I’ve lost everything.
All that matters.
My wealth, if measured, is rather impressive. Yet money is the devil’s playground. There’s the freedom to do things people only dream about, but none of these things nor possessions will ever replace the heartache of letting go of the woman you love.
A phone inside the room rings, forcing everyone to silence themselves so Lex can answer.
“Hello,” he states, almost void of emotion. “I’m sorry, now is not a good time.”
My gaze shifts to where Lex now sits, and I observe a man who I once considered family. There’s resignation in his expression, despite the lowering of his head to grant himself some privacy during his call. And then, he closes his eyes, momentarily, before they spring open and lift to meet my unrelenting stare. The usually emerald eyes appear dark, however despite the change in shade, his presence inside this room onsets memories.
Memories I have long buried in an effort to move on with my life.
“Congratulations,” is all he says, without the usual jovial response attached to the sentiment. “I love you too.”
The call ends, prompting Jensen to suggest we start our meeting. As usual, he leads while I try my best to immerse myself. There are a few disagreements that encourage others to weigh in with their opinions. After two hours, I begin to lose interest, my mind drifting elsewhere.
Bored with the discussion, I respond to an email on my cell then exit my inbox, the Insta icon in the corner of my phone showing me a notification. I barely check any of these platforms, uninterested in connecting with people who serve me no interest.
I don’t bother to scroll. I simply watch the first few stories, which are mainly of my friends from college. And then, in the fourth story, Ava’s picture catches my attention. My fingers move on their own accord, swiping to view the story again.
It’s a picture of a hand with a diamond ring and a caption reading, “She said yes!”
My heart stops to what feels like a complete standstill. I’d recognize those fingers anywhere. They touched me in intimate places. Caressed my face so lovingly. Those same fingers ran through my hair softly until they found their way to the back of my neck, where they would often rest.
The kickstart of adrenaline knocks the air out of me, my breathing becoming ragged as my skin begins to crawl with heat beneath the suit I wear.
I scramble through Ava’s profile, where the last few photographs are of her, and nothing out of the ordinary. My lips press together as I contemplate stalking Amelia’s profile, something I refused to do for the last four years.
The name alone is a trigger, yet her profile is nothing but scenic pictures or objects, with not one picture of her. There’s nothing to suggest the ring is hers, and perhaps my eyes have imagined it all wrong.
Heading back to Ava’s profile, I scroll further. There’s an image of a Grey’s Anatomy scene in which she tagged Austin Carter. Clicking on his name takes me to his profile which is open to view.
My eyes widen in disbelief.
With a hard swallow, I try to ignore the pressure inside my chest, but it feels impossible—the pain has become unbearable.
It’s the same picture—the hand with the diamond ring. On the top right-hand corner, the image says one of two. So, I swipe left, my stomach hardening at the second photo, which sends a stabbing pain straight to the middle of my chest.
Austin is on what appears to be a clifftop, kneeling with the ring box in his hand. And standing there, with a happy expression, is Amelia.
Anger thrums through my veins, unapologetic with its ferocity. My nostrils flare, the temperature inside this room unbearable. The four walls surrounding us begin to close in, trapping me in this fucking nightmare called life.
“Are we done, gentlemen?” I demand, unable to control myself.
No one says a word, yet all eyes are staring at me curiously, confused by my sudden outburst.
I push my chair out, ignoring everyone in the room, and head toward the exit.
“Romano,” Lex calls, his arctic tone gaining my attention.
My sweat-filled palms rest on the doorknob while trying to control the anger which is tearing me to pieces. I refuse to turn around, but like the sadistic fool I am, I do so and fall victim to the man who ruined my damn life.
“Leave her alone,” he demands, with an insulting stare. “It’s over.”
I give him nothing.
The bastard doesn’t deserve anything from me.