# Chapter 17: The Beginning of Regret The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Vance Holdings as Evelyn stepped through the revolving doors at 6:47 AM. She had slept barely four hours. But the adrenaline coursing through her veins made sleep irrelevant. The lobby was quiet at this hour—a few security guards, a cleaner pushing a cart across the marble floor, the faint hum of ventilation systems. The building had a different energy before the chaos of the workday began. Calm. Expectant. Like a stage waiting for the first actor to step into the spotlight. Evelyn adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and walked toward the elevators. Her heels clicked against the polished floor. *Tap. Tap. Tap.* Each step felt deliberate. Measured. She pressed the button for the 27th floor and watched the doors slide closed. --- Her new office was smaller than the one she had at Sterling & Holloway. A modest desk. A single window overlooking the Hudson River. A bookshelf that was still empty, waiting to be filled. But it was *hers*. She ran her fingers along the edge of the desk, feeling the cool, smooth wood beneath her fingertips. This was where she would rebuild. --- The first week was brutal. Evelyn had expected challenges, but the reality of Vance Holdings exceeded every expectation. The workload was staggering. Reports piled up on her desk faster than she could process them. Meetings stretched into the late afternoon, leaving her only a few hours of focused work before the building emptied out. Her email inbox swelled with messages—requests, questions, demands—each one requiring a response that couldn't wait until tomorrow. And then there were her colleagues. The Marketing team consisted of twelve people, most of whom had been with Vance Holdings for years. They had watched the recruitment process from the sidelines, whispering among themselves about the outsider who had somehow slipped past the selection committee. On her second day, Evelyn overheard two senior managers talking in the break room. "Did you see her résumé? Sterling & Holloway. That's not exactly a competitor we respect." "Apparently she was going through a divorce. Some nasty rumors floating around." "Rumors or not, she better prove herself fast. Alexander Vance doesn't tolerate mediocrity." Evelyn stood outside the door, coffee cup in hand, and listened. She didn't walk in. She turned around and went back to her desk. *Let them talk.* *Results speak louder than gossip.* --- On the fifth day, her first major test arrived. A client presentation—pitch for a $50 million mixed-use development in Brooklyn. The original lead had fallen through, leaving Evelyn with three days to prepare. She didn't complain. She didn't ask for extensions. She worked through lunch. Through dinner. Past midnight. On the morning of the presentation, she walked into the conference room with a binder full of research, projections, and a strategy that she had built from scratch. The client was a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and a skeptical expression. "You're new," he said, not bothering to hide his doubt. "Yes, I am," Evelyn replied, meeting his gaze. "But the analysis I've prepared isn't." She presented for forty-five minutes. No notes. No hesitation. When she finished, the client was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded. "I'll have my team review the contract." --- Word spread quickly. By the end of her second week, the whispers had changed. Not entirely welcoming—she was still an outsider—but tinged with something new. Respect. --- While Evelyn was rebuilding her life, Julian's was quietly unraveling. It started with small things. The apartment felt different now. Mira had redecorated—new curtains in the living room, different throw pillows on the sofa, a vase of fresh flowers on the dining table that Evelyn had always kept bare. It should have felt like a fresh start. Instead, it felt like a stranger's home. Julian found himself opening kitchen cabinets, searching for things that weren't there anymore. The coffee beans Evelyn always bought from that small roastery in SoHo. The ceramic mug she had used every morning—a gift from Rose, chipped at the rim but still her favorite. Gone. All gone. He didn't say anything to Mira. How could he? *"I'm sorry, but I miss the things my ex-wife left behind"*—that wasn't a conversation he could have with the woman who had moved in to replace her. --- One morning, he woke up early. The bedroom was still dark, the curtains drawn tight. Mira was asleep beside him, her breathing slow and even. Julian slipped out of bed and padded to the kitchen, his feet cold against the hardwood floor. He opened the cabinet above the coffee machine. Instant coffee. He stared at it for a moment, then closed the cabinet and opened the one next to it. Empty. He tried the pantry. Nothing. His hand hovered over the handle of the refrigerator— "Looking for something?" He turned. Mira was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "I was just... looking for the coffee." "The coffee is in the cabinet above the machine." "I know. I saw it." She tilted her head, waiting. Julian rubbed the back of his neck. "Never mind. I'll just have water." He walked past her, avoiding her eyes. But as he reached the hallway, he heard her voice. "Julian." He stopped. "What?" A pause. "Nothing." But the silence between them said everything. --- A few days later, Julian was at his office, reviewing blueprints for a new residential tower in Midtown. His phone buzzed. A message from an old colleague in the real estate industry. *"Hey, did you hear about Evelyn?"* Julian's thumb hovered over the screen. He typed back: *"What about her?"* The reply came quickly. *"She just landed a position at Vance Holdings. Marketing Strategy Manager. Apparently she beat out some serious competition."* Julian stared at the message. Vance Holdings. *Alexander Vance's company.* He set down his phone and opened his laptop. His fingers moved on their own, typing her name into the search bar. **Evelyn Cross — Vance Holdings** The LinkedIn profile loaded. There she was. Her professional photo showed a woman he barely recognized. She was wearing a tailored navy blazer, her auburn hair pulled back in a sleek bun, her expression confident and composed. *Marketing Strategy Manager* *Vance Holdings* *Start date: November 2020* He scrolled down. Her profile listed her previous role at Sterling & Holloway, her years of experience, her key achievements. But it was the new position that caught his attention. *Vance Holdings.* A company that operated on a level above Sterling & Holloway. A company that Julian had never even had the opportunity to work with. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the screen. The woman he had seen leaving their apartment with two old suitcases. The woman he had assumed was broken beyond repair. She was rising. *Without him.* --- The door to his office opened. Mira stepped in, a takeout bag in her hand. "I brought lunch. I thought we could—" She stopped. Her eyes landed on his laptop screen. The color drained from her face. "Is that... Evelyn?" Julian closed the laptop. "It's nothing." "It's not nothing, Julian. I saw her name." Mira set the bag down on his desk, her movements stiff. "She works at Vance Holdings now?" "I don't know. I was just checking—" "You were checking her profile." Mira's voice was flat. "Why?" "I wasn't—" "Don't lie to me." The room fell silent. Julian looked at her—really looked at her. Mira's face was pale, her hands trembling slightly. She was scared. *She's scared that Evelyn is moving on.* *She's scared that she hasn't won after all.* Julian opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Because he was scared too. --- Mira turned and walked out of the office. The door clicked shut behind her. Julian sat alone, staring at the closed laptop. The woman they had both thought was defeated... She was climbing back up. One step at a time. And neither of them knew what to do about it.