The breakroom at Schaffer Corp smelled of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet-something almost sinful. Liam leaned against the counter, savoring a forkful of carrot cake, groaning in appreciation.

"This is too good. What kind of witchcraft did you put in this, Natalia?" he asked, eyes twinkling as he flashed his receptionist a teasing grin.

Natalia chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, just a pinch of magic and a whole lot of butter."

Liam smirked. "Dangerous combination."

"Only if you're weak," she shot back playfully, making him chuckle.

The moment between them stretched, warm and charged, and just as Natalia was about to ask him out-his phone buzzed. He sighed, already knowing who it was. A quick glance confirmed it: Chase.

Chase: Be there in an hour.

Liam rolled his eyes, tapping out a response.

Liam: Fine. But you owe me.

He still had one last meeting before he could clock out, anyway. But as he set his phone down, a flicker of unease settled in his gut. He knew Chase knew the weight behind messages like these. And the fact that Chase was summoning him out of the blue? It meant something was brewing.

Something messy.

With a sigh, he shoved the thought aside, focusing back on Natalia. There is no need to let whatever storm Chase was bringing ruin this moment.

"Rain check? A friend needs me," he said, his tone casual, though his mind was already drifting elsewhere.

Natalia's lips curved into a small pout before she smiled. "Next week then?"

Liam nodded. "Next week."

She leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to a playful lilt. "I'll hold you to that."

Liam chuckled, finishing off his coffee. "I'd expect nothing less."

But as he pushed off the counter and headed out, the lightness of their conversation faded. His fingers twitched toward his phone, an old habit—one born from years of cleaning up Chase's messes.

He already knew tonight wouldn't be simple.

___________________________________________________

The Tipsy Tortoise was alive. Music thumped softly beneath the chatter of patrons, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The scent of aged whiskey, citrusy cocktails, and sizzling bar food hung in the air, weaving together the signature aroma of a Friday night rush.

Behind the bar, Travis moved like a man who owned the place—because he did. He poured drinks, cracked jokes, and charmed his regulars, all while keeping an eye on everything. A waitress nearly ran into him as she balanced a tray of cocktails.

"Careful, Annie," he warned, steadying the tray with one hand while sliding a beer across the counter with the other.

"Sorry, Trav! Table twelve's getting grabby."

"Want me to have security 'accidentally' spill a drink on them?" he asked, only half-joking.

Annie grinned. "Nah, I got this."

Travis smirked, watching as she expertly put the customer in his place before moving on.

His bar was a well-oiled machine, but even the best machines had interruptions.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the message.

Chase: Be there in an hour.

Travis exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. He knew what this meant. Without hesitation, he turned to his security guy, Greg. "Closing off the VIP area. Chase is coming."

Greg didn't even ask why. He just nodded. "Got it."

Travis hesitated before pulling out his phone again. He thought of Emilia, of how she'd finally started finding peace after everything. He didn't know what Chase wanted, but he knew it wouldn't be easy for her. And no matter how much he loved Chase like a brother, Emilia was his sister, too. And she came first.

Travis: Hey, just a heads-up. Chase is coming tonight. Figured you'd want to know.

Emilia stood in the middle of an art supply store, staring at a wall of paint tubes, overwhelmed.

"Why are there so many shades of blue?" she muttered, running her fingers along the neatly arranged rows. There was cerulean, cobalt, midnight, arctic frost—who the hell named these?

She was in the middle of debating between deep ocean and stormy sky when her phone vibrated in her pocket. A quick glance told her everything she needed to know.

Travis.

She smirked at his message, but when she read it, the smirk faded.

Chase was coming tonight.

She didn't feel the sharp pang in her chest anymore. The ache had dulled, the wound scarring over, and for the first time, she didn't feel like she was bracing for impact. It was... acceptance. A strange, peaceful resignation.

She sighed, shoving two random tubes of blue into her basket before making her way to the checkout. She didn't mind helping—especially if Travis needed backup—but Chase showing up didn't shake her like it once would have. Maybe this was proof she was healing.

She tapped her card, grabbed the bag, and sent one final text.

Emilia: Um... ok?

Travis: Come to the bar. We all miss you. I promise Chase won't bother you.

Rolling her eyes, she tucked her phone away and stepped out into the cool night air. She wasn't dreading seeing Chase—not anymore. If anything, she felt something close to curiosity. Because this time, she wasn't the one left reeling.

This time, she was the one standing steady.

The Tipsy Tortoise was as busy as ever when she walked in, the familiar warmth of the place wrapping around her. She spotted Travis behind the bar, his sharp eyes scanning the room like a man who saw everything before it happened.

He saw her immediately and gave a small nod.

"You good?" he asked, voice low when she reached the bar.

She leaned against the counter, tilting her head. "I think so. Weird, right?"

Travis studied her for a beat, then gave a slow nod of approval. "Not weird. Just about damn time."

She huffed a quiet laugh, appreciating how he always knew what to say. They didn't need to talk about it, not really. Travis had been there through it all. Through every fight, every tear, every time she swore, she was done only to get pulled back in. And every time, he had been the one steady thing in her life.

"Sneak away for a bit?" she asked after a pause. "Have a drink with me? I want to talk about something."

His brows lifted, but he nodded. "Yeah, of course. Just let me wrap up a few things."

She smiled, tapping her fingers against the counter before pushing off. "Meet you on the rooftop in ten."

As she walked toward the back, she felt lighter than she had in a long time. She wasn't bracing for the next wave of hurt. Wasn't preparing for another spiral.

For the first time in what felt like forever... she was okay.

____________________________

The moment Chase stumbled into The Tipsy Tortoise, the air around him seemed to sour. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversation—it was all background noise, drowned out by the storm raging inside him. His movements were heavy, unsteady, his anger barely concealed beneath the sway of too much alcohol.

Travis spotted him immediately from behind the bar. "Yo, Chase—"

Chase ignored him. No nod, no glance, just a direct march toward the VIP section, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched like he was carrying the weight of something unbearable.

Travis exhaled sharply. He knew this wasn't going to be good. Turning to James, his bartender, he muttered, "Locking down VIP. Only us, only top shelf. If he starts getting too wasted, we cut him off. I don't care how pissed he gets."

James nodded. "Got it."

Travis ripped off his apron and tossed it onto a hook. "If you need me, I'll be dealing with that mess." He jabbed a thumb toward the lounge before heading in.

Inside, the dimly lit VIP section was nearly empty except for Chase, slumped over the table, his fingers gripping the edge like he was afraid the world might tip him over. His head hung low, jaw clenched so tight Travis was surprised he hadn't cracked a tooth.

"What the hell happened?" Travis asked, dragging a chair out and sitting across from him.

Chase let out a hollow laugh, lifting his head just enough to reveal bloodshot eyes. "I was just helping Hallie," he muttered, shaking his head. "That's all it was supposed to be. Just... helping."

Travis said nothing, waiting for the inevitable train wreck.

"But then—fuck, I don't know—it was like I was falling all over again. Like I blinked, and it was years ago. And suddenly—" His voice wavered before he swallowed hard. "I slept with her, Trav. I fucking slept with her."

Travis went rigid. "Jesus Christ."

Chase exhaled shakily, rubbing his hands down his face. "And now I can't stop thinking about it. About her. And the worst part? I think Hallie's using me. Like I'm some consolation prize, some backup plan. And Emilia—I don't even know what the hell she wants from me anymore."

Travis's expression darkened. "Are you kidding me?" His voice was low, steady, but laced with anger. "You did this to yourself. You wrecked everything. No wonder Emilia left."

Chase's head snapped up; his face twisted in drunken fury. "Oh, she's the one in the right?" he spat. "She left me, Travis. Like she's some saint in all of this. Like she's so goddamn innocent."

Travis scoffed. "And you think you are? You think screwing around with Hallie is some kind of revenge? Emilia loved you, man. She fucking loved you. How was she in the wrong for you caving into something that you used to have? Be a fucking man. All she ever did was love you, Chase. And you—you went right back to the girl who fucking broke you."

Chase slammed his fist against the table, rattling the glasses. "She doesn't get to act like I'm the villain in this! She left, Travis! She walked out like I was nothing! Like I didn't give her everything!"

Travis didn't flinch. "Maybe because you didn't."

Chase's breath came fast and sharp, his whole-body tense like a live wire ready to snap. "You don't know shit."

"No, I know exactly what this is," Travis shot back. "You can't handle that she's not playing your little game. You fucked up, and instead of owning it, you're throwing a tantrum."

"Fuck you."

"Nah, man. Fuck you. You think love is just about who's there when you need them? A relationship isn't a goddamn safety net, Chase. You don't get to run around wrecking shit and expect Emilia to pick up the pieces."

Before Chase could retort, the VIP doors swung open, and Liam strolled in, a plastic bag dangling from his fingers. "Alright, I come bearing gifts—Pringles and Doritos with nacho cheese. Now, who died?"

Travis huffed a humorless laugh. But Chase? He didn't even acknowledge Liam. No smart-ass remark, no eye roll. Just grabbed another shot and downed it like water.

Liam's smirk faded. He set the bag down, leaning against the table. "That bad, huh?"

"Worse," Travis muttered, eyes never leaving Chase.

Chase scoffed, rolling the shot glass between his fingers. "I just don't get it. How could she just leave like that? She has nobody but me."

Travis sat up straighter, his anger sharpening. "Oh, you did not just say that."

Liam's eyes narrowed; his usual easy humor gone. "Dude."

Chase threw his hands up. "What? It's the truth! Who else does she have? I was her family, and she just—" His voice turned bitter. "—packed a damn bag and left like I was nothing."

Travis stared at him, disgust plain on his face. "Like you were nothing? Are you serious? After everything?"

Liam shook his head, popping open the Pringles just to keep himself from punching Chase. "Look, I get that you're drunk and stupid right now, but let's make one thing clear—Emilia was never just yours. She's our friend too. And if we had to pick a side? I'd pick her over Hallie in a heartbeat."

Travis didn't even hesitate. "Same."

Chase's hands clenched into fists on the table. "Oh, screw you both."

"Gladly," Liam said dryly, crunching down on a chip. "But don't act like you're the fucking victim here. You slept with Hallie. You did this."

Chase's jaw ticked, barely holding back his rage. "I didn't plan for that to happen."

"Yeah, well, Emilia sure as hell didn't plan on getting screwed over either," Travis snapped.

Chase shot to his feet, fists clenched. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

Travis stood too, ready to swing. "Then fucking say it, Chase! Say what you really feel!"

But Chase couldn't. He couldn't even find the words. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, blurred by whiskey and regret, tangled in the feelings he didn't know how to unravel.

And then—just for a split second—it hit him.

Emilia was really gone.

She wasn't coming back. Not this time.

Something inside his chest tightened, sharp and cruel, but he shoved it down just as fast as it came. Drowning it in anger was easier.

Then—

A heavy hand clamped down on Chase's shoulder, forcing him back.

"Enough," Liam's voice was cold, firm. The weight of command. "Sit. Down."

Chase's chest heaved, nostrils flaring—but he listened. Because even in his drunken rage, he knew Liam wouldn't hesitate to put him on the floor if he didn't.

Travis shook his head, running a hand down his face. "You need help, man."

Chase scoffed, but it was weaker this time, almost like he knew it too.

Liam sighed, grabbing another chip. "This is a goddamn disaster."

No one disagreed.

_________________________________________

Across Town

Hallie lay on her back, her chest still rising and falling rapidly, but her mind was already elsewhere. Ryder Evans was beside her, lounging against the headboard with that same insufferable smirk, a cigarette lazily hanging between his fingers. His piercing blue eyes gleamed with something dark, something knowing.

"So," he murmured, exhaling a slow curl of smoke, "how's the grand plan coming along? Chase still playing the doting idiot?"

Hallie rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand while dragging her nails down his chest with the other. "Hook, line, and sinker," she purred. "Chase thinks he's saving me, that poor bastard is too busy stroking his own ego to see what's right in front of him."

Ryder chuckled, shaking his head. "Men are so predictable." He turned to her, tracing his fingers down her arm. "And what about me, sweetheart?" His smirk deepened. "Am I just another fool in your little game?"

Hallie grinned, letting out a soft, teasing laugh. "Oh, Ryder," she cooed. "You and I both know you don't care as long as you're getting what you want."

And that was the truth of it. She had spent years perfecting the art of manipulation, crafting the perfect illusion, stepping over anyone necessary to get what she wanted. Fame. Power. A life of endless luxury. And Ryder? He was the final piece. The man she had always wanted, the one who could open all the right doors—if she played this correctly.

She leaned in closer, pressing her lips to his ear. "You were always my endgame," she whispered, voice dripping with honeyed lies. "You, me—on top of the world."

Ryder hummed, amused. "Oh yeah? And what about your devoted fiancé?"

Hallie scoffed. "Chase is temporary. A steppingstone." She traced slow circles on Ryder's chest. " A career move. But you, Ryder... you were always the goal. Hollywood's golden boy and the most sought-after actress in the world. We'd be untouchable."

Ryder's smirk widened. "Ambitious. I like it."

Of course, he did. Because he thought he was the one in control. That she was just another woman caught in his gravity, desperate for his attention. He had no idea she'd been pulling strings from the very beginning.

But what Hallie refused to see—what she refused to admit—was that Ryder was playing his own game. That to him, she was nothing more than a warm body, a secret indulgence to fill the space between his real life.

Because Ryder Evans would never leave his wife. And Hallie?

She was too blind to see it.

Yet.

__________________

Author's Note: This chapter has officially been rewritten to incorporate some of the questions many of readers had :) More edited and expanded chapters coming soon. Thank you to all of you for being so patient and kind with this, I know normally novels don't happen like this, with edits before chapters and etc but this is my first novel and I'm trying to make it great :)