Chapter 236
Jocelyn felt the floor shift beneath her. The story of her life was rewriting itself in real time. The man she had believed was her savior was a fraud. The man she had dismissed was the real one.
Why would he do that? she wondered, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his chest. He smelled of coffee and something she couldn’t quite name. He couldn’t have had feelings for me — not then, not now. It had to be something else. A profound sense of duty. A kindness that asked nothing in return. It was the only explanation that made sense.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his shirt.
His arms came around her and held her close.
Carmen stepped off the elevator onto her floor. The hallway smelled of lemon polish and stale air.
She turned the corner toward her apartment and stopped.
A figure was sitting on the floor by her door.
𝖲а𝗏e 𝘺o𝘶𝗋 𝗳а𝘃o𝗿i𝘁е 𝘯o𝗏𝖾ls 𝘰n ga𝗹nо𝘃е𝗅ѕ.𝘤𝗼m
Quentin. He looked disheveled — tie loosened, shirt wrinkled, a bouquet of supermarket flowers wilting in his hand.
Carmen’s grip tightened on her keys. Showtime.
Quentin scrambled to his feet when he saw her. “Carmen! Thank God.”
“Get away from my door,” she said calmly. Her voice didn’t shake.
“Please. I’ve been calling all night,” he pleaded, stepping toward her. “Who was that guy on the phone?”
“None of your business,” she said. “Leave.”
“I love you! We have a wedding in two weeks!” He reached for her hand.
She recoiled as though he were radioactive.
“We had a wedding,” she corrected. “Now I have a deposit refund.”
“It was one mistake! Jessica seduced me!” he whined.
“You’re a grown man, Quentin,” she said, her voice rising. “You don’t trip and fall into a vagina.”
A door down the hall opened. Mrs. Petrova peered out, looking thoroughly delighted by the spectacle.
“Yes, Mrs. Petrova! He cheated! Enjoy the show!” Carmen called out.
Quentin flushed a deep, humiliated red. “Lower your voice.”
“No.” Carmen stepped closer. “I’m done being the quiet, supportive fiancée.”
“I want my ring back,” he said suddenly. His face twisted into something ugly and petty.
Carmen laughed — a sharp, barking sound. “The ring? The one you bought with our joint account?”
She dug into her purse and pulled it out. The diamond felt heavy and cold in her palm.
“Here.”
She hurled it down the hallway.
It hit the carpet, bounced, and rolled toward the trash chute.
Quentin scrambled after it on his hands and knees.
Carmen unlocked her door.
“If you’re still here when I come out, I’m calling the police,” she said to his back. “And Quentin? That man on the phone? He’s a very, very powerful man. He can ruin you.”
Quentin froze, the ring clutched in his fist. Fear washed over his face.
Carmen slammed the door.
She leaned against the wood and breathed. She waited for the tears.
They didn’t come.
She felt light. Free.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. A text from Justin Collins.
“Did you survive the re-entry?”
.
.