Chapter 7: Tangled Motives
David made his way to the parking garage, jaw tight with frustration.
He hadn't expected to run into Zara today, he'd planned the entire morning specifically to avoid her.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, yanking open the car door. "Why did I have to see her today of all days?"
The guilt had faded long ago, now, all he felt was exhaustion. He was tired of her questioning, her fiery outbursts, the expectations he could no longer meet. He wasn't the man Zara wanted him to be and deep down, he never really had been.
As he slid into the driver's seat, his phone began to ring.
"Shit," he cursed, glancing at the screen.
A chill ran through him. It was him.
He hesitated before answering.
"Hello?"
A deep, no-nonsense voice echoed through the line.
"How did it go? Have you spoken to them yet?"
David tried to steady his voice.
"Uh… not yet, sir. One of them refused to talk to me, but I'll head over to the other guy's place. The one we met the other day. I'll make it happen."
Silence.
He pulled the phone away from his ear—the call had ended.
"Of course," he scoffed, tossing the phone into the passenger seat. "Hangs up like a ghost."
He exhaled sharply and started the engine, already dreading what the day had in store.
---
Meanwhile, across the city in a high-rise office draped in steel, glass, and quiet luxury…
Damien sat behind a sleek matte-black desk, its surface spotless but for a neat stack of files, a silver pen, and a crystal decanter.
Across from him sat Floyd Matthews—tall, dark-skinned, sharp-jawed, and effortlessly cool in his custom tailored Charcoal Gray Suit. Floyd wasn't just Damien's childhood friend; he was his right-hand man, the only person allowed behind Damien's tightly controlled walls. They had known each other since high school, fought battles side by side in business and in life, and while Damien rarely showed it, Floyd was the closest thing he had to a brother.
"So…" Floyd leaned back, arms folded. "What did they say?"
"One of them refused to talk," Damien replied, his voice cold and clipped as he flicked the cap off his pen and returned to scribbling notes.
Floyd sighed, grabbing the bottle of aged whiskey on the table between them and pouring a glass.
"Damn. I don't get it. I know they're attached to the place, but with the kind of money we're offering?" He took a long sip. "They could relocate anywhere. Somewhere nicer, even. A clean start."
Damien didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the paperwork in front of him, his pen moving with practiced precision.
Finally, he spoke.
"They'll come around."
His voice held no doubt only certainty. Cold. Final.
Floyd smirked.
"You always say that. And somehow, you're always right."
Damien said nothing.
He didn't need to be right.
He just needed to win.
---
Zara slammed the office door behind her, tossed her pink Stanley cup onto the desk, and sank into her chair. Her heart was racing. Her thoughts were messy. Her face was blank—but her spirit? Wrecked.
Running into David had shattered whatever strength she had pieced together that morning.
How dare he stand there like nothing happened? Like we didn't build three damn years together?
She didn't respond to Tessy's greeting. She didn't even notice it.
Tessy watched through the glass walls, blinking in confusion. "Okay... someone's clearly not okay," she muttered, quietly sipping her smoothie and stealing glances at the office door.
Zara pulled out her phone with trembling fingers and tapped Jessica's name. She needed her best friend. She needed her anchor.
Ring... Ring...
Jessica answered on the third ring, her voice loud and teasing.
"Heyyy bad b! Finally sober or should I send you ginger tea and a priest?"
Zara exhaled sharply, but there was no amusement in her voice. "Jessy… I'm not in the mood today."
Jessica instantly went quiet.
"What happened? Talk to me."
Zara's voice was low, strained. "I came into the office all bubbly, you know... trying to be the 'CEO baddie' I always am. Then boom… guess who I ran into in front of the elevator?"
Jessica's tone lifted curiously. "Who? Wait—was it Stei again?"
Zara let out a dry chuckle through her frustration. "God, no. Worse. It was him. David."
There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then—
"David?! That two-faced, emotionally constipated piece of—"
"Jessy…"
"No, because what the actual hell was he doing there?, wait, tell me he came to see you and apologize?"
Zara leaned forward, resting her forehead against the edge of her desk. "I wish he did, but he said he came to speak with a client. Can you imagine? Walks in here like nothing happened. Like ghosting me for two months was a casual thing."
Jessica's voice was sharp with fury. "Zara… please tell me you didn't just stand there and let him walk off?"
Zara sat up, voice trembling. "I didn't. I confronted him. Right there in the elevator. I gave him a piece of my mind—but Jessy, he didn't even flinch. No guilt. No remorse. Just... cold indifference."
Jessica sighed heavily on the other end. "He's a heartless bastard, Z. He really is."
"I hate that I still care," Zara whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek. "I hate that his silence still stings. I hate that I remember our late-night drives, our morning texts, our stupid little jokes. I gave him everything, Jessy. My time, my trust… my heart."
Her voice cracked. "And he tossed it all like trash."
Jessica's tone softened, the teasing completely gone. "Baby, you don't deserve this. You never did. That man wouldn't recognize a queen if she slapped him with a diamond-studded crown. You gave him light, and he chose to walk into the dark."
Zara sniffled, wiping her tears gently to preserve her makeup. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry today. But... God, Jessy, it just hurts. I'm trying to move on, I really am."
"You don't have to be strong all the time, love. Cry if you need to. But after this? You rise. Because classy girls don't chase—they reign."
Zara managed a weak smile. "You always know the right things to say."
"I'm your best friend. It's in the job description."
"I love you, Jessy."
"I love you more, my fave CEO."
For a moment, they just breathed together. One heart holding space for the other.
Then, as only best friends could, they slipped into laughter—ridiculous memes, Jessica's latest Tinder disaster, and gossip about Stei's awful synthetic wig from the last meeting.
The ache didn't vanish completely, but it dulled.
And in its place, strength began to return.
Zara looked out her window, eyes fierce despite the shimmer of leftover tears.
He may have walked away... but I'm just getting started.