CHAPTER 2
Ariana’s POV
“What the hell were you thinking?” Maya’s voice was sharp as she paced the length of my living room, heels clicking against the hardwood. Her dark eyes were filled with frustration, but underneath it, I saw the worry. She wasn’t just my manager; she was my best friend. Which meant my impulsive meltdown earlier had hit her almost as hard as it had hit me.
I sat slumped on the floor, knees drawn up, my phone trembling in my hands. The tears had stopped hours ago, leaving my face tight and my throat raw. My head pounded, but it wasn’t just from crying. It was from the way everything I’d built had collapsed in a single, humiliating moment.
“Why did you even have your phone on you?” Maya pressed, throwing her hands up. “I know you wanted to prove a point, Ariana, but you didn’t have to go that far.”
Her phone rang, cutting her off. She shot me one last glare before stepping into the hallway to take the call, leaving me alone with the echoes of her anger.
I stared at my phone. My thumb hovered over the screen, but I already knew the words burned into it.
I’m deeply sorry that it had to end this way between us, Brent had written. But I just can’t stand the sight of you anymore. I’ve been holding it in, so I wouldn’t hurt you, but now I feel free…
“You bastard,” I whispered, then louder, “You bastard!” The words tore out of me with fresh sobs. My chest heaved, my voice breaking.
Brent Morrison. The man I’d been sure would propose any day. The man I defended on air. The man who had humiliated me on live television, right in front of millions of viewers.
And the man who now had the nerve to act like he was the victim.
In all my years of dissecting relationships for the public, I still didn’t understand how love could turn into something this ugly. Brent and I were steady, happy, enviable. I have built my career on knowing how to help couples like us.
Now I was the cautionary tale.
The sound of the front door clicking shut pulled me from my spiral. Maya returned, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Great,” she said flatly. That was our last sponsor. They’re pulling out.”
I clenched my phone in my fist, staring at the floor. That call was the nail in the coffin. Every endorsement, every deal, every opportunity I’d clawed my way toward was gone.
The empire I’d built by twenty-two had burned down before my eyes, and I’d lit the match.
Maya softened slightly and sat beside me, draping an arm around my shoulders. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“It’s the end of my career,” I cut in, my voice cracking. The end of everything I worked for. Everything I sacrificed.”
I turned my face into my hands, but the tears came again anyway.
“I’m suffering too, you know,” Maya murmured. “We built this together.”
“And I blew it.” I scrubbed my cheeks, but the wetness kept coming. “I’m the one the internet is tearing apart. I’m the one they’re calling a fraud. You can still walk into a room without people whispering.”
Maya’s jaw tightened. “Ariana… pull yourself together. I put in years of my time and money into this, and yes, you blew it. But I’m not falling apart.
“That’s all you care about? "The money?” My voice rose before I could stop. I turned on her, eyes burning. “I’m the one with a ruined reputation and a broken heart. "Don’t act like you know half the pain I’m in—”
Her lips parted, hurt flashing in her eyes, but she said nothing. She stood, smoothing her skirt, and walked toward her bedroom.
“Maya, I didn’t mean
The door slammed before I could finish. The sound echoed through the empty apartment, heavy as a verdict.
I sank back against the couch, shame settling over me. The truth is, I don’t even recognize myself right now. Maybe Brent was right to leave me. Maybe I was too much, too selfish.
The thought made me feel even smaller.
---
An hour later, I sat hunched over the polished wood bar at The Regency, one of the city’s most luxurious hotels. A black baseball cap pulled low over my face, an oversized hoodie swallowing my frame. Disguise or not, I still felt exposed.
I waved an empty glass at the bartender. “Another.”
He hesitated, bottle in hand. “Ma’am, I think you’ve had enough. ”
“Give me the damn drink,” I snapped. My voice was hoarse, the words slurring slightly. “Unless you want me to make a scene.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t serve you anymore,” he said carefully, setting the bottle back on the shelf. “It’s policy.”
Policy. As if that could stop the spiral I was in. If only he knew who I was or who I used to be before today. Before, Brent decided to strip me bare in front of the whole world.
“I think you should go home,” the bartender added, more firmly now. “Get some rest.”
“Give the lady what she wants,” a deep male voice cut in from behind me, smooth but laced with authority, “or you might find yourself looking for another job.”
The bartender froze. His eyes darted past me, then he reached for the bottle again, his hands suddenly unsteady.
I turned to see who had made him fold so quickly.
And there he was.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark blonde hair that looked like it belonged in a luxury watch ad. His brown eyes locked on mine, unreadable but burning with some kind of intensity. The tailored black suit he wore fit him like it had been made just for him because it probably had.
Even through the haze of alcohol, I recognized him instantly. Ethan Vale. CEO of Vale Resorts & Casinos. One of my loudest critics. The man whose ex-girlfriend had left him after following my advice.
The man who had once called me “dangerous” on national TV.
Yet right now, he was smiling at me. Not the smug, cutting smile I remembered. This one was warmer, almost… inviting.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, stepping closer. His voice was velvet over steel, controlled yet carrying a weight that made my stomach flip.
Despite the all-cutting out of my head, my pulse kicked into overdrive. “Hey… handsome.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He chuckled, glancing at the bartender. “Seems like you’ve had a rough night.”
I laughed very loudly. “That guy was being an asshole. But you…” My gaze traveled from his broad chest up to his sharp jawline. “You came to my rescue. How could I ever repay you?”
Ethan’s smile shifted, a hint of something wicked in it now. “I have an idea. Why don’t we take this conversation somewhere… quieter?”
There should have been alarms going off in my head. This was Ethan Vale. My public enemy. The man who has every reason to gloat over my downfall.
Instead, I giggled like a schoolgirl. “Anything for my prince charming.”
I slid my hand into his when he offered it. His grip was warm, firm, grounding, and dangerous.
As he led, I walked toward the elevators, and I felt the curious eyes of the bar staff on us. But for the first time since my life imploded, I didn’t care what anyone thought.
Not tonight.