Lost Until Found in You

“If you have further questions, you can ask Mr. Sinclair yourself,” Mr. Fletcher said, snapping Bryn out of her spiraling thoughts. She nodded numbly and left his office, her mind churning as she walked. She approached the door to the CEO’s office, reaching out to push it open, but froze at the sound of voices inside. “Alex, do you really think it’s a good idea to bring Francesca in as the design director? Aren’t you worried Bryn might be upset?” The voice was Hector Winters, Alex’s longtime best friend and assistant. Bryn’s breath caught, her fists clenching involuntarily. “She’ll understand,” Alex replied after a brief pause, his voice calm and detached. “She’s always been sensible.” Sensible. The word hit Bryn like a blow. So, because she was "sensible," he thought he could do this to her? Hector laughed, clear and carefree. “True, Bryn is always kind and understanding. But don’t you think Francesca might be hoping to rekindle something with you? I mean, you did chase her for years in college. If she hadn’t gone abroad, you two probably would’ve ended up together.” Bryn’s heart skipped a beat, each word digging deeper into wounds she hadn’t even realized were there. “And considering how much you liked her back then,” Hector continued, oblivious to the effect his words had on Bryn, “do you think she’s come back for you?” The silence that followed felt thick, suffocating. Bryn’s heart pounded as she waited for Alex’s response, her mind racing with dread. His silence felt like confirmation of her deepest fear. Finally, Alex’s voice came through, colder than she’d ever heard it. “Don’t let Bryn find out.” Francesca Clements. The name echoed in Bryn’s mind, like a haunting reminder. She was Alex’s past—his old flame, the one he had once pursued so relentlessly. Pieces fell into place in her mind. Was she nothing more than a replacement? Someone who merely resembled Francesca enough to keep his interest? The thought gnawed at Bryn, wild and insistent, like a weed choking her heart. She couldn’t think about it any longer. She turned and stumbled away from the office, her footsteps heavy as she walked down the hall. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting long, shadowy streaks along the floor. It was like walking through the darkness of her own mind. Three years. They’d been living on borrowed time ever since her father’s business collapsed. The crushing debts, her father’s cancer diagnosis, her brother’s kidney failure—all of it had forced Bryn into a desperate bargain with Alex. In exchange for his financial support, she had agreed to be his mistress, all to save her family. Now, three years later, she realized Alex hadn’t just taken her heart; he had become her world. They lived as a normal couple despite their choice to delay intimacy until marriage and even their friends thought they were a perfect match. Every night, as she lay beside him, Bryn felt a surge of gratitude, convinced that fate had brought her to a good place. But now, after hearing those words, a wave of despair washed over her. Had she been nothing more than a stand-in all along? Bryn forced a bitter smile, swallowing the ache building in her chest as she turned away. The weight in the air was heavy with silent stares as she walked back to her desk. But one gaze felt different, piercing through the crowd with sharp scrutiny. Moments later, Francesca rounded the corner, holding a stack of paperwork. With an air of casual authority, she approached Bryn’s desk, dropping the papers in front of her without so much as a glance.

“I need them done by the end of the day,” Francesca said, her tone sharp and commanding, as if she were talking to an intern and not someone who'd been at the company for years. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked away. Bryn stared at the pile of work in front of her, her stomach sinking. She could already feel the weight of it crushing her. Francesca wasn’t just pushing her around—she was testing her, pushing her limits. Bryn didn’t know why, but it seemed personal. As she began to sift through the files, the office slowly started to empty out. Most of the team trickled off for lunch, leaving Bryn alone, buried under a mountain of work. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a little resentful. She’d already been under so much pressure and now this? Nora, one of her colleagues and a good friend, noticed Bryn still sitting at her desk and walked over. Her face showed a flicker of concern. “Bryn, you okay?” Nora asked softly, her voice tinged with sympathy. “Do you want me to help with some of this? Or maybe grab you lunch? You look like you could use a break.” Bryn looked up and offered a small, grateful smile. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief at Nora’s kindness. “Well, I did feel my stomach grumbling,” she admitted, trying to sound lighthearted despite the weight pressing down on her. “If you could grab something for me, that’d be great. Thanks, Nora.” Before Nora could respond, a cold, biting voice sliced through the air from behind them. “Miss Anderson, if you’re not happy with your work, feel free to take it up with me,” Francesca said, her words laced with sarcasm. “The company pays you to do your job, not to babysit.” Francesca’s words felt like a slap in the face. Then, her eyes flicked over to Bryn and the look in her gaze was sharp, like a challenge. “If she can’t handle a little work, maybe she shouldn’t be staying in this department or this company,” Francesca added, her tone dripping with disdain. She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a deliberate mockery. “It’s not like the job requires any real skill, right? Just make sure you can keep up, or maybe it’s time to find somewhere else to play house.” Bryn’s heart skipped a beat, the words hitting her harder than expected. She was afraid that Nora would be the next target of Francesca's venom, so she quickly told her to go and take a break. Her breath caught in her throat as she stood, trying to steady herself. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward Francesca, “Miss Clements, I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you, but how can I possibly finish all this work alone?” Francesca’s lips curled into a sly smirk, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of amusement. “You want to be the design director, don’t you?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She took a step closer, her posture poised, as if she were looking down at Bryn from some imaginary pedestal. “If you can’t even handle a little scout work, how would you handle a bigger task? It just shows you’re not capable of leading. Know your capacity, Miss Miller.” Bryn clenched her fists, not wanting to let the words get to her, but it was hard. She was already on edge and Francesca seemed to be trying to break her. Bryn didn’t want to argue in front of everyone, especially with how things were already going with Alex and Francesca. But before she could say anything, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Alex walked into the room, his eyes immediately narrowing when he saw the tension between the two women. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice calm but firm. Francesca was quick to respond, her voice high-pitched with a hint of hurt. “Bryn seems to think I’m picking on her. I’ve just been giving her the tasks that need to be done and she’s making it personal.” Bryn wanted to protest, wanted to explain that it wasn’t about the work—it was about the way Francesca was treating her, but Alex beat her to it. “Bryn,” he said, his voice flat, “Miss Clements is new here. She hasn’t been familiar with how things work. As someone who started early, you should be more understanding, try to work with her. It’ll be easier for everyone.” The words hit Bryn like a punch to the gut. Alex, the man she had come to rely on, the one she had trusted, was siding with Francesca. Her throat tightened as she struggled to process what he was saying. Disbelief and disappointment settled in her chest like a heavy weight. She couldn’t understand how he could believe Francesca’s words so easily. It felt like all the conversations they’d shared, all the moments they’d spent together, had meant nothing. She stared at him, her eyes searching for any hint of understanding, but finding none. The hurt was overwhelming. How could he dismiss her like this? Didn’t he see what she was going through? “Yes, sir,” Bryn finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to fight to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the only sound the scratch of pens on paper, the ticking of the clock in the background. Alex stood there for a moment, looking at Bryn’s sad back. He was about to speak, but before he could, Francesca grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “Come on, Alex. Hector’s waiting for us,” she said, her voice light and dismissive, like everything was just fine. Bryn stood there, watching them leave, the door clicking shut behind them with finality. She stayed in her seat, her hands trembling as she looked back at the files in front of her. The room felt empty now, the silence suffocating. As the day dragged on, Bryn buried herself in the work, trying to keep her mind busy. But all she could think about was the conversation she’d overheard earlier, the one with Alex and Hector. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now there was no denying it. Francesca was Alex’s old flame. She was the one that had gotten away, the one he had been so obsessed with back in college. That thought gnawed at her, twisting inside her like a sharp knife. Had she always just been the substitute? Was she never more than a replacement for the woman he really wanted? The weight of everything started to press down on her chest. She didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had given so much of herself to Alex. She had sacrificed so much and for what? To be tossed aside for someone else? She pushed the thought away, blinking back tears. This wasn’t the time. She had work to do. But even as she focused on the documents in front of her, the nagging feeling of betrayal continued to claw at her insides. She had to get through this. For her family. For everything she had sacrificed. Eventually, the office started to empty out, the usual sounds of chatter and laughter fading away. Bryn was the last one there, still hunched over her desk, trying to finish the mountain of paperwork Francesca had dumped on her. Her head pounded, her stomach twisted in knots and yet she kept pushing through. She had no choice. She couldn’t afford to stop now. By the time the office was completely empty, Bryn finally finished the last of the work. She looked at the clock—it was late. Her stomach gave a painful twinge. She hadn’t eaten properly all day and it reminded her of the times when she’d worked multiple jobs just to cover her dad and brother’s medical bills. Back then, she’d often skipped meals and now the stomach pain that came with it hadn’t really gone away.

After grabbing a few biscuits from her bag to ease the hunger, Bryn stepped out of the office building. Just as she was about to head home, she spotted Francesca standing off to the side. Bryn was about to walk away, but before she could, Francesca’s voice called out to her. “Miss Miller, over here! We’ll give you a ride.” Bryn hesitated, her instincts urging her to decline, but when she caught sight of the familiar black car parked nearby, her words caught in her throat. She swallowed her reluctance and forced a polite smile. Francesca slid into the front seat with a smooth motion and Bryn’s eyes flickered to Alex. He glanced up from the wheel and for a brief second, a flash of surprise crossed his face when he saw Bryn. It was gone before she could fully register it, replaced by his usual calm demeanor. The time was already pushing past nine and the thought of a late-night cab ride home from the office, with the long commute to Alex’s place in the suburbs, gave her pause. Yet, after a moment of indecision, Bryn found herself climbing into the backseat, the soft click of the door closing behind her like a door closing on any hope for peace tonight. The air in the car felt thick with unspoken words and the silence was suffocating. Bryn could almost taste it. The tension coiled tightly between them, wrapping around her chest like a vice. Francesca, however, was never one to tolerate silence for long. She leaned forward slightly, breaking it with an overly sweet tone that grated against the stillness. “I’m sorry about today. I didn’t know you were friends with Alex,” Francesca said, her voice syrupy with a false apology. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.” Friends. The word clung to the air like something bitter. Bryn instinctively glanced at Alex, her gaze searching his face for any sign that he might correct Francesca, might clarify the situation. But no—he didn’t even look at her. His eyes remained fixed firmly on the road ahead, his silence louder than any words could be. Friends. That was how Francesca had framed it and Alex hadn’t said a word to refute it. Her stomach churned with a tight discomfort, but it was nothing compared to the sting of that unspoken truth. Alex wasn’t even going to claim her as anything more than a friend. She felt the silence deepen, suffocating her. Francesca, however, seemed oblivious to the tension she had created. She launched into an animated recounting of her college days with Alex, her voice dripping with nostalgia as she spoke of their shared history. Each word felt like a sharp knife twisting deeper into Bryn’s chest. She heard about the mornings Alex had brought Francesca breakfast, the way they’d spent hours talking in coffee shops, the late-night study sessions filled with quiet laughter. It was as if Bryn wasn’t even there. And yet, she couldn’t ignore how Alex’s gaze flickered toward her when Francesca mentioned the breakfast. It wasn’t a look of affection or acknowledgment—it was a look that seemed to almost beg for Bryn’s reaction, for her to show some sign of jealousy, of hurt. When Bryn didn’t give him the satisfaction, when she kept her gaze fixed out the window, she saw his shoulders visibly relax, as though a weight had been lifted from him. His relief was palpable, almost suffocating in its intensity. Eventually, they reached Francesca’s destination. She slid out of the car with a final, triumphant smile, leaving Bryn and Alex alone. The silence that settled between them was thick, unbearable. Bryn couldn’t seem to find the words to fill it and neither did Alex. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat, preparing to speak. “Bryn, look… Francesca, she has a bit of a temper, don’t mind her. She’s just adjusting to being back in the country. And as for me and her, we’re just friends.” Just friends. Again. Bryn clenched her fists, willing herself not to cry. Her voice came out quiet, strained. “Sure,” she said, barely above a whisper. She turned her gaze back out the window, unable to say anything more. The next morning, Bryn was jolted awake by the sharp, insistent ringing of her phone. “Hello?” “Hello, am I speaking to Oliver Miller’s guardian? We’re calling from the City Hospital’s nephrology department. We have good news—we’ve found a kidney match for the patient.” The nurse's voice was calm and professional, but to Bryn's ears, it sounded like music from heaven. Bryn’s heart stopped for a beat. Her brother had a donor! After three long years of waiting, there was finally a chance. “Hello? Miss, are you still there?” “I’m here!” Bryn’s voice cracked and she struggled to keep it steady. “When can we schedule the surgery?” “We can arrange it for next week. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible to complete the necessary paperwork.” A wave of relief and joy surged through Bryn, but she forced herself to focus. She quickly ended the call and rushed to get ready, her heart racing with the promise of hope. When she arrived at the hospital, the sight of Oliver lying in the bed, pale and weak, hit her like a punch to the stomach. Their father, John Miller, sat quietly at his side, his face ashen, eyes distant and hollow. Bryn hurried to her brother’s side, taking his hand gently in hers. “Oliver…” she whispered, her voice trembling as the weight of their long wait finally began to lift.

“Oliver, we’ve found a match for your kidney! The surgery is scheduled for next week!” Oliver’s eyes immediately brightened, his face lighting up with joy. “Really?” He couldn’t contain the excitement in his voice. “Thank you. You’ve worked so hard to get me the kidney. I love you, Bryn.” His words hit Bryn like a wave and before she knew it, tears were welling up in her eyes once again. She pulled him into a tight hug, her voice thick with emotion as she whispered, “I love you too, buddy. I’ll do anything to make you and Dad happy.” For a moment, the world outside seemed to blur as she held him, the weight of the moment sinking in. She pulled back slightly, glancing out the window. The winter sunlight poured in, soft and warm, casting a gentle glow over the room, offering a brief respite in the chaos of her emotions. All of Oliver’s pre-surgery tests had come back normal and with the surgery now set for the following week, Bryn felt a slight easing in her chest, though worry still lingered. As they left the hospital, she pulled out her phone and when she saw the date, it hit her—today was the third anniversary of the day she and Alex had gotten together. Later that evening, as she prepared dinner, Bryn decided to give the housekeeper the night off. She wanted to do this herself. Within the hour, the table was overflowing with an array of dishes—steaming hot, vibrant with color and rich with aromas that filled the house. Yet, as the clock ticked on and the minutes slipped by, Alex still hadn’t come home. The food was getting cold. Bryn called him again and this time, the call went through. The noise on the other end was loud — male voices and female laughter, the clinking of glasses. “Hello?” Bryn kept her voice steady, despite the sinking feeling in her chest. “Bryn?” Alex’s voice came through, heavy with fatigue and a faint slur, hinting at drunkenness. “When are you coming home?” she asked, trying to keep the tension out of her voice. There was a pause, the noise quieting slightly. Alex coughed twice before answering. “I’m a bit tied up tonight. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up for me, just go to sleep.” “Okay…” she said softly, hanging up the phone. She stood there for a moment, staring at the screen, feeling her heart sink further. She knew Alex was lying. He always coughed before lying. With a heavy sigh, she silently cleared the table, throwing the dishes away. When she finished cleaning up, she went to bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Outside the window, the night had deepened, mirroring the darkness in her heart. She longed to ask him, like she used to, why he wasn’t coming home. But the question felt hollow now. She knew she had no right to ask anymore. The real reason was painfully simple: how much longer could she keep pretending with Alex? How much longer could she continue with this charade that had been her life for so long? Curled up in bed, Bryn buried her face in her knees, the tears falling freely now. The entire night passed without Alex coming home. And the next day, Bryn arrived at work, her face marked with the exhaustion of sleepless hours, dark circles under her eyes. It was then that she found out. Alex had gone to Francesca’s welcome party with Hector the night before. Sitting down at her desk, Hector greeted Bryn with his usual carefree grin, though he paused when he saw her state. Before Bryn could respond, Francesca appeared, standing behind Hector with a sharp, cold look in her eyes. She spoke with clipped authority. “What does that mean, Hector?” Hector, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, quickly retreated, mumbling something about needing to take care of a phone call. Francesca stood there, eyes narrowed, her gaze cutting through the air as she turned her full attention to Bryn. “Miss Miller,” she said, her voice carrying a veiled edge, each word carefully chosen. “You should know your place.” The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Francesca’s eyes bore into Bryn, making it clear that this wasn’t just a casual remark. “I’m saying this as your superior,” she continued, her tone becoming colder. “You’ve been working here long enough to understand how things are. Alex is… off-limits. You’d do well to remember that.” Lately, Bryn had been extremely busy. With her brother’s surgery approaching, she’d been working hard to wrap up her projects so she could take some time off to be with her family.

A major project that Bryn had been overseeing from the start had hit a snag. It had been running smoothly up until now, but suddenly, the client wanted to cancel the partnership—something she hadn’t anticipated, let alone prepared for. Francesca, the newly appointed director, was technically in charge of such high-profile projects, but for reasons she couldn’t quite understand, the client specifically demanded that Bryn take the reins. The decision was out of her hands; she had no choice but to step up. After multiple tense meetings, the client pushed for a completely new design. To appease them, Bryn reluctantly agreed to start fresh. She put everything she had into the new proposal, hoping to win them over. But when she showed up with the revised design, eager for approval, she was met with scorn. The client accused her of plagiarism, even questioning her integrity in front of everyone. It wasn’t until the client presented a proposal eerily similar to her own that Bryn realized the ugly truth. Francesca’s design wasn’t just similar—it was a carbon copy of hers. Now, standing in the general manager’s office, Bryn was face-to-face with Francesca, both of them tense, ready for the confrontation. The general manager sat beside them, his face pale with unease. The room crackled with tension. Plagiarism was a serious accusation in the design world, a stain that could ruin reputations and careers. The two proposals were so alike that it was impossible to determine who was at fault without triggering a corporate disaster. On one side stood Francesca, the rising star, freshly promoted to director and on the other was Bryn, with her connections to the CEO. Neither of them could be blamed outright without causing a major ripple in the company. But Bryn wasn’t about to back down. She knew, without a doubt, that the design was her own creation. The late nights spent perfecting every detail were still fresh in her mind. And the way Francesca had deliberately kept her out of the office on that critical day was all the proof she needed. Before Bryn could voice her frustration, Francesca’s voice cut through the silence, laced with mocking sweetness. “If you’re struggling to come up with a design, there’s no need to resort to copying. Why would you do something like that?” Bryn’s pulse quickened, but she held her ground. “Do you have any proof that I copied, Miss Clements? Both proposals are nearly identical. Shouldn’t I be allowed to suspect that you copied mine?” The air in the room was thick with anticipation as everyone braced for the fallout. The scene had escalated beyond anything they’d expected and the tension was palpable. In an instant, Alex entered the office, his presence commanding the room. The staff quickly scattered, returning to their seats with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Alex’s gaze swept the room, landing on Bryn. She stood tall, unshaken, but her heart was in turmoil. Slowly, he spoke, his tone smooth, almost too smooth. “Miss Clements is an overseas talent. Highly skilled, both professionally and in business. I’m sure this plagiarism thing is just a coincidence.” His words were light, as though brushing aside the matter, but to Bryn, they felt like a slap. What he was really saying was that Francesca didn’t need to copy her work—she was good enough on her own. But anyone with half a brain knew that two identical proposals weren’t a mere coincidence. If Francesca hadn’t plagiarized, then the only other explanation was that Bryn had been accused of doing so—and that accusation hung in the air like a suffocating cloud. Bryn, standing there under the weight of the room’s scrutiny, felt the heat rise in her chest, as though the very air was pressing in on her. It felt like she couldn’t breathe. All the words she’d been longing to say to Francesca, all the bitterness and hurt that had been building up inside of her, were trapped in her throat, refusing to come out. She could care less if everyone else didn’t believe her. But what truly stung, what cut deeper than any insult, was that Alex—who knew how hard she’d worked on this project, who knew her dedication—wouldn’t stand up for her. His silence was louder than any accusation.

Everyone in the room had heard Alex’s words and whispers began to spread. Bryn squeezed her palm tightly, trying to control the emotions that threatened to spill over. She forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes and spoke to Alex. “Since Mr. Sinclair says it was a coincidence, then I suppose it is.” She made her way toward the door, each step heavier than the last. Her back was so bent with the weight of the moment, it seemed as though she were a wilting flower, about to crumble. Though Alex had forbidden anyone from discussing the plagiarism again, the rumors spread like wildfire. Bryn could feel them curling around her, tightening with every passing hour. “Bryn, are you okay?” Nora caught up to her, her eyes full of concern. Bryn forced a wave of her hand, a weak gesture that she hoped would signal to Lana not to worry. She couldn’t afford to break down—not now. Not with only three days before her brother’s surgery. But deep inside, she felt like she was crumbling under the weight of it all. But the pain lingered, sharper than she expected. She couldn’t help but ask herself. Was it only me who had given so much over these past three years? Her thoughts drifted back to Francesca’s face—the same face she’d once seen as a mirror to her own, only now it seemed like a cruel reflection, a reminder of everything she had failed to be. A cold wave of realization washed over her. It seemed so inevitable now—she had always been nothing more than Francesca’s substitute. From the very beginning, Alex had never truly loved her. It had all been a fantasy, a fleeting illusion. She shouldn’t have expected more. Bryn lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening around her phone as she stared at a photo of her and Alex together. Maybe it’s time to leave. These three years—perhaps she could just consider them a dream. And now, it was time to wake up. The sound of high heels approaching interrupted her thoughts. Francesca, walking with the unmistakable air of someone who believed she had won, made her way over to Bryn. “Bryn,” she said, her voice dripping with a satisfaction that made Bryn’s stomach churn. “Don’t mind what Alex said. Maybe it really was just a coincidence.” Bryn forced a smile, but it felt brittle, like it might crack at any moment. Her throat was tight, a lump lodged there that she couldn’t swallow. The door opened and Alex stepped in, his eyes immediately seeking out Bryn. When he saw the pallor of her face, a flicker of concern passed through his eyes. But just as he was about to ask if she wanted to grab a bite, Francesca stepped in between them, her arm linking with his as she flashed Bryn a look that could only be described as victorious. “I’m hungry,” she purred, her tone playful, as though marking her territory. Her voice felt like a blade to Bryn’s heart, cold and sharp, cutting into the raw wound that was already festering. Francesca then turned, pushing Alex toward the door, but not before pausing to glance back at Bryn, her smile as cold as the steel she was made of. “Bryn,” she said, her voice all too sweet, “Would you like to join us?”

Bryn shook her head, her refusal coming out almost through clenched teeth. “No, thanks.” Her voice was barely audible, fragile, as though it might break apart in the air at any second. As the door shut, the office was left in a quiet emptiness, mirroring the hollowness in her heart. Bryn took a deep breath, trying to steady the trembling of her body. She wiped away the tears, grabbed the file on the desk, but her mind kept drifting back to the past. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting patterned shadows across the floor. She could almost see that gentle Alex again—he used to wait for her every evening after work. He would look at her lovingly, with a slight smile on his lips. But ever since Francesca came back, everything had changed. Those moments that once filled her with sweetness now felt like knives, carving into her heart. It turned out it had all been an illusion—his tenderness was never truly meant for her; it had always belonged to another woman. Bryn let out a bitter laugh as tears traced down her cheeks. She brushed them away in a swift motion, taking a deep breath to swallow the emotions welling up inside her. She couldn’t keep holding on to this any longer. It was time to let go. As the night deepened, the office lights slowly dimmed and city lights began to glow in the distance. Finally, Bryn dragged her weary body out of the building. When she arrived back at the villa, she noticed the soft glow coming from the study. Alex was home. On the dining table sat a neatly wrapped box from her favorite dessert shop—their signature cake she loved so much. Her heart gave a slight flutter. Had he remembered? But that brief moment of joy quickly dissolved as she noticed a new post on Francesca’s social media. It was a photo of the same cake, captioned, “I’m so happy. Someone remembered my favorite cake.” In the background of the picture, she could spot a familiar watch—Alex’s, the one she had given him as a birthday gift. She remembered the day she gave it to him. He had smiled, beaming with joy and said, “From now on, you’ll spend every birthday with me.” How ironic those words seemed now. It wasn’t just their looks that she and Francesca shared; they apparently shared tastes too. Bryn stared at the cake on the table, feeling a wave of nausea rise within her. The cake, she realized, was likely something he’d picked up while out with Francesca. She could almost picture it—Francesca teasing him playfully while Alex gazed at her with the warmth she’d once thought was hers. Everything she had believed belonged to her was in reality shared with Francesca. She turned, her steps heavy and made her way upstairs, pausing outside the study. She raised her hand and knocked. “Come in,” his deep voice responded from inside.