Chapter 31
COOPER
Ryan pulls up to my building. “You sure you don’t want me to come up with you?”
I shake my head. “I’m sure. I’m just grabbing a few things to throw in my car. I won’t be long. I’ll meet you back at your place… you said there’s guest parking, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s not cheap.”
“That’s okay. It’s just for a few days.” I lean across the console, pressing a quick kiss over his lips. “See you soon.”
“Bye, babe.”
I glance over my shoulder as I open the door, unable to hide the giddy smile spreading across my face. “Bye.” I blow him a kiss before shutting the door behind me.
Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and head inside, crossing the lobby to the elevators.
Our work trip was short—just two days. But wow, how much can change in such a short time. I smile to myself as I step into the elevator, thoughts of Ryan and last night replaying in my mind. We interviewed more candidates this morning and caught an early evening flight. It’s almost nine now. My plan is simple: grab a few more clothes and essentials, load them into my car, and head back to Ryan’s until I can talk to Brad.
I finally texted him this morning, telling him I’d be back tonight and would come over Friday—after he got back—to talk. I also asked him to stop texting me until then. He was strangely cordial, replying with nothing more than a simple acknowledgment. No snide remarks. No guilt trips. Just, “Okay.”
I open the door to the apartment, and the unease hits me immediately. This is home but… am I even going to miss it?
The thought evaporates the moment I see Brad sitting on the couch, beer in hand. My heart stops dead in my chest. Shit. I am not prepared for this. Panic rises, but I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay strong.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Brad says, his voice cold. His eyes narrow, gaze piercing as he leans forward, jaw tight.
I force a small smile. “Hey,” I say, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. “I thought you were out of town until Friday.” God, this is so uncomfortable. I don’t want to do this—not right now.
“I was.” He tilts his head. “Changed my flight after your text this morning.” His stare drills into me, and I can’t tell if it’s hurt, anger, or frustration—or maybe a mix of all three. “It was nice to finally hear from you. To know you were alive.”
My gaze drops to the floor for a moment as I gather my courage. “Yeah, I uh… I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath, making eye-contact. “I probably should’ve let you know I was okay. But you gave me no reason to respond.”
“Baby, it’s not like I didn’t have a reason to be upset.” He pauses, his jaw twisting like it always does when he’s calculating his next move. I know this look too well—it’s the one he wears before flipping the script. “So,” he starts, voice deceptively calm. “How was the work trip? Or should I ask, how was Ryan?”
He smirks. I can see the game he’s about to play, the one where he doles out just enough to wound me without going for the kill—yet. It’s all about the timing with Brad. He’s a master at this, dragging it out, making me pay. He knows exactly which cards to play and when to hold back. He always has—he’s a lawyer, after all. He makes his living by getting what he wants.
I ignore the question, moving to the chair that sits adjacent to him on the sofa. My nerves are shot, palms damp, hands trembling. I force myself to sit, trying to project calm, even though I feel anything but. “We need to talk, Brad,” I say, my voice as steady and confident as I can manage.
He scoffs loudly. “Yeah, no shit.”
I close my eyes briefly, taking a deep, calming breath. “Brad, please, I don’t want to fight. I just want to—”
He cuts me off, standing abruptly. His movements are sharp and deliberate as he begins to pace the room.
“Oh, now you wanna talk? Where were you four fucking days ago, Cooper? Out with Ryan?” His voice rises, dripping with venom. “Went and got yourself a boyfriend while I’ve been worried sick about you?”
He paces the living room floor, running a hand through his hair with exasperation. “Well, news flash, baby. You’re already taken. You have a fiancé, remember? Or do I not matter at all? You don’t even have the decency to let me know where you are for days while you’re off fucking Ryan.”
I’m too scared to speak, my pulse racing as my breaths grow shorter and sharper. Dammit. I don’t want to be wimpy Cooper—apologizing, retreating into my shell, too afraid of what he might say or do if I stand my ground. But I can’t lose my temper, either—can’t let this devolve into screaming matches that end with our clothes on the floor and us calling it something it’s not. Like it’s some sick, twisted version of love-making.
It’s fucked up.
It’s wrong.
After being with Ryan all weekend, especially last night, it’s never been clearer. This—whatever this is—that Brad and I have? It’s not love.
It never has been.
Not even close.
I picture Ryan, the plan we came up with, his words echoing in my mind: Don’t let his words poison you. Hold your ground, Coop . I stand, refusing to let Brad cower over me.
“Brad, I understand that you’re upset. You have every right to be upset that I didn’t respond, and I’m—” I stop myself. No. I will not apologize. Not for this. Not for anything. “I should have let you know I was okay,” I say, my gaze fixed on his. “But that does not excuse the things you said to me.”
Fuck. I can feel the burn behind my eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t let him have this power.
“This hasn’t been working for a long time,” I add, my voice steady, even as his gaze shifts past me, refusing to meet mine. There was a time when I would have walked over to him, put my arms around him, tried to kiss and fuck the problem away, like that would solve anything.
But not anymore. I cross my arms, my stance firm, every inch of my body screaming stay the fuck back .
“Brad…” I try again, but he still won’t look at me. Fine. Whatever. I shake my head, frustration bubbling over. “Okay, I don’t know an easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it. I’m not happy. I haven’t been for a long time.”
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the engagement ring and set it on the coffee table. “I’m done trying to make this work.”
He doesn’t say anything. In fact, he looks so calm it scares the shit out of me. Still, I go on, assuming he’s hearing me, waiting for me to finish so he can retaliate with whatever plan is brewing behind that cold stare.
“I’m going to grab a few things tonight, and then I’ll come get the rest of my stuff this weekend, okay?” My voice is still steady by some miracle, but it takes every ounce of effort to keep it that way.
I exhale in frustration and turn to leave for the bedroom, but his voice cuts through the air, stopping me dead in my tracks.
“So that’s it then? You’re just going to throw away everything we’ve built for… for what? For him ?”
His chuckle is low, menacing—fucking chilling. “God, you’re so easy—predictable, too.” He starts walking toward me, slow and deliberate.
“Let me guess,” he continues. “He says all the right things, tells you that you’re not only beautiful, but that you’re smart and funny too.”
I flinch, and he notices. Of course, he notices. He feeds off reactions like this. And now he knows he’s on the right track.
“You think Ryan wants you?” He laughs, bitter and cruel. “He’ll drop you as soon as he realizes what a mess you are.”
“Stop, Brad.” My voice shakes, but I force myself to hold steady. I meet his gaze, and for the first time, I realize something: I fucking hate him.
Not just right now, in this moment—but deeply, truly, in a way that’s been building for years. I’ve spent so long trying to talk myself into loving him, clinging to the idea of us, that I never saw it for what it really was.
He takes another step toward me, and I instinctively back up. “Or maybe he’ll realize that you’re just an average fuck, and he’ll tire of you like I did.” He shrugs, his tone dismissive, like what he’s saying is no big deal—like I’m no big deal.
That one hits. I can practically hear Ryan’s voice in my mind, calling me incredible, telling me I’m everything. But Brad’s words claw their way in, dragging me back to all the times he made me feel small, unworthy. My chest tightens, and I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to hold on to the memory of last night—Ryan’s gaze. The way he said he was crazy about me. That was real… wasn’t it?
I open my eyes, meeting Brad’s icy stare, and force the words out. “Fuck you, Brad.” I turn and move toward the door, the overwhelming urge to escape drowning out everything else. I don’t even care about grabbing my things anymore. I can deal with that later. Right now, I have to get out before his words bury themselves too deep.
Just as I reach the door, Brad’s calm, steady voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you… Not if you care about Ryan.”
I freeze, my hand hovering over the doorknob.
“And both your jobs.”
Goddammit. I turn, frustration boiling over as he once again finds a way to get under my skin. “What are you talking about?”
He holds out a stack of papers, a winning gleam in his eyes. He makes no move to hand them to me, his smugness dripping like poison. I exhale sharply, my patience thin, and step closer. When I reach for the papers, he pulls them back, just out of reach. A smile tugs at his lips and it sickens me.
“You know, Ryan seems like such a stand-up guy. Honest, even. I wonder what people at work would think about him if they knew about your little affair.”
It’s like the air’s been punched from my lungs. Threatening me is one thing. But Ryan? It’s a line I never imagined Brad would cross. Panic and fury swell in my chest as my hand balls into a fist at my side. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Ryan out of this.
Anything.
Brad lowers the papers, and the second they’re within reach, I snatch them from his hand. My stomach coils as my eyes skim the page. My breath catches in my throat, and I instinctively bring a hand to my mouth.
It’s mine and Ryan’s text thread from Christmas morning—the one where he asked me to touch myself, and I did. The one where I came to his words while Brad was inside, asleep—or worse, reading this thread as it happened.
I stare at the page, the words blurring together as humiliation and rage wash over me like a tidal wave. This wasn’t just manipulation. This was invasive. Predatory. He’d taken something private—something vulnerable and, in its own twisted way, beautiful—and turned it into a weapon.
My knees weaken, and I clutch the edge of the counter to keep myself upright as bile rises in my throat.
“Christmas morning, huh? While I was sleeping in the next room? That’s when you decided to finger yourself for him like some desperate porn star? Jesus, Cooper. That’s pretty low… even for you.”
Tears threaten, but it’s too late—they slide down my cheeks as shame hits me. I want to scream at him, throw the papers in his face, tell him he’s a monster. But his words slice too deep, and the threat of what he might do freezes me in place.
Brad smirks, leaning casually against the counter. “Do you think he’ll still want you once everyone knows what a slut you are? Or should I just send them out now and save you the trouble of pretending to be respectable?” He grins. God, he’s enjoying this. He actually enjoys this. “What do you think his boss will say when he sees these texts?” He straightens, closing the distance between us, and I instinctively step back, my legs brushing against the wall. “I mean, I’m sure your company has a strict policy about this sort of thing, right? Probably won’t sit well that the VP’s screwing the new project manager. And on company time, too? Traveling together? It practically writes itself.”
He chuckles again. “Yeah, real fairy-tale ending from here.”
There’s that knife again, tearing through every ounce of strength I have left. He’s always known how to find the weakness in my armor and twist the blade.
God, I can’t breathe.
My chest tightens, and my heart is pounding so fast I feel like it’s going to explode. Am I having an anxiety attack? The room tilts, the walls closing in, and my legs threaten to give out. Fuck. I can’t do this. He’s going to trap me, again. My hope—everything I dreamed of with Ryan—slips further out of reach with every word.
A sob escapes me, raw and uncontrollable. I clutch my stomach, the pain radiating through me like an open wound, my hands trembling as I gasp for air.
Brad tilts his head, his expression softening into something almost kind. Almost.
“Hey, hey,” he soothes, his voice suddenly quiet and concerned, the cruel edge vanishing like it was never there. He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “Baby, don’t cry. You don’t have to go through this. Look, I get it. You’re confused. Things got messy, but it’s not too late. We can fix this. You don’t need him, Cooper. You’ve never needed him. You have me.”
His hand reaches out, brushing my arm, and I flinch, but he doesn’t stop. “Come on, baby. Let me help you.” He takes the papers from me, his voice softening further. “If you stay, I’ll rip them up. No one ever has to know. I’ll keep your little secret safe.”
I blink, struggling to process his words through the fog of my panic. His tone is gentle, but his words are dangerous, threading themselves through my thoughts, twisting them until I almost believe him. God, he’s good—too good. But this time, things are different. I have Ryan. And he’s waiting for me.
I take a slow, steadying breath, pulling myself together.
“You don’t want to ruin Ryan’s career, do you?” Brad presses, his eyes narrowing just enough to remind me of the power he thinks he holds. His hands grip my waist, and I cringe as he leans closer, his lips moving toward mine.
Think, Cooper. Think.
And then it dawns on me.
Brad wants to threaten mine and Ryan’s careers? He wants to play this little game of chess where I’ve always been the pawn? Well, guess what? Ryan was on the chess club, and his best friend? He’s the goddamn king.
I push Brad back, my voice low and calm. “You want to play chess, Brad? Fine. Go ahead and send those texts. I don’t care.” I cross my arms, standing taller. “But just remember who Ryan’s best friend is. Or did you forget? Leo Weston. You saw him last month at that private club—you know, the one where you were cheating on me.”
His jaw tightens. “What are you getting at?”
I step closer to the door, my confidence rising with every word. “You love to threaten reputations? Then let me remind you that Leo knows everyone who matters in this city. And if you so much as think about sending those texts, he’ll make sure you don’t land another deal. Ever. You know it, Brad. He’s respected.”
“Bullshit,” he snaps, his composure slipping. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me, Brad. I’m done playing your games.”
I stride toward the door, my pulse racing, but my head held high, proud as hell of myself for standing my ground.
Brad beats me there, his frame blocking my way.
“Wait—don’t go! I didn’t mean it, baby. I’m sorry!”
“Move, Brad.” I keep my voice steady, though inside, a hurricane of anxiety rages, every nerve on edge, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I take a step forward, but his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist tightly. The sudden pressure sends a jolt through me, and my breath catches.
“Brad, let go.” Panic zips through me.
His grip tightens. “You walk out that door, and you’re going to regret it.”
“Ow, Brad. You’re hurting me. Let go.”
My heart races faster than before, fear all consuming. Brad’s never crossed this line before—never hurt me physically.
And it scares the shit out of me.
“Brad, if you don’t let go, I’m calling the cops.”
“You’re not going to call the cops, baby. I know you love me.”
I reach into my purse with my free hand, taking out my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen.
He hesitates, his grip loosening slightly, though his eyes burn with a mix of panic and anger. “Come on, baby. I love you. Don’t do this.” His voice softens, pleading now, but I don’t trust it for a second.
“Let go of me, Brad. Now.”
He just stares, his grip a silent reminder that he thinks he still holds all the power.
I take a deep, calming breath, swiping up on the screen, my hand shaking. My voice is cold, resolute. “Test me. See what happens.”
“Fine.” He lets go and backs away from the door, arms raised in mock innocence. “But if you leave, everything you care about here is gone.” He walks to the console table as my hand grips the door handle. “Like this.”
I whip around, alarmed, my stomach dropping as I see him pick up my grandmother’s glass bird—the one thing that holds value to me over anything else. It was my favorite thing of hers as a child, and she gave it to me on her deathbed.
“Brad, don’t!” My voice breaks as I lunge forward, reaching out as if I can stop what’s about to happen.
But it’s too late. He fists the delicate bird in his hand, his expression unreadable, and smashes it to the ground.
Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion—the bird shattering, Brad’s expression, the sound of my cries blending with the sharp crash of glass scattering across the floor. The fragments spread like shards of my heart, piercing every ounce of strength I have left. He’s already taken so much from me, but this—this was deliberate. The one piece of me he hadn’t broken yet—he destroyed that too.
He looks at me with satisfaction and pity. “Get the fuck out of here, Cooper. And don’t you dare come crawling back when Ryan dumps your ass.”
I can’t leave like this. Not with him getting the last word. I can’t let him have it—can’t let him win. But I’m in tears, my breath coming in short, shaky gasps. The hurt cuts so deep, it’s like it’s hollowing me out from the inside. I square my shoulders, forcing myself to stand taller.
“Oh, I’ll be back,” I say, my voice laced with bitter cynicism. “Saturday. To get my things. And I’ll be bringing Ryan and Leo with me.” My gaze hardens, locking with his. “I suggest you not be here if you don’t want your ass kicked.”
I grip the door handle and swing it open, clinging to the last fragile thread of my dignity as I walk down the hallway toward the elevator, tears streaming down my face. The elevator ride feels excruciatingly long, and when it stops halfway down to let a couple on, humiliation burns through me. I try to hide my face, but it’s useless—I know they’ve noticed. My nose is stuffed, my head pounds, and I stare at my feet, desperate to disappear, as if avoiding eye contact will make me invisible.
When we finally reach the parking garage, I rush out, gasping for breath like I’ve been held underwater.
I manage to hold it somewhat together until I reach my car. The second I shut the door, everything crashes down on me. Tears pour out, fast and unstoppable, and I completely lose it. I fold my arms over the steering wheel and bury my head in them. My shoulders shake with every sob, each one more painful than the last, until I lose all sense of time and just let myself break.
I sit up, frantically searching for tissues as the snot becomes impossible to manage with sniffles alone. My hands fumble under the passenger seat until I find a crumpled box. I yank one out and blow my nose. Leaning back against the seat, I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to calm down.
My hands move to my head, gripping my hair as I rub my temples, my head pounding. Keep breathing. Keep it together.
Eventually, the storm inside me settles into a quiet hum. I grab another tissue and peek into the visor mirror, wiping streaked mascara from my cheeks. God, my face is a disaster—puffy, red, blotchy. I don’t even know how long I’ve been sitting here.
I check my phone. It’s almost eleven. A flood of missed calls and texts from Ryan fills the screen. His earlier texts are directions to Leo and Vivian’s and a simple request: Let me know when you’re on your way.
The newer messages are different, laced with worry.
Ryan: Hey… starting to worry. Everything okay?
Ryan: Coop, Where are you?
Ryan: Call me.
Ryan: You okay?
The last one was sent ten minutes ago, right after his most recent call. He’s tried multiple times, and guilt settles heavy in my chest. I’m not ready to talk—I need more time to pull myself together. But I can’t leave him in the dark, so I type out a quick response:
Cooper: I’m so sorry. Brad was home… Yes, I’m ok. And no, I’m not ok. I’m leaving now. See you soon.