“If you have further questions, you can ask Mr. Sinclair yourself,” Mr. Fletcher said, snapping Bryn out of her spiraling thoughts. She nodded numbly and left his office, her mind churning as she walked.

She approached the door to the CEO’s office, reaching out to push it open, but froze at the sound of voices inside.

“Alex, do you really think it’s a good idea to bring Francesca in as the design director? Aren’t you worried Bryn might be upset?” The voice was Hector Winters, Alex’s longtime best friend and assistant. Bryn’s breath caught, her fists clenching involuntarily.

“She’ll understand,” Alex replied after a brief pause, his voice calm and detached. “She’s always been sensible.”

Sensible. The word hit Bryn like a blow. So, because she was "sensible," he thought he could do this to her?

Hector laughed, clear and carefree. “True, Bryn is always kind and understanding. But don’t you think Francesca might be hoping to rekindle something with you? I mean, you did chase her for years in college. If she hadn’t gone abroad, you two probably would’ve ended up together.”

Bryn’s heart skipped a beat, each word digging deeper into wounds she hadn’t even realized were there.

“And considering how much you liked her back then,” Hector continued, oblivious to the effect his words had on Bryn, “do you think she’s come back for you?”

The silence that followed felt thick, suffocating. Bryn’s heart pounded as she waited for Alex’s response, her mind racing with dread. His silence felt like confirmation of her deepest fear.

Finally, Alex’s voice came through, colder than she’d ever heard it. “Don’t let Bryn find out.”

Francesca Clements. The name echoed in Bryn’s mind, like a haunting reminder. She was Alex’s past—his old flame, the one he had once pursued so relentlessly. Pieces fell into place in her mind. Was she nothing more than a replacement? Someone who merely resembled Francesca enough to keep his interest?

The thought gnawed at Bryn, wild and insistent, like a weed choking her heart. She couldn’t think about it any longer. She turned and stumbled away from the office, her footsteps heavy as she walked down the hall. The fluorescent lights flickered above, casting long, shadowy streaks along the floor. It was like walking through the darkness of her own mind.

Three years. They’d been living on borrowed time ever since her father’s business collapsed. The crushing debts, her father’s cancer diagnosis, her brother’s kidney failure—all of it had forced Bryn into a desperate bargain with Alex. In exchange for his financial support, she had agreed to be his mistress, all to save her family.

Now, three years later, she realized Alex hadn’t just taken her heart; he had become her world. They lived as a normal couple despite their choice to delay intimacy until marriage and even their friends thought they were a perfect match. Every night, as she lay beside him, Bryn felt a surge of gratitude, convinced that fate had brought her to a good place.

But now, after hearing those words, a wave of despair washed over her. Had she been nothing more than a stand-in all along?

Bryn forced a bitter smile, swallowing the ache building in her chest as she turned away. The weight in the air was heavy with silent stares as she walked back to her desk. But one gaze felt different, piercing through the crowd with sharp scrutiny. Moments later, Francesca rounded the corner, holding a stack of paperwork. With an air of casual authority, she approached Bryn’s desk, dropping the papers in front of her without so much as a glance.

“I need them done by the end of the day,” Francesca said, her tone sharp and commanding, as if she were talking to an intern and not someone who'd been at the company for years. Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Bryn stared at the pile of work in front of her, her stomach sinking. She could already feel the weight of it crushing her. Francesca wasn’t just pushing her around—she was testing her, pushing her limits. Bryn didn’t know why, but it seemed personal.

As she began to sift through the files, the office slowly started to empty out. Most of the team trickled off for lunch, leaving Bryn alone, buried under a mountain of work. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling a little resentful. She’d already been under so much pressure and now this?

Nora, one of her colleagues and a good friend, noticed Bryn still sitting at her desk and walked over. Her face showed a flicker of concern.

“Bryn, you okay?” Nora asked softly, her voice tinged with sympathy. “Do you want me to help with some of this? Or maybe grab you lunch? You look like you could use a break.”

Bryn looked up and offered a small, grateful smile. She couldn’t help but feel a surge of relief at Nora’s kindness. “Well, I did feel my stomach grumbling,” she admitted, trying to sound lighthearted despite the weight pressing down on her. “If you could grab something for me, that’d be great. Thanks, Nora.”

Before Nora could respond, a cold, biting voice sliced through the air from behind them. “Miss Anderson, if you’re not happy with your work, feel free to take it up with me,” Francesca said, her words laced with sarcasm. “The company pays you to do your job, not to babysit.”

Francesca’s words felt like a slap in the face. Then, her eyes flicked over to Bryn and the look in her gaze was sharp, like a challenge.

“If she can’t handle a little work, maybe she shouldn’t be staying in this department or this company,” Francesca added, her tone dripping with disdain. She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a deliberate mockery. “It’s not like the job requires any real skill, right? Just make sure you can keep up, or maybe it’s time to find somewhere else to play house.”

Bryn’s heart skipped a beat, the words hitting her harder than expected. She was afraid that Nora would be the next target of Francesca's venom, so she quickly told her to go and take a break. Her breath caught in her throat as she stood, trying to steady herself. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward Francesca, “Miss Clements, I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you, but how can I possibly finish all this work alone?”

Francesca’s lips curled into a sly smirk, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of amusement. “You want to be the design director, don’t you?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She took a step closer, her posture poised, as if she were looking down at Bryn from some imaginary pedestal. “If you can’t even handle a little scout work, how would you handle a bigger task? It just shows you’re not capable of leading. Know your capacity, Miss Miller.”

Bryn clenched her fists, not wanting to let the words get to her, but it was hard. She was already on edge and Francesca seemed to be trying to break her. Bryn didn’t want to argue in front of everyone, especially with how things were already going with Alex and Francesca.

But before she could say anything, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps. Alex walked into the room, his eyes immediately narrowing when he saw the tension between the two women.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice calm but firm.

Francesca was quick to respond, her voice high-pitched with a hint of hurt. “Bryn seems to think I’m picking on her. I’ve just been giving her the tasks that need to be done and she’s making it personal.”

Bryn wanted to protest, wanted to explain that it wasn’t about the work—it was about the way Francesca was treating her, but Alex beat her to it.

“Bryn,” he said, his voice flat, “Miss Clements is new here. She hasn’t been familiar with how things work. As someone who started early, you should be more understanding, try to work with her. It’ll be easier for everyone.”

The words hit Bryn like a punch to the gut. Alex, the man she had come to rely on, the one she had trusted, was siding with Francesca. Her throat tightened as she struggled to process what he was saying. Disbelief and disappointment settled in her chest like a heavy weight. She couldn’t understand how he could believe Francesca’s words so easily. It felt like all the conversations they’d shared, all the moments they’d spent together, had meant nothing.

She stared at him, her eyes searching for any hint of understanding, but finding none. The hurt was overwhelming. How could he dismiss her like this? Didn’t he see what she was going through?

“Yes, sir,” Bryn finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to fight to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, the only sound the scratch of pens on paper, the ticking of the clock in the background. Alex stood there for a moment, looking at Bryn’s sad back. He was about to speak, but before he could, Francesca grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door.

“Come on, Alex. Hector’s waiting for us,” she said, her voice light and dismissive, like everything was just fine.

Bryn stood there, watching them leave, the door clicking shut behind them with finality. She stayed in her seat, her hands trembling as she looked back at the files in front of her. The room felt empty now, the silence suffocating.

As the day dragged on, Bryn buried herself in the work, trying to keep her mind busy. But all she could think about was the conversation she’d overheard earlier, the one with Alex and Hector. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now there was no denying it. Francesca was Alex’s old flame. She was the one that had gotten away, the one he had been so obsessed with back in college.

That thought gnawed at her, twisting inside her like a sharp knife. Had she always just been the substitute? Was she never more than a replacement for the woman he really wanted?

The weight of everything started to press down on her chest. She didn’t want to think about it, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had given so much of herself to Alex. She had sacrificed so much and for what? To be tossed aside for someone else?

She pushed the thought away, blinking back tears. This wasn’t the time. She had work to do. But even as she focused on the documents in front of her, the nagging feeling of betrayal continued to claw at her insides. She had to get through this. For her family. For everything she had sacrificed.

Eventually, the office started to empty out, the usual sounds of chatter and laughter fading away. Bryn was the last one there, still hunched over her desk, trying to finish the mountain of paperwork Francesca had dumped on her. Her head pounded, her stomach twisted in knots and yet she kept pushing through.

She had no choice. She couldn’t afford to stop now.

By the time the office was completely empty, Bryn finally finished the last of the work. She looked at the clock—it was late. Her stomach gave a painful twinge. She hadn’t eaten properly all day and it reminded her of the times when she’d worked multiple jobs just to cover her dad and brother’s medical bills. Back then, she’d often skipped meals and now the stomach pain that came with it hadn’t really gone away.

After grabbing a few biscuits from her bag to ease the hunger, Bryn stepped out of the office building. Just as she was about to head home, she spotted Francesca standing off to the side.

Bryn was about to walk away, but before she could, Francesca’s voice called out to her.

“Miss Miller, over here! We’ll give you a ride.”

Bryn hesitated, her instincts urging her to decline, but when she caught sight of the familiar black car parked nearby, her words caught in her throat. She swallowed her reluctance and forced a polite smile.

Francesca slid into the front seat with a smooth motion and Bryn’s eyes flickered to Alex. He glanced up from the wheel and for a brief second, a flash of surprise crossed his face when he saw Bryn. It was gone before she could fully register it, replaced by his usual calm demeanor.

The time was already pushing past nine and the thought of a late-night cab ride home from the office, with the long commute to Alex’s place in the suburbs, gave her pause. Yet, after a moment of indecision, Bryn found herself climbing into the backseat, the soft click of the door closing behind her like a door closing on any hope for peace tonight.

The air in the car felt thick with unspoken words and the silence was suffocating. Bryn could almost taste it. The tension coiled tightly between them, wrapping around her chest like a vice. Francesca, however, was never one to tolerate silence for long. She leaned forward slightly, breaking it with an overly sweet tone that grated against the stillness.

“I’m sorry about today. I didn’t know you were friends with Alex,” Francesca said, her voice syrupy with a false apology. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Friends. The word clung to the air like something bitter. Bryn instinctively glanced at Alex, her gaze searching his face for any sign that he might correct Francesca, might clarify the situation. But no—he didn’t even look at her. His eyes remained fixed firmly on the road ahead, his silence louder than any words could be. Friends. That was how Francesca had framed it and Alex hadn’t said a word to refute it.

Her stomach churned with a tight discomfort, but it was nothing compared to the sting of that unspoken truth. Alex wasn’t even going to claim her as anything more than a friend. She felt the silence deepen, suffocating her.

Francesca, however, seemed oblivious to the tension she had created. She launched into an animated recounting of her college days with Alex, her voice dripping with nostalgia as she spoke of their shared history. Each word felt like a sharp knife twisting deeper into Bryn’s chest. She heard about the mornings Alex had brought Francesca breakfast, the way they’d spent hours talking in coffee shops, the late-night study sessions filled with quiet laughter.

It was as if Bryn wasn’t even there.

And yet, she couldn’t ignore how Alex’s gaze flickered toward her when Francesca mentioned the breakfast. It wasn’t a look of affection or acknowledgment—it was a look that seemed to almost beg for Bryn’s reaction, for her to show some sign of jealousy, of hurt. When Bryn didn’t give him the satisfaction, when she kept her gaze fixed out the window, she saw his shoulders visibly relax, as though a weight had been lifted from him. His relief was palpable, almost suffocating in its intensity.

Eventually, they reached Francesca’s destination. She slid out of the car with a final, triumphant smile, leaving Bryn and Alex alone. The silence that settled between them was thick, unbearable. Bryn couldn’t seem to find the words to fill it and neither did Alex.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat, preparing to speak.

“Bryn, look… Francesca, she has a bit of a temper, don’t mind her. She’s just adjusting to being back in the country. And as for me and her, we’re just friends.”

Just friends. Again. Bryn clenched her fists, willing herself not to cry. Her voice came out quiet, strained.

“Sure,” she said, barely above a whisper. She turned her gaze back out the window, unable to say anything more.

The next morning, Bryn was jolted awake by the sharp, insistent ringing of her phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, am I speaking to Oliver Miller’s guardian? We’re calling from the City Hospital’s nephrology department. We have good news—we’ve found a kidney match for the patient.”

The nurse's voice was calm and professional, but to Bryn's ears, it sounded like music from heaven. Bryn’s heart stopped for a beat. Her brother had a donor! After three long years of waiting, there was finally a chance.

“Hello? Miss, are you still there?”

“I’m here!” Bryn’s voice cracked and she struggled to keep it steady. “When can we schedule the surgery?”

“We can arrange it for next week. Please come to the hospital as soon as possible to complete the necessary paperwork.”

A wave of relief and joy surged through Bryn, but she forced herself to focus. She quickly ended the call and rushed to get ready, her heart racing with the promise of hope.

When she arrived at the hospital, the sight of Oliver lying in the bed, pale and weak, hit her like a punch to the stomach. Their father, John Miller, sat quietly at his side, his face ashen, eyes distant and hollow.

Bryn hurried to her brother’s side, taking his hand gently in hers. “Oliver…” she whispered, her voice trembling as the weight of their long wait finally began to lift.