Chapter 46
MYA
TWO MONTHS LATER
The office has mostly moved on, but I’m still stuck.
People stop talking when I walk into the kitchen. Someone on the marketing team sent me a “You’re so strong” DM I didn’t answer. And our new receptionist, bless her, pretends nothing happened and keeps telling me about the plane tickets to Cabo she’s pricing out.
I hate the pity. It feels like confirmation of the headlines.
I haven’t seen Worth since Nantucket either. He hasn’t been back to the office—at least not when I’m here. At first, I thought it was a coincidence.
One day, I caved and asked Henson if Worth was okay, and he said, casual as ever, “Yeah, he’s good. He’s just working remotely for a bit.”
Which is code for: he’s giving you space.
Which is also code for: he’s avoiding you.
That stings more than I want to admit.
Maybe because a tiny, traitorous part of me wanted him to show up anyway. To argue and ask me to stay. Even when I told him not to.
But Worth Miller is nothing if not a man of his word. I asked to end the deal, and he’s… ending it.
I still remember exactly where I was sitting when the world tilted.
Nadine’s terrace was glowing in candlelight, the ocean was humming behind us, Bri was stealing roasted potatoes off my plate, and I was thinking, Okay. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I can do this. Then I got a text from Seraya saying, “Oh my God, is this real?”
My name. My face. Broke gold digger. Business arrangement. Custody ploy.
I saw Worth get up right before, phone to his ear, jaw tight. I knew something was wrong.
I didn’t even read the whole thing. I didn’t need to. The headline alone felt like someone cracked my rib cage open and poured salt straight into my insecurities.
I ran.
I ran choking on a sob, half blind from tears, Amira calling my name. I shoved clothes into my carry-on, grabbed my laptop, and booked the next flight out of Nantucket.
Worth called and called. But I couldn’t answer.
Not because I didn’t want to, but because if I had heard his voice, I would’ve stayed. And I couldn’t stay. Not with his whole family looking at me like I was a fraud.
When I landed in Seattle, I drove straight to my parents’ house, mascara streaking down my cheeks, hair in a sad bun, eyes swollen. My mom opened the door, and I broke. Knees-gave-out, ugly-sobbing broke.
She dragged me to the couch, wrapped me in a blanket, and made tea I didn’t drink.
“Tell me,” she said.
So I did. All of it. The fake marriage. The deal. The custody battle for Brianna. The way I fell in love with a man I wasn’t supposed to. The article and the shame. The fear that everyone would think I was exactly what they wrote. That he would, too, even if he said he didn’t.
Mom listened to the whole thing without interrupting. Then she did what she always does and pulled my grief up to the light.
“You’re doing the same thing you’ve been doing since your father died,” she said quietly. “You’re leaving before you can be left.”
I wiped at my face. “That’s not it.”
She gave me that look. “Mya.”
“What was I supposed to do?” I snapped, the humiliation still raw. “Stand there while his whole family looked at me like I used their son? Let the Internet call me a gold digger? Let Brianna see that?”
“She saw you run, though, sweetheart,” Mom said.
And that hurt worse than the article.
She smoothed my hair back. “This man didn’t leave you. You left him because you wanted control over the ending.”
“You don’t understand,” I whispered. “It started off fake.”
“Lots of things start one way and become another,” she said. “That doesn’t make them less real.”
I cried for hours. Since Dad died, I haven’t cried like that—full-body, hiccuping, throat-burning crying. My mom just held me tighter.
We watched the sun come up. By morning, I’d decided on two things: 1) I wasn’t going to hide, and 2) I wasn’t going to stay in a marriage that started with a lie—even if somewhere along the way the lie turned into everything I wanted.
I sent Worth a text asking to start annulment proceedings that same day.
Now, I’m at my desk, weeks later, acting like my insides aren’t shredded.
Which is why I asked Griffin to put me on the new Paris project W.H.M. acquired. I leave in two weeks—perfect timing. I get to disappear for a few months, pour myself into work, be an ocean away from the drama and from the man I love but can’t choose yet. Paris can be my reset button.
I open my drawer for a pen and my fingers brush paper.
It’s a wolf sketch that Bri drew for me the day we spent our first evening alone, the day we talked about her mom. There’s a moon behind the animal and her crooked little signature at the bottom. For Mya.
My throat clenches.
I miss her so much it’s a physical ache. I regret not saying goodbye face-to-face. I called her a few days after Nantucket, once things stopped spinning. She picked up right away.
“I’m not mad, just a bit sad,” she told me. “But I get why you left.”
“I hope I see you again,” I said.
“You will,” she answered, with way more confidence than I had.
I love you and your father, I wanted to add, but I didn’t.
I press the sketch flat on my desk and blink back the sting in my eyes, right as Dre knocks on the cubicle wall.
“Hey.” She looks tired. Her eyes drop to the sketch, then back to me. In her hand is a manila envelope.
“Special delivery,” she says softly.
I already know what it is.
I straighten my shoulders. I asked for this. I’m the one who said we needed to end the deal before I could actually decide what I wanted.
Still. When Dre hands it to me, dread presses down on me.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I’m good,” I lie, giving her my brightest this is fine smile. “Thanks, Dre.”
She doesn’t buy it. No one has bought it since I walked back in here with puffy eyes and a perfectly ironed blouse. But she nods, because she knows me.
“I’ll be fine,” I add, also trying to convince myself.
“Mm.” Dre taps the cubicle once more and leaves.
I wait until she’s gone to open it.
On top, there’s a letter.
Mya,
As agreed, enclosed are the finalized dissolution documents. Everything has been executed on my end. Payment confirmations for your student loans and outstanding personal debts are attached for your records.
Thank you for everything.
—W.
Under the letter are the annulment papers.
We agreed we’d keep this quiet for now.
No public statements or legal filings made visible unless absolutely necessary, because the last thing Worth needs is for Vanessa to find any excuse to drag him back to court, waving “instability” and “failed marriage” like fresh ammunition.
I swallow hard.
This is what I wanted, I remind myself for the umpteenth time. So why does it feel like my world is officially ending?
I trace the edge of the wolf sketch with my thumb.
I love him.
But I need the deal to die before I can tell him that. Right now there are still too many people with opinions. Too many headlines. And I’m still trying to prove I’m not what they said.
I put the papers back in the envelope and slide it into my tote bag.
Then I square my shoulders, pick up my pen, and go back to work like my heart isn’t sitting in my throat.
Worth
Willow’s is busy for a Thursday. I’ve got a black coffee going lukewarm in front of me and a clean line of sight to the counseling office across the street. Brianna is in there with Vanessa and the therapist for their “reconnection” session.
I still don’t totally trust Vanessa. But since court, she’s actually been showing up.
On time, every week, no drama. She actually listens to Bri instead of talking at her.
I don’t know if it was the judge, the custody order, or her realizing she was about to lose her kid for real, but she’s been serious about it.
And if Bri’s getting something good out of it, then I can live with not understanding why the change happened.
The door chimes.
“Worth.”
I look up. “Tiana.”
She’s got a water bottle and a tote bag, looking like she stepped out of a lifestyle blog.
“May I?” she asks, nodding to the chair.
“Of course.” I pull it out.
Tiana sits, studying me for a second. “You look tired.”
“Thanks,” I retort sarcastically.
“You’re welcome,” she says with a wink. Then, “How are you, though?”
“Surviving.”
Her smile fades. “Why haven’t you called her?”
I wrap my hand around my cup. “I didn’t want her to feel cornered. She left for a reason. If I kept showing up, it would feel like I was making the choice for her.”
“That’s very considerate,” Tiana says. We sit in silence for a few moments before she continues. “Mya misses you. She’s not going to admit it, but I know my sister. I know when she’s pretending she’s fine.”
My chest tightens. “I miss her, too. Every damn day, I pick up my phone to text her and put it back down. I call and hang up before it rings. But she wanted the deal over, so I’m trying to respect that.”
Tiana tilts her head. “Respect is good. Silence… not always.”
I take a breath. “I sent her the papers today.”
Her brows lift. “You did?”
I nod, staring into my coffee. I’ve closed a lot of deals—never hated one like I hated this one.
“Mya told me she’s going to Paris,” Tiana says.
I exhale. “Yeah. Griff asked if he could move her onto the project. She was the best person for it, so I said yes.”
“Reluctantly,” she guesses.
“Yes.”
Because it means I might not see Mya for months. That she is actually going to put an ocean between us.
“She’s not running from you.” Tiana’s voice is softer now. “She’s running from the noise and from what people are saying. From feeling like she was the problem.”
“Mya was never a problem.”
Before either of us can add anything, the door chimes again and Bri walks in, her backpack slung across one shoulder, hair a little frizzy from the wind. Vanessa is right behind her, coat over one arm, looking annoyingly put together.
“Hey, Piglet,” I say, standing.
“Hi, Dad.” She comes straight to me with a smile. “It was good.”
“Yeah?” I glance at Vanessa.
My ex-wife nods and looks at Brianna. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“You’re welcome,” Bri says, happily.
Tiana gets up. “I’ll leave you to it. Nice to see you, Worth.” She gives Vanessa a tight smile. “Bri, want a snack?”
“Yes!” Brianna grins and follows Tiana to the coffee bar.
There’s a brief moment of silence. Vanessa clears her throat. “Listen, Worth.” Her eyes flick to me and away. “I, uh… I saw the article. About you and Mya.”
My jaw tightens.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry it blew up like that,” she goes on, actually sounding sincere. “I know what it’s like to have people think they know you. And she was good with Bri—despite what I said at court.”
It’s not much, but from Vanessa, that’s practically a handwritten apology.
“Thanks.” I nod once. “We’re handling it.”
I could leave it there, but something makes me push forward.
“A lot of what’s out there isn’t true,” I add. “They twisted things. Ran with what they wanted. It’s not what people think.”
She lifts a hand, stopping me with a faint shake of her head. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Regardless of what did or didn’t happen, it sucks.”
I study her. Once, all I saw when I looked at Vanessa was a storm wearing lipstick and perfume. Right now, she just looks… human.
“Why do you care?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Why not use this against me?” I don’t lace it with anger. Just the truth.
Vanessa exhales slowly. “Because I’ve had to sit with myself and with the part I played in how everything fell apart.
” Her eyes drift away, somewhere honest. “Every time I go after you, Brianna loses. She’s the one who hurts.
And I’m done letting my pride cost our daughter more pieces of stability. ”
“If I drag you back to court again,” Vanessa continues, “if I try to punish you because I’m angry or scared… I risk losing her. I risk breaking whatever fragile trust she still has in me. And I won’t do that again.”
Silence stretches between us, but it isn’t hostile this time.
Vanessa gives me a little smile. “And for the record, contrary to what you probably believe, I don’t hate you, Worth.”
I let that sit for a second.
“I don’t hate you either.”
She nods, a small breath escaping, like she’s been holding it for years.
“Okay. Well. I’ll see you next week.”
She walks over to our daughter and places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing.
“Bye, Mom,” Bri says, giving her a small wave.
Vanessa leaves, the bell jingling behind her.
Then, Brianna comes back to the table with bags of goodies and spots my empty cup. “You got the big one today.”
I chuckle lightly. “Needed it.”
She slides into the chair across from me and swings her feet. Then, almost as an afterthought, “Are you still sad about Mya?”
I nod. “But don’t you worry about grown-up stuff.”
Brianna rolls her eyes. “I’m not a baby. It must suck for you.”
“It sucks for all of us.”
“Yeah. It does,” Brianna says quietly.