CHAPTER 3

The Fallout at Work

The call from HR came just as I was settling into my desk, my hands still curled around my morning coffee. The tight, clipped tone of my boss's assistant sent a cold spike of unease through my chest.

"Celeste, Mr. Reynolds wants to see you. Now."

The office buzzed around me, but suddenly it felt like I was in a vacuum. I caught a few sidelong glances from my colleagues, whispers barely concealed. My heart thumped painfully. I forced myself to stand, smoothing down my skirt with clammy hands, and walked toward the glass-walled office at the end of the hall. Each step felt heavier than the last.

I stepped inside. My boss, Alan Reynolds, sat behind his mahogany desk, his expression unreadable. The air was thick with something unspoken. HR manager Karen perched stiffly beside him, her hands clasped over a folder. My stomach clenched.

"Have a seat, Celeste," Alan said, his voice deceptively calm.

I lowered myself into the chair across from him, my palms resting in my lap to keep from fidgeting. "Is something wrong?"

Alan sighed, leaning forward. "We've been hearing… concerning things." He exchanged a look with Karen before continuing. "There have been rumors about you and Damian Ashford."

The breath hitched in my throat. "Rumors? What kind of rumors?"

Karen pursed her lips, then slid the folder across the desk. I hesitated before flipping it open. Printed screenshots of anonymous messages, gossiping emails, snippets of whispered conversations—my name, attached to words like desperate, gold-digger, pathetic.

A sickening wave of nausea rolled over me.

"This—this isn't true," I whispered. "Who said these things?"

Alan folded his hands, his expression still unreadable. "It doesn't matter where they came from, Celeste. Perception is a reality in this industry. And the perception is that you've compromised yourself chasing Damian."

I shot up from my seat. "Compromised myself? Because I was seen talking to him? Because people assume? This is absurd!"

Karen let out a breath. "We have to think about the company, Celeste. Your presence is becoming—"

"A liability?" My voice cracked. "I've worked my ass off for this company. My work speaks for itself. You know that."

Alan didn't meet my eyes. "We're making cutbacks, and given the circumstances… we've decided to let you go."

A sharp ringing filled my ears. "Cutbacks? That's what we're calling it?" I laughed, but it was hollow and brittle. "How convenient."

"You'll receive severance." Karen's tone was clipped as if that should be some great comfort. "And we expect you to clear your desk by the end of the day."

A heavy silence stretched between us. My body felt detached, floating in some surreal nightmare where everything I'd built was being ripped from me over a lie.

"You're making a mistake," I murmured. "This isn't fair."

Alan's gaze flickered with something—pity? Guilt? It didn't matter. The decision had already been made.

I rose stiffly, my hands clenched at my sides. I wouldn't cry. Not here. Not in front of them.

Walking back to my desk felt like trudging through wet cement. The whispers were louder now, the stolen glances sharper. My fingers trembled as I packed my things, stuffing years of my life into a single cardboard box.

"Celeste." A voice stopped me.

I turned to see Emily, my closest friend at work, standing near my cubicle, her expression tight with sympathy.

"I don't believe them," she whispered. "I know you. You'd never—"

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" My voice wavered.

She hesitated before squeezing my hand. "You deserved better."

Did I? Because right now, all I felt was the sting of humiliation, of betrayal by an industry that had never really been mine to begin with.

By the time I reached the elevator, I was shaking. But I didn't break. Not until I was outside, the cold air biting my cheeks, mixing with the warmth of my silent tears.

And just when I thought this day couldn't get any worse, my phone buzzed.

A message. From Damian.

Damian: We need to talk. Now.

A fresh wave of fury surged through me. If he had anything to do with this…

My fingers hovered over the screen, trembling with the weight of everything I'd lost.

Then, without thinking, I typed back:

Me: You're the last person I want to hear from.

I hit send and walked away, my head held high, even as my world crumbled beneath me.