The first photograph appeared online the following morning.
Alexander Whitmore, Chicago's notoriously private billionaire, was pictured holding open a café door while I stepped onto the sidewalk.
The headline was ridiculous.
Billionaire's Mystery Woman: Romance After a Midnight Accident?
I stared at my phone.
Then I stared at Tasha.
Then I stared at my phone again.
"How did they even find us?"
Tasha took a bite of toast.
"He's a billionaire, Maya."
"So?"
"So people photograph billionaires buying groceries. You think they're going to ignore him having coffee with a beautiful woman?"
I groaned.
"We weren't on a date."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Were you?"
"I don't know."
"Did you want it to be a date?"
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Then threw a pillow at her.
She laughed.
My phone rang.
Alexander.
I answered.
"Please tell me you haven't seen the internet."
"I've seen it."
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
"Because now people are talking about us."
He paused.
"Does that bother you?"
I looked at the photograph.
He was smiling at me.
I hadn't noticed that when it happened.
"Not exactly."
"Then don't let strangers decide what yesterday meant."
I smiled.
"That's surprisingly good advice."
"I have my moments."
Then his tone became more serious.
"Maya, I want you to know something. I didn't invite you for coffee because I felt obligated after the accident."
I stopped smiling.
"Then why did you?"
"Because I wanted to see you again."
My heart started beating faster.
"Oh."
He laughed softly.
"That wasn't meant to make you uncomfortable."
"It didn't."
A pause.
Then I added, "I wanted to see you again, too."
Two days later, my manager called.
I was still on medical leave, so I assumed she wanted to check on my recovery.
Instead, she sounded nervous.
"Maya, I need you to come into the office."
"Is something wrong?"
"It's about your position."
My stomach tightened.
I had worked for Sterling Events for nearly six years.
I had organized some of the company's largest accounts, trained junior coordinators, and regularly worked weekends without complaint.
I loved my job.
But when I arrived at the office, my manager wouldn't meet my eyes.
She explained that the company was restructuring.
My position was being eliminated.
I stared at her.
"Eliminated?"
"I'm sorry."
"Since when?"
"The decision was finalized this morning."
I looked at the folder on her desk.
Inside was a severance agreement.
Three weeks of pay.
A reminder to return my company laptop.
And a confidentiality clause.
Something felt wrong.
"Why am I the only senior coordinator being let go?"
She looked away.
"It's complicated."
I almost laughed.
I was beginning to hate that phrase.
I left without signing anything.
Outside the building, I sat on a bench and called Tasha.
"I lost my job."
"What?"
"They fired me."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
She was silent for a moment.
Then she said, "Maya, you need to call someone who understands employment law."
"I know."
"And don't sign anything."
"I won't."
I ended the call and stared at the traffic.
In less than two weeks, I had lost my boyfriend, my apartment, and my job.
My birthday dress was still hanging in Tasha's guest room.
I hadn't been able to look at it.
My phone vibrated.
Marcus.
He had found a way to contact me through a new number.
Heard about your job. We should talk.
I stared at the message.
Then another appeared.
I might be able to help you.
I should have ignored him.
Instead, I typed:
How did you know?
His answer arrived immediately.
People talk.
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
That evening, Alexander found me sitting alone in a small park near Tasha's apartment.
I had told him about losing my job when he called.
He hadn't offered money.
He hadn't tried to fix everything.
He had simply asked whether I wanted company.
When he arrived, he handed me a paper cup.
"Hot chocolate."
I looked at him.
"How did you know?"
"You said coffee makes you anxious when you're upset."
I blinked.
I had mentioned that once.
During our first meeting.
He remembered.
We sat quietly for a while.
Then I told him everything.
The sudden restructuring.
The severance agreement.
Marcus's message.
Alexander listened.
When I finished, his expression was serious.
"Have you spoken to an attorney?"
"Not yet."
"I can give you the names of several independent employment attorneys if you'd like."
I looked at him.
"You're not going to offer to buy the company and fire everyone?"
He smiled faintly.
"I suspect that would make your situation significantly more complicated."
I laughed.
Then my eyes filled with tears.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For being a mess."
He turned toward me.
"Maya, you've had a terrible two weeks."
"I know."
"You don't have to pretend otherwise."
I looked down at my cup.
"I keep thinking that if I had been better, Marcus wouldn't have cheated. If I had paid more attention, I wouldn't have stepped into the street. If I had worked harder, maybe I wouldn't have lost my job."
Alexander was quiet.
Then he said, "You're assigning yourself responsibility for decisions other people made."
I looked at him.
He continued.
"Marcus chose to betray you. Your employer chose to eliminate your position. And I was the one driving the car."
His voice softened.
"You don't have to carry everyone's mistakes."
I began to cry.
He didn't reach for me immediately.
He waited.
Then he asked, "May I?"
I nodded.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
And for the first time in a very long time, I allowed someone to comfort me without feeling obligated to apologize.
The next morning, Marcus appeared outside Tasha's building.
He was leaning against his car when I stepped onto the sidewalk.
"Maya."
I stopped.
"What are you doing here?"
"We need to talk."
"No, we don't."
He stepped closer.
"I know you're angry."
"Then respect that."
He looked at the building.
"Are you seriously staying here indefinitely?"
"That's none of your business."
He sighed.
"I came to offer you a way out."
I stared at him.
"A way out?"
"I spoke to someone at Sterling. I might be able to get your position back."
My stomach tightened.
"Why would you need to speak to someone at Sterling?"
He hesitated.
"I know people."
"Marcus."
"What?"
"Did you have something to do with me losing my job?"
His expression changed.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Answer me."
He looked away.
And that was all the answer I needed.
I stepped back.
"Oh my God."
"Maya, listen."
"What did you do?"
He lowered his voice.
"I may have mentioned to a few people that your personal life was becoming a distraction."
I stared at him.
"You told my employer that?"
"I was trying to protect you."
"By getting me fired?"
"I didn't know they'd take it that far."
My hands began to shake.
He reached toward me.
I stepped away.
"Don't touch me."
His face hardened.
"You're making a mistake."
"No. I made a mistake when I trusted you."
He glanced toward the street.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"Do you really think Alexander Whitmore is going to stay interested in you?"
I stared at him.
"What?"
"Men like him don't build lives with women like you."
I felt the words strike.
But this time, I didn't let them stay.
"Maybe he won't."
Marcus looked surprised.
"Maybe Alexander and I will never become anything more than friends."
I stepped closer.
"But that doesn't mean I should come back to someone who treats me like I don't matter."
Marcus opened his mouth.
I raised a hand.
"I'm done."
Then I walked away.
That afternoon, I met with an employment attorney.
I showed her the severance agreement, my performance reviews, and Marcus's messages.
She explained that we needed more information before drawing conclusions.
I agreed.
For once, I wasn't going to let someone else's confidence replace actual evidence.
Three days later, my former manager called.
Her voice trembled.
"Maya, there's something you need to know."
I sat down.
"What is it?"
"The restructuring wasn't real."
I stopped breathing.
She continued.
"Someone pressured the company to terminate you."
"Who?"
A long silence.
Then she whispered a name.
"Victoria Whitmore."
I stared at the wall.
Whitmore.
Alexander's last name.
And suddenly, I realized the trouble in my life might not have ended when I walked away from Marcus.
It might only have been beginning.