Chapter 15 Gianna #2
He lifted his head to look at me, and something in his expression made my chest ache. Soft and vulnerable and completely open.
“You’re crying,” he said, his thumb brushing away tears I hadn’t realized had fallen.
“Happy tears.”
“Yeah?” His smile was gentle. “Good tears?”
I pulled him down to kiss me. “Don’t look so worried.”
“Can’t help it. You’re important to me.” He rolled to his side and pulled me against him, his arms wrapping around me like he couldn’t bear the space between us. “Really important.”
I buried my face in his chest, overwhelmed by how much this meant—by how much he meant. His hand traced patterns on my back, soothing and steady.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” he said quietly. “Like I’d do anything to keep you. Like being with you is the only thing that makes sense.”
I lifted my head to look at him. His expression was open, unguarded in a way I hadn’t seen before.
“You’ve changed something in me, Gianna. Made me want to be better than I’ve been. Made me think maybe I could be.”
“You’re already good, Archie.”
“I’m really not.” Something flickered across his face, too quick for me to read. “But being with you makes me want to try.”
I kissed him softly, tasting the vulnerability in his words. “You make me feel like wanting things isn’t selfish. Like maybe I’m allowed to be happy.”
“You are allowed.” His hand cupped my face. “You’re allowed to want everything and more. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
We stayed like that, tangled together in lavender-scented sheets. Neither of us wanted to break the moment, to let reality intrude.
A gentle knock interrupted us anyway.
“Breakfast is ready when you are,” Mary called through the door.
Archie kissed my forehead and said we should probably get up, though his voice made it clear that was the last thing he wanted.
The drive back was quiet, but comfortable. His hand found mine across the console and stayed there the entire way, his thumb tracing familiar patterns. When we finally reached my building, he walked me to the door and kissed me like he was afraid this might be the last time.
“It won’t be,” I promised against his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He kissed me again and then he was saying goodbye.
I watched him drive away before heading upstairs, my chest feeling full in ways I didn’t quite know how to process. Everything had changed in twenty-four hours, and I was still trying to catch up.
That night, official documents arrived through the clinic portal. I opened them expecting routine case files.
Instead, I found fifteen years of internal Devlin Holdings records.
My hands started shaking as I scrolled through page after page of authorization memos, budget approvals, and displacement strategies. Everything we needed to win this case, handed to us perfectly organized and damning.
Then I reached the files from ten years ago.
My building. My address. Progress reports on successful displacement.
Authorization memos signed by A. Devlin, CEO.
The name didn’t register at first. My brain was still trying to process seeing my old address, seeing documentation of my family’s destruction laid out in corporate language.
Then it clicked.
A. Devlin.
I pulled up my search history with trembling hands, found the basic research I’d done weeks ago when I’d asked about his company. Hudson River Development, he’d said. I’d googled it, confirmed it existed, moved on.
I’d never Googled Devlin Holdings’ leadership.
I did it now.
The website loaded slowly. I clicked through to the leadership page.
And there he was.
Archie. But not Archie.
Archer Devlin, CEO. Professional photo in a suit, looking polished and confident. The bio detailed his father’s company, how he’d taken over ten years ago at twenty-six, how he’d expanded operations across three boroughs.
How he’d built his reputation on “successful” displacement projects.
I clicked back to the documents. Scrolled through authorization after authorization, all signed by him. Found the specific memo about my building—fifty-two units, minimal resistance expected, completion projected within sixty days.
My father had died forty-three days after the notice appeared on our door.
Archer Devlin had signed the authorization that killed him.
I sat in the dark of my apartment, laptop screen the only light, surrounded by evidence of everything he’d done. Everything he’d hidden. Everything he’d lied about.
Hudson River Development. He’d lied about the company name. Had looked me in the eye and lied.
While I fell for him.
While I slept with him this morning.
The man I’d made love with, the man who’d held me and told me I was beautiful and important, the man who’d looked at me like I was his entire world—he was the same person who’d destroyed my family ten years ago.
Who’d killed my father.
Who’d ruined my mother.
Who’d stolen seven years of my life.
And he’d known. This entire time, he’d known exactly who I was and said nothing.
I scrolled through every page, reading every word, letting the evidence burn into my brain until I could recite it from memory.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. My chest felt too tight, like I couldn’t get enough air. The walls of my apartment seemed to be closing in, suffocating me with the weight of what I’d discovered.
I’d trusted him. I had opened up to him about my pain, my fears. Had let him into spaces I didn’t let anyone, had believed he understood because he’d seemed so genuine.
And the whole time he’d been lying.
I sat in the darkness surrounded by evidence of his betrayal, feeling everything I thought I had shatter like glass hitting concrete.
Shattered.
Irreparable.
Gone.