Page 41 of Breaking
Not the other way around.
Later, Troy stared at his phone, the screen glowing in the dim office light. The message thread remained unchanged.
Unread.
A cold wave of dread settled in his stomach.
He had spent so long assuming that, eventually, she would come back. That this was temporary. That she just needed time.
But what if it wasn't?
What if this was permanent?
What if he had pushed her too far?
The thought sent a ripple of panic through him, and for the first time in years, Troy felt completely out of control.
The feeling was suffocating, pressing against his chest like a weight he couldn't shake. He had built his entire career on fixing things, on seeing patterns and solving complex problems-but he couldn't solve this. Jenna wasn't a faulty system he could troubleshoot; wasn't a malfunctioning algorithm he could rewrite. She was gone, and the realization that he might not be able to bring her back settled in his gut like lead.
His office door creaked open.
"You work too hard."
Troy barely glanced up as Lila's voice broke the silence. He had heard that tone before-low, suggestive, as if they shared some secret understanding. But tonight, there was something more. Something determined.
She perched on the edge of his desk, crossing her legs deliberately, her long red fingernails tapping lightly against the polished wood. The office was quiet, the hum of the city outside muffled by the glass walls. Everyone had left for the night. Everyone but them.
"You need to relax," she continued, tilting her head, watching him like she had already decided for both of them.
Troy sighed and leaned back, rubbing his temple. "And you need to respect office hours."
Lila laughed softly, unfazed. "I'm serious, Troy. You look exhausted. You need someone who understands you."
She reached out, resting her hand on his shoulder, her red nails tracing a slow, deliberate path down his sleeve. "You give so much. To your work, to your family. But who takes care of you?"
Troy turned to her then, really looking at her, and a ridiculous, uncharitable thought crossed his mind.
She looked like a budget Morticia Addams.
All that dramatic black clothing, the long, inky hair, the slinky movements. Except instead of elegant and mysterious, she looked like Morticia's long-lost cousin who had been rejected from a second-rate soap opera for being too obvious.
And the nails-Christ, the nails. She waved them around like they were meant to hypnotize him. Did she sharpen them every morning? Was she planning to seduce him or fillet him?
The image was so absurd that a short huff of laughter almost escaped him.
Lila must have mistaken his reaction because she leaned in further, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her breath warm against his ear.
"I see you, Troy," she murmured. "You and Jenna have been over for a long time. Everyone knows it. It's time you let yourself have what you really want."
Troy frowned, irritation creeping into his tone. "I don't know what the hell you think you're doing-"
Lila leaned in, her scent cloying, her lips parting slightly as her fingers brushed his tie. "I'm doing what we both know has been building for years," she whispered, pressing closer. "You deserve more, Troy. Someone who appreciates you, who understands what it's like to be you."
Her lips grazed his jaw, a slow, deliberate movement that set his pulse hammering-not in excitement, but in sheer disbelief at what was happening.
This is a joke,he thought.This has to be a joke.
"Lila," he growled, gripping her arms and pushing her back. "This isn't happening."
