Page 89 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

"No." His voice gives Seattle’s month of snow a run for its money. "You just wrote it. Planned it. Used every moment oftrust to gather evidence. Tell me, was any of it real? Or was I just another ‘tech bro’ to take down?"

The truth sticks in my throat.

Because how do I explain that it started as revenge but became something else? That somewhere between champagne and revolution, I fell for the man I was supposed to destroy?

"I love you," I whisper, but the words feel inadequate against the weight of betrayal in his eyes.

"Loved the story, you mean." He straightens his jacket, CEO mask sliding into place. "The expose. The perfect takedown of another tech leader who dared to trust someone."

Through the terrace doors, I can hear Keith's revolutionary choir starting another number. Something about holiday bonuses and corporate equality.

"I chose you," I try again. "I didn't publish it. I chose?—"

"No." He steps back, each movement deliberate. "You chose to write it. To plan it. To use every moment of vulnerability as ammunition. The fact that you didn't publish it just means you got caught first."

"Alex—"

"Goodbye, Ms. Gallo." He heads for the door, then pauses. "Oh, and don't worry about your job. Unlike some people, I understand the difference between personal and professional betrayal."

He leaves me there in the snow, Keith's revolutionary carols providing an ironically festive soundtrack to my complete disaster.

Through the windows, I watch him return to the party. Watch him smile and network and play the perfect CEO while my heart shatters in the December storm.

My phone buzzes - another baby shower email from Roberto. Something about "new chapters" and "fresh starts" and everything I just thoroughly destroyed.

Somewhere inside, Keith's choir starts another number.Something about holiday magic and corporate revolution and all the things I thought I could have.

All the things I just lost.

Snow falls harder, but I barely feel it. Because sometimes the worst disasters aren't the ones you see coming.

Sometimes they're the ones you create yourself.

27

THE PRICE OF TRUTH

ALEX

"Your board's full of shit," Connor drops a thick folder on the Apex Club's private dining table. Seattle's December snow falls steadily outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, but up here on the thirtieth floor, we're insulated from everything except my spectacular fuck-up. "Legal action? While your stock's up twenty percent since she started?"

"Twenty-three," I correct automatically.

It’s only been three days since the gala, since Mac’s betrayal. But getting my life back on board hasn’t even been close to easy.

In the wake of me having to reveal Mackenzie’s identity to them, at last, I thought I would feel vindicated. Avenged. Or, at least, relief.

Instead, all I feel is numb.

I drain what’s left of my drink as Connor and Grayson watch me, my fingers swiping through my gray-streaked strands that are already in desperate need of a cut.

"Yeah, that's not helping your 'I'm totally over her' case."Connor signals the bartender. "Three of the good stuff. The really good stuff."

"I'm handling it."

"You're brooding," Grayson doesn't look up from his laptop. "While your stock soars and Keith teaches the development team something called 'Love's Corporate Lament' in four-part harmony."

My phone lights up -

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