Page 92 of Filthy Rich Silver Foxes
Something snaps in my chest.
Before I can speak, before I can even move, I watch it happen—the moment Genevieve shuts down completely.
Her face smooths out, all emotion wiped clean in an instant. Her shoulders draw back. Her chin lifts. She retreats behind a carefully constructed mask.
And just like that, she’s gone.
The girl who laughed against my mouth, who trembled when I touched her, who trusted me with the softest, most breakable parts of herself—that girl vanishes behind steel walls I’m not sure I can breach again.
Heather smirks, clearly pleased with herself and the destruction she’s left in her wake.
My hands curl into fists against the desk.
I could destroy Heather. It would take three words, maybe four, to end her career, her reputation, everything she values.
But none of it would fix this.
None of it would bring Genevieve back to me.
I swallow the rage burning through my throat and focus on the only thing that matters: Genevieve, sitting there with her back ramrod straight, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her eyes blank.
I did this.
Heather just drove the knife in deeper.
Chapter27
Gen
Ibarely register what Heather says. I’m not sure I can hear anything over the ringing in my ears. I’m not even sure if I’m still breathing.
The moment she sweeps into the room, dripping smugness, her perfume poisoning the air, I know everything I need to know. She doesn't have to say a word. Her casual entrance tells me everything.
I sit frozen in my chair, nails digging into the fabric of my leggings, trying to keep myself anchored. I count my breaths in a desperate attempt to maintain control.
In. Two. Three. Four.
Out. Two. Three. Four.
Silas stiffens beside me. Max mutters a curse under his breath. Neither of them moves.
And Sebastian—Sebastian just stands there.
I don't even need confirmation. I can see it plain on his face. I can feel it in the way he doesn't immediately push Heather away, doesn't instantly slam the door on whatever claim she thinks she has.
Whatever foolish hope I’d been harboring about second chances, about rebuilding and finding some way to survive this together, shatters instantly.
I can't stay here.
I can’t breathe in this room, with her perfume clogging my lungs and his silence choking me.
Without a word, I rise from the chair. I don’t run, even if my entire body is screaming at me to do just that. I don't look at Max. I don't look at Silas. I certainly don't look at Sebastian.
I just walk. I hear Sebastian's low curse behind me.
"Genevieve—wait! Just—please."
I don't stop.
