Addison Fitzpatrick POV:
The phone rang, shrill and insistent, jolting me awake. My eyes felt glued shut, heavy with unshed tears and the crushing weight of Kade' s betrayal. It was Ava, my best friend, her face filling the screen. Her expression was a mix of anger and disbelief.
"Addy, turn on the news! Or just look at my screen. You won't believe this."
Before I could respond, Ava angled her phone. The live feed showed a dazzling red carpet event. Camera flashes popped like firecrackers. And there, in the center of it all, was Kade.
He was laughing, his arm possessively wrapped around Jodi Dawson. Her dress glittered. His suit was perfectly tailored. They looked like the quintessential power couple, polished and beaming. My stomach lurched.
Jodi leaned into Kade, whispering something in his ear. He threw his head back, a genuine, unrestrained laugh spilling from his lips. Then he bent down, his mouth finding hers in a long, lingering kiss. The cameras went wild.
My breath caught in my throat. My vision blurred, not from tears this time, but from a sudden, searing pain. It was a physical ache, deep in my chest.
I remembered last night. After our shared breakthrough, after the code was done, after the celebration that had spilled into his bed. I remembered reaching for him, my fingers brushing his chest, seeking closeness. He had subtly, gently, moved away. He' d kissed my forehead, a chaste, almost paternal gesture. He had murmured something about respecting my space, about not wanting to rush things, about how special "we" were. He said he wanted to be careful, to make sure it was right.
A fresh wave of nausea washed over me. He had lied. Every word, every touch, every cautious gesture – a calculated performance. He didn't want to rush me. He didn't want to rush us. He just didn't want me.
The realization hit me with the force of a tidal wave. He wasn't averse to intimacy; he was averse to intimacy with me. It was a cruel, humiliating truth that twisted my gut. My body felt like it was shutting down. My lungs seized, struggling to draw in air. Each breath was a ragged gasp.
He had been setting the stage for this. Testing the waters. Confirming my naivete. The "unpaid intern," the "beta test," the "placeholder." It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Kade Dalton, the ambitious heir, was a master manipulator. He' d always been ruthless in business, but I had foolishly believed his ruthlessness ended where our friendship began.
The muffled cheers from Ava's phone, the distant roar of the crowd, only amplified the terrifying silence in my own room. Kade and Jodi kissed again, a slow, sensual performance for the cameras. He ran his hand through her hair, his thumb caressing her jawline. It was a gesture he had never once offered me. Not once.
He was doing it to rub it in. He was doing it because he knew I' d see it. This wasn't just a strategic merger; it was a public execution of my feelings, a brutal display of my irrelevance.
"Addy! Oh my god, Addy, are you okay?" Ava' s voice was full of frantic concern. "I swear to God, I'm going to fly over there right now and kick his smug face in! How dare he?"
My throat was raw, constricted. A terrible, guttural sob ripped through me. "No, Ava. Don't."
"Don't what? Don't care that he's publicly humiliating you after you gave him everything? Don't care that he used you like some disposable... some thing?" Her voice cracked with anger.
The bile rose in my throat. My head pounded. My heart hammered, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. Humiliation, hot and searing, washed over me. It wasn't just that he had used me; it was that he had so utterly devalued me. My intellect, my emotions, my body - they were all just tools in his grand scheme. He didn't just dismiss my contributions; he dismissed me.
Kade pulled away from Jodi, his eyes sparkling with an inner glee. He smiled, a genuine, blinding smile, reserved for moments of triumph. It was the same smile he used to give me when we' d crack a difficult line of code, or when our app prototypes finally worked. I had treasured that smile, foolishly believing it was a sign of shared joy, shared success.
It was a lie. All of it. That smile, once my beacon, now looked like the wicked grin of a predator.
"I can't," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. "I can't watch this anymore, Ava."
"Oh, Addy, I'm so sorry," Ava said, her voice softening. "I shouldn't have shown you. Do you want me to come over?"
"No," I managed, shaking my head violently. "I just... I need to be alone."
I ended the call, the silence in my room deafening. Kade's triumphant smile, Jodi's possessive gaze, the flashing cameras-all burned into my mind. I was alone. Utterly, completely alone. And the darkness was closing in.
