The first time Selena saw her, it felt like a slap she didn't see coming.
Tall. Blonde. Impossibly poised. Wearing a white silk blouse tucked into a pencil skirt that screamed old money and cool calculation. Tessa Langford looked like she'd stepped out of a Vogue spread—and walked straight into Selena's nightmare.
"Jared," Tessa purred, entering the conference room like she owned the oxygen. "You didn't say the designer was your ex-wife."
Selena turned slowly from the presentation board. She hadn't even heard the door open.
Tessa's smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
Jared stood, every inch of him tense. "Tessa, this is Selena Moore. Selena, Tessa Langford."
"Fiancée," Tessa added, extending a hand. Her diamond ring practically sparkled with hostility.
Selena shook it, polite and cool. "Congratulations."
"Thank you. And may I just say—how brave of you. Working so closely with your ex must be… emotionally exhausting."
Selena didn't flinch. "Not really. Once you've been through hell, renovation projects are a breeze."
Jared gave a quiet cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Selena didn't look at him.
Tessa's eyes narrowed. "I just dropped by to bring Jared lunch. We always eat together on Tuesdays."
Selena stepped aside. "Then I'll let you two enjoy it."
She reached for her folder, but Jared spoke. "Stay. We're not done here."
Tessa sat on the edge of the table, deliberately close. "Darling, you didn't say you'd be busy with her all day."
Selena raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, your fiancé and I aren't doing anything you wouldn't approve of."
Tessa smiled. "Let's hope not."
The room thickened with unspoken things—resentment, jealousy, history.
Jared finally stood. "Tessa, this isn't the time."
She turned to him with a wounded expression. "You always said transparency was important. Or is that just for me?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Please, just go. I'll call you later."
Tessa's jaw tightened, but she stood. "Of course. I wouldn't want to disrupt... whatever this is."
She left in a sweep of Chanel perfume and passive aggression.
Silence fell like a curtain.
Selena stared at the door she'd walked through. "So that's her."
Jared leaned against the table, exhausted. "Yes."
"She doesn't like me."
"No."
"She sees me as a threat."
He didn't answer.
Selena turned to him, slowly. "Do you?"
Jared looked up, and for a moment—just one, bare second—his mask slipped.
"Yes."
That single word sat between them, echoing louder than any confession could.
Selena gathered her things and walked out without another word.
She needed air.
And distance.
Because whatever Jared Cole was doing, it wasn't just business.
It never had been.
Selena stepped into the elevator and jabbed the L button like it had personally offended her. The polished chrome doors slid shut, sealing her in a mirrored box with her own furious reflection.
She clenched her jaw. Her hand tightened around the folder of renderings, now creased at the corners.
That woman.
Tessa Langford didn't just walk in like she owned the room—she staked her claim. Jared's fiancée. Rich. Groomed. Calculated. The kind of woman who didn't lose.
Selena's stomach twisted.
It shouldn't have mattered. Jared was her past. She was just here for a job. But the way he looked at her—how his voice changed when he said her name—none of it felt over.
The elevator dinged at the lobby.
She stepped out into the cold white marble space, heels echoing as she made her way toward the revolving doors. Then—
"Selena."
His voice again.
She didn't stop. Not until she felt his hand on her arm.
She turned slowly. "Don't touch me."
Jared withdrew, but he didn't look away. "I didn't expect her to come by. I didn't plan that."
Selena arched a brow. "But you planned the part where you didn't tell her I was involved in the project?"
"She knew. She didn't believe me when I said it was just business."
"Well. Now she definitely doesn't."
Jared glanced down, something unreadable flickering across his face. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that."
Selena laughed—sharp and short. "You know what I deserved, Jared? I deserved a husband who didn't make me feel like I was sleeping beside a stranger every night."
His jaw tightened. "You think I didn't feel that too?"
"Then why didn't you say something?" she hissed. "Why didn't you fight for us?"
The silence between them sizzled. His lips parted like he might answer—but then he looked away.
Selena shook her head. "You're still doing it. Shutting down. Looking the other way. Just like before."
"I'm not that man anymore."
"Maybe. But I'm not the woman who cried in your penthouse bathroom while you worked late for the third night in a row."
She turned to go.
"I never stopped loving you," Jared said quietly.
Selena froze. The words landed like a whisper on bare skin—gentle and searing all at once.
She didn't turn around.
Instead, she said, "Then you have a strange way of showing it."
And walked out the glass doors into the city heat, leaving Jared standing in the lobby with regret in his eyes.
Selena didn't go back to her office.
Instead, she found herself walking aimlessly down Madison Avenue, the summer heat swirling around her like a too-tight scarf. The city moved at its usual frantic pace, horns blaring, heels tapping, sirens wailing somewhere in the distance. But inside her chest, everything was still.
Frozen.
Tessa's voice echoed in her mind.
"You're the ex-wife. That makes you ancient history."
The words shouldn't have mattered.
But they did.
Because no matter how much Selena tried to pretend Jared was just a client, she couldn't un-remember what it felt like to be the only woman who truly knew him. The quiet after his long days. The weight of his arm slung around her waist in sleep. The way his hand would brush the small of her back in public—like a claim only she understood.
And now?
He was hers no longer.
Her phone buzzed in her purse. She pulled it out, hoping it wasn't him.
It wasn't.
Ava (12:16 PM):
You alive? That meeting ended an hour ago. I'm guessing it didn't go well because you're not calling to scream into my voicemail.
Selena sighed and tapped out a reply.
Selena (12:17 PM):
I saw him. And her. It was like walking into a damn movie.
Ava (12:18 PM):
The villain girlfriend appears! Dun-dun-DUN.
Selena (12:18 PM):
Fiancée.
Ava (12:18 PM):
Ugh. Okay, I'll be over later with wine and tacos. You need carbs and support.
A small smile tugged at Selena's lips. Thank God for Ava.
She shoved her phone back in her bag and kept walking.
By the time she returned to her apartment—a sunlit loft in SoHo—the afternoon was fading. She kicked off her heels and threw her bag onto the couch, then paced like her thoughts might burn a hole in the floor if she stood still.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, the name made her stomach lurch.
Jared.
She stared at the screen.
Did she pick up?
No. Not tonight. Not after that encounter.
She let it ring out, then watched as a voicemail popped up.
Curiosity won.
She pressed play.
"Selena. I didn't mean for today to happen like that. I didn't want her to corner you. I didn't want… any of it. But I do want to work with you. And not just because you're the best. But because… I miss the way you see things. The way you see me, even when I don't deserve it."
A silence.
Then the softest line—barely above a whisper.
"Call me, if you want to. Or don't. I'll understand."
The message ended.
Selena sat on the edge of her couch, her heart thudding against her ribs like a caged thing.
He missed the way she saw him.
But what he didn't understand was—she'd had to stop looking.
Because seeing him had almost broken her.
Selena didn't listen to the voicemail again.
She didn't delete it either.
It stayed there, tucked between missed calls and unanswered texts—a ghost lingering on her phone just like Jared lingered in her thoughts.
When Ava arrived, arms full of takeout and a bottle of red that cost more than Selena's shoes, she didn't ask questions. She just kicked off her sandals, popped the cork, and passed Selena a glass.
"Okay," Ava said, unwrapping a taco. "On a scale from one to I-need-bail-money, how bad was it?"
Selena flopped back on the couch. "His fiancée called me irrelevant."
Ava blinked. "Please tell me you throat-punched her."
"I didn't." She took a long sip of wine. "I just left."
Ava stared at her. "That's... very mature. Grossly mature. I don't approve."
Selena gave a humorless laugh. "She was beautiful. Poised. Polished. Everything I'm not."
"Everything Jared probably thinks he wants," Ava corrected. "But that man couldn't even dress himself when you met him. You're the reason he wears socks that match."
Selena shook her head. "He left me, Ava."
"No." Ava leaned in. "He didn't fight for you. There's a difference."
The words sat heavy in the air.
Selena hadn't admitted it out loud—not in years—but that was the truth, wasn't it?
She left, yes. She packed her things, signed the papers, and walked out of their penthouse with her dignity bleeding into every step. But Jared let her go.
No questions. No arguments. No please don't.
Just that same cold silence that haunted their final months together.
Ava nudged her knee. "So... what now?"
Selena looked at the half-eaten taco in her hand. "I signed the contract."
Ava's brows lifted. "Wait. What?"
"This morning. Before I ran into her. I'm doing the hotel."
A beat passed.
"And you didn't tell me because...?"
"I didn't think I would say yes. But the offer—creative control, massive budget, prime location—I couldn't say no."
"And because it's his hotel," Ava said carefully, "you're going to be in his orbit. Every day."
Selena nodded slowly. "I know."
Ava leaned back. "Well, hell. You better design the sexiest lobby in Manhattan and wear heels that make him regret everything."
Selena smirked, the edge of pain still sharp behind her smile.
"Oh," Ava added, lifting her wine glass, "and stay the hell away from the ice queen. She gives off 'hidden body in the Hamptons' energy."
They clinked glasses.
For a few moments, everything felt light again.
But when Selena curled up in bed that night, the voicemail played again in her head—not the words, but the tone.
Soft. Regretful.
Jared Cole didn't do regret.
And yet—there it was.
And that, more than anything, was the most dangerous part of all.