At some point, my coworkers had gathered around, whispering to each other. Their voices pricked at my ears like needles.
“Could it be true about her and sir Ross?”
“I heard they used to be close. But now that his fiancée’s here…”
“Gosh, women and their tricks…”
Zamora bit her lip, tears slipping down her pale cheeks as she said pitifully, “But… it was clear you’re the one who ripped the ring off my finger.”
The next instant, Ross stormed in. The moment his eyes landed on Zamora sitting on the floor, his face changed completely.
“Zamora!” He rushed over, shoving me aside without hesitation, and pulled her into his arms.
I stumbled and fell hard onto the floor, my bag bursting open beside me.
A small clay charm rolled out—a pair of little clay figures we’d made together back when we first started our company.
For a second, Ross’s gaze lingered on them.
And for that one second, I foolishly thought he might bend down to pick them up.
But then, as if terrified someone might see through him, he raised his foot and crushed them instead.
The sharp sound of breaking clay filled the room, fragile and crisp, almost like the sound of something shattering inside me.