Chapter 03
only Ceci and I know
Colin
I step into the company lobby on Monday morning as if it were any other day, though it feels like every pair of eyes follows me—like somehow, they all know. That I've been staying at a hotel nearby since yesterday afternoon. That I haven't been home. Not with my wife. Not with my kids.
Oliver was the one who convinced me to do it, to give Ceci what she asked for.
"You can't rush her," he said. "Trauma doesn't heal by pushing or pulling toward reconciliation. Let her process it. When she's ready, if she's ever ready, she'll let you know."
Everything that happened over the weekend clings to me, consuming every thought, but routine demands a mask. I have to move, speak, and exist as if nothing has happened. to convince everyone, and maybe even myself, that nothing has changed.
As the elevator climbs, one thought keeps looping in my head. Ceci needs time. That's all. Time. Not distance. Not an ending. Just enough space for her to breathe, to steady herself.
And I'll wait… for as long as it takes.
I step out on the HR floor to speak with Theodora first. I request that Maya be reassigned to another department. I want to tell her to make it happen today, immediately, but I don't. That kind of urgency would reek of desperation.
No one else needs to know the truth. No one.
With Theodora’s assurance that she’ll handle everything, I leave her office and take the elevator back to my floor. I step out, pass Margaret and Maya, and offer nothing more than a curt nod.
Once I've managed to steady myself enough to face the day, I press the button on my desk phone. "Maya, come to my office."
She knocks three times before stepping inside, her usual provocative smile already in place. Every movement is deliberate. The sway of her hips, the measured pace of her heels against the floor. The same cadence that undid me more than once, in this same office.
Was that really all it took?
“Theodora will be reassigning you to another department soon,” I tell her without wasting time. “I thought I should let you know first.”
She hesitates. “All right.”
Something in her tone feels off. No questions. No request for an explanation. Not that I owe her one.
Before I can say anything else, she blurts out, “This is because of what your wife posted on her blog, isn’t it?”
I freeze. “How do you know about that?”
She shrugs. “I heard a few people talking in the break room earlier. No one’s sure if she was writing about something that actually happened, or if it was just… Content for her blog.”
My stomach twists. Maya catches my expression and scrambles to fix it. "But... no one suspects us. At least I don't think they do."
At least, I don’t think they do. My heart starts to race as I run through every possibility, every rumor that might be spreading.
Then I remember something. I open my briefcase and pull out the shirt, the one with the lipstick stain on the collar. My voice comes out low, rough, almost a growl.
“Did you do this on purpose? While I wasn’t looking?”
Maya frowns, her expression a mask of confusion—genuine, or perfectly performed. “No. Of course not. It must’ve been when I kissed your ear. I don’t know. When was that?”
Her answer comes too smoothly. I can’t tell what’s real anymore. But the stain is there, glaring up at me, burning like a brand. Proof of everything I destroyed.
And even if she’s lying, it doesn’t matter. Ceci saw far worse than a lipstick stain.
How did I miss it? How the hell did I let it come to this?
Maya breaks the silence, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You could come by my apartment later. We can talk about it properly.”
The thought makes me feel cold all over. I see it all. The photos of me entering and leaving her building. The receipts. The evidence Ceci gathered and arranged in that damned binder.
“No,” I say, my tone cold and resolute, leaving no room for argument.
She forces a thin smile. “I understand.” She bites her lower lip, then adds softly, “If you change your mind or need anything, I’ll be waiting.”
I stare at her for a few seconds longer than I should, words caught somewhere between guilt and exhaustion. How did I let it come to this?
I think of her smile. The way she always seemed to see me, to anticipate what I wanted before I even asked. The easy conversations. The small, harmless touches that became something else. The beginning of my downfall.
“You can go, Maya,” I say, my tone flat, my eyes fixed on the stack of papers on my desk.
When the door closes, I lean back in my chair and press my head against the leather. I need to end this quickly. Cleanly. Without making it worse. Without hurting Ceci any more than I already have.
Maybe I should do what Oliver did. Buy a diamond necklace. Ten, if that’s what it takes for her to leave quietly.
I inhale deeply and shove the thought aside. None of that matters.
There’s only one thing that matters now.
I need to win Ceci back.
Maya
As soon as I close the door to the supply closet, I lean back against it and smile. Small at first. Then slowly spreading, until it takes over my face.
How weak she is. Pathetic.
A single lipstick stain was enough to rattle her? To send her spiraling? I would never let a man like Colin slip away over something so small.
If he were my husband and I’d found that shirt, I’d wait up for him, wide awake, and fuck him until he remembered everything that was ours—everything I gave him, everything only I could give.
And then I’d find out who the other woman was and make sure she understood who she was dealing with.
That’s what a real Mrs. Montgomery would do.
I almost wish I could take credit for the stain. Almost. But I would never risk it. Not when Colin has already started pulling away. All I did was keep him close. Keep giving him exactly what he wants.
Now that she knows, with her out of the way, reassignment or not, he won’t be able to ignore what’s been right in front of him all along. A different department won’t change anything. We’ll keep crossing paths. Every day.
He might not come to my apartment tonight. Or tomorrow.
But give it until the weekend. It’s only a matter of time before he’s at my door again. Before he remembers.
Before he’s mine. Truly mine this time.
Until that weekend in September stops being a memory of what we were, and becomes what we’re meant to be.
Colin
I slide the key into the lock, but it doesn't turn. I try again. Nothing.
My hand tightens around the key as I stare at the doorbell, realizing I might actually have to knock… on my own damn house. The thought alone burns through me, humiliation crawling hot beneath my skin.
The door swings open before I can move. Ethan stands there, his expression dark, fury blazing in his eyes.
Mark follows close behind, closing the door gently before placing a steadying hand on Ethan's shoulder.
I clench my teeth, forcing control into my voice. “Son—"
But Ethan cuts me off, his tone edged with anger. “What are you doing here?”
The way he looks at me… pure contempt. The way he speaks, as if my presence alone were something foul in the air.
“I need to speak to your mom, Ethan. It’s been three days, and I haven’t seen you or Alicia for almost a week,” I say, keeping my voice steady, though the words scrape their way out of me.
Ethan crosses his arms and steps forward.
“Right. Because you used to see us every day. You used to spend all your free time with us,” he says, his mouth twisting. “Isn’t that how it was?”
Ceci told him. The way he emphasized all your free time leaves no room for doubt.
“This is also my house,” I start, my voice rising despite myself. “I have the right to come in and—”
That’s all it takes. Ethan snaps.
He jabs a finger hard into my chest, his face inches from mine, heat and fury pouring off him.
“This is my mom’s home,” he growls. “Hers. Mine. Alicia’s.”
His finger presses harder, as if he wants the words to bruise.
“We’re the ones who made this house a home. We’re the ones who lived through your absence—” His voice drops, turns vicious. “—while you were out there stabbing my mom in the back, spending time with your whore.”
My stomach drops; the air leaves my lungs in one brutal blow. I force myself to stay upright, to breathe.
“I’m still your father, Ethan. You owe me respect. Ceci is my wife. You shouldn’t meddle in what happens between your mother and me.”
He steps back, his expression twisting, bitter, carrying something deeper beneath the anger.
Nothing but hurt and betrayal.
“Mom won’t be your wife for much longer.”
The words haven’t even fully registered when he continues. His voice is trembling, but clear.
“You’re not my father. Not my dad. You’re nothing to me. My dad taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike. He was the one walking the halls with Alicia in his arms at night when she could only sleep against his chest.”
Each word hits like a strike, heavier than the last, until I'm left standing there… stripped bare.
He stops, his voice fracturing, his face contorted with pain. "My dad would never. Never hurt my mom. He would never destroy our family. He would never trade us for money and easy pussy."
He spits the last words out, each one soaked in disgust and hate, and they land harder than any punch ever could.
“My dad died years ago. You’re not even a shadow of that man.”
I swallow hard, the knot in my throat tightening until it burns.
“Son, you don’t mean any of that,” I say, forcing the words past my teeth. “I know you’re upset. But your mother and I… we’re going to fix this. We’re going to be together again.”
Ethan raises his hand, his fist clenched. I close my eyes, bracing for the blow… but it never comes.
When I open them, Mark is there, his hand wrapped firmly around Ethan’s arm, forcing it down.
“Don’t do this,” Mark says, pulling him into a half-embrace. “Go inside. Make sure your sister and your mom didn’t hear anything.”
Ethan turns without a word.
He walks back into the house, shoulders rigid, his silence heavier than any shout could ever be. He doesn’t take it back. He doesn’t call me Dad.
He just walks away and lets the door swing shut behind him, leaving me standing there, watching him go. My chest split wide open, the echo of his words tearing through what’s left of me.
I don’t even have time to brace myself before a punchslams into the corner of my eye. Another follows, harder, crunching against my jaw with full force.
Blood floods my mouth. I spit it onto the floor and lift my gaze to Mark.
I don’t fight back. Because anything I do, any movement, any word, would only make me the villain all over again. And if Ethan is watching, I want him to see this. I want him to understand that I’m taking it. That I know I deserve it.
“That was for Cecily,” Mark says between breaths, his voice thick with fury. “And for my nephew and niece.”
I wipe the blood from my mouth. “Satisfied? Because this is the first and last time I’ll let you hit me without hitting back.”
I spit again, the taste of iron bitter on my tongue. “Now get out of my way. I want to see Alicia, and I need to talk to Ceci. She needs to take down that post, people are starting to think it’s about something real.”
Mark presses a firm hand against my chest, stopping me cold. “I don’t know if it’s your hearing that’s going, or just your arrogance,” he says, his tone like ice. “But you heard Ethan. You’re not going in. And you’re not talking to Cecily.”
He looks at me, taking his time before speaking again.
“What did you think would happen when you shoved that old dick of yours into your twenty-something assistant? That you could keep sneaking around behind my best friend’s back forever? That she’d never find out—and if she did, it would turn into some nice little forgive and forget situation?”
He shakes his head, smirking.
“You think you’re clever,” he says. “Deleting texts. Meeting her only at the apartment or out of town. And then you leave perfume on your clothes, lipstick on your collar, use your own card to buy her a designer gown, flowers, chocolates—and throw a tuxedo into the washer?”
He chuckles. “I’m glad your desperation made you dumb and reckless. At least now my friend is free of you.”
He turns, laughing, and shuts the door in my face.
Mark is an idiot. He doesn’t know anything, he never will.
He talks like he’s the keeper of the truth, but only Ceci and I know our story. Only we know what we built, what it meant, what it will always mean. He looks from the outside and thinks he understands.
He doesn’t. He never will.
I just need to talk to her. To make Ceci see what I see so clearly. If I can just get her to really listen, if I can break through this wall she’s built, she’ll remember. She’ll understand that she’s the only one for me… just as I’ve always been the only one for her.
I need to fix things with Ethan.
My son. He raised his fist at me.
My own child nearly hit me. That image won’t leave my head. Something fundamental fractured, and if I don’t do something now, I might lose him for good.
And then there’s Alicia.
Does she know too? Will she pull away from me now… avoid my eyes, keep her distance, stop reaching for me altogether? Will she ever come to me again, wrap her arms around my waist, call me Daddy… or is it just another thing I lost along the way?
My little princess.
Tomorrow I’ll come back. I’ll see my kids. I’ll talk to Ceci. I’m not giving up on us, on the family we built, the family we are. I just have to hold on to that last thread of hope until Ceci looks me in the eyes and believes me again.
I get into the car, take out my phone, and type a quick text.