I snap my gaze to the front desk, where Shaina is half-standing, palms braced on the counter, trying to block someone from bulldozing through.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, you can’t go in without an appoint?—”
Shaina’s words become muffled in my head.
Because I recognize the woman standing in front of her.
It’s Worth’s ex-wife, Vanessa.
My lungs lock up. Instinct tells me to duck behind my monitor and disappear before she sees me.
But Vanessa doesn’t even glance my way. She storms straight through reception like she owns the place. Shaina throws her arms in the air, but doesn’t dare follow her.
The glass walls of Worth’s office don’t hide much. I can’t hear every word, though I don’t need to. His expression says it all.
Worth looks livid. Jaw tight. Shoulders stiff. His voice rising and falling in muffled waves.
I hug my arms to my chest, torn between running as far away as possible or barging in to defend him. But what right do I have?
So I sit there, heart hammering, watching the storm unfold.
Vanessa doesn’t back down until Henson appears, stepping into Worth’s office without knocking. His presence alone seems to force her hand. They exchange heated words I can’t make out, but finally, with a huff of frustration, Vanessa yanks open the glass door and stalks out.
For a split second, I think I’m safe.
Until her eyes land on me.
She freezes, and her perfectly lined lips curl into a scowl sharp enough to slice me in half. The message is clear in the venom of her glare.
Then she storms away, Henson on her tail.
My knees are shaky, but my feet move on their own, carrying me to Worth’s office. I slip inside and close the door behind me.
I barely make it two steps before Shaina appears, planted firmly in front of his door.
“No,” she says flatly.
I stop short. “Excuse me?”
“Mr. Miller isn’t taking visitors,” she replies, chin lifting. “You’ll need to come back later.”
“I’m not a visitor,” I say, keeping my voice even. “I’m hisgirlfriend.”
She scoffs. “Yeah, sure.”
I step close, lowering my voice. “Listen, Shaina. I don’t know what transpired between you and Worth before, or how things ended—it’s none of my business. But what you’re not going to do is disrespect my relationship. So think twice before you say something you might regret.”
“You don’t get to just walk into his office whenever you feel like it, Mya,” she retorts, standing her ground.
The use of my name feels intentional, and it’s taking everything in me not to slap her audacious face.
“I’ll take my chances,” I spit, turning to enter Worth’s office.
He’s pacing. His tie is loose, jacket discarded on a chair, and his fists clench and unclench like he’s one second away from exploding. On his desk sits a thick envelope, its contents spilling. Legal papers.
“She served me,” he grinds out. “Court papers. She’s filing for custody, like she said she would.”
My chest tightens. “Oh my God, Worth…”