After that night, Daniel took a step back and stopped talking to her. She tried reaching him, messages went unanswered, her calls ignored. He was always busy, always tied up with something, yet the money still came through without fail, and the staff's salaries were paid on time. He was managing everything from a distance, except her.
She tried reaching him through his friends, but they wouldn't pick up. Then she realized he'd blocked her from contacting them. They'd clearly been told to stay away. It made her feel like she was losing her mind.
She started sending letters next. Long, desperate apologies explaining everything, begging him to just listen, to give her a chance to make things right. They sat there unread. When those didn't work, she switched to angry, abusive messages, anything to provoke a response, even if it was fury. Those went unread too.
Finally, she sent him steamy pictures, hoping to grab his attention the only way she had left. She knew it was pathetic even as she did it, but she was running out of options.
He didn't reply to those either.
It was like he didn't know her anymore, like he'd simply erased her from his life. Or like he'd fallen off the face of the earth entirely, taking any trace of what they'd had with him.
She decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and stopped reaching out entirely. Radio silence just like he'd given her. Maybe that would get his attention, make him realize what he was missing. But even that strategy failed. Days passed, then weeks, and still nothing. She refused to believe this was really happening.
Finally, she went to his office. She had to see him face-to-face, force him to acknowledge her existence. His secretary barely looked up from her desk. "Mr. Pearson isn't in today."
Something in her snapped. She wasn't some random nobody he could brush off, she was his lover, for God's sake. How could he treat her this way? She tried to push past the desk, her voice rising, making a scene, hoping it would lure him out, she knew she'd regret it later but couldn't stop herself from overreacting she was at her wits end. The humiliation of it burned through her even as she fought to get through that door.
Security appeared within seconds. She was escorted out, roughly while she kicking and screaming, calling for Daniel at the top of her voice hoping he would come out but she was met with silence, the other employees watched with barely concealed curiosity and pity.
That was the moment it finally hit her, standing on the sidewalk outside his building: he wasn't just angry. He wasn't punishing her or making her sweat. He was done. Completely, irrevocably done.
She felt as if her heart was being ripped from her chest , she had some money in her account, but without work, it wouldn't last long. And she had no idea how long his generosity would continue or if it would stop as abruptly as his affection had. She wasn't about to wait around to find out when the money dried up.
She couldn't go home to her mother after how she left things and renting a place was super expensive so if Daniel cut her off it would be tough.
With that sobering thought, her decision was made.
She took a taxi home, she needed a drink, she opened the well-stocked wine fridge that seemed to mock her with its abundance and pulled out the most expensive bottle she could find, some vintage she couldn't even pronounce.
She didn't bother with a glass. Just twisted it open and drank straight from the bottle, laughing until the sound turned ragged and bitter. What a pathetic, idiotic woman she'd become. What a complete fool.
Still clutching the bottle, she picked up her phone and started scrolling mindlessly through social media. That's when she saw it.
Daniel. And the boys. Surrounded by models draped over them like accessories, all long legs and perfect smiles. The kind of women who didn't beg or grovel or send desperate messages into the void.
The photo was recent posted just hours ago. There was Daniel in the center, looking relaxed and handsome, a drink in one hand and a stunning brunette tucked under his other arm.
The wine turned sour in her mouth.
She'd been out here suffering. Losing sleep, losing her mind, tearing herself apart trying to figure out what she'd done wrong. Getting humiliated at his office, getting thrown out like trash. Swallowing lie after lie about how busy he was, how much work he had, how he just needed space.
And he was out there partying. Living his best life. He hadn't even missed her.
The bottle slipped slightly in her sweaty grip as her hands started to shake.
Suddenly filled with fury, she threw the bottle and watched it shatter spilling red wine across the carpet, then she cried huge ugly unrestrained crying, with snot running down her nose, she was very afraid and confused.
The maid knocked hesitantly at the door. "Miss, are you okay?".
"I am fine" she rasped, which was stupid because she sounded like she'd swallowed glass.
The maid came in and saw her standing near the foot of the bed with tears streaming down her face. The poor woman looked distraught and didn't know how to confront her, and honestly, Amira did not need comfort.
The maid went to fetch the vacuum cleaner and painstakingly cleaned the room, then wiped the spilled wine while Amira bawled her eyes out. Then she turned to Amira. "Miss, please don't cry. Whatever it is you would be fine".
Esther I would be fine; I need space. Please just go. She flopped on the bed as warm tears spilled down her cheek.
The maid nodded and disappeared, grateful to escape.
Amira let herself fall face-first onto the bed. The mattress caught her, but it didn't soften anything. Tears kept leaking out , slow now, tired, hot soaking the pillow as her chest stuttered like it might fall apart for real this time.
She pressed her fist to her mouth so nobody would hear her break again.