Page 21 of The Valentine Agenda

"I have a call scheduled with investors," he lied, hating how weak it sounded.

"Of course you do." She studied him. "My grandmother used to say: A man's character isn't in his wallet, James. It's in the wounds he leaves on others."

As the doors closed, James caught one final glimpse of his reflection. His tie sat perfectly straight, his suit perfectly pressed. Everything about him was perfect.

Except for the uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

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James's corner office felt smaller than usual. The city sprawled out beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows, but all he could see was an empty chair at Nero's.

"Your 11:30 is ready," Angela's voice came through the intercom.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, standing abruptly. He was James Park. He didn't waste time feeling guilty about strategic decisions. The plan had worked—Vanessa had seen exactly what he wanted her to see.

But the image wouldn't leave: Hannah, watching the door. The champagne getting warm. Her smile getting more strained with each passing minute.

Had she ordered anything? Or had she just sat there, not wanting to start without him? The thought made his stomach turn.

Why does this bother me?

He'd done worse things in business. Had to, to get where he was. This was no different. Hannah was just... collateral damage in a larger strategy.

Except.

Eight hundred and forty-seven dollars. How much did teachers get paid?

"Stop it," he commanded himself, but his reflection in the window looked uncertain. Un-James-like.

His phone buzzed: another message from Mike congratulating him on a perfectly executed plan. The photos had hit exactly the tone they wanted.

James opened Instagram, scrolling to his latest post. There was Hannah, caught in profile against the city lights, looking overwhelmed by Nero's elegance. Her silver apple necklace was the kind you'd find in a department store jewelry counter.

The caption he'd written—Sometimes the best things in life are right in front of you—had seemed perfect that night.

This morning they made him feel physically ill.

Because shehadbeen right in front of him, hadn't she? Every morning in the lobby. Helping elderly residents with their groceries. Smiling at him even when he never smiled back.

The delete button for the post seemed to mock him. But deleting it now wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't give her back the time she'd spent anticipating their date. Wouldn't erasethe memory of her sitting there, alone, making excuses for a man who'd used her kindness against her.

"Mr. Park?" Angela's voice again. "Your mother is on line one. Something about dinner?"

James stared at his phone, at his perfectly curated social media presence. At all the evidence of a life where he'd never had to think about the people he stepped on to maintain his image.

"Mr. Park?"

"Tell her I'm in a meeting."

But even his standard excuse felt hollow now. Because somewhere in this city, a third-grade teacher was probably standing in front of her class, pretending that night hadn't happened. Pretending she hadn't expected decency from a man who had instead stepped all over her.

CHAPTER TEN

Hannah

"Ms. Miller, look! I made the clouds angry because that's how my grandpa feels when his knees hurt!"

Hannah leaned over Zack's desk, studying his painting with the serious attention it deserved. The dark swirls did capture something raw and honest about pain. "That's really powerful, Zack. I love how you used color to show emotion."

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