Ava’s POV:
The walls were closing in.
That was the only way to describe how it felt walking into the conference room that morning. I’d barely slept. My stomach hadn’t unclenched since I got the text. And I’d tried, I really had, to convince myself that I could handle it. That I’d be calm. That I’d be smart. That I’d keep the upper hand.
But now, standing just inside the room, watching Jeremy spin slowly in one of the swivel chairs like this was some kind of joke, I realized something terrifying:
I wasn’t prepared for this.
“Hey, stranger,” he said, his grin a little too wide. “Took you long enough.”
I didn’t sit down. Just stayed by the door, keeping my hands in my coat pockets like they could stop me from trembling.
“What do you want?”
He tilted his head. “Wow. No hello? No warm reunion after everything we’ve been through?”
“I don’t have time for games, Jeremy.”
“Oh, I’m not playing.” He stood slowly. “I’ve been thinking. About you. About us. You and me—working together again. It’s kind of romantic, if you think about it. Full circle and all.”
My skin crawled.
“I’m not interested in whatever it is you’re fantasizing about,” I said carefully. “This job—this company—is important to me. And if you care about staying employed, you’ll start acting like a professional.”
He laughed. “Oh, sweetheart. We both know professionalism isn’t why I’m here.”
I took a step back.
And then it happened—fast and awful and suffocating. One moment I was trying to calculate how to leave the room without drawing attention, and the next, he was moving toward me. Grabbing me. His hands weren’t gentle. His voice was low, urgent, like this was inevitable.
“You owe me,” he hissed. “After everything. You think you can ghost me and pretend we never happened?”
“Get off me,” I said, my voice sharp now. Loud.
His grip tightened.
I twisted, shoved at his chest, panic rising so fast it made my limbs shake.
“Jeremy—stop.”
He didn’t.
And I screamed.
It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t brave. It was raw and furious and full of all the fear I’d been swallowing for weeks.
And then—
The pressure disappeared.
I stumbled back.
Jeremy lurched to the side, clutching his nose, howling.
Blood poured between his fingers.
And next to him—Liam.
Liam, towering and composed and radiating fury like a living, breathing warhead.
He hadn’t just hit him. He’d leveled him.
And the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t done.
“You fucking psycho—” Jeremy started, but he didn’t get to finish.
Because Liam moved again—calm, calculated—and only paused because two security officers burst into the room just in time to separate them. One grabbed Jeremy. The other turned to Liam, but flinched when he met his eyes.
“Out,” Liam said. “Now.”
Jeremy sputtered. “You can’t do this—”
“You’re done.” Liam’s voice was quiet. Deadly. “Touch her again, and you’ll leave in an ambulance.”
Security didn’t hesitate. They dragged Jeremy out like the trash he was, still bleeding, still screaming, and for the first time in weeks, I couldn’t stop shaking.
Liam turned to me.
And I—
I didn’t know what I felt.
Gratitude. Shame. Fury. Relief. All of it at once, in a sharp, unmanageable wave that crashed into my chest and left me raw.
“I’m sorry,” I choked out, because it was the only thing I could say. “I should’ve said something sooner. I thought I could handle it, and I—”
“Stop,” he said, his voice softer now. “You don’t apologize for him.”
And then he stepped closer, just enough for me to feel his presence, not close enough to touch.
“I heard you scream,” he said. “That’s all I needed.”