CHAPTER 6
1115 Words
Anya’s POV
After the meeting ended, Kennedy didn’t wait for anyone to leave before turning to me with that impatient flick of his fingers—the one that always made me feel small.
“Go home,” he ordered flatly.
No explanation. No chance to speak.
I nodded, because what else could I do? And I walked out of the boardroom with my heart feeling like it weighed a hundred kilograms. My head was loud, too loud—memories spinning, questions spinning, everything spinning. By the time I reached the car, my breaths were short and shaky, like I’d run a marathon with no air.
When I got home, the silence of the house hit me first. Cold. Echoing. As always.
I kicked off my shoes and walked straight to the bedroom, feeling like I was sleepwalking. I lay on the bed, curled sideways, and stared at the ceiling.
That meeting replayed itself in my head over and over.
Orion.
Chase.
Whatever name he wanted to go by now.
He had walked into the room like he had never known fear. Like he had never known me. His eyes—those grey eyes that used to warm whenever he looked at me—had been empty. Cold, sharp metal. And when they met mine for that split second, it felt like someone had punched the air out of me.
How was I supposed to work for him?
How was I supposed to stand near him, hear his voice, smell his cologne, look at his face… and pretend I didn’t remember everything?
The late-night talks.
The soft kisses in places our parents didn’t know about.
The way he used to touch my cheek like I was made of something fragile.
The way he whispered he’d marry me someday.
All of it. All of it came rushing back in pieces that hurt sharper than glass.
“No,” I whispered into the silence. “I can’t do it. I won’t.”
But deep down, a tiny voice reminded me—I didn’t really have the power to refuse. Not with Kennedy. Not with the company drowning.
When Kennedy finally came home that night, the front door slammed shut so hard the walls shook. I flinched automatically, my body reacting before my mind caught up. He tossed his keys on the table and shrugged off his jacket, not even glancing at me.
I followed him slowly, wringing my fingers nervously. “Kennedy… can we talk?”
He poured himself a drink like he hadn’t heard me. But he had. He just didn’t care.
I tried again. “Please. I don’t want to work for Mr. Nikandros. Anyone else, I’ll work for anyone else. But not him.” My voice cracked. “Please.”
He paused mid-sip and finally turned, staring at me with that bored, annoyed look he always wore when I wanted something.
“And how,” he said slowly, “do you expect this company to survive without his money?”
I swallowed hard. The anger rose before I could stop it—small, tired anger that had nowhere to go.
“And whose fault is that?” I whispered to myself.
I regretted it immediately.
Kennedy stiffened. His head snapped toward me.
“What did you say?” he growled.
My heart dropped. “Nothing. I didn’t—”
His hand cracked across my face before I saw it coming. My neck whipped to the side, and a sharp ringing filled my ear. I stumbled, grabbing the nearest chair to steady myself.
But he wasn’t done.
He grabbed my neck, his fingers digging hard into my skin, and slammed me into the wall. The impact rattled through my spine. My feet barely touched the ground as he leaned close.
His eyes were wild—the kind that made my stomach twist.
“We are lucky he wants to invest after all the mess your family caused,” he hissed. His breath was hot and bitter against my cheek.
“You will work for him. You will smile. You will obey. And you will not embarrass me. If you do…” His grip tightened, cutting off my air. “You will regret it.”
The world blurred around the edges as I clawed at his wrist, desperate for breath. Finally, he let go. My body hit the floor hard. My knees scraped against the tiles. I coughed and gasped, holding my burning throat as tears stung my eyes.
Kennedy didn’t look at me. He didn’t offer a hand. He just stepped over me like I was an inconvenient piece of furniture and walked toward the kitchen.
I stayed on the floor for a long moment, curled in on myself, shaking so badly my teeth knocked together.
My cheek throbbed. My neck pulsed. My chest felt tight.
Tomorrow, I had to walk into Orion’s company.
Tomorrow, I had to stand before the man who once loved me more than anything…
…and who now looked at me like I was nothing.
And worst of all—
I had to pretend it didn’t hurt.
The next morning crept up on me before I was ready for it. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready.
When my alarm rang, I jolted upright, heart hammering like I’d been running in my sleep. For a few seconds I just sat there, staring blankly at the wall, feeling that heavy knot of dread settle deeper in my stomach. My cheek throbbed in a slow, dull rhythm—reminding me of everything I was trying not to think about.
When I finally made myself stand and go to the mirror, the breath left my lungs.
The bruise had bloomed overnight. A deep purple mark, spreading across my cheekbone like something rotten under my skin. It looked even worse under the harsh bathroom light.
I swallowed hard and reached for my concealer.
My hands wouldn’t stay still. I kept dabbing and blending, wiping and trying again. The makeup smeared the first time. The second time it made me look patchy. The third time I almost cried, because no matter how much I tried to cover it, I could still see the shadow of Kennedy’s anger beneath the surface.
I sighed shakily and gave up on perfection. It would have to do. People rarely paused long enough to look closely anyway.
I got dressed slowly, trying to pick something neat and professional while my mind buzzed with nerves. I ended up choosing a pale blouse and a simple black skirt—nothing too bold. Nothing that would attract attention.
When I checked the time, my heart almost jumped out of my throat.
Six thirty.
- Writer
