Page 102 of The Rules

But it clung.

He didn’t even realize he was moving. One second he was breathing. The next—he was grabbing the lamp off the side table and hurling it across the room.

It crashed into the bookshelf. Wood splintered. A photo frame shattered. Papers scattered like shrapnel.

The silence after was unbearable. It wasn’t stillness—it was a void. A gaping, suffocating absence of noise that made the blood in his ears roar louder. There was no air. No center.

Just the unraveling echo of a man realizing he’d been broken in a way he didn’t even know was possible.

"Fuck," Ben growled, his breath ragged.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing, his movements erratic. His shoulders locked—but his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. He looked down at them like they belonged to someone else. Then slowly, deliberately, he pressed one against his thigh, trying to still it. Anchor it. Anything to quiet the chaos ripping through him. But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Wouldn’t even slow down.

That smirk in the conference room.

Her voice when she whispered "make me forget."

The way she fucking gasped his name—

You thought she was surrendering. She was distracting you.

The shame burned, but the rage scorched over it.

She used you like a fucking game piece.

Ben stared at the wreckage across his living room, chest heaving. The lamp lay in pieces, but the destruction did nothing to quell the storm inside him.

This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't heat-of-the-moment.

She planned this.

She played me. She infiltrated both sides of my life—work and whatever the hell was left of my personal life—and kept the lie going. For months.

Every touch. Every smirk. Every whisper of "Mr. S." The way she'd lean over his desk, challenge him in meetings, then slide into his lap hours later wearing nothing but silk and lies.

What the fuck did she want?

Information? Power? A weakness to exploit? Had she been documenting his vulnerabilities, waiting for the perfect moment to strike? Was this about a case? About the firm?

I need to do something. Say something. Confront her.

Ben paced, hands on his hips, chest rising and falling too fast.But not like this.Not while he was still burning with fury and frustration and something too raw to name.I need control. I need a plan.And most of all?I need to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do about her.

Chapter 26

Katherine

Kath steps off the elevator and freezes.

No chatter. No phones. No clicking keyboards or sighs or the usual chaos.

Did I miss a fucking fire drill?

She walks forward, each step echoing too loudly in her ears.

Patty's desk—empty. Joshua's door—closed. The meeting room—silent.