Martin sat at the head of the long conference table on the 45th floor, sleeves rolled up, staring at the projected slides without really seeing them.

The marketing team was presenting updated crisis-response strategies for the inclusivity event. Numbers, timelines, revised influencer outreach all the things that should have demanded his full attention. Instead, his mind kept drifting back to the same image: Fiona’s front door closing in his face while Caleb Reed stood there like he owned the ground beneath his feet.

"Mr. Mole?" one of the directors asked cautiously. "Should we move forward with the emergency teaser drop this week?"

Martin blinked, forcing his focus back to the room.

"Yes," he said curtly. "Push it. We can’t let Moonshine own the narrative."

The meeting continued, but he was only half-present. Every few minutes his hand twitched toward his phone. He had already called Fiona countless of times that morning,and all the times it had gone straight to voicemail.

He tried again during a short break, stepping into his private office and closing the door.

The line rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

Voicemail.

He didn’t leave a message this time. He just ended the call and stared at the screen, jaw tight.

*She’s really shutting me out.She really does not want anything to do with me*

The thought twisted something painful in his chest. He had spent the night before throwing himself into work reviewing quarterly reports until 3 a.m., answering emails, approving budgets. Anything to keep his mind occupied. But the moment he stopped, Fiona was there again. Her face when she had told him it was over. The way Caleb had looked at him with that smug certainty.

*Engaged.*

The word still felt like a lie he refused to accept.

A soft knock pulled him back.

Katherine stepped inside without waiting for an answer, looking impeccable in a tailored cream dress, her hair in loose waves. She carried two coffees and a tablet loaded with wedding details.

"Darling, you’ve been locked in here all morning," she said, setting one coffee on his desk. Her smile was bright, but her eyes were sharp. "The team said you barely spoke during the meeting. Is everything alright?"

Martin forced a nod, accepting the coffee.

"Just the usual Voss chaos. Moonshine’s launch is still causing headaches."

Katherine moved closer, sliding onto the edge of his desk with casual elegance. She opened the tablet and turned it toward him.

"I thought we could go over a few more details for the wedding. The florist needs final approval on the aisle arrangements, and the calligrapher sent over the invitation proofs. Look they turned out beautifully."

She scrolled through images of ivory cards embossed with gold lettering: *Mr. & Mrs. Martin Mole*.

Martin stared at the names, feeling a strange disconnect. A few weeks ago, this had felt like an inevitable business arrangement. Now it felt suffocating.

Katherine noticed his silence. She tilted her head, her tone still sweet but with a subtle edge underneath.

"You’ve been so distracted lately, Martin. Is it really just work? Or is there something else on your mind?" She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her touch light but possessive. "You know you can tell me anything. We’re partners now. Soon to be husband and wife."

He caught her hand gently before she could pull it away.

"It’s just work," he said, the lie tasting bitter. "The event is critical. The board is breathing down my neck."

Katherine studied him for a long second, then smiled again this one a little tighter.

"Of course. But remember, the wedding is critical too. Our families, our future, the merger... everything depends on this. I need you present, darling. Not half here."

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, lingering just a moment too long.

"I’ll handle the final details for now. But tonight, let’s have dinner together. Just us. No work talk. We need to stay connected before the big day."

Martin nodded, forcing a small smile.

"Tonight sounds good."

Katherine’s expression brightened, but as she walked toward the door, she paused.

"By the way... have you spoken to Fiona lately? After the stunt that she pulled i feel she owes us an explanation on everything. ’’

Martin’s hand tightened around his coffee cup.

"No," he said flatly. "I haven’t."

Katherine gave him one last searching look, then smiled sweetly.

"Good. Less distractions for all of us."

She left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Martin exhaled slowly and sank into his chair. He pulled out his phone again and stared at Fiona’s contact.

He typed a message, then deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.

Finally, he put the phone away.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

*Fiona engaged to Caleb.*

The image of her in a wedding dress but not for him burned behind his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands pressed to his temples.

She was gone.

And he had no idea how to get her back.

The private dining room at Aurelia Bay’s most exclusive restaurant was dimly lit, intimate, and far too quiet for Martin’s racing mind.

Katherine had chosen the venue carefully soft candlelight, a reserved table overlooking the bay, and a menu of Martin’s favorite dishes. She sat across from him in a sleek black dress that hugged her figure perfectly, her smile warm and expectant as the waiter poured another glass of expensive red wine.

"You’ve been so out of it lately," she said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. "Tonight is just for us. No work.

Martin forced a nod and took a long sip of wine. He had already finished two glasses. The alcohol was starting to blur the edges of his thoughts, but it wasn’t enough to erase Fiona’s face from his mind or the way Caleb had stood on her porch and declared her *his woman*.

The dinner progressed slowly. Katherine talked about wedding details the final guest list, the honeymoon destination in the Maldives, the custom rings that had just arrived. Martin listened with half an ear, nodding at the right moments, refilling his glass more often than he should.

By the time dessert arrived, the bottle was empty and a second one had been opened.

"You’re drinking quite a bit tonight," Katherine observed, her tone light but with a hint of concern. "Is something wrong, darling?"

Martin leaned back in his chair, the room tilting slightly. The wine had loosened his tongue and dulled the sharp pain in his chest, but it had also made the truth slip out more easily.

"Everything’s wrong," he muttered, staring into his glass. "Nothing is really working out for me .From my projects ,the event even the workers nothing seems to be going well and i am really getting tired of this."

’’Oh my darling you really seem to be thinking too much and it not good for you.Let me take care of you Martin. Let me show you how good i can be to you".

Martin didn’t respond. He just drank.

When they finally left the restaurant, he was noticeably drunk his steps unsteady, his words slurred. Katherine guided him into the waiting car, her arm looped through his. Instead of taking him back to his penthouse, she directed the driver to the Thorne estate.

Once inside her lavish suite, Katherine closed the door and turned to him with a sultry smile.

"Let me help you forget," she whispered, stepping close and sliding her hands up his chest.

Martin didn’t resist when she kissed him. The alcohol made everything feel distant and hazy. He kissed her back, hands moving automatically, pulling her closer. Clothes were shed in a clumsy rush her dress pooling on the floor, his shirt tossed aside.

They fell onto the large bed, Katherine on top, her lips trailing down his neck. Martin’s hands gripped her waist, but his mind was somewhere else. The room spun. The wine blurred his senses.

As Katherine kissed him deeply, pressing her body against his, Martin’s mouth moved almost on autopilot.

"Fiona..." he murmured against her lips.

Katherine froze.

The name hung in the air like a slap.

She pulled back sharply, staring down at him with wide, furious eyes.

"What did you just say?"

Martin blinked, the fog in his brain too thick to fully register what he had done. But the damage was already done.

Katherine sat up, pulling the sheet around herself, her face a mask of shock and rage.

"Fiona?" she repeated, voice rising. "You’re in bed with me your fiancée — and you say *her* name?"

Martin tried to sit up, the room tilting violently.

"Katherine, I... I didn’t mean—"

But she was already off the bed, grabbing her robe, her movements sharp and angry.

"Get out," she hissed. "Or at least sober up before you touch me again."

Martin lay back against the pillows, the ceiling spinning above him, the weight of his mistake crashing down harder than the alcohol ever could.

Fiona.

Even drunk, even in another woman’s arms, he couldn’t escape her.