The photograph was a silent scream.
I held it between trembling fingers, the edges soft and worn, like it had been handled countless times. Miles' arm was slung casually over the woman's shoulders, his grin unguarded, genuine—an expression I'd never seen on him. Her eyes, vivid and piercing, seemed to challenge me through the years.
"Who are you?" I whispered, the words catching in my throat.
A sharp knock jolted me. Before I could react, the door swung open, and there he was. Miles' tall frame filled the doorway, his face shadowed but unmistakably tense.
"What are you doing in here?" His voice was clipped, each word laced with steel.
I scrambled to tuck the photograph back into the pile, but it was too late. His eyes locked onto it like a predator spotting prey.
"You went through my things?" His tone was low, dangerous.
"It was under the papers," I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. "Not exactly hidden."
He crossed the room in three long strides, snatching the photo from the desk before I could stop him. His knuckles were white around it, the tension radiating from him palpable.
"This is none of your business," he growled.
"None of my business?" I echoed, my frustration bubbling over. "I'm supposed to work with you, yet you keep throwing up walls at every turn! How am I supposed to trust you when you hide things like this?"
His laugh was bitter, humorless. "Trust? Don't talk to me about trust, Riley. You've been digging into things you don't understand."
"Then explain it to me!" I snapped. "Who is she?"
For a moment, I thought he might answer. His lips parted, and something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe regret—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"Drop it," he said, his voice cold and final.
"No."
The single word hung between us, defiant and unyielding.
His jaw clenched, and he leaned in, the space between us shrinking to nothing. "You don't want to go down this road," he warned, his breath brushing my cheek. "It won't end well for either of us."
"Is that a threat?" I shot back, my pulse hammering.
"It's a promise."
His words were a knife to my resolve, sharp and cutting. But I refused to back down. Not this time.
The tension between us crackled, heavy and suffocating, until he abruptly stepped back, turning his back on me. "Stay out of my past, Riley," he said over his shoulder before striding out of the room.
I was left standing there, the silence pressing in on me like a weight.
The gala was an exquisite cage, all glittering chandeliers and polished smiles. I hated it.
Miles was across the room, his expression unreadable as he exchanged pleasantries with some investor. Vivian flitted between guests like a butterfly, her laugh too loud, her compliments too sweet.
I clutched my glass tighter, my gaze darting back to Miles. He hadn't so much as glanced in my direction all evening, and it was driving me insane.
Then I saw her.
The woman from the photograph.
She entered the room like she owned it, her emerald dress clinging to her in all the right ways. Her green eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Miles.
He froze.
My heart sank as she glided toward him, her smile radiant and intimate, as if no time had passed since that photo was taken. She placed a hand on his arm, leaning in to whisper something that made him smile.
A real smile.
Jealousy burned through me, hot and unrelenting. I turned away, unable to watch. But no matter where I looked, I felt her presence like a thorn digging into my side.
"Riley, isn't it?"
Her voice was soft, melodic, and entirely too close. I spun around to find her standing behind me, her smile sharper up close.
"Yes," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady.
"I'm Eliza," she said, offering her hand. "An old friend of Miles'."
Friend. The word tasted bitter.
"I know," I replied, meeting her gaze head-on.
Her smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, I doubt you know the half of it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my chest tightening.
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He has a way of… glossing over the messy details. But I'm sure you'll figure that out sooner or later."
Before I could respond, she straightened, her expression serene once more. "Enjoy the gala, Riley."
And with that, she walked away, leaving me reeling.
What messy details?
I turned to find Miles, but he was gone, lost in the sea of faces. My mind raced, the possibilities endless and none of them good.
Whatever this was, it wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.