Ethan's gym was silent that morning. The regulars, a few finance guys, the two women athletes and whatever men were kind enough to always grunt louder than they should lifting weights. He liked it here. One of the few places where no one asked shitty questions, where no one gave a damn who he was dating or what their last name was.
Until today.
He was in the middle of his second set of incline presses when Marcus, one of his former college roommates and colleague, approached, phone in hand.
"Yo," Marcus said, grinning. "You seen this?"
Ethan didn't look up.
Ethan grabbed his water bottle, took a long drink, then stood.
"She's playing a game," he said. "She always does this. Acts like she's moved on, posts some dramatic picture, waits for me to react."
Marcus frowned. "You think she's waiting for you?"
"I know she is," Ethan said. "She just wants to see if I still care."
"And do you?"
Ethan smirked. "Of course I do. But I'm not chasing her. Let her have her fun. Let her play house with Kane for a while. She'll come back."
But she genuinely looks happy?"
Ethan looked at him. "I know her. Better than anyone."
Marcus nodded slowly. "Alright, man. Whatever you say."
Ethan clapped him on the back. "Trust me. She'll come around. All I have to do is remind her what we had."
He walked off toward the locker room, confidence in every step.
But Marcus stayed behind, staring at the photo on his phone.
And wondering if Ethan really believed any of what he just said.
____
Fiona has been noticing it .
She was walking past the front desk when she saw miya, Ethan's secretary, standing by the printer, pretending to fix a paper jam that didn't exist.
Her eyes weren't on the machine.
They were on Ethan.
He was across the lobby, talking to someone from finance, laughing about something that probably wasn't funny. He looked good, as usual,tailored suit, perfect hair, that easy smile he wore like armor.
Fiona watched Miya for a moment.
The way her eyes lingered.
The way she bit her lip.
She seemed to be trying to get his attention without being over by the slight tilt of her head. It was clear. Fiona clenched her jaw. She turned and left.
She didn't forget, though.
It happened again the next day.
Ethan passed the reception desk where Miya was going through a pile of files. He gave her a courteous but preoccupied nod. From the other side of the room, Fiona noticed it. She marched in the direction of Ethan's office,her heels hitting the marble titles with frustration.
She waited until the majority of the office had left for lunch. Miya was typing something that didn't seem urgent at her desk. Fiona walked over, heels sharp against the tile.
"Miya," she said, voice smooth.
The girl looked up, startled. "Yes, Ms.Hayes?"
Fiona smiled. "Come with me."
Miya hesitated. "Is something wrong?"
"I think it would be better for the both of us if we talk in private."
She turned and walked toward the small conference room at the end of the hall. Miya followed, clutching her notepad like a shield.
Fiona closed the door behind them.
Then turned.
Arms crossed. Eyes cold.
"I'm going to ask you something," she said. "And I want you to be honest."
Miya blinked. "Okay…"
"Are you sleeping with Ethan?"
The girl's eyes widened in surprise and terror. "What? No! Of course not!" she blurted out, making a great effort to avoid appearing suspicious. Fiona took a step nearer. "But you wish to." Miya's jaw dropped open. Cut off. "I—I don't—" Fiona said, "Don't lie to me." "I've observed your gaze on him. like a dog pleading for leftovers." Miya's face turned red. "I don't—" "You're pathetic," said Fiona angrily. "Going after a man who doesn't even know your name." Miya started crying. "I'm not —"
"You're a secretary," Fiona said. "Not a mistress. And definitely not a replacement, not even a fling."
Miya's voice cracked. "I wasn't trying to replace anyone—"
Fiona laughed. "Please. You think he's going to look at you? You think he's going to pick you over me?"
Miya's lip trembled. "I didn't mean—"
"You didn't mean to be a slut?" Fiona said. "Because that's what you look like. A desperate little slut who thinks batting her lashes is enough to get a man."
Miya started to cry.
Soft, quiet sobs.
Fiona rolled her eyes.
But before she could say anything else, the receptionist, Carla, stepped into the room.
She'd heard enough.
"Alright," Carla said, voice sharp. "That's enough."
Fiona turned. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Carla said. "You don't get to talk to her like that."
"She's throwing herself at her boss."
"She's his secretary," Carla said looking at Fiona like a clown caught in headlights. "Not a saint. And you? You're a grown woman bullying a girl half your size."
Fiona's eyes narrowed. "She's pathetic."
"She's human," Carla snapped. "And you're not exactly innocent. You dated Ethan while your sister was still with him."
Fiona's face went still.
Carla stepped closer.
"You want to talk about sluts?" she said. "Look in the mirror."
Fiona's jaw clenched.
But she didn't respond, she knew she couldn't face her off alone and Ethan has already scolded her once before and she doesn't want a repeat of that day.
She turned and walked out, heels clicking like gunshots.
Miya stood there, still crying.
Carla walked over and handed her a tissue.
"You okay?"
Miya nodded, wiping her eyes. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."
"I know," Carla said. "But next time? Don't stare so hard. And do stay away from him,he won't look at you ever in this life or the next ."she said in a matter of fact tone
Miya starred at her shocked.
Carla sighed. "Come on. Let's get some air."
They walked out together.
And Fiona, watching from the hallway, made a mental note.
Miya Langford was a problem.
But Carla?
Carla was a bigger one.
__
After leaving Ethan's office, Fiona didn't go straight home. She was too wound up, too irritated to sit in silence and stew. The whole thing — Miya's pathetic little crush, Carla's self-righteous tone, the way Ethan didn't even notice — it all made her skin itch.
She needed a reset.
So she did what she always did when the world got too loud: she called the girls.
> "Quick catch-up? Coffee and maybe a little shopping?"
Clarissa replied first, obviously already bored at work. Naomi followed with a thumbs-up emoji and a "God, yes." Elise just sent a heart, which was typical.
They agreed to meet at their usual spot — a sleek little café tucked between a boutique perfume shop and a place that sold candles for the price of rent. Fiona had picked it out two years ago, back when it first opened. Said it had the best croissants in the city, which was technically true. But what she didn't say — what none of them ever asked — was that she only got the VIP seat card after going on a date with the owner's son.
A date that ended with her scrubbing her mouth raw in the bathroom sink and blocking his number before dessert.
But the lighting was good, the staff never made them wait, and the table by the window was always reserved. So, worth it. Kind of.
She arrived last, as always, sliding into the booth with her sunglasses still on and her mood barely held together.
Clarissa was already halfway through a matcha latte, Naomi was scrolling through her phone like it owed her money, and Elise was stirring her tea like it had personally offended her.
"God, I needed this," Fiona said, dropping her bag beside her and waving for a waiter.
Clarissa grinned. "You and me both. This week's been a mess."
Naomi didn't look up. "Did you see the post?"
Fiona reached for the menu, even though she already knew what she wanted. "What post?"
Naomi turned her phone around. "This one."
Fiona didn't even need to look. She already knew.
Isadora. Kane. That photo. That caption.
Let them watch.
Of course.
She blinked once, then smiled — the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh. That."
Clarissa leaned in, eyes wide. "It's everywhere. People are obsessed."
Elise nodded. "It's kind of romantic, honestly."
Fiona set the menu down. "Romantic?"
Naomi shrugged. "I mean, it's bold. She's not hiding anymore."
Fiona let out a short laugh. "You girls are so predictable."
Clarissa raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Fiona leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs. "You see one photo and suddenly she's the queen of the city? Please. She's not bold. She's desperate."
Elise frowned. "I don't think that's fair—"
"Fair?" Fiona cut in. "You think it's fair that she gets to play the victim for months, then post one moody picture and suddenly she's everyone's darling?"
Naomi looked at her. "You sound a little… tense."
Fiona's smile dropped. "You think I care about her? About that post? She's a placeholder. Kane's bored. That's all this is."
Clarissa exchanged a look with Naomi. "Fiona…"
Fiona leaned forward, voice low. "You know what? You all sit here pretending to be these polished, classy women, but the second someone gets a little attention, you're drooling over it like it's gospel. You're not classy. You're just fake bitches who follow headlines."
The table went quiet.
Clarissa blinked. "Wow."
Naomi set her drink down. "That's rich, coming from you."
Fiona tilted her head. "Excuse me?"
"You've been name-dropping the Shaws for years," Naomi said. "Throwing parties, acting like you're royalty. But now that someone else is in the spotlight, you're spiraling."
Fiona's jaw clenched. "I don't need the spotlight. I am the spotlight."
Clarissa stood. "Not today, you're not."
Elise looked like she wanted to disappear into her teacup.
Naomi grabbed her bag. "Enjoy your latte, Fiona."
They stood up, one by one, and walked out — heels clicking, voices low.
Fiona sat there alone, staring at her untouched drink.
She picked up her phone, opened Isadora's post again.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Then she whispered, "Let them watch, huh?"
Her lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Let's see how long you last."
She was still staring at the screen when Elise came back.
She stood awkwardly at the edge of the table, clutching her purse like a shield.
"Hey," she said softly. "I know that got a little… intense. But maybe we could still go shopping? Just to cool off?"
Fiona looked up slowly.
Her expression unreadable for a moment.
Then she scoffed. "You think I want to go shopping with you right now?"
Elise blinked. "I just thought—"
"You thought wrong," Fiona snapped. "Go follow the others. You're good at that."
Elise's face fell.
She nodded once, quietly.
Then turned and walked away.
Fiona didn't watch her go.
She just sat there, alone, in the café she'd once ruled like a queen
And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like one.
She felt weighted down by everything.