Page 133 of My Only

What the fuck did she just say?

I blinked, slowly, deliberately. “I’m sorry?”

The air shifted.

Like I’d misheard her. Like the universe was giving me one last chance to pretend I didn’t hear what she just said.

She swallowed, then pressed a hand to her chest. “I never do this, Hassani. I swear I don’t.”

She placed a delicate hand on my desk next.

“This is my career,” she whispered. “I’m a respected designer. I’ve worked too hard to get here.”

Then she lifted her big, wide eyes to mine. Breathless. In awe.

She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re just… so different.”

And that’s when it hit me.

Is she telling me she lied?

I straightened, hands tightening into slow fists.

“Harper,” I said, voice controlled, measured. Sharp. “What are you saying to me right now?”

She licked her lips. Didn’t even hesitate.

“I lied about the design flaw,” she admitted. “What you created was perfect. There was never anything wrong with it.”

I exhaled, forcing all the air out of me. There was some relief in knowing what I created was perfect. I knew the design was solid, even after putting myself through hell trying to find the flaw she swore was there. But as much as that gave me relief, it also left me confused as hell.

“I’ve intentionally been creating delays to spend more time with you.”

Something in me recoiled.

“What?” I whispered.

Harper leaned forward, voice low. “The urgent model home adjustments. The wrong flooring situation. The design revisions…” She took a deep breath. “You didn’t have to stay late for any of those things.”

My pulse slammed into my ears.

The urgent model adjustments? That’s why I missed Ayla’s work mixer.

The wrong flooring? That’s why I missed the dinner where Ayla met her mother’s boyfriend for the first time.

The design flaw? That’s why I stayed late the night Harper suggested we go to Vernon’s. The night I ran into my father. The night I ended up in The Green Room getting my ass handed to me. And, most devastatingly, the night I came home to a fed-up Ayla who told me she wanted a divorce.

Harper had lied. About all of it.

The flow issue. The accessibility concerns. The layout revisions.

Every delay was a fucking lie.

“You wasted my time,” I said, voice low. My eyes lifted to hers, steady. Controlled. Lethal. “You wasted the team’s time. Harper…”

I dropped my head, inhaled deep, trying to rein myself in.

“Do you know how much money you may have cost this project?”

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