Chapter 16 #2
“Tessa Hartley,” Markus’s smooth, oily voice answers. He doesn’t sound surprised. “I knew you’d call. I saw the engagement numbers on the beta launch this morning. You’re wasting that talent on a startup, Tessa.”
“I’m accepting the offer,” I say, my voice shaking only slightly.
“Smart girl. I can’t get a VP contract through HR in an hour, but I can onboard you as an Executive Consultant today. Same pay, same path to the C-suite. Effective immediately.”
“Monday,” I say. “But I have conditions.”
“I’m listening.”
I can hear the smile in his voice. He smells blood in the water.
“I need a signing bonus,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “A big one. Fifty thousand. Upfront. Consider it a consultation fee for the ‘Be Seen’ framework.”
Markus laughs. It’s a dry, rattling sound. “Trouble in paradise? That’s a steep ask, Tessa. Even for you. We usually reserve those kinds of bonuses for executive poaches.”
“This is an executive poach,” I counter, channeling every ounce of confidence I have left. “I am the Lead Brand Strategist for Mosaic. I built the ‘Be Seen’ campaign. You saw the teaser numbers. You saw the engagement metrics.”
“I know,” Markus admits. “Impressive work. Very… emotional. A bit soft for my taste, but effective.”
“It’s not soft,” I snap. “It’s resonant. And it’s exactly what Nebula is missing. Your user retention has been flatlining because your platform feels like a LinkedIn clone. I can fix that.”
Silence on the line. I hold my breath.
“You’re claiming you can bring that same magic to us?” Markus asks. “Without violating your NDA?”
“I can bring my strategy,” I say carefully. “I can bring my understanding of the market. And I can start Monday.”
“Why the sudden need for fifty grand in upfront cash?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters if you’re bringing stolen IP. I don’t mind breaking a non-compete, but I won’t touch a criminal lawsuit.”
“I’m not bringing stolen IP,” I say. “I’m bringing a better opportunity. Do you want me, or do you want me to go to Google? Because their recruiter called me yesterday.”
It’s a bluff. A massive, terrifying bluff.
“I want you,” Markus says. “I’ll match their salary, plus twenty percent. And I’ll have a fifty-thousand-dollar consulting retainer ready to wire the moment you sign. Consider it a signing bonus.”
My knees go weak. “I have a non-compete. Ethan will sue me.”
“Let him try,” Markus laughs, a cold, sharp sound. “He won’t win. Nebula has more lawyers than Mosaic has employees. We’ll tie him up in court for years until he bleeds cash and drops it. I just need the contract signed before the start of business Monday.”
“Fine,” I whisper. “Send it.”
“Check your inbox in fifteen minutes. I’m paying for the strategy, Tessa. But I’m also paying to watch Ethan Branson bleed,” he adds, his voice dropping. “No more ‘artistic integrity’ debates. You execute my strategy.”
“Understood,” I whisper. “Just send the PDF. Thank you.”
I hang up.
I stare at the phone.
I did it. I found the exit. I found the one thing that trumps Ethan’s contract: a bigger check from a bigger enemy. I’m going to pay him back every cent. And then I’m going to walk away.
I should feel relieved. I should feel free.
Instead, I feel like I just sold my soul.
I walk into Mosaic like I’m walking to the gallows.
The energy in the office is frantic. The global launch is on Saturday. The air is thick with the smell of static, burnt coffee, and panic.
I keep my head down. I am wearing my usual uniform—the black blazer, the high collar, the severe bun. I look professional. I look cold.
I walk past the reception desk.
Owen isn’t there. Usually, he’s perched on the edge of the desk, flirting with the receptionist or juggling stress balls. His absence feels like a hole in the room.
I walk past the design pit.
“Tessa!”
I stop moving. Sarah, the blue-haired lead designer, waves me over. She looks exhausted but exhilarated.
“Hey,” she grins, holding up a tablet. “Check this out. The final render for the Times Square billboard. It’s gorgeous. The black background makes the text pop like crazy. ‘You aren’t broken.’ It’s… honestly, Tess, it’s the best thing we’ve ever done.”
I stare at the image. It is beautiful. It’s my vision, brought to life by the team I’ve grown to love in almost a month.
“It looks great, Sarah,” I say, my voice hollow.
“Great? It’s going to win awards!” She looks at me closer, her grin fading. “You okay? You look kinda pale. Is Ethan riding you about the press kits?”
“I’m fine,” I force a smile. “Just launch nerves.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been stress-eating gummy bears since 6 AM.” She nudges my arm. “We’re going to celebrate this weekend, right? After the launch? Drinks on Owen?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Celebrate.”
I can’t look at her. I can’t look at the work I’m abandoning.
“I have to go,” I say abruptly. “Ethan is waiting.”
“Good luck in the lion’s den!” Sarah calls after me cheerfully.
I walk away, my heart twisting. I’m not just leaving a job. I’m leaving them. I’m leaving the people who welcomed me.
I walk past the server room. The door is closed. No sign of Asher.
I walk to my desk.
Ethan’s office door is open.
He is there. He is standing at his window, looking out at the city, his hands clasped behind his back. His posture is rigid, military.
He turns as I sit down.
Our eyes meet through the glass wall.
He knows.
I don’t know how he knows—maybe Asher told him I was coming in, maybe he just senses the disturbance in the force—but he knows things have changed.
He walks out of his office. He crosses the floor.
The chatter in the bullpen dies immediately. Everyone watches the CEO move. He moves like a storm front, dark and inevitable.
He stops at my desk.
“My office,” he says.
“I have work to do,” I say, not looking up from my blank screen. “The press releases need final approval.”
“My office,” he repeats. “Now.”
He doesn’t wait. He turns and walks back.
I take a deep breath. I grab my purse—my phone is in it, buzzing with the email from Markus—and I follow him.
I close the door behind me. The sound cuts off the hum of the office, sealing us in the silence of his glass cage.
Ethan goes to his desk, but he doesn’t sit. He leans against the edge, crossing his arms over his chest. It’s the same pose he used the night he took me on that desk.
The memory flashes through my mind—the cold marble, the heat of his skin, the sound of my name on his lips.
I push it away. I lock it in a box and throw away the key.
“Where were you?” he asks.
“I had a morning meeting,” I lie.
“With who?”
“That’s personal.”
“Nothing is personal right now,” Ethan says. “The app goes live globally in forty-eight hours. Asher said you were with him last night.”
I flinch. “He told you that?”
“He told the chat,” Ethan says. His voice is tight, controlled, vibrating with a suppressed rage. “He said the ‘status quo is unsustainable.’ And then he stopped sharing his location until 7 AM. Which, in Asher-speak, means he slept with you.”
I don’t deny it.
“Yes,” I say.
Ethan closes his eyes for a second. His jaw tightens, a muscle twitching under the skin.
“Owen. Then me. Then Asher. You’re thorough, I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t,” I warn him, stepping forward. “Don’t you dare judge me. You were the one who told me there was no ‘us.’ You were the one who told me to be professional. You pushed me away, Ethan.”
“I told you to be professional!” he shouts, his control snapping. “I didn’t tell you to go sleep with my brother the second you left my office!”
“You hurt me!” I shout back. “You used me and then you threw my debt in my face! Asher was… kind. He was there. He didn’t treat me like a problem to be solved, he treated me like a person.”
“Kind,” Ethan sneers. “Asher isn’t kind. He saw an opportunity and he took it. Just like Owen.”
“And you?” I challenge. “What did you do, Ethan? You saw a ‘liability’ and you fucked it.”
The silence that follows is heavy, suffocating.
Ethan stares at me. The anger in his eyes is warring with something else. Pain. Genuine, raw pain.
“I didn’t want to throw you away,” he says, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I tried to save you.”
“By threatening to sue me?”
“By making you stay,” he says. “Because if you left… if you walked out that door… I knew I wouldn’t be able to bring you back. I knew you’d disappear.”
“You have a strange way of showing affection, Ethan.”
“I don’t know how to do affection,” he admits brutally. “I know how to command. I know how to protect. And right now, I am failing at both.”
He walks around the desk. He stops in front of me.
He reaches out, his hand hovering near my face, shaking slightly.
“Tessa,” he says. “We need to fix this. We can’t do this while we’re at war with each other. We need to focus.”
“I know,” I say.
My phone buzzes in my purse.
The offer letter.
I step back, out of his reach. The movement hurts both of us.
“I have a solution,” I say.
Ethan frowns, his hand dropping to his side. “What solution?”
“You said I couldn’t leave because of the money,” I say, my voice steadying. “You said I owed you the signing bonus. You said you’d sue me.”
“Tessa, that was—”
“It was a trap,” I say. “But I found a key.”
I pull my phone out. I open the email. I see the PDF attached. Offer of Employment - Nebula Corp.
“I got another job,” I say.
Ethan freezes. He looks like I just spoke in a foreign language. “What?”
“I secured a consulting retainer,” I repeat. “From Nebula. Markus Vance has a bonus ready to wire that covers what I owe you. Plus twenty percent.”
Ethan’s face goes pale. Paler than I’ve ever seen it.
“Nebula? Our competitor?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t,” he says in disbelief. “You have a non-compete. Legal will bury you before the ink is dry.”
“Markus says he’ll bury you,” I shoot back. “He told me he’s paying my legal bills just to spite you.”
Ethan grips the edge of the desk, harshly. “You think Vance gives a damn about you? He’s using you as a pawn to get back at me. The second the lawsuit gets expensive, he’ll drop you.”
“I know,” I say, my voice trembling but defiant. “I know you’ll sue me. I know I probably won’t last a month there. But I just need the signing bonus to clear so I can pay you off. That’s all I care about right now.”
“You’re destroying your career for a check?”
“I’m destroying it to buy my freedom,” I correct him. “They want the strategist who built ‘Be Seen.’ They want the girl you told to just ‘do her job’ and shut up.”
“You would go to them?” he asks, his voice filled with a betrayal so deep it sounds like heartbreak. “You would take our work… your work… to them? To Markus Vance?”
“I have to,” I say, tears pricking my eyes. “I can’t stay here. Look at us. We’re a mess. I slept with all three of you. I lied to Harper. I’m tearing you guys apart.”
“You aren’t tearing us apart,” Ethan says desperately. “You’re…”
“I’m the catalyst,” I finish for him. “And the only way to stop the explosion is to remove the spark.”
I hold up the phone.
“I haven’t signed it yet,” I say. “But I’m going to. I’ll work the launch on Saturday. I’ll make sure the press goes smoothly. I’ll do my job. And then, on Monday… I’m gone. I’ll sign the contract, take their bonus, and transfer the money to you the second it hits my account.”
Ethan stares at me. He looks like I just shot him in the chest.
“Tessa,” he rasps. “Don’t.”
“It’s just business, Ethan,” I say, echoing his words from Monday morning. “Strictly professional.”
I turn around. I walk to the door.
“If you sign that,” Ethan says, his voice low and dangerous, vibrating through the glass walls, “you are declaring war.”
I pause, my hand on the handle.
“I think the war started the moment I sent that accidental text,” I say.
I walk out. I walk past the bullpen.
I see Owen entering the office, holding two coffees. He sees me. He smiles, a tentative, hopeful smile, stepping forward as if to intercept me.
I look away. I can’t handle his guilt right now.
I see Asher coming out of the server room. He watches me, his face impassive, but his eyes intense, tracking my movement like I’m a piece of code deleting itself.
I keep walking. I go to my desk. I sit down.
I open the PDF on my phone.
I stare at the signature line.
I’m going to do it. I’m going to leave. I’m going to save myself.
But as I look at the executive suite—the three men who have consumed my life, my body, and my heart for the last month—I realize something terrifying.
Leaving them won’t be freedom. It will be an amputation.