Chapter 2 #2
In another life, at another job, she would’ve stayed late, fueled by purpose and ambition. But that was before. That was when her work had mattered. When she’d been part of something real.
Back then, she'd woken up hungry for the day. Hungry to learn. Hungry to impress him.
But that chapter was closed now—locked, sealed, and burned.
She retrieved her phone from the drawer and blinked at the string of missed calls and unread messages. Several were from Jasper.
Her stomach tightened.
She pulled her purse from the bottom drawer, exchanging it for her laptop before locking the drawer again, and stepped into the hallway. The air had cooled, and outside the windows, thick clouds were rolling in.
Jemma pressed Jasper’s number and lifted the phone to her ear as she made her way toward the subway station.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
Jasper was sixteen now—technically still a kid, but his attitude had changed dramatically over the past several months. If he continued with this attitude, his grades would be impacted. His sarcasm had turned mean. And lately, silence had replaced their usual teasing banter.
Still, Jemma adored him. There was an eleven-year gap between them, but he’d always been her shadow. Her soft-hearted sidekick. Her dance partner and cookie thief. The kid who once made her laugh so hard she snorted root beer out her nose.
“Jemm…” he groaned. There were tears in his voice. “I messed up.”
Her breath caught, but she kept moving.
“What happened?” she asked, lowering her voice and her head as she merged with the sea of commuters.
“He didn’t call?”
She blinked at the question. “Who?”
There was a beat of silence, and then his voice dropped to a terrified whisper.
“Saif.”
Jemma stopped walking.
Right there on the sidewalk, the strap of her tote bag clutched in one hand, phone in the other, the city rushing around her.
A horn blared nearby. Someone muttered as they stepped around her. But Jemma didn’t move.
Saif.
Her throat tightened. She swallowed hard and pushed forward, walking quickly now, away from the noise, away from the memory that name had just unleashed.
“What did you do, Jasper?” she asked, trying—and failing—to keep the fear from her voice.
The subway station loomed ahead, commuters flooding down the stairs. Jemma stepped aside, pressing herself against a building just across the street. She needed the support. Just hearing his name had knocked the breath from her chest.
“I just... I got angry last night, okay? He doesn’t give you any money for child support!” Jasper whispered urgently through the line. “Things got out of control.”
A chime interrupted him—another call coming in.
Jemma glanced at the screen.
Her stomach clenched.
Saif.
She pressed the phone back to her ear. “Jasper. He’s calling me. Right now. What’s going on?”
“Don’t answer!” Jasper’s voice dropped to a frantic whisper, as if Saif might somehow hear him through the wires. “Please, Jemm. Just come home. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
“Jasper—” she began, but the line went dead.
She stared at the phone for a beat, her heart thudding hard. Another vibration. Another call. Still Saif.
Eight times today.
Jemma sighed and looked around, suddenly wary of the crowd around her. No one was watching her, but it still felt like she was being followed. Or hunted.
She couldn't ignore the call again. Not with Jasper acting like he’d kicked a hornet’s nest.
“Hello?” she said, pressing her hand over her other ear to muffle the din of the station.
“Jemma.”
Just one word. But his voice—deep, clipped, colder than ice—sent a shiver crawling down her spine.
Gone was the warmth he used to wrap around her like silk. Gone was the teasing tone, the sly charm that once made her smile in spite of herself.
Now he was all steel.
“We need to talk.”
Her mouth went dry. “What about?” she asked, trying to sound breezy, like this wasn’t the worst possible timing.
“Come to my office. Right now.”
She heard the faint rustle of fabric—likely him adjusting the cuff of one of his custom-tailored shirts to check the time on that absurdly expensive watch.
For one bitter second, she hated him for owning a watch worth more than the debt she still carried from their mother’s illness.
That watch wouldn’t even begin to cover the medical bills, much less the funeral costs, or the medication, or the food, or the rent.
Her life had become a spreadsheet of survival. Every cell filled with sacrifices.
“Why?” she asked, already calculating how much it would cost to get across the city. An extra train transfer. Maybe a bus. At least three dollars she hadn’t budgeted for.
His voice didn’t waver. “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes. If you’re not here by then, I’ll call the police.”
She stiffened, eyes darting over the crowd. “No,” she said quickly, panic lacing her words. “Don’t do that.”
Because she knew Saif. He didn’t bluff. He didn’t threaten. He acted.
And he had the power to make things happen—fast.
“Jemma,” he said again, quieter now. Sharper. “Fifteen minutes.”
Then the line went dead.
She stood there for a long second, holding the phone against her ear, listening to the silence.
He wasn’t bluffing.
He never bluffed.
The first raindrop hit her shoulder and she glanced skyward.
Of course.
“Perfect,” Jemma muttered, shifting her tote bag and calculating the financial fallout of catching a cab because there was zero chance of her getting across town in fifteen minutes via public transportation.
Bank balance: low. Credit card: nearly maxed.
Grocery money: already spoken for. Bail?
No idea yet. That was just another looming crisis on the list.
She lifted her hand and hailed a cab, knowing it would wreck her budget. But she could skip dinner. She’d had half a peanut butter sandwich at lunch—that counted as protein. And calories. Enough to function.
As her stomach growled in protest, she slid into the back seat, gave the driver Saif’s office address, and leaned back. Rain blurred the windows almost instantly. She chewed on her thumbnail, eyes locked on the wet cityscape while silently praying her credit card wouldn’t decline the charge.
Thirteen minutes later, the cab rolled to a stop—four blocks from her destination.
Gridlock.
Every lane was frozen in place. Horns blared in frustration. Lights changed, but no one moved. No shortcuts. No miracles. Just a river of metal and misery.
She glanced at her phone. Two minutes.
Of course she wasn’t going to make it.
Jemma sent a quick text: I’m still coming – traffic.
No time to wait for a reply. She grabbed her bag.
“I’ll get out here,” she told the driver, swiping her card and holding her breath.
It processed.
Approved.
She exhaled, dug out two damp dollars, and handed them through the window. “Sorry for the small tip,” she said, already shoving the door open.
“Lady, it’s pouring rain!”
“I noticed,” she called back, then slammed the door shut, sprinting into the downpour.
Within seconds, she was drenched. This kind of autumn rain didn’t patter or sprinkle—it pounded. It soaked her hair, her shoes, her spirit. There was no mercy in this storm.
Of course there wasn’t.
It had been a painfully dry summer. The city needed this. Just not now. Not when she was running toward a confrontation she’d spent a year trying to avoid.
By the time she shoved through the glass doors of Saif Enterprises, she was dripping wet and trembling from the cold. Her tote bag weighed twice as much now, every thread of her blazer clinging to her skin. But she’d made it.
She was here.
“Jemma?”
She turned toward the voice.
Jim.
A familiar face behind the reception desk—except this desk wasn’t really reception. It was security. And Jim wasn’t just the guy who buzzed people in. He was a gatekeeper. He knew what passed through this building. And who.
“Hey, Jim,” she said, pushing wet hair out of her eyes and forcing a smile.
Her heart pounded, not from the run, but from what would come next.
Because upstairs, Saif was waiting.
The man who had once held her together—and then shattered her. The man she had walked away from. The man who didn’t bluff.
Memories rushed in like the rain—his touch, his voice, the weight of wanting him and the ache of knowing she couldn’t stay. She shut them down.
This wasn’t about the past.
This was about Jasper. And survival. Again.
“Did you get caught in the rain?” Jim asked, giving her a once-over with raised brows.
Jemma grimaced and nodded. “I have a meeting with Saif.”
Jim’s eyebrows shot up like she’d just announced a royal engagement. “You two are back together?”
She let out a short laugh, but it sounded brittle in her own ears. “No. This is just... a business meeting.”
At least, she hoped it was.
The desperate call from Jasper said otherwise.
Jim’s hopeful grin vanished. “Damn,” he muttered, already typing. A few keystrokes later, he slid a security badge across the marble counter. The word Visitor stared up at her in bold, unforgiving letters.
“He’s been an absolute beast since you left,” Jim added in a low, confidential voice.
It was the kindest thing anyone had said to her all day.
She managed a genuine smile and nodded her thanks. Clipping the badge to the collar of her blouse, she glanced down—and froze.
Her blouse, soaked through from the rain, had turned translucent. Her lacy white bra was now front and center.
Of course.
She gasped and tried to tug the fabric away from her skin, shielding herself as best she could. No luck.
“Perfect,” she muttered under her breath. A cherry on top of a disaster sundae.
Still, she straightened her spine. There wasn’t time to dwell or dry off.
“Thanks, Jim,” she said, mustering one last smile before turning toward the elevators.
They opened immediately.
She stepped inside.
The doors closed with a soft ding, and the noise of the lobby fell away. Jemma’s pulse thundered as she stared up at the floor numbers.
One button glowing.
His floor.
She was on her way to see the man she’d once given everything to. The man whose world she’d stepped into like a dream—before reality hit and she’d walked away, leaving behind more than just a relationship.
Now she was heading back into that world.
Soaked, shaking, and praying she could hold her ground.