Chapter 6: Monday Morning

Monday morning arrived with cruel sunshine.

The kind that made everything look sharp and unforgiving.

Jordan stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner office on the forty-seventh floor. Watching the city wake up below him. A thousand tiny lives moving through their routines.

Oblivious to the fact that his entire world had shifted on its axis seventy-two hours ago.

He hadn’t slept.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw crimson silk and diamonds.

Heard her laugh.

Not the polite, professional sound she made at his jokes during meetings. But something genuine and bright that she’d apparently been saving for someone else.

Someone who wasn’t him.

His reflection in the glass looked like a stranger.

Same sharp jawline. Same dark eyes that had stared down hostile boards and unwilling sellers. Same custom Tom Ford suit that cost more than most people’s monthly rent.

But underneath, something fundamental had cracked.

The elevator chimed.

Jordan’s entire body went rigid.

He knew that sound intimately. It was the private elevator that only three people in the building could access. Himself, his COO, and Martina.

He heard her heels on the marble floor.

The familiar click-click-click that had been the soundtrack to his mornings for five years.

He heard the soft rustle of her movements as she set down her bag. Turned on her computer. Probably checked his calendar for the day like she always did.

Jordan forced himself to turn around slowly.

Casually.

As if his heart wasn’t trying to break through his rib cage.

She was wearing navy blue.

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