From Ex’s Betrayal to CEO’s Bed

“Hey, did you get Nathan’s invitation? He’s throwing a party tonight—penthouse, catered dinner, he just invited me.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll go. To get a drink or something. What about you, Ben?”

The storm of confusion hit me the second I overheard the conversation. My laptop bag slipped further down my shoulder as the sudden, sharp spike of confusion and disbelief washed over me.

Party?

Held by Nathan, my boss and boyfriend?

How come I knew absolutely nothing about it?

Somehow, my heart skipped a beat.

… Seconds ago, I had been floating on a cloud of relief.

The Morrison account was signed. Months of sleepless nights, spreadsheets, and strategy decks had finally paid off. I had worked until my eyes burned and my back ached, and yet… the client had signed. Success tasted like victory, like freedom, like the quiet pride of being indispensable.

And now, all of that joy was slipping away.

Over the wall, the conversation that confused me was continuing.

Ben laughed. “Of course I’m going. Seven-thirty sharp. Nathan said it’s just for senior staff, but honestly, after pulling this off, we all deserve it.”

“Senior staff?” I whispered to myself, the words echoing in the hallway.

I pressed closer to the wall, straining to hear over the sudden roar in my ears. I was senior staff. I had been here since day one. I had built this company alongside Nathan, sacrificed weekends, holidays, my social life.

So why was Nathan throwing a party—and why had I not only not been invited, but also had no idea it was happening?

It didn’t make sense.

My mind raced. Maybe it was an oversight. Nathan would never forget. Not after the quiet mornings we shared, not after the stolen kisses in empty conference rooms, not after last night when he had whispered how proud he was of me.

But then, the memory of the past few weeks intruded.

The subtle distance, the missed lunches, the calls he took behind closed doors, the way his eyes sometimes skimmed past me instead of locking.

A chill ran down my spine.

By the time I realized it, the hallway had emptied. My phone buzzed against my hip: Great work today. Heading out early to prep for tonight. See you tomorrow.

No invitation. No explanation. Just… see you tomorrow.

The knot in my stomach tightened. I splashed cold water on my face in the nearest bathroom, trying to steady the trembling hands that refused to obey me. Rational thoughts whispered that there must be a mistake, that he wouldn’t exclude me intentionally. But dread settled in anyway, heavy and insistent.

I left work as soon as the clock struck five, my nerves a taut wire.

Nathan’s office door was closed when I reached it, but I could see him through the glass partition, methodically packing his briefcase. He looked up as I knocked, and for just a moment, something flickered across his face—guilt? irritation?—before it vanished.

“Come in,” he said without looking