Five Years as His Second Choice

For five years, I'd been Arnold Bowen's lover, and not once had he so much as glanced at another woman. I'd convinced myself nothing would ever change.

But that day, in the heat of passion, his hand gripped my chin, his voice cold and final.

"Riley, this is the last time."

The indifference in his eyes burned like acid. I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. "Do you have someone else now?"

Arnold laughed, that careless, effortless laugh that used to make my heart skip. "Not anymore. She's back."

His words hit like a slap. "Now that the real one's here, what's the point of keeping a stand-in?"

Afterward, I curled into his arms, seeking the warmth I'd known for years—but this time, he didn't pull me close. Instead, he yanked the blanket away and shoved me off the bed like I was nothing.

His gaze was detached, almost bored. "Pack your things and get out. I don't want her upset because of you."

I stared at him, my mind reeling. "So, you've replaced me?"

That reckless smile of his widened. "I don't need a replacement anymore. She's back."

The irony was almost laughable.

All this time, I'd been living in the shadow of his first love—the one who'd really owned his heart.

Five years ago, when he'd looked at me with those intense eyes and asked if I'd stay by his side, I'd said yes without hesitation. I'd been so blind.

Later, I learned the truth: to him, I was just a placeholder.

I'd told myself that with time, I could carve out a space in his heart. But I was wrong.

"Get your things and go. And don't bother keeping your manager position either. That was never really yours. If you want to stay at the company, you can start at the bottom."

His words barely registered. I'd imagined this moment—her return, my inevitable exit—but I never thought he'd strip away everything, even the career I'd fought for.

Arnold smirked, reading my silence.

"What, Riley? Is it really so hard to give up a job you only got because you were sleeping with me?"

"Now that I don't need you anymore, consider it revoked."

Just like that, he reduced five years of my life to nothing.

My nails dug into my palms, the pain the only thing keeping me from crumbling. I forced a steady breath. "Fine. I'll resign."

Arnold scoffed, then reached into the nightstand and pulled out a necklace—the one he'd bought at auction last month for seven and a half million dollars. The diamond had glittered under the lights, and for a fleeting moment, I'd let myself believe it was meant for me.