Chapter 3: The Break-In

A week later, the agent called to say a buyer was willing to offer $260,000, but I’d have to move out in three days.

The offer stung, but I couldn’t afford to wait. The market was cooling off, and desperation doesn’t make for good bargaining.

After work, I came by to pack.

The apartment was exactly as I’d left it—half-packed boxes and memories stuffed in drawers. The old radiator hissed, struggling against the fall chill.

I realized this was my first time back since the breakup.

It felt surreal, standing in the doorway, breathing in the faint scent of lavender and dust. Every shadow seemed longer, every corner sharper.

As soon as I opened the door, the late autumn wind rushed in, biting cold and making me shiver.

I pulled my jacket tighter, flicking the light switch with numb fingers. The cold bit straight through my jeans.

Why was the window open?

A draft swept through, rustling the curtains. My heart thudded uneasily. Had someone broken in?

I reached out and flipped the power switch with a snap.

The switch clicked, but nothing happened. I jiggled it again, cursing under my breath. The apartment stayed stubbornly dark.

The chandelier flickered, sparked, then went dark again.

A tiny blue spark flashed, then the whole fixture fizzled out, leaving the room in shadows. I made a mental note to call the landlord, even though it was pointless now.

Now only the faint glow from the streetlights outside lit the room.

Shadows crept across the hardwood floors, the city’s neon glow painting stripes on the walls. I fished my phone out for some extra light.

I dropped my bag and walked toward the balcony to close the window.

My footsteps echoed in the half-empty room. The cold wind whipped my hair into my face as I reached for the latch.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed my wrists and yanked me back.

The shock sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. I stumbled, heart racing, my mind scrambling for explanations.

I lost my balance and fell sideways onto the couch.

The cushions caught me awkwardly. My breath whooshed out as I landed, arms pinned by the unfamiliar grip.

I crashed into a broad, solid chest, and through his shirt I could hear his strong heartbeat.

The scent of his cologne was unmistakable—clean and sharp, a punch of nostalgia and anger rolled into one.

I tried to push myself up using the armrest, but another hand pinned my arm, holding me in place.

My panic flared. The grip was too tight, too familiar. I twisted, struggling to break free.

"Derek, let me go!"

My voice came out fierce, echoing in the dark. I kicked at his shins, but he didn’t budge.

He didn’t answer. One arm locked around my waist while the other slid under my sweater, tracing up my spine.

Goosebumps shot up my back. His touch was icy, sending a shiver straight through me.

The coldness sent a shock through my nerves.

My nerves lit up, every muscle tense. My breath came in shallow gasps.

I swung my hand up.

Instinct took over. I balled my fist, aiming for his face.

"Slap!"

The sound was sharp, echoing off the empty walls. My palm stung, but I didn’t regret it for a second.

Even though I couldn’t see his face clearly, the tension in his body told me he was furious.

I could feel his pulse quicken, his grip tightening on my arm. In the low light, his silhouette loomed above me.

Before I could react again, he flipped me over and pinned me down hard.

He was stronger than I remembered, his weight pressing me into the cushions. My heart hammered in my chest.

I panicked, swinging my fists, but hit only air.

My arms flailed, but he dodged every blow. Frustration built with every failed attempt.

"Natalie Carter."

His voice was low, rough, vibrating right in my ear. The way he said my name sent a chill down my spine.

He leaned close to my ear, his breath hot against my skin, his voice chilling.

The heat of his breath contrasted the cold room. His words dripped with menace.

"Why don’t you beg me?"

He taunted me, daring me to show weakness. I clenched my jaw, refusing to give in.

I thrashed wildly, pounding my fists against him, venting all my anger.

My movements were desperate and wild, a tangle of limbs and rage. All the old pain bubbled up, boiling over.

"Isn’t this what you wanted?"

His accusation cut deep. I spat back, hating how he twisted my desperation.

"The moment word got out that you’d returned, Summit pulled their investment and the other investors backed off too!"

I threw his words back at him, voice raw. The truth was bitter, burning my throat.

"This is the most critical time for our company! Derek, you’re disgusting!"

My shout echoed in the room, full of fury and heartbreak. I hated how much power he still had over me.

Derek grabbed my chin, tightening his grip and forcing me to meet his gaze.

His fingers were rough, almost bruising. He angled my face so I couldn’t look away.

"Natalie, you’re so naive."

His words were a sneer, like he knew something I never would. It stung, but I refused to flinch.

I sneered. "Falling in love with you was the stupidest thing I ever did."

The confession hung heavy between us. I spit the words out, letting the anger fuel me.

"Heh."

He let out a cold laugh, the sound bitter. It was the laugh of someone who’d lost too much to care.

He let out a cold laugh, his face barely an inch from mine. "So you regret it?"

His breath was warm on my skin, his gaze searching my face for cracks. I held firm.

I stared straight into his eyes and forced out, "Yes, I regret it."

My voice barely trembled. I wanted him to feel every ounce of regret I carried.

Silence...

The room was so still, I could hear the hum of the streetlights outside.

Only his heavy breathing filled the room.

The air between us pulsed with unspoken words. My own breath was shaky, but I kept my eyes locked on his.

Time seemed to freeze, every second stretching on endlessly.

It felt like we were trapped in a bubble, just the two of us and the weight of everything we’d lost.

After a long while, he lowered his head, loosened his grip, and the weight pinning me down finally disappeared.

The pressure eased, and I sucked in a deep, shaky breath. My limbs ached from the struggle.

I rolled over onto the couch, gasping for air.

The fabric was scratchy under my cheek, but I didn’t care. I pulled myself upright, glaring at his retreating back.

He tugged at his tie, looking down at me, calm again—as if the person who’d just lost control wasn’t him. His voice was cold as ever.

He straightened his tie, mask back in place. All business, no trace of the man who’d just pinned me down.

"Natalie Carter, who gave you the guts to keep going until you hit a brick wall?"

His words were part insult, part backhanded compliment. The question lingered, unanswered.

With that, he turned and walked out.

His footsteps faded into the hallway, and the door clicked shut behind him. I let out a long, shaky exhale.

I called after him coldly, "Just leave the keys in the entryway."

My voice was frosty, a final barrier. I listened for the jingle of keys hitting the table, then nothing.

Soon, his presence faded from the air completely.

Only the memory of his touch and the echo of old pain remained. I wrapped my arms around my knees, waiting for my heartbeat to slow.