Chapter 20
Milan Braxton
“The problem with toxic love is that eventually somebody survives it.”
Isat in the high-rise Vaughn paid for, staring at the city with my rent reminder email still open on my laptop.
Final month.
That’s what the subject line said.
Final month covered by St. Clair Holdings.
I read it three times before closing the laptop hard enough to make the wine glass beside it shake.
Four years with Vaughn St. Clair, and this was how the shit ended? A payment confirmation and silence?
No.
Absolutely the fuck not.
I got up from the couch and walked barefoot through the condo he once spent almost every night in. This place used to feel exciting. Toxic. Fun. Now it just felt empty.
That was the thing about Vaughn and me. We never had a healthy relationship. We had a consuming one. The type of love that made you check phones while somebody was asleep. The type that made you scream, fight, fuck, cry, then order food together an hour later.
We cheated on each other constantly.
Not even secretly after a while.
At one point, we got so toxic that we started bringing women into our relationship, trying to save it. That shit made everything worse. Vaughn would touch another woman while staring at me the whole time, and somehow that irritated me more than regular cheating.
We used sex to avoid real conversations.
Used money to avoid consequences.
Used drugs to avoid ourselves.
I went to the kitchen and poured more wine.
The memories just kept coming anyway.
The abortions.
The fighting afterward.
The crying in bathrooms while Vaughn sat outside the door, high as fuck, trying to convince me we were still good together.
We couldn’t even create life right together.
That relationship drained the soul out of me.
And somehow, it drained him worse, because he broke up with me.
People saw Vaughn now and thought businessman. Luxury developer. Millionaire. The nigga on podcasts talking ownership and generational wealth.
They ain’t know three years ago he was doing lines in private bathrooms between business meetings.
Functioning addict ass nigga.
Cocaine. Adderall. Weed. Sex. Money. Work. Women. Vaughn always needed something running through him, so he didn’t have to sit with himself.
That was why I laughed when I found out about him obsessing over Sade.
At first, I thought she was another random woman. Another pretty girl for him to look at for a few weeks.
But nah.
This one was different.
I found out after hacking his phone a month ago he had been watching her for years.
I didn’t invade his privacy because I missed him.
Because I knew something changed. Vaughn moved different when he was mentally gone. Quieter. Meaner. Distant.
I knew him too well.
What I found in that phone made me lose respect for him immediately.
Saved pictures of her company page. Screenshots of her work. Her itineraries. Passwords. List of niggas she dated. Her Instagram searched so many times it looked pathetic.
A virgin interior designer got this nigga losing his mind.
I laughed just thinking about it.
Vaughn St. Clair. The same man that once fucked me so hard I threw a lamp at his head afterward because I found another bitch lip gloss in his car. The same man that told me love was a distraction.
Now obsessing over a woman that probably barely liked him.
Pathetic.
I grabbed my keys.
Nah. He wasn’t about to quietly cut me off while acting healed and reformed for some office bitch.
I needed my lick back.
By the time I pulled up to his penthouse downtown, I was already irritated again. His security knew me, unfortunately, so getting upstairs wasn’t hard.
He opened the door shirtless, tattoos, gray sweats hanging low on his waist.
Still fine.
Still toxic.
Still emotionally bankrupt for me.
“What you doing here?” he asked immediately.
I pushed past him. “Damn, can I come in?”
“You already did.” He shut the door behind me.
The penthouse smelled like weed and expensive cologne and plug ins. Same as always.
I looked around. “You here alone?”
“Yeah, why?”
“That little designer bitch, Sade, ain’t here?”
He frowned instantly. “Why would she?”
I smirked. “Oh wow. Touchy.”
“Watch out.”
I laughed. “For what? You in love now?”
“I’m not doing this with you tonight. I paid yo rent for the last month. That was the agreement. Shit is done. Get a job.” He walked past me toward the kitchen.
I followed him anyway. “You used to sniff coke off my kitchen counter and now you too good for conversations?”
He stopped moving.
Perfect.
I wanted him uncomfortable.
“You done?” he asked calmly.
“No. I’m actually just getting started.”
He grabbed water from the fridge while I stared at him. Vaughn looked tired. Not physically. Mentally.
I knew that look. Depression was seeping in.
“You really think she about to save you?” I asked.
“She ain’t got shit to do with you.”
“She got everything to do with me if you cutting me off over her.”
“I’m cutting you off because we over.”
I laughed coldly. “Nigga, we been over before you called yourself breaking up with me. You just finally found somebody you wanna cosplay normal with.”
He stayed quiet, sipping his water.
That irritated me more.
“You know what’s crazy?” I stepped closer. “I actually used to respect you. You was fucked up, but at least you was honest about it. Now you walking around pretending you healed because some girl with a degree make you feel important.”
“You trippin’.”
“No, I’m not.” I got closer again. “You still secretly depressed. You still addicted to women. You still obsessive. The only difference is now you stalking a bitch that probably don’t even want you.”
His eyes finally met mine.
“You gotta go.”
I should’ve left.
Instead, I touched him.
Ran my hand slowly over his chest.
“You remember when you couldn’t keep your hands off me?” I asked softer now. “Remember how crazy we used to be?”
He grabbed my wrist gently but firmly and moved it away.
That hurt my feelings more than I expected.
I covered it with a laugh. “Wow.”
“You doin’ too much.”
“You can’t even get hard for me no more?” I asked nastier now, already reaching for his sweats. “That little office bitch got you that gone? She don’t want you.”
He stepped back immediately.
“Milan.” Warning in his voice now.
I stared at him for a second before shaking my head slowly.
Sex used to control Vaughn.
I used to control Vaughn.
Now neither one worked.
“You don’t want her,” I said finally. “You want whatever version of yourself you think she sees.”
I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door.
“Oh, and one more thing,” I said before leaving. “Keep playing with me, and I’ll remind social media exactly who the fuck Vaughn St. Clair used to be.”
He didn’t answer.
Just stood there quiet while I left.
And honestly?
That silence pissed me off more than anything else.