Page 71 of Broken Rivalry

“I’ll wait for you then,” he insists.

“No, I’ll go with Eva. Go enjoy your weekend, Ethan.”

I see his nostrils flare with irritation. “We need to talk, Poppy. I won’t let things end like this.”

Don’t worry, Ethan Hawthorne. You will get your precious box, and then there’ll be no more reason for you to lie.

I force a smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes. “Of course, we’ll talk tonight.”

It seems to pacify him as he pulls up to my building, his gaze intense. “I love you, Poppy.”

I inhale deeply, struggling to keep my emotions in check. “Goodbye, Ethan.”

I grab my bags and hurry inside, not daring to look back. All I want is a shower to wash away his touch, his scent. I need to rebuild the walls around my heart, stronger than ever.

And after that? It’s time to confront Fitzgerald Hawthorne.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Eva asks, her voice filled with concern. We’re parked outside the towering glass building of Hawthorne Enterprises. Memories of my father working here come flooding back. I know the building’s ins and outs, especially how to get to the director’s floor without being noticed. The real challenge is whether Hawthorne Senior will see me.

I tap the box on my lap, determination burning in my eyes. “He’ll see me,” I say out loud, responding to my own concerns.

Eva’s fingers drum anxiously on the steering wheel. “Poppy, maybe it’s better to talk to Ethan first. Clear things up.”

I shake my head. “This is between his father and me.”

She hesitates. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I smile, touched by her offer. “No, this is something I need to do alone. To close the circle.”

Eva gives me a worried look before looking at the building again. “Just… be careful, okay?”

I nod, taking a deep breath as I open the car door. The cold air hits me, but I barely feel it. My focus is on the looming glass building in front of me: Hawthorne Enterprises. A place that once held fond memories of my father, now tainted with betrayal and deceit.

The revolving doors whisk me into the opulent lobby. Polished marble floors reflect the golden chandeliers above, and the hum of conversations fills the air. Businessmen and women, all dressed in sharp suits, move with purpose, their polished shoes clicking against the floor.

I approach the elevators, and as I press the call button, a security guard from behind the counter calls after me.

“Miss, do you have an appointment?”

The doors open, and I step in.

“Miss!” he calls again, standing up.

“I don’t need one,” I reply, pressing the button for the director’s floor. As the doors close, I take a moment to gather my thoughts, the weight of the box in my hands serving as a constant reminder of my mission.

You can do this, Poppy. You can do this.

The elevator dings, announcing my arrival. I step out into a plush waiting area, where a young secretary sits behind a sleek desk, typing away on her computer. She looks up as I approach, her perfectly manicured eyebrows rising in question.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her tone polite but distant.

“I’m here to see Fitzgerald Hawthorne,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

She chuckles, clearly amused. “Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” I reply, “but I think he’ll want to see me.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Tell him Poppy Lockwood is here.”

Her laughter stops abruptly, replaced by a look of surprise. She picks up the phone, dialing a number. “Mr. Hawthorne, there’s a young woman here to see you. She says her name is Poppy Lockwood.”

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