I'll call you," before stepping into the elevator.
Seymour and Troy stood frozen in the hallway. She didn't care. Seymour could handle himself.
And Troy? He could rot in hell.
To clear her head, she walked straight to the washroom on the same floor. She just needed a moment to breathe.
When she opened the door, Trina was there. She was standing in front of the mirror, fixing her hair. Her lipstick was smeared. Her perfume lingered in the air, unmistakably familiar.
Troy's.
Trina didn't say a word, she simply looked at her through the mirror, lips curled into a smug, satisfied smile.
No words were spoken, but it was more than enough to make her question everything all over again.