The Promotion

Chapter Thirty-One

Ten minutes passed.

Then another.

I was still sitting in the car, motionless, hands locked around the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles had drained of colour. The sound of traffic flowed around me—engines humming, tyres crunching over asphalt—but it all felt distant, muted, like I was underwater.

I couldn't remember the last time I blinked.

Every time I tried to close my eyes, it felt like gravity doubled its pull, dragging me downward, pinning me to the seat. My chest felt hollow, my limbs heavy, as though all the energy had been siphoned out of me and left somewhere I couldn't reach.

This is the right thing, I told myself again and again.
You're doing the right thing.
You're choosing your future.

But my heart didn't believe it.
And my mind refused to follow.

A sharp car horn blared nearby, jolting me back into my body. I flinched, sucking in a breath, then forced myself to exhale slowly. In. Out. Again. I checked my reflection in the rear-view mirror—my eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, but calmer than before. I looked... functional.

Presentable enough to say goodbye.

When I reached the top floor, my access pass rested between my fingers, cool and familiar. A nervous smile tugged at my lips as I stared down at it. That little card had been everything—my authority, my independence, my sense of belonging. With it, I had been someone.

Once I handed it back, I wouldn't be.

The doors slid open before I could stop myself from hesitating.

"Miss Watts?" one of the girls said, startled. "Are you okay?"

Am I okay?

"Yes," I replied quickly, brushing past her before she could ask anything else.

I felt eyes follow me as I walked through the office. Whispers curled through the air like smoke.

Why is she here?
Didn't Alexander give her time off?
She looks like she's been crying...

I wanted to scream. To tell them none of it mattered because I was leaving anyway. Instead, I kept walking.

I paused at my office door, my fingers resting on the handle. When I pushed it open, familiarity hit me like a punch to the chest. The desk. The chair. The pens lined up exactly how I liked them. This space—this life—I had built it.

It felt like a second home.

The thought of someone else sitting here, rearranging it, replacing me, made my stomach churn.

"Louisa?"

His voice.

Soft. Low. Familiar enough to undo me in seconds.

Alexander stood in the doorway of his office, dressed in a crisp white shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. He looked devastatingly put together—like he always did—like the world hadn't just tilted off its axis.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Just seeing him made my body respond instinctively, warmth blooming in places I'd tried so hard to quiet. Butterflies fluttered awake like they'd never gone to sleep.

I moved quickly, crossing the room to the window, putting distance between us before my feet could betray me.

"Louisa?" he repeated, softer now.

I felt him before I saw him—his presence closing in, the air shifting. A hand settled on my shoulder, firm and warm, sending a slow-burning spark through my veins. With gentle pressure, he turned me to face him.