Angela's POV
Aaron stepped closer. Every inch he closed made it harder for me to breathe. The hallway suddenly felt narrower, like the walls had shifted when I wasn't looking. I could smell his cologne—clean, sharp, mixed with something hotter beneath it. Anger, maybe. Or disappointment. I couldn't tell which was worse.
There was nowhere to hide. His eyes didn’t give me even an inch of space to run.
“I...” My voice cracked. The word came out useless. I swallowed and tried again, but nothing followed. Anything I said would sound like an excuse. And I had none.
I’d messed up—badly.
“You played me, Angela.” His voice was low, controlled. Not loud. Not explosive. That calm cut deeper than shouting ever could. “All this time… I thought you were different.”
Different. The word lodged itself in my chest.
I said nothing. Silence was the only honest thing left.
“I trusted you,” he continued. “You were the last person I ever thought would lie to me. Hurt me.” His jaw tightened. “But I was wrong.”
The air felt heavier with every sentence. I bowed my head, biting down hard on my lip until I tasted blood. My eyes burned, but I refused to let the tears fall. Every word landed like a punch, precise and deserved. Whatever trust he'd had in me was gone. Not cracked. Shattered.
I remembered, stupidly, the way he used to look at me when I talked too much. Like he didn't mind listening. Like I wasn't just noise. That memory made my throat tighten.
Aaron stepped even closer. Now he was only inches away. The heat of his body pressed into my space, and I felt it everywhere—my shoulders, my ribs, my lungs struggling to expand.
"Do I even get to hear your reason?” he asked.
That was it.
The tears came, fast and uncontrollable. I hated myself for it. I wiped them away with trembling hands, smearing them across my cheeks like they were dirt.
"Everything they said is true,” I whispered. The words scraped on the way out. “I got close to you because of the bet.”
His face didn't change. No shock. No denial. But something dark rolled through his eyes. Anger, yes—but underneath it, hurt. Real hurt.
“At least…” My voice shook, but I forced myself to keep going. “I’m being honest now. I’m done lying.”
Even as I said it, part of me wanted to take it back. To soften it. To say there was more. That it hadn't stayed that simple.
“There’s nothing left to talk about.”
The words came out of me before I could stop them. Final. Cowardly.
I tried to pull away, to leave before I broke apart completely. I took one step. Then another.
His hand shot out and grabbed my arm.
Before I could react, he slammed me back against the wall. My spine hit hard, knocking the air out of my lungs. The surface behind me was cold and rough through my clothes. He caged me in, one arm braced beside my head, his body blocking every exit. The look in his eyes could've killed me.
“Who the hell do you think you are, Angela?” he whispered. His voice was sharp, shaking despite his control. “I trusted you. I cared about you. And you—” His jaw flexed. “You wrecked me.”
The word wrecked echoed in my head.
The warmth that used to live in his eyes was gone. In its place was something cold and distant, like I'd finally been locked out for good.
I swallowed hard. Fear curled in my stomach. If he still cared, even a little, this would only hurt longer.
So I did the only thing I knew how to do.
“Who asked you to trust me?” I shot back. My voice came out louder than I meant. My hands were shaking, but I didn't let him see it. “Who asked you to care?”
His eyes flickered.
“If you weren't so stupid,” I continued, “you wouldn't have fallen for it. Everything I did… was for the money.”
The lie wasn't complete. That was the worst part.
The words hurt even me, slicing through whatever was left of my resolve. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. There was nothing to fix anymore. I needed him to hate me. To walk away without looking back.
“I even accused you of something you never did. The Bennetts are powerful. I wasn’t going to destroy myself for you. I chose to save myself, Aaron.”
My gaze dropped to the floor.
The envelope lay there—the money I’d won. I picked it up and held it out.
“Look. This is what you were worth. The bet paid off.”
I pulled out a handful of cash and shoved it toward him.
"Want me to split it with you?”
For a second, he didn’t move.
Then he smacked my hand away.
The money scattered across the floor, sliding and fluttering like trash. His breathing turned rough, uneven, and the fury in him finally broke the surface.
“So it was all about money?” he hissed.
Suddenly, his fist shot forward.
I flinched, eyes squeezing shut, heart pounding—but nothing hit me.
When I opened my eyes, his fist was buried in the wall beside my head, blood already dripping from his knuckles, dark against his skin.
My stomach dropped.
“Are you insane?!” I gasped, panic rushing in despite myself.
He leaned in, so close our foreheads almost touched. I could feel the heat of his breath.
"Angela,” he said quietly, dangerously calm. “I regret ever meeting you. I hope we never cross paths again.”
His words felt like a slap to the soul. I watched him walk away, every step like another door closing.
I wanted to run after him. Grab his hand. Apologize. Scream. Tell him everything that was tearing me apart. But nothing I said would change a damn thing. The damage was done. Too deep.
My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. The air felt dense, crushing my lungs. Every emotion I’d been holding back finally cracked open.
My sobs echoed through the empty hallway. It felt like a thousand tiny blades carving into me—pain sharper than anything physical.
And I sat there, broken, drowning in guilt, regret… and the truth that I’d lost him forever.