His pained face is genuinely confused at that. “What’re you talking about, Saige? What do you mean ‘a distraction’?”
“That night when you stopped talking to me. You told me you loved me.” My voice cracks around the word. “Was that a distraction so you didn’t have to tell me your mom figured out who I was? She knew who I was. She put the pieces of the puzzle together when I told her my last name.” God, she figured it out that night. I press my hands against my stomach, trying to stop the ache. He inhales deeply and swallows hard, his lips pressing into a hard line. “Oh my God, Holt! How many more lies are there?”
“That wasn’t a lie,” he snaps angrily. “Saige, I would never lie about loving you.”
“Bullshit!” I scream at him, the champagne in my stomach threatening to come up. The tears now fall in streams, and I can barely catch my breath long enough to speak. “Who else knew about me?”
He stares at me and I can see his hand shaking.
“Who the fuck else knows about me?” I’m on the verge of a full-fledged nervous breakdown, and I know I’m losing control. I feel myself unraveling.
“Jack,” he says quietly.
“I fucking knew it,” I say through heaving sobs, fisting my hands at my sides.
“Saige,” he says pleadingly, jumping up and walking over to me. His eyes are a mixture of anger and hurt and his face is twisted in agony. He reaches out to hold my arm, but I slap his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss at him. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”
He startles, his hurt compounding.
A moment later, Holt’s office door flies open and Rowan and Emery burst inside. Rowan is gripping a glass of champagne, his eyes fixed on Holt, but Emery rushes over to me, pulling me into her arms. She looks to Holt for answers, but he drops his head and shifts from foot to foot.
“This is not what I was expecting to walk in on,” Emery says, surprised. “Saige, sweetie. Come on. Let’s go clean you up.” Her fingers swipe at my wet cheeks, and she brushes back the loose strands of hair that have fallen out of my bun. She gently tries to guide me toward Holt’s private restroom.
“No!” I shout, yanking my arm from her grasp. “I don’t need to clean up. I’m ready to leave.” I turn to Holt, who has moved next to his desk, one hand in his hair, the other gripping the edge of his desk. His eyes are fixed on me, and he chews on his bottom lip while breathing heavily. I try to gain my composure and I stand up tall, pushing my shoulders back. “Mr. Hamilton, or should I say, Mr. Berkshire? Please accept my verbal resignation. I’m sure, under the circumstances, you’ll understand why I won’t be giving you the proper two-week courtesy.”
“Whoa.” A voice comes from behind me. I turn to see a confused look on Rowan’s face as he steps forward. “Saige, let’s not be irrational.” He pulls my right arm into his hands and begins rubbing it in an attempt to calm me down. “Sleep on this. You two can talk on Monday. We all have arguments—”
“There’s nothing to sleep on, Rowan,” I snap at him. “Mr. Hamilton has been lying to me about who he really is. Holt isn’t actually a Hamilton, he’s Mr. Holt Berkshire, son of Jonathan Berkshire—the man who stole my father’s money, and the man who ultimately destroyed my family when my father killed himself,” I say weakly, my voice finally breaking. I feel everything inside me breaking.
Rowan stills and drops my arm, stepping away from me. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it quickly and pulls his lips in between his teeth.
“Saige—” Holt says desperately, but I hold up my finger to stop him, narrowing my eyes at him in disgust.
“No! You’ve known who I was and lied about knowing me this entire time.” I turn to see Emery behind me with a hand pressed to her mouth and tears in her eyes. “So, no. There will be no sleeping on it.” I breathe heavily, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Interesting turn of events tonight, huh?” I say, my tone snarky. I turn one last time to see Holt, his head fallen forward and his chest rising and falling quickly. “I’m ready to leave . . . now. Rowan, will you please drive me home?”
“Of course,” he says, barely audible.
I walk toward Rowan, who reaches out his hand for me and I take it graciously. I need him to support me as I walk on legs I can no longer feel. My entire body is numb. He squeezes my hand tightly and nods at me, his eyes bouncing between Holt and me. He shoots a look at Emery before he finally speaks. “Let’s go,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulder, pulling me toward him.
We step through Holt’s office door and out into the empty office. All the lights are off except for the small wall sconces that lead down the main hallway toward the elevators.
“I need to stop by my desk,” I tell Rowan and turn to walk through the dimly lit office toward our cubicles. My voice is gravelly from crying and yelling.
“Not tonight, baby girl,” he says tenderly. “Anything you need I’ll get to you later. Now is not the time for this.”