Her name was Alyssa Morgan, my stepsister and also his executive assistant for the past eighteen months. She covered her mouth in dramatic surprise while he dropped to one knee, and the room erupted into cheers as if I had never existed.
“I should have done this sooner,” Dylan said warmly as he looked up at her with a devotion he had never shown me. “Alyssa, you are the future I choose.”
No one noticed me standing there in silence, and I felt the noise of applause echoing through my chest as if it belonged to someone else entirely. I did not speak or cry, but instead turned away quietly and began canceling every financial authorization tied to his executive accounts while walking out.
By the time I reached the elevator, the celebration was still roaring behind me as if nothing had changed. By the time I reached my car, I had frozen the event budget, suspended executive spending privileges, and contacted my attorney to begin immediate action.