His Trophy Fiancée, Her redemption

ELENA

“Clifford, what the actual fuck?”

My voice sliced through the bedroom doorway before my brain even caught up to what my eyes were seeing.

Sheets tangled, clothes on the floor, two bodies intertwined.

And Lenora’s head snapped up first, her strawberry-blonde hair messy, lips swollen, Clifford’s shirt dangling off her shoulders like a badge of victory.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

Then Clifford jolted upright, eyes wide. “Elena, wait, I can explain.”

“Explain?” I choked out a laugh, one hand pressed to the doorframe because my knees had gone numb. “Explain why your secretary is naked in our bed?” My voice cracked on “our,” and it felt like swallowing glass.

Lenora smirked.

Smirked.

Like this was a show. Like I was the entertainment.

“Well,” she drawled, sliding closer to Clifford like she owned him, “it’s not exactly a secret anymore, is it?”

My fingers curled into fists. “Lenora, get out.”

“No.” Clifford’s voice hardened, sharper than I’d ever heard it directed at me. “Elena, calm down. Don’t make a scene.”

The audacity.

A laugh clawed out of my throat, broken, hysterical. “Make a scene? I walk in on you screwing your secretary and you think I’m making a scene?”

Lenora ran a finger down Clifford’s chest. “You should’ve known he still loves me. You were just… filling space.”

The words hit harder than any slap ever could.

A replacement. A convenient stand–in while they rekindled behind my back.

Air vanished from my lungs.

“You told me you were over her,” I whispered, stepping inside. “You told me I was your future.”

Clifford wouldn’t even look at me. “I thought you were. Things changed.”

“Things?” My voice rose painfully. “Or you did when she spread her legs again?”

His jaw clenched. “Elena, stop.”

Lenora tsked. “Don’t be crude, sweetie. It doesn’t suit you.”

Something in me detonated.

I launched myself forward, not to fight—though God, I wanted to—but to grab Clifford’s discarded shirt and fling it at her face. “Get dressed before I drag you out myself.”

Lenora shrieked, clutching the sheet.

Clifford finally stood, grabbing my wrist. “Enough, Elena!”

“Don’t touch me!” I yanked away, my breath coming in sharp bursts. “Just tell me the truth, was I ever enough for you? Or was I just the convenient designer who skyrocketed your company while you pined for her?”

He hesitated.

That one second of silence killed every remaining part of me.

I stepped back.

“Wow. Okay.”

My chest tightened until it hurt to breathe. I walked out before I collapsed in front of them because I absolutely refused to break in front of the woman who had just stolen everything from me.

~~~~

The club lights from last night still pulsed behind my eyelids as I stumbled out of my Uber the next morning, head pounding, throat raw. I’d drunk for the first time ever, enough to drown a city. Enough to forget Clifford’s betrayal.

Enough to end up kissing a stranger in a dark corner.

Or maybe