Chapter 10: Salt in the Wound

I thought after that night, Nathan would leave Derek alone. That I’d paid the price and the game was over.

I was wrong. Derek’s company was slowly, methodically destroyed—contracts canceled, code sabotaged, clients scared off.

Nathan’s people played with him, cat-and-mouse. Giving hope, then snatching it away. Every time Derek found a new investor or deal, it collapsed. He lost everything, started drinking, spiraled into depression.

He tried to kill himself—pills, a last-minute rescue, a hospital bed. I visited, but couldn’t face him. I gave his parents a bag of fruit and supplements, their faces tight with grief and blame.

In the parking lot, Thompson called. "Miss Morgan, Mr. Brooks wants to know when you’re coming back to D.C.?"

I stood in the sun, sweating, but feeling like I’d fallen into an ice cave. "I will never go back."

He hung up, silence louder than any threat.

Maybe Nathan thought I was heartless, that nothing could break me. Maybe he was just bored with the game.

The season turned. Derek faded into the past, my parents tried to set me up again. Winter came, and Nathan Brooks married his French heiress. No press, no photos, just whispers.

I found out on a sleeting day. I bought a hot dog, sat on a bench, and ate it bit by bit, the taste turning salty.

I realized I was crying only when I saw the wet spots on the wrapper. Ugly crying, in public, while strangers pretended not to see.