Page 55 of Worth the Fall

"Don’t," I groan, slumping into my soaked chair.

She grins. "You know, I heard sage is supposed to clear out bad vibes. Looks like you might have missed a spot."

I bury my face in my hands, muttering, "I am so screwed."

By the time I step into Mr. Whitman’s office, my clothes are damp, my hair is a mess, and my nerves are shot. I take a deep breath, clutching the folder I managed to salvage from my office as I walk through the door.

He’s seated behind his massive desk, his expression unreadable as he gestures for me to sit.

"Miss Mason," he begins, folding his hands on the desk, "I’d ask how your morning is going, but I think we both know the answer to that."

I lower myself into the chair, the faint squish of my wet clothes against the leather making me cringe. "Mr. Whitman, I want to start by apologizing. For the sprinklers, the fire alarm, the… everything. It was a disaster, and I take full responsibility for my part in it."

His brows lift, but he doesn’t say anything, so I press on.

"And about Cameron," I add, gripping the folder tightly. "The man you probably saw fleeing the building in meditation robes? He’s my ex. He’s been a… lingering presence in my life, and today, I lost my temper. It was unprofessional and unacceptable, and I take full responsibility for that, too."

For a long moment, Mr. Whitman doesn’t respond. He leans back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that makes my stomach churn. I brace myself for the lecture of a lifetime, but instead, his expression softens.

"Cameron, huh?" he says, shaking his head with a wry smile. "Let me tell you something, Mia. I handled my ex-wife’s legal affairs for years after we divorced. Even after I got remarried, I couldn’t seem to let it go—until my wife finally put her foot down and told me enough was enough."

I blink, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in the conversation.

He chuckles, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I get it. Relationships—especially the messy ones—have a way of following us around. Doesn’t make your outburst any less unprofessional, but… I understand where it came from."

Relief washes over me, and I feel the corners of my mouth twitch upward. "Thank you, Mr. Whitman. That means a lot."

"Don’t thank me yet," he says, his tone growing serious, "because we still need to talk about the Ramirez case."

I sit up straighter, my nerves flaring again.

"You’ve got potential, Mia," he continues, his gaze steady. "We’ve all seen it—the partners, myself included. You’re a bright legal mind, and you’ve got the drive and ambition to match. That’s why we wanted you to take the lead on this case."

My throat tightens, but I nod, determined to stay composed.

"This is a big opportunity," he says, leaning forward slightly. "Handling a client like Celine Ramirez means taking the reins, managing her business interests, and representing the firm at the highest level. It’s not just about the legal work—it’s about trust, leadership, and responsibility. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes," I say, my voice firm. "I’m ready."

He studies me for a moment, then nods. "Good. Because I think you are, too. Don’t make me regret it."

"I won’t," I promise, the weight of his words settling on my shoulders.

I rise to leave, clutching my folder tightly as I head for the door. But just as my hand touches the doorknob, I stop.

"Mr. Whitman," I say, turning back to face him.

He arches a brow. "Yes?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself.

Shit… here it goes.

"I need to tell you something."

CHAPTER 12

Miguel

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