I threw myself into work like my life depended on it.
Maybe it did. Work was easier than thinking—about Sebastian's confession in the parking garage, about Charles's quiet ultimatum, about the mess I'd made of everything and everyone around me.
Work had clear parameters. Deadlines. Expectations I could meet.
Unlike the rest of my life.
I arrived before seven each morning, when the office was still dark and silent. I left after nine most nights, long after the cleaning crews had finished their rounds.
The hours between were filled with reports and logistics, meetings and memos, anything that demanded enough concentration to keep my mind from wandering into dangerous territory.
Sebastian kept his distance.
I caught him watching me sometimes—across the conference room during presentations, through the glass walls of his office, in the reflection of windows when he thought I wasn't looking.
The confusion had faded from his features, replaced by something that looked like resigned patience. He didn't push. Didn't corner me again. Just waited, giving me the time I'd asked for.
The space between us felt like a wound neither of us knew how to heal. Every interaction was strictly professional now—clipped requests, formal responses, careful distance maintained at all times.
The intimacy we'd shared in Birmingham and at my flat might have been a dream for all the acknowledgment it received.
I missed him. That was the worst part. Despite everything, despite Sophie's revelation, I missed the man who'd shown me his childhood and held me on my sofa.
But missing someone wasn't the same as trusting them. And I didn't know how to bridge that gap.
What surprised me was James.
I observed him throughout the week without meaning to. At a company lunch on Tuesday, Victoria sat beside him, elegant as always in pale blue silk.
I expected their usual performance—polite smiles, practiced touches, the careful choreography of a strategic marriage.
Instead, I watched Victoria laugh at something James said. Not a polite laugh. A real one, head thrown back, hand touching his arm. And James's smile in response was... genuine. Unperformed.
The kind of smile I'd rarely seen from him even during our years together.
Wednesday, I spotted them walking through the lobby. Victoria's hand rested in the crook of his elbow, and James leaned down to murmur something in her ear.
She smiled, a soft, private expression meant only for him.
Thursday, by the coffee machine, they stood closer than necessary, sharing a quiet conversation that had nothing to do with business or board members.
Victoria reached up to straighten his tie. James caught her hand and held it, just for a moment, before releasing it with obvious reluctance.
He was falling for his wife. Actually falling.
The realization should have hurt. Six months ago, it would have devastated me. But watching them now, I felt only mild surprise and something approaching relief.
The James I'd loved, or thought I'd loved, had never looked at me the way he looked at Victoria. Maybe he was capable of genuine connection after all. Just not with me.
Friday afternoon, I was reviewing contracts in the conference room when the door opened and closed. I looked up to find James standing there, expression uncharacteristically nervous.
"Can we talk?" he asked. "Not as CEO candidate and evaluator. Just... as two people who have history."
I tensed, old defenses rising automatically. "James."
"I'm not here to convince you of anything."
He held up both hands, a gesture of surrender I'd never seen from him before. "No proposals. No schemes. No attempting to manipulate you into choosing me."
He pulled out a chair across from me and sat, maintaining careful distance. "I just need to be honest with you. For once in my miserable life."
I set down my pen. Waited.
James was quiet for a moment, gathering words that seemed to cost him something. When he spoke, his voice was stripped of its usual polished confidence.
"I meant what I said before—about wanting you back. About leaving Victoria if you chose me."
He met my eyes, unflinching. "At the time, I believed every word. I was convinced we could recapture what we had, that the life we'd planned was still possible."
"And now?"
"Now something's changed."
He exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with confusion and wonder.
"Victoria... I didn't expect to feel anything real for her. When I proposed, when we married, it was purely strategic. Convenient. A business arrangement dressed up in white tulle."
He shook his head, almost laughing at himself.
"But somewhere between the honeymoon and now, she became... more. She's brilliant, Belle. Sharper than anyone gives her credit for.”
His expression softened in a way I'd never seen from him.
“And underneath that polished exterior is someone genuinely kind. Someone who sees through my bullshit and calls me on it. Someone who makes me want to be better than I am."
I absorbed this. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. Not the way it would have weeks ago.
"You're falling in love with your wife," I said. Not an accusation. Just an observation.
"I think I am."
He looked as startled by the admission as I felt hearing it. "I didn't plan for this. Didn't want it, if I'm being honest. Loving someone gives them power over you, and I've spent my entire life avoiding that vulnerability."
"But Victoria's different."
"Victoria's everything I didn't know I needed."
He leaned forward, earnest in a way I'd never witnessed.
"I'm telling you this because I don't want to give you mixed signals anymore. You deserve clarity, Belle. After everything I put you through, you deserve at least that much."
"So what are you saying, exactly?"
"I'm saying I'm choosing my marriage. For real this time."
His voice was steady now, certain.
"Not because Victoria's father sits on the board. Not because it advances my career. Because I want to build something genuine with her. Because she makes me want to be the man she believes I can be."
The words settled between us, reshaping a dynamic that had defined my life for six years.
"I appreciate you telling me," I said finally. "It's more honesty than you've given me in a long time."
"I know." Shame flickered across his features. "I know I hurt you, Belle. I know I was selfish and calculating and cruel. I can't undo that. But I can try to be better going forward."
"Follow your heart, Belle." His voice softened. "Whoever that leads you to. Don't let what I did make you afraid to trust again."
I almost laughed at the absurdity—James Whitmore offering relationship advice. "We're not going to become best friends after everything. You know that, right?"
James smiled, sad and self-aware. "Not remaining enemies would be more than enough for me. I'd settle for civil acquaintances who occasionally nod at each other in hallways."
"I think I can manage that."
We sat in silence for a moment, two people reaching the end of a chapter that had defined them for years.
It wasn't forgiveness—I wasn't sure I'd ever truly forgive him for the way he'd ended things, for the cruelty of that dinner table and the ring meant for someone else.
But it was peace. A laying down of weapons. An acknowledgment that we'd both changed too much to keep fighting old battles.
James stood to leave, pausing at the door. "For what it's worth, I hope you find what you're looking for. You deserve someone who sees how remarkable you are."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone with contracts I no longer cared about and thoughts I couldn't escape.
One complication resolved. Two remained.
And I still had no idea what I wanted.