124 Chapter 124


    Seraphina’s POV


    The storage room smells like cleaning supplies and old paper. Dust motes drift through the afternoon light streaming from the small window, and I press my palms against the one-way ss, trying to steady my


    breathing.


    I can see everything.


    Emma Rodriguez sits at my old desk-*my* desk-her perfectly manicured fingers flying across the keyboard


    with the kind of confidence I used to have. Her hair is swept up in an elegant chignon. Her burgundy zer


    fits like it was tailored specifically for her body. Even from here, even through the ss, I can see the way she


    holds herself. Straight spine. Shoulders back. Every inch thepetent professional.


    I catch my reflection in the ss and wince. My hair is falling out of the ponytail I hastily threw it into this


    morning. There’s a stain on my sweater-probably from Lily’sst feeding. My eyes look hollow, ringed with


    the kind of dark circles that no amount of concealer can hide.


    *Human nanny.* The words echo in my head, Emma’s voice from yesterday when she saw me at Damien’s


    door.


    The office door opens, and my heart clenches as Damien walks in. He’s wearing the charcoal gray suit I


    bought him for his birthdayst year, the one that makes his eyes look almost silver in certain light. He looks


    every inch the powerful Alpha he ismanding, confident, untouchable.


    Emma stands immediately, and I watch as she moves around the desk to greet him. She’s close. Too close.


    Her bodynguage is professional, but there’s something else there. The way she tilts her head slightly when


    she speaks. The way she touches his arm briefly while handing him a file.


    My chest tightens with something ugly and familiar that makes me feel small and pathetic.


    Damien doesn’t seem to notice her proximity. He’s focused on the documents she’s showing him, his brow furrowed in concentration. But that’s how he’s always been-single-minded when ites to business. It’s one of the things I used to love about working with him. We were a perfect team.


    Now I’m on the wrong side of the ss, watching someone else take my ce.


    08:12


    I strain to hear what they’re saying, but the ss is too thick. Their voices are just muffled sounds,


    meaningless noise that makes my frustration spike higher.


    Emmaughs at something Damien says, and the sound is like fingernails on a chalkboard. It’s a perfectugh -not too loud, not too soft, just professional enough to be appropriate while still showing she has a sense of humor. I used tough like that in meetings. Used to be the one standing beside him, anticipating his needs


    before he voiced them.


    I try the door handle again, knowing it’s useless. The lock clicked from the outside when the maintenance guy “identally” shut me in here twenty minutes ago. Emma had been so apologetic, promising she’d be


    right back after she finished “just one quick thing” with Damien.


    Twenty minutes ago.


    My hands are shaking. I press them t against the ss and try to breathe through the rising panic. I’m not


    ustrophobic-never have been. But being trapped while watching this, watching her seamlessly slide into


    the role that used to define me, is making my chest feel tight and airless.


    Emma moves to the window, pointing at something outside. Damien follows, standing beside her as she


    exins whatever she’s showing him. They’re silhouetted against the afternoon light, two perfectly matched


    professionals discussing business with easy familiarity.


    The sight makes my stomach turn.


    Damien’s attention ispletely absorbed by whatever Emma is telling him. She’s animated now, using her


    hands to gesture as she exins something. He nods, asks what looks like a question, and she responds with


    obvious enthusiasm.


    They look like a team. Like partners.


    Like everything I used to be to him.


    Emma pulls out her phone, shows him something on the screen. He studies it carefully, then says something


    that makes her smile. Not the professional smile she’s been wearing all morning-a real one. Warm and


    genuine and exactly the kind of smile that would make any man feel pleased with himself.


    My fingernails dig into my palms. I’m being ridiculous, I know that. Emma is doing her job. Damien is doing


    his. There’s nothing inappropriate happening here, nothing I can point to and call wrong.


    08.12


    214


    But that doesn’t make it hurt less.


    I close my eyes and try to center myself, try to find some of that inner strength that used toe so


    naturally. But without A’s fierce presence backing me up, I feel hollow. Like I’m trying to draw water from


    an empty well.


    When I open my eyes, Damien is checking his watch. He says something to Emma that makes her nod and


    gather a stack of papers. They’re wrapping up their meeting.


    Finally. Maybe now someone will remember that I exist ande let me out of this damn closet.


    But instead of leaving, Emma walks around the desk and settles into the chair-*my* chair-like she owns it.


    Damien heads for the door, pausing to say something over his shoulder that makes her wave


    acknowledgment.


    And then he’s gone.


    Emma is back to typing, her fingers moving across the keyboard with practiced efficiency. She looks


    I slump against the wall and slide down until I’m sitting on the floor among boxes of printer paper and office


    supplies. The position makes me feel even smaller, even more insignificant.


    The thought makes my eyes burn with unshed tears.


    Minutes tick by. Five. Ten. Fifteen.


    Emma continues working,pletely absorbed in whatever task has her attention. Every so often she


    answers the phone with a crisp, professional greeting.


    Finally-*finally*-Emma stands up from the desk. She stretches, checks her own phone, then seems to


    remember something. Her eyes scan the office, and I see the exact moment when she realizes I’m not where


    I’m supposed to be.


    She looks confused for a moment, then understanding dawns on her face. Her hand flies to her mouth in


    what looks like genuine horror.


    The lock turns, and the door swings open. Emma’s face appears, flushed with what I hope is shame.


    “Oh my god, Seraphina!” she gasps, her professionalposure cracking. “I’m so sorry! Ipletely forgot-


    08.12


    we were discussing the contract and it gotplicated and—”


    “It’s fine,” I interrupt, climbing to my feet with as much dignity as I can manage. My legs are stiff from sitting


    on the floor, and I have to grab the doorframe to steady myself.


    Emma’s eyes widen slightly at my tone, but she recovers quickly. That professional mask slides back into


    ce, smooth and imprable.


    “Of course,” she says carefully. “I understand you’re upset. I would be too.”


    *You have no idea what I’m upset about,* I want to tell her.


    But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I force a smile that feels like it might crack my face.


    “Really, it’s fine,” I repeat, softer this time. “These things happen.”


    “Damien had to leave,” she exins, moving back toward the desk to gather her things. “You may call him


    instead?”


    My phone starts ringing then, the sound jarring in the tense silence. Emma and I both look down at it, and I


    see Damien’s name on the screen.