Marla’s POV
You know that weird, floaty stage after a breakup where you’re not sad anymore, just... hollow? That’s where I lived for three days. On my auntie’s old couch, wrapped in a fleece blanket that smelled like detergent and regret. No Mercer townhouse, no Mercer House office. No Mercer-anything. Just me, the house cat that was snoring, and my grandmother, stable, thank God, who still managed to give me unsolicited dating advice in between spoonfuls of soup.
“You need a man with fewer secrets,” she muttered on day two.
“I need no men,” I muttered back. By day three, the stillness was getting loud. So I cracked open my laptop for the first time since... everything. Blank screen, blinking cursor, no fancy logo, no corporate email chains, no Ives breathing down my neck asking for a revision at 1AM… just me.
I updated my resume. Sent a few half-hearted emails to places that probably wouldn’t reply. Then I packed up and found a café on the edge of town with chipped mugs and terrible Wi-Fi. Perfect. I spent the afternoon writing, not for a deadline, not for a paycheck. Just for myself. Stream-of-consciousness ranting, mostly.
I wrote a line that said, “He didn’t break me. I just stopped letting him hold the pieces.” Then I made a list.
Things I Want:
To be respected. Fully.
To never apologize for my ambition.
A man who chooses me out loud.
Things I Won’t Compromise:
My time.
My peace.
My ability to throw a punch if needed.
Things I’m Never Going Back To:
Lies in nice suits.
Fake love stories with real consequences.
Ives Mercer.
I slammed my laptop shut with dramatic flair, took a deep breath, and slid my notebook into my tote. Then my phone buzzed. Dana. “Did you see what he did?”
I blinked. Typed back “What now?” No reply, just a link. My gut twisted. Last time someone sent me a link, it was that headline. The one that detonated everything, I tapped it anyway.
MERCER SCANDAL: LEAKED PHOTO WAS BLACKMAIL. SOURCE CONFIRMS IVES PROTECTED MARLA.
I froze. The article loaded fast, too fast. There it was: the photo from my blind date, cropped, twisted, made to look like something it wasn’t. The same one that blew up my life. But now? The truth was out. The story detailed everything: Ava’s threats, the fake scandal, the forced distance. It said Ives knew the photo was edited. That he chose to let me hate him to keep me safe.
And then I saw the quote.
> “When asked why he let her go, Mercer reportedly said, ‘If destroying me meant saving her, then I’d do it again.’”
My breath caught. Right there, in a tiny café surrounded by strangers and half-eaten muffins, my heart did the dumbest thing it could do. It leapt. Because suddenly, I wasn’t just angry. I was something else entirely: Shaken, confused, and hopeful. And I didn’t know what to do with that.