"I thought about it and have decided to continue working here until I find a new job," I told Robbie.

"I'm glad to know that," he replied, his smile strained and forced, like a man desperately trying to appear composed while the storm raged inside him.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something; his mouth opened, but whatever it was, he swallowed it down. Good! I wasn’t ready to hear more apologies, more empty confessions. I didn't know if they were genuine or just another manipulation tactic.

"Don’t think you can forcefully tie me down like this again,” I snapped, surprising even myself. “If not for my son, I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“I never said otherwise,” Robbie replied softly. I almost thought I imagined it.

I turned toward the door, not trusting myself to look back.

“Tony—”

The way he said my name stopped me like a ghost brushing past skin.

"I..." he hesitated again. “Tony, are you… seeing someone right now?”

What the—?

I blinked, momentarily stunned. That’s what this was about? He thought I wasn’t giving him another chance because I had someone else in my life.

If only that were the reason.

But the truth was uglier: After being discarded like I meant nothing, I’d never fully recovered. He left, and I was the one who stayed broken, raising Twen, and trying to survive.

And now he wanted to act like there was still something left?

I turned, voice icy.

“We’re colleagues, Robbie. Nothing more. You have no right to ask about my personal life.”

Then I slammed the door in his face.

It felt justified. It should have felt like closure. But all I felt was hollow.

***

Work saved me. Being a Sous Chef meant I was on my feet constantly: briefings, food quality checks, menu rotations, storage inventories, managing three restaurants under my wing. It left me no time to think about Robbie or wallow in regrets. 

I barely noticed Tanya until she cornered me in the kitchen.

“I thought you were quitting,” she said dryly.

“Good morning to you, too,” I replied, tying my apron.

She frowned. “Did you and the CEO... resolve things?”

“I wish,” I muttered, keeping my voice low. “I’m only here until I find something else.”

Her tone softened. “If you need anything, you know I’m here, right?”

I nodded, grateful. Tanya had been my one solid anchor through this chaos.

She walked out of the kitchen, and for a moment, I noticed something strange—two male chefs eyeing her with something more than idle curiosity—something predatory, even. I frowned but shook the thought away. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

The day flew by. Orders came in waves. Deliveries got delayed. A live food demo failed spectacularly when the new guy dropped a tray of crème brûlée. It was a nightmare, but it kept my mind busy.

I didn’t even notice the time until my Executive Sous Chef teased, “What, planning a romantic evening at the resort?”

I chuckled, more bitter than amused, and packed up.

All I could think about was Twen. I told him to lock his room, keep his phone close, and not open the door to anyone but me. Still, I hated leaving him alone.

I was at my car when I heard it,

“Stop it—don’t—please!”

Tanya?

And then a slurred, disgusting voice, “Didn’ ask ya to reelease tha’ smell, b*tch!”

My blood ran cold. I ran. The voices were coming from the far side of the parking lot—the blind spot behind the utility building. I called security on the way.

What I saw next will stay with me forever.

A man, drunk and not a staff member, was on top of Tanya. Her wrists were pinned above her head. Her coat was half off. Her top was yanked up. Her face was tear-streaked and terrified.

“Leave her!” I shouted, heart pounding. “What do you think you're doing?”

The man looked up, eyes glassy, reeking of alcohol and entitlement.

“Nawt like I wanted ta,” he slurred. “She’s spadin’ that f*ckin’ smell everywhere!”

Smell?

Sh*t. Tanya’s an Omega.

How did I not know this? She must’ve been suppressing her scent for years. That explained the odd looks earlier from the chefs. I wouldn’t have picked it up; I’m an Omega too. But a drunk Alpha or Beta wouldn’t miss it, not in heat.

He staggered toward me.

“Chu wanna get punched too, boy?”

I ducked his wild swing and jabbed my fingers into the pressure point just below his ear. He collapsed like a sack of bricks.

I barely breathed as I rushed to Tanya. Her face was pale, makeup smeared, eyes vacant with horror. Her hands trembled violently as she tried to pull her coat back on.

“Where’s your medication?” I asked urgently.

“I-I-I forgot,” she choked out, and then the tears came.