POV Floris
I walked into the office the next morning still processing the weirdness of last night. Eric waiting in my room, me elbowing him in the face, and then… well, things had gotten complicated after that.
But the second I saw Sia’s face, I knew my problems had just multiplied exponentially.
She was standing by my desk like a tornado in designer clothes, her usually perfect composure completely shattered.
“You absolute fucking idiot,” she hissed before I’d even put my bag down.
“Good morning to you too. Someone woke up on the wrong side of corporate hell?”
“Don’t.” Her voice was sharp enough to cut steel. “Don’t you dare make jokes about this.”
“Sia—”
“And when I opened that door, you both saw me. You looked mortified. But Eric?” She laughed bitterly. “Eric just looked at me and said ‘close the door’ like I was interrupting a business meeting instead of witnessing… whatever the hell that was.”
I felt heat creep up my neck. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”
“It was exactly what it looked like! You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sleeping with anyone!”
“Bullshit. I have eyes, Floris. I saw the way he was holding you, the way you were looking at each other. Like he’s your savior instead of your captor.”
“Even if something was happening, which it’s not, that would be my business.”
I never thought I would gaslight someone, but here I was. Gaslighting Sia.
“Your business?” Her laugh was sharp as broken glass. “Your business is going to get you killed. The pattern is always the same—he makes them fall in love with him, then destroys them when he gets bored.”
“Maybe that was the pattern before. But I’m different.”
“Different how? Because you think you’re special?”
“No, because you think you were special once, and now you’re jealous that it’s me he’s changing for, not you.”
The words hit like a slap. Sia went completely still, her face cycling through white to red to something murderous.
“What did you just say?”
“You heard me. This whole concerned mentor routine is bullshit. You’re pissed off that Eric treats me differently than he treated you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? You were his assistant for fifteen years. In all that time, did he ever hold you? Ever look at you like you mattered beyond your usefulness?”
“He destroyed me—”
“He ignored you. And now you have to watch him actually care about someone else.” I stepped closer. “You can’t stand that I’m getting the version of Eric you always wanted.”
“That’s not—this isn’t about me!”
“Isn’t it? You’re not trying to save me, Sia. You’re trying to punish me for getting what you never could.”
“What I never could?” She laughed, high and sharp. “What I never could was survive him with my soul intact. What I never could was walk away before he completely destroyed who I used to be.”
“Then why didn’t you warn me properly? Why didn’t you tell me the whole truth from the beginning?”
“Because you wouldn’t have listened! Because girls like you never listen until it’s too late!”
“Girls like me?”
“Girls who think they can save the monster. Girls who confuse psychological manipulation with genuine connection.” Her voice dropped to something dangerous. “Girls who think they’re special.”
“I don’t think I’m special. But you clearly think you were special once.”
“I thought I mattered to him. That’s what made it so much worse when he threw me away like garbage.”
“Maybe he threw you away because you let him break you. Maybe if you’d fought back—”
“I did fight back! That’s what the tape was—my last stand before I completely gave up.” She shook her head. “But you? You’re not fighting him. You’re fighting for him. You’re fighting to be the girl who fixes Eric Brighton.”
The accusation stung because it was true. “And what if I am?”
“Then you’re more delusional than I ever was. At least I knew it was an illusion, even when I was living it.” She grabbed her purse. “But you actually believe you’re different. You actually think this is real.”
“It feels real.”
“Of course it does. That’s his specialty—making psychological warfare feel like love.”
“You’re wrong about him. He’s changing.”
“He’s adapting. There’s a difference.” She headed for the door, then turned back. “When he gets bored with your particular brand of resistance and moves on to the next broken girl with daddy issues, don’t come crying to me.”
“I won’t need to cry to you. Because that’s not going to happen.”
“We’ll see.” Her smile was poison wrapped in expensive lipgloss. “Just remember—I tried to save you. When you’re where I was fifteen years ago, begging him not to throw you away, remember that I warned you.”
The door slammed behind her, leaving me alone with the terrible suspicion that she might be right about everything.
And the even more terrible realization that I didn’t care anymore.