Page 147 of My Only

That morning, I dragged myself out of bed, feeling like a shell of myself. I was exhausted, frustrated, but most of all?

I was ashamed.

I didn’t go to the guest room to talk to Ayla the night before. I wanted to. But I was too defeated, too embarrassed, too damn disappointed in myself for letting Harper outplay me. My father had been right. I’d been lying to myself.

So, instead?

I showered when I was done with the treadmill in the basement.

I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling and through the skylight.

And by 4 a.m., I knew exactly what I needed to do.

I left the house early, calling Bryant’s assistant, Chelsea, on the drive to Manhattan, asking if he had any availability. I figured he wouldn’t. Bryant Greene was a billionaire. His schedule stayed booked.

But when his assistant called me back five minutes later to tell me she’d squeezed me in for an early meeting?

I took it.

I didn’t want to have this meeting.

But I needed to.

“Hassani.”

I turned at the sound of Bryant’s voice as he stepped into his office.

I pushed my hands into the armrests of the chair, preparing to stand, but he held up a hand.

“Please, don’t get up.”

His office was huge—a penthouse-level workspace with views of the Manhattan skyline. It was the kind of office that screamed power.

Bryant walked in, reaching for the button on his suit jacket as he studied me. “How are you?”

I exhaled. Forced a nod. “Better this morning.”

His brows furrowed. He held up a hand, pressing it to the lapel of his designer suit. “You’re not quitting… are you?”

His voice was half-joking, but I caught the tension in it.

“Because if I need to schedule a session with my therapist, let me know now.”

I let out a low chuckle. “No, Bryant. I’m not quitting. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He laughed lowly, visibly relieved as he exhaled. “Okay, good. Because when my principal architect calls for a last-minute meeting, it’s usually not a good sign.”

Bryant shrugged off his jacket and placed it on the nearby coat rack before stepping behind his desk.

He didn’t sit down right away.

“So… what’s going on?”

I sighed, clenching my jaw.

Pissed that I even had to do this.

“It’s Harper, Bryant.”

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