Page 61 of The Boss

* * *

The rest of the morning was a blur. I went through the motions, answering emails, sitting in on meetings, pretending like my entire world hadn’t just imploded in Isaac Steele’s office. But it caught up with me eventually. The tightness in my chest, the way my hands trembled when I typed. The growing pressure behind my eyes, like a migraine waiting to break. I felt dizzy, unsteady, like the ground beneath me wasn’t solid anymore. I barely made it to the bathroom before the nausea hit.

Cold water. I needed cold water.

I turned the faucet on full blast, cupped my hands, and splashed it over my face. The sharp sting of it grounded me, yanking me back into my body. I gripped the edges of the sink, breathing deep, forcing air into my lungs. My reflection stared back at me—wide eyes, pale skin, the raw ache quivering just beneath the surface.

I couldn’t do this.

Iwouldn’tdo this.

I wiped my face dry, squared my shoulders, and walked straight to Zac’s office, shoving the door open without knocking.

He was mid-sentence, phone pressed to his ear, talking numbers and projections. His eyes snapped to mine, irritation flashing across his face. But he must’ve seen something in my expression—something unmovable—because he didn’t throw me out. “Listen, George, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he said curtly, then ended the call.

I shut the door behind me. “I can’t do this.”

Zac released a frustrated sigh. “Chris—”

“I can’t be your assistant anymore.” The words tumbled out, breathless but firm. “I need some space before I can even think about going back to how things were, and I can’t be around you right now.”

Something flickered in his gaze. “I’m not letting you quit. You’ve worked too hard, learned too much. I’m not letting you throw away your entire future on a whim, because you made an emotional decision.”

“Zac—”

“No, damn it!” His voice was harsh, cutting—but then the fire drained out just as fast, his next words softer, almost gentle. “You’re… too valuable to lose.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not quitting.”

His brow furrowed. “Oh.”

I inhaled, steadying myself. “I want to go back to my old position. As a developer. I was happy there. I want to earn my way up through my work, not because I was fucking the CEO.”

He flinched. Just a tiny, almost imperceptible reaction, but I caught it. His voice dipped lower. “Chris.” A pause. “You deserve better than that job. You’re talented. You’ve more than proved yourself. I was going to offer you a promotion—team lead—”

“I don’t want it,” I cut in. “Not like this.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re being stubborn.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well. So are you.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, thick with unsaid things.

Then Zac nodded, resigned. “Fine.” He picked up his phone. “Alicia? Come to my office, please.” When he hung up, he looked at me, unreadable. “I’ll tell Alicia to make the necessary arrangements and revise your contract. You’ll be back at your old post as of tomorrow.”

And so, with a word from Zac, it was done. We were done.

* * *

The next morning, I packed up my things and moved to my old department. It should have felt like a relief. Like slipping into a well-worn sweater, familiar and safe. And in some ways, it did—my old team welcomed me back with easy smiles, Darren slapping me on the back with a smirk.

“Back from the dark side, huh?” he teased.

“Escaped just in time,” I joked, forcing a grin.

“Guess that makes Isaac Darth Vader,” someone quipped, and the group laughed, rolling with the joke, oblivious to the knife twisting inside me.

I laughed along with them. Pretended everything was fine. That I wasn’t unraveling. That I wasn’t breaking apart inside.

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