<b>Chapter </b><b>132 </b>


    He could pay “sorry–about–your–twenties” money without blinking. The only reason I was still wearing the ring? I’d given him a daughter.


    Jared doesn’t burn bridges; it’s not in his wiring. Maybe that was what I’d gambled on in my previous life–his residual decency. He’s polished, charismatic, and as long as he isn’t cruel, I’d bet he wouldn’t divorce me.


    I don’t hate him. I hate myself. Nothing murders love like indecision, and I’d turned hesitation into a goddamn masterpiece. I’d dragged him–worse<b>, </b>I’d dragged myself. “Heavy” doesn’t scratch the surface.


    I was the one who refused to let go of him or of the ghost I’d be. Every mistake traced back to my death–grip on a fantasy. But no more. Time to set a new target: be a high–powered, over–educated force of nature.


    My careless shrugnded like a de between his ribs. “Let the dice roll” meant “I don’t care. You can love me or hate me, do whatever you want.”


    Jared was sharp. He’d get the message. I knew he would.


    Silence crashed down inside the car, thick as a Midwestern snowstorm. My pulse started tap–dancing against my ribs. Am I already wobbling off the path I just drew for myself?


    Melissa’s n echoed in my head: reel him back in, milk the sympathy, then hit him with divorce papers at the exact emotional peak and walk away loaded. Yet here I was, letting my mouth run in the opposite direction.


    Would Jared actually sniff out my real agenda and just… calmly serve me papers with a polite alimony check? Fine. Earth keeps spinning without him.


    Nathan’s eyes from this morning shed across my mind. A single girl’s high–quality rebound shouldn’t count as fickle, right?


    We pulled up to the restaurant. I figured Jared would bail on me the second the engine died. I swung the door open, and a kid on a bike shot past.


    Before I could flinch, a big hand snagged my waist and yanked me backward. “Watch it,” Jared snapped, voice low against my


    ear.


    I blinked, realizing I was stered against his chest. He looked down, scolding. “Daydreaming again?”


    My heart kicked–not from the rescue, but because my brain had just fast–forwarded to Nathan, shirt half–unbuttoned against a hotel headboard. Heat crawled up my neck.


    Jared’s gaze lingered on my flushed cheeks for two long seconds before he let go.


    My outfit today was all business. In my previous life, I’d never dressed like this; I’d never held a real job, and anything this polished felt like ying dress–up.


    Turns out, when you’ve got the figure and the face, a power suit turns into armor–confidence tailor–made, and yeah, men


    stare.


    Tracy’s group rounded the corner. Her smile was set to “social,” but her eyes were ice. If Jared had shifted even one degree off his usual orbit, Tracy would be the first to feel the tremor.


    Before, she’d looked straight through me. Now I caught the first flicker of pure dislike–maybe even hate. Hate me? Fine.


    Let’s give her something to really hate.


    I took <b>two </b><b>steps </b>and let my ankle roll. “Ow-“I hissed<b>, </b>catching the wall. My cheeks med; <b>beads </b><b>of </b><b>sweat </b>dotted my forehead.


    Jared, mid–handshake with some executives, snapped around at the sound. He closed the distance in three strides. <b>“</b>What happened?<b>” </b>


    “Twisted it,” I muttered, bending to inspect the damage.


    His <b>gaze </b>dropped to <b>the </b>seven–inch stilettos, needle–thin. His jaw tightened. “Next time, skip the skyscrapers.”


    “Honey, don’t worry about me,” I said,yering on the sugar. “Go on up. I’ll be fine in a minute.”


    Jared flicked a quick nce at the small crowd behind him. “Head on inside. We’ll catch up.”


    Tracy’s eyes went wide–if looks could p, I’d be tasting blood. Come on, girl, I thought. We both know this song and dance.


    In the life I’d already lived, I’d sworn Jared was selectively blind: Tracy could bat hershes and fake a fainting spell, and he’d buy it wholesale. Now I’d tested the theory–turns out, he’s just as blind when I’m the one performing.


    “I’m carrying you upstairs,” Jared said. No vote, no debate. Before I could object, he bent and scooped me up like I weighed less than hisptop.