Chapter 13: THE TRUTH COMES OUT
Ciara
The voicemails destroyed me.
Sixty-seven recordings. Some thirty seconds. Some ten minutes. All raw. Unfiltered. The voice of a man talking to a woman he thought would never hear him.
*"Recording 4 — Month three. I'm an idiot. You left your cardigan on the couch and I held it for twenty minutes. It smells like vanilla. What is wrong with me?"*
*"Recording 17 — Month eight. You laughed tonight. Really laughed. At that stupid cooking show. And I stood in the hallway listening like a fool because the sound makes me forget everything bad."*
*"Recording 31 — Month fourteen. I almost told you today. You were making tea and humming and I walked up behind you and the words were RIGHT THERE — but then you turned around and smiled and I panicked. God, I'm pathetic."*
*"Recording 45 — Month twenty-two. Vanessa kissed me last night. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I realized it's because she's not you. No one is you. But I'm too far in now. I can't undo what I've done."*
*"Recording 67 — The night of the gala. Final recording. I just proposed to the wrong woman in front of 500 people. You were there. I saw you leave. The champagne glasses on the table — two of them. You brought one for me. I'm staring at the ceiling right now and I think... I think I just made the worst mistake of my life."*
I sat in my office chair, tears streaming freely, and let the silence settle around me.
He loved me. He loved me the entire time.
And he chose fear.
The question was — did that change anything? Did love that was never spoken count? Did it matter that he felt it if he never once acted on it?
I didn't know.
What I knew was that I needed to see him. Not to forgive. Not to take him back. But to look into his eyes and understand — truly understand — why.
Jerome knocked. "Ma'am? Your afternoon meeting—"
"Cancel it."
"All of them?"
"All of them."
I grabbed my coat and walked out of Harrison Tower for the first time in months without a destination that involved work.
It took me forty minutes to find it. Sunrise Ventures — a tiny office space above a bookstore in the arts district. Nothing like the glass tower he once occupied. A hand-painted sign. A single employee at the front desk.
"I'm here to see Dominic Ashford," I said.
The receptionist — a young man barely out of college — looked up with wide eyes. "Ms. Harrison? I — he's in the back. Should I—"
"Don't announce me."
I walked through the small hallway and pushed open the last door on the left.
Dominic sat at a plain wooden desk, laptop open, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy. No designer suit. No pretense.
He looked up.
Our eyes met.
And for the first time in three years, neither of us looked away.
"Ciara," he breathed.
"I listened to them," I said. "All sixty-seven."
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were wet.
"And?"
I stepped closer. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.
"And I need you to say it. Out loud. To my face. Right now. No recordings. No letters. No hiding."
Dominic stood slowly. He walked around the desk until he was standing in front of me — close enough that I could see every crack in his composure, every sleepless night etched into his features.
"I love you," he said. Raw. Shaking. "I loved you from month three. I love you right now. I'll love you whether you walk out that door or stay. And I know — I *know* — that words don't erase what I did. But I will spend the rest of my life proving them if you let me."
My tears fell. I didn't wipe them.
"You destroyed me, Dominic."
"I know."
"You made me feel worthless."
"I know."
"I don't know if I can trust you again."
"I know that too."
We stood there — two broken people in a tiny office above a bookstore — and the silence between us wasn't empty. It was full. Three years full.
"I'm not saying yes," I whispered.
"I'm not asking you to."
"But I'm not saying no either."
His breath caught. Hope — fragile, terrified hope — flickered across his face.
"Then what are you saying?"
I took one more step closer. Close enough to feel his warmth. Close enough to remember why I fell in love with this impossible man.
"I'm saying... sunrise. The world keeps trying." I looked up at him. "So show me, Dominic. Show me you're worth trying for."
The voicemails destroyed me.
Sixty-seven recordings. Some thirty seconds. Some ten minutes. All raw. Unfiltered. The voice of a man talking to a woman he thought would never hear him.
*"Recording 4 — Month three. I'm an idiot. You left your cardigan on the couch and I held it for twenty minutes. It smells like vanilla. What is wrong with me?"*
*"Recording 17 — Month eight. You laughed tonight. Really laughed. At that stupid cooking show. And I stood in the hallway listening like a fool because the sound makes me forget everything bad."*
*"Recording 31 — Month fourteen. I almost told you today. You were making tea and humming and I walked up behind you and the words were RIGHT THERE — but then you turned around and smiled and I panicked. God, I'm pathetic."*
*"Recording 45 — Month twenty-two. Vanessa kissed me last night. I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I realized it's because she's not you. No one is you. But I'm too far in now. I can't undo what I've done."*
*"Recording 67 — The night of the gala. Final recording. I just proposed to the wrong woman in front of 500 people. You were there. I saw you leave. The champagne glasses on the table — two of them. You brought one for me. I'm staring at the ceiling right now and I think... I think I just made the worst mistake of my life."*
I sat in my office chair, tears streaming freely, and let the silence settle around me.
He loved me. He loved me the entire time.
And he chose fear.
The question was — did that change anything? Did love that was never spoken count? Did it matter that he felt it if he never once acted on it?
I didn't know.
What I knew was that I needed to see him. Not to forgive. Not to take him back. But to look into his eyes and understand — truly understand — why.
Jerome knocked. "Ma'am? Your afternoon meeting—"
"Cancel it."
"All of them?"
"All of them."
I grabbed my coat and walked out of Harrison Tower for the first time in months without a destination that involved work.
It took me forty minutes to find it. Sunrise Ventures — a tiny office space above a bookstore in the arts district. Nothing like the glass tower he once occupied. A hand-painted sign. A single employee at the front desk.
"I'm here to see Dominic Ashford," I said.
The receptionist — a young man barely out of college — looked up with wide eyes. "Ms. Harrison? I — he's in the back. Should I—"
"Don't announce me."
I walked through the small hallway and pushed open the last door on the left.
Dominic sat at a plain wooden desk, laptop open, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy. No designer suit. No pretense.
He looked up.
Our eyes met.
And for the first time in three years, neither of us looked away.
"Ciara," he breathed.
"I listened to them," I said. "All sixty-seven."
He closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were wet.
"And?"
I stepped closer. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.
"And I need you to say it. Out loud. To my face. Right now. No recordings. No letters. No hiding."
Dominic stood slowly. He walked around the desk until he was standing in front of me — close enough that I could see every crack in his composure, every sleepless night etched into his features.
"I love you," he said. Raw. Shaking. "I loved you from month three. I love you right now. I'll love you whether you walk out that door or stay. And I know — I *know* — that words don't erase what I did. But I will spend the rest of my life proving them if you let me."
My tears fell. I didn't wipe them.
"You destroyed me, Dominic."
"I know."
"You made me feel worthless."
"I know."
"I don't know if I can trust you again."
"I know that too."
We stood there — two broken people in a tiny office above a bookstore — and the silence between us wasn't empty. It was full. Three years full.
"I'm not saying yes," I whispered.
"I'm not asking you to."
"But I'm not saying no either."
His breath caught. Hope — fragile, terrified hope — flickered across his face.
"Then what are you saying?"
I took one more step closer. Close enough to feel his warmth. Close enough to remember why I fell in love with this impossible man.
"I'm saying... sunrise. The world keeps trying." I looked up at him. "So show me, Dominic. Show me you're worth trying for."