As the highest-paid elite professional organizer in the industry, I'd taken a rush job at a five-hundred-dollar-an-hour rate.
The client was a pampered social media influencer who wanted me to pack up and burn every last trace of her fiancé's ex-girlfriend as fast as humanly possible.
"His ex was some boring hick from the middle of nowhere. Couldn't take a hint, just squatting in his life like she belonged there. Looking at this junk makes my skin crawl."
"I'm moving in tonight, Ms. Finch. I need every trace of her existence wiped clean."
I nodded, pulled on my professional gloves, and got to work.
But when I opened the master bedroom closet and started gathering up the so-called junk, my hands began to tremble.
That men's dress shirt, washed so many times it had faded to near-white — I'd embroidered the monogram myself.
That mug with the chipped rim — I'd shaped it with my own hands at a pottery studio.
And the photo on the wall, the one of me and my long-distance boyfriend of seven years, was being tossed into the trash can by the influencer with a look of pure disgust.
So this was what I'd been hired to organize and erase.
Every trace of my own existence in this man's life. Every sign that he had ever loved me.
——
My fingers clamped down on the edge of the garbage bag, knuckles blanching white from the pressure.
Davina Fox stood there in a silk nightgown, nudging one of the cardboard boxes on the floor with the tip of her toe.
"Ms. Finch, what are you spacing out for? Hurry up and get this cheap garbage out of here. My fiancé will be home any minute, and I don't want this trash ruining his mood."
Right then, the electronic chime of the front door's keypad echoed from the entryway.
"Davina, I'm home."
Otto James walked in wearing a perfectly tailored custom suit, a limited-edition shopping bag from a luxury brand swinging from one hand. He strode into the bedroom.
Davina instantly switched on a syrupy smile and threw herself into his arms.
"Otto! You're home so early today!"
Otto caught her by the waist, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"Wanted to see you sooner. You said the place was a mess, right? I brought you a gift—"
His voice cut off mid-sentence.
He'd turned his head and locked eyes with me.
The smile on Otto's face froze. His pupils contracted sharply. The arm wrapped around Davina's waist gave a violent twitch, and the luxury shopping bag slipped from his fingers, landing on the carpet with a muffled thud.
Davina didn't notice anything wrong. She pointed at me, beaming with pride.
"Otto, I hired the best organizer in the business. Five hundred dollars an hour! I've already had her clear out everything that country bumpkin ex-girlfriend of yours left behind."
I stood where I was, staring at Otto with cold, unblinking eyes.
Seven years of long-distance love.
To support his startup in the city, I'd stayed behind in our hometown, grinding through job after job, working fifteen-hour days until I'd wrecked my lower back with chronic strain.
He'd told me his company was just getting off the ground. That rent was too expensive. That he had no choice but to live in a run-down basement apartment.
And now here he stood, in a two-thousand-square-foot penthouse in the heart of downtown, wearing a suit I could never afford, with a young, beautiful influencer in his arms.
Otto swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He tore his gaze away from mine and forced out a stiff laugh, scrambling to sound casual.
"Davina, you could've just had the cleaning service handle this kind of grunt work. Why spend all that money?"
"Absolutely not!" Davina frowned and jabbed her finger toward the mug on the table — the one I'd shaped with my own hands. "That thing is hideous. I told her to smash it and she wouldn't even touch it. Otto, you smash it yourself. Prove that I'm the only one in your heart."
The color drained from Otto's face. His eyes darted back and forth between me and the mug.
On the bottom of that mug, our initials were carved side by side.
