Chapter Twenty-Six
Simon
The following morning I walked toward my office, my gaze drawn immediately to Raina’s desk.
Except it wasn’t Raina’s desk anymore. It was just a piece of furniture now, stripped of the small touches that had made it uniquely hers.
The ceramic cat pencil holder was gone. The tiny succulent that she’d fussed over every morning had vanished.
Even the faint scent of her perfume, that subtle sweetness I’d grown so accustomed to, had faded overnight.
I swallowed back the hard knot in my throat. I’d had assistants come and go since Liam and I founded this company. Some quit. Some I fired. I’d never lost sleep over any of them.
But this was different. This was Raina. My sunshine girl, with her bright smile and gentle warmth and the way she made even the most mundane workday feel lighter. The woman who’d slipped past every wall I’d built without me even realizing it was happening.
And I’d destroyed it. Destroyed us. With accusations rooted in fear and words designed to wound. What a fucking idiot I was.
I walked past her empty desk and into my office, closing the door behind me with a soft click that felt deafening in the silence. The morning light streamed through the windows, golden and warm, but it did nothing to touch the cold weight sitting in my chest.
I’d barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face—the shock when I accused her of working with Chuck and the hurt that flickered across her features before hardening into something worse.
The way her chin had lifted when she said I quit.
She’d walked away, and she’d taken something vital with her.
Something I hadn’t even known I possessed until it was gone.
You did this to yourself.
The thought was brutal and true. I’d spent the entire night replaying that conversation, cataloging every unfair accusation, every moment I’d cut her off before she could explain.
I’d been so consumed by my own fear—so certain that history was repeating itself, that I was being betrayed again—that I hadn’t stopped to consider the obvious.
Raina wasn’t Chuck. She wasn’t Carla. She was the woman who brought me coffee without being asked, who remembered my schedule better than I did, who looked at me like I was worth something more than my bank account.
And instead of asking if she was okay, instead of wondering why someone so reliable would suddenly vanish without a word, I’d attacked her. What kind of man did that?
The answer sat heavy in my stomach: a scared one. A man so damaged by past betrayals that he couldn’t recognize loyalty when it was standing right in front of him.
I sank into my chair, but I couldn’t focus. Emails went unread. Reports sat untouched. The work that usually consumed me felt meaningless, overshadowed by the weight of what I’d lost.
How do I fix this?
The question circled my mind endlessly, but I had no answer.
I’d never been in this situation before.
I’d never cared enough about anyone to have to make amends on this scale.
My previous relationships had been shallow by design, easily ended and quickly forgotten.
Nothing that required groveling. Nothing that made me feel like I was drowning in my own regret.
But Raina wasn’t like anyone else. She never had been.
I thought about showing up at her apartment with flowers. Immediately dismissed it as inadequate. Flowers couldn’t undo the things I’d said. Flowers couldn’t heal the wounds I’d inflicted.
I thought about calling her, but what would I even say? I’m sorry I accused you of corporate espionage because I have trust issues? It sounded pathetic even in my own head.
The truth was, I didn’t know how to do this. I’d spent my entire adult life building walls, maintaining control, keeping people at a careful distance. I had no framework for vulnerability. No experience with the kind of raw, honest apology that Raina deserved.
But I knew I had to try. Because the alternative—a future without her light, without her warmth, without the way she made me feel like I could be more than the sum of my fears—was unbearable. I just needed to figure out how.
The door to my office slammed open with enough force to crack against the wall.
I looked up, startled, as Kurt stormed in.
I’d known him for over a decade, through the rise and fall of our athletic wear company, through Chuck’s betrayal, through all the years of rebuilding that followed. I’d seen him angry before.
I’d never seen him like this.
His face was flushed, his jaw set in a hard line, his eyes blazing with a fury that was aimed directly at me. He crossed the room in quick, aggressive strides and stopped at my desk, close enough that I could see the muscle ticking in his cheek.
I didn’t need to ask why he was here.
Slowly, I set down the pen I’d been holding and rose to my feet. Kurt was one of my closest friends, but he looked seconds away from throwing a punch. I couldn’t blame him. If someone had treated my sister the way I’d treated Raina, I’d want to do worse.
“Where the hell do you get off treating my sister like that?” he asked furiously. Kurt jabbed a finger toward my face, leaning over the desk. “I asked you to hire her because I trusted you. I thought you were a good man.”
The accusation cut deep—deeper than he probably knew. Because he was right. I wasn’t being a good man. Not yesterday. Not when it mattered most.
“You know,” Kurt continued, his voice lowering to something almost more dangerous than his earlier fury, “I was willing to accept that you were dating my sister. Even though you’ve never been serious about anyone, even though workplace relationships are complicated, even though I had every reason to worry about how it might end.
” He shook his head, disgust written across his features.
“Raina seemed genuinely happy with you. So I told myself it would be okay. I thought you actually cared about her.”
I did. I do. But the words felt hollow even in my own mind.
“This wasn’t about our relationship,” I said, knowing how weak it sounded.
Kurt’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “You think you can separate the two? You think you can treat her like a failure at her job, accuse her of sabotage, question her character—and then go back to dating her like nothing happened?” He held my gaze, unflinching.
“You’re smarter than that, Simon. You know exactly what you did.
You didn’t just fire an assistant. You broke her goddamn heart. ”
The words landed like a physical blow. Because he was right. The moment Raina said I quit, I’d known she wasn’t just talking about her job. She was ending everything. Our professional relationship, our personal one, any future we might have built together.
And I’d given her every reason to.
“Do you even want to know what actually happened yesterday?”
My throat tightened. Some part of me already knew that whatever Kurt was about to say would gut me completely.
He didn’t wait for an answer.
“Hazel called Raina yesterday morning. She was worried about Miles. He’d been feeling sick since the game, and she couldn’t reach him.
So Raina drove over to check on him.” Kurt’s voice was tight, controlled, each word deliberate.
“She found him disoriented. Confused. One pupil blown wide and not responding to light. She recognized the signs of a serious head injury and got him to the hospital.”
My stomach dropped.
“She dropped her phone and it shattered when Miles stumbled. She had no way to contact you, no way to explain. And she stayed with him for hours, waiting for test results, waiting to find out if her brother was going to be okay.”
I closed my eyes, the full picture finally coming into focus. Raina at the hospital, terrified for her brother, desperately wanting to be in two places at once. Watching the clock tick past the meeting time with no way to let me know.
“The doctors found a grade two concussion,” Kurt continued.
“He’s going to be fine, but he’ll be in the hospital for observation.
And the second Raina got that news, she rushed to your meeting.
She left her injured brother to come explain, to apologize for something that wasn’t even her goddamn fault. ”
And I didn’t let her.
“She found you in that parking lot, and instead of asking if she was okay, instead of showing even basic human concern, you accused her of working for Chuck.” Kurt’s voice cracked with anger. “You fucking destroyed her, Simon.”
Each word hit like a hammer, driving home the full scope of my failure. Raina hadn’t let me down. She’d been dealing with a family emergency, doing exactly what anyone with a heart would do, and I’d punished her for it.
I’d let my fears—my ancient, festering fears about betrayal and trust—convince me that the woman I cared about was my enemy.
“She didn’t tell me about Miles,” I managed, my voice rough.
“Because you didn’t give her the fucking chance.” Kurt’s disgust was palpable. “You just… attacked. Based on nothing but your own paranoia.”
He was right. God, he was right about all of it.
Kurt waited, clearly expecting some kind of defense. Some justification. But I had nothing to offer. No excuse that would make this okay. It didn’t matter that I’d been conditioned by experience to expect betrayal. None of that justified what I’d done.
I knew Raina. Knew her kindness, her integrity, her fierce loyalty to the people she loved. I should have trusted that. Should have given her the benefit of the doubt instead of letting old wounds poison everything.
The silence stretched between us. Finally, I sank back into my chair, my head bowing under the weight of my own actions. “I screwed up.”
“Yeah.” Kurt’s voice was flat. “You did, you fucking asshole.”
He didn’t say anything else. Just shot me one last look—disappointment layered over anger layered over something that might have been pity—and walked out of my office. The door closed behind him with a quiet click that felt louder than the slam that had announced his arrival.
I sat there in the aftermath, letting the full magnitude of my failure settle over me.
I’d been so focused on the business implications—the ruined meeting, the potentially lost deal, the professional embarrassment—that I’d missed what actually mattered.
The deal with Alexander could be salvaged or replaced. Another assistant could be hired.
But Raina…Raina was irreplaceable.
She’d been my sunshine since the moment she walked into my life. Not just because of her bright personality or her warm smile, but because of what she represented. Hope. Connection. The possibility that I could conquer my fears and deconstruct the walls I’d built around myself.
She made me better. Happier. More human. And I’d thrown it all away because I was too scared to trust her.
The grief hit me then, sharp and sudden. Not just for the relationship I’d lost, but for the man I’d revealed myself to be. Raina had seen me at my worst yesterday—cruel, paranoid, so wrapped up in self-pity that I’d hurt the one person who least deserved it.
Did I even deserve a second chance? Probably not.
But Raina did. She deserved someone who would fight for her, who would admit that he’d royally fucked up and prove that her trust hadn’t been misplaced.
She deserved happiness and love and a partner who would stand beside her instead of pushing her away at the first sign of trouble.
I desperately wanted to be that person.
I’d spent years telling myself I wasn’t built for real relationships. That my past had broken something fundamental in me, made me incapable of the vulnerability that love required. But sitting here now, drowning in regret, I realized that was just another form of cowardice.
Raina had made me feel things I’d never felt before and want things I’d convinced myself were impossible. And yes, I’d failed her spectacularly, but failure didn’t have to be the end of the story.
I wasn’t a quitter. I’d rebuilt my career after Chuck’s betrayal. I’d clawed my way back from rock bottom more than once. I knew how to fight for things that mattered. And nothing had ever mattered more than Raina.
I straightened in my chair, something shifting in my chest. The despair didn’t disappear, but it made room for something else. Determination. Purpose.
I was going to get Raina back.
I didn’t know how yet. Didn’t know what words could possibly undo the damage I’d done. But I would figure it out. Because some things were worth fighting for, even when you didn’t deserve to win.