Haunted By The Girl He Disowned

It happened at the company holiday gala: I threw up all over the CEOs most important investor.

My colleagues scattered as if a bomb had gone off, and even my boss, Gabe Holloway, had to personally step in and apologize for me.

Yet, the investor didnt look angry. In fact, he looked mildly concerned, telling Gabe, Her tolerance is terrible. You should keep an eye on her.

Gabes jaw practically hit the floor.

As soon as the banquet ended, my co-workers swarmed me, desperate for gossip.

That was Cole Grayson, someone hissed. The Cole Grayson. How do you know him?

ColeGraysonpaused mid-stride in the crowd and glanced my way.

I looked past him and forced a hollow laugh. I dont. Were not friends.

After all, three years ago when we broke up, the only thing Cole had asked was that I never mention wed been together.

The noisy room fell silent for a beat.

A few seconds later, someone spoke up, skepticism thick in their voice. No way.

His suit alone was six figures. Youre telling me he wouldnt raise hell, and hed actually tell our boss something like that, if you werent close?

Tell him what? I had been genuinely drunk and hadn't quite caught what Cole had said.

I could only shake my head and repeat, Were really not close.

Mr. Grayson probably let it slide because of our boss, Gabe.

Everyone knew Gabe Holloway had a wide social circle. His relationship with Cole Grayson was certainly deep enough to warrant a courtesy pass.

Really?

I met the curious gaze of the woman who asked. After studying my face for a long moment, she convinced herself.

Youre right.

It has to be Gabe. If Rhea Sutton actually knew someone like that, would she be here grinding out hours in a cubicle farm like the rest of us?

Still, I heard Cole is getting engaged at the end of the month. Maybe hes just in a good mood.

That tidbit seemed to satisfy most of my colleagues.

The only person who didnt buy it was Gabe himself, who I rarely saw on the floor. He stood with a cigarette between his fingers, his eyebrow arched in a silent challengeIll just stand here and watch you squirm.

I calmly shifted my gaze away.

I hadnt exactly lied. Three years was a lifetime; we were strangers now.

More to the point, Cole had made his boundaries clear back then. I wasnt even allowed to speak his name.

The party wrapped up. Cole walked toward the exit with Gabe.

As he passed me, he turned his head and gave me a long, deliberate look. I maintained the expression of a polite stranger, not even lifting my eyes.

Only after the two men left did the atmosphere in the room lighten up again. Gossip about Cole Grayson immediately resurfaced.

When someone mentioned his fiance, a colleague sighed.

Blythe Prescott. The trust fund baby. The only thing shes ever struggled with is deciding on a coffee order.

Born with a silver spoon, and Coles childhood sweetheart to boot. The diamond in her engagement ring alone is terrifyingly expensive, not to mention the fleet of gifts hes been showering her with.

Little bird told me this, so dont quote me, a voice lowered conspiratorially, but apparently, Cole once dated a poor girl for two years. He cut her off the very next day, just because she made the precious Miss Prescott cry once.

Two years just gone? That brutal?

Brutal? I heard that to appease Blythe, he even made sure the girl was run out of Westwood. But honestly, the girl came from nothing, had a bad reputation anyway. She was probably just after his money.

A chorus of sighs followed.

I lowered my eyes, hearing the fragments of their conversation.

The rumors were half-truths. It was true that Cole broke up with me because of Blythe.

But he didn't throw a tantrum that day, and he certainly didn't run me out of town. He simply decided I was beneath him, flew abroad, and never even looked at me again. Two years of my life ended with a humiliating voicemail.

I couldnt listen anymore. As I picked up my bag to leave, I heard someone ask,

Two years. Didnt he feel any regret at all?

No.

Cole was ruthless.

For a long time after we split, I found myself wondering if the polite, warm Cole Grayson I first met was even the same person as the man who dismissed me.

Later, I realized. Cole changed around the time Blythe returned to the City.

He took me to meet his friends. They were all people hed known since prep school.

I exchanged polite hellos with everyone.

Except Blythe.

She scanned me from head to toe. It was the first time Id ever seen hergorgeous, and utterly unapproachable.

We didnt exchange a single word the entire night.

Until the end, when she finally spoke her first words to me:

What a coincidence.

I heard your mother was sick and you were in desperate need of money right around the time you met Cole. Is that true?

I froze. Cole had helped me pay for a medical bill once. But I had already paid him back.

The night I accepted Coles proposal, Id regretted it almost instantly. Cole Grayson, the darling of Westwood society, was never meant to be with a scholarship kid.

But then Cole had buried his head into my shoulder, his voice muffled as he asked, Are you sure you want to break up with me?

All the words Id prepared disappeared. My heart hammered in my chest. I realized, with devastating clarity, that I had no control over the way I felt about him.

After that, I made a conscious effort not to accept gifts from Cole. His gifts were expensive, items I could never hope to repay.

But how did Blythe know about the bill?

Before I could reply, Blythe smiled again, changing the subject with a flick of her hand.

It doesnt matter, really. It was only a little money.

I just said it out loud. Dont worry about it.

I stood there, watching Blythe. Cole lowered his gaze and gave her a light, dismissive glance.

They didnt speak, but I could feel the silent communication passing between them.

Even then, I felt the first faint shift.

As Blythe started showing up more frequently, that unspoken, insidious feeling intensified.

Later, while shopping with them, I saw a pair of earrings. They were perfect for my mother.

I stared, lost in thought, until Blythe called my name.

She looked at the earrings and commented, Theyre very pretty.

Do you like them?

Then just have Cole buy them for you.

At her words, their tight-knit groupthe ones who had grown up togetherlet out a quiet, shared laugh.

The light streamed through the glass, dividing the world into bright and dark. They stood bathed in the light.

And I stood alone, outside of it.

I distinctly felt the difference this time. I looked up at Cole.

I couldnt describe the feeling, but I was utterly desperate for him to step in, to say one word on my behalf.

To say, Rhea has never asked me for anything.

To say, Rhea is not the person you think she is.

I watched Cole. Blythe watched him, too.

Time seemed to freeze for an eon. After what felt like forever, Cole finally spoke.

He turned, his eyes casually sweeping over the earrings. He spoke flatly:

If you like something, just ask next time.

Anything else catch your eye? Go on and choose.

The world tilted. I clutched the counter and stared at him, trying to see the truth behind his unruffled expression.

All I saw, eventually, was the same look in his impossibly handsome eyes that Id seen in Blythes.

Pitying. Superior.

They were no different.

After that day, we entered a subtle, cold war. I stopped reaching out to Cole.

But Blythe came looking for me.

I forgot to give you the earrings you were looking at last time. Cole asked me to bring them.

Then, she looked past me at my mother and smiled.

So, this is your mother.

The one you used as an excuse to borrow money from Cole in the first place, isnt it?

What will the reason be next time? Surely sickness is a little clich?

Perhaps you two should discuss it. Im sure your mother has more experience

Every single word landed precisely in my mothers ears. With each sentence, her face grew paler.

Before Blythe could finish, I shoved her.

What are you saying?

Blythe stumbled and fell. Her wrist scraped against something, and tears instantly welled up in her eyes.

Her friends arrived that very evening. Familiar faces blocked my doorway, demanding an apology.

My throat tightened. Blythe insulted my mother first. Why should I apologize?

Fine. We can discuss it nicely, a guy leaned against the wall, sizing me up. No apology, then pay us. He laughed at his own joke. But can you even afford it?

Unlike the first time we met, they were brutally honest.

Look, youre just after Coles money. Was Blythe wrong?

Just tell us the truth. How much do you and your mother want? Well give it to you. Just stop clinging to Cole.

I was shaking with rage. I was about to speak when Cole arrived.

The moment he appeared, his friends scattered.

As the footsteps faded, the hallway returned to silence. Blythe must have called him.

Was Cole here to make me apologize, like them? Or was he here to mock me, too?

I gripped my sleeve, staring at him motionlessly.

But Cole didn't mention Blythe. There was no confrontation, no anger.

He spoke, his voice unusually gentle, asking,

I heard your mother isnt well?

Do you need funds?

The tone was mild, but the underlying cruelty was identical to his friends' words.

At that moment, I wondered if I had never truly known Cole in those two years, or if he had simply changed.

Seeing my silence, Cole pressed something cold into my palm.

I knew what it was.

If you need anything else, dont hesitate to ask.

My mother was sitting on the sofa, listening to every word. Her fingers dug deep into the cushion.

My body was rigid. I didnt dare look back at my mothers face.

I could only squeeze out a single word from my throat: Get out.

I threw the card and him out the door.

The talk ended badly.

Cole didn't send me another card, but he began sending a relentless stream of things via courier.

When I got home one night, my door was open. A neighbor, stepping out, remarked,

Your daughter is something else, isnt she? So pretty, getting all these expensive things. She really is making a good life for you, just like she said.

I froze instantly. I slowly lifted my eyes to the living room.

The table was covered with luxury goods and jewelry.

The living room was terrifyingly quiet. My mother sat on the sofa.

She didn't ask or speak. She just stared silently at the things.

After a long while, she closed her eyes and whispered:

Rhea, I keep thinking, I wish I hadnt survived that accident all those years ago.

My eyes immediately filled with tears.