Leah
Daphne had given her the latest update, most of it pried from Gareth, who’d heard it from Boots. Wendy and Shane had been hooking up—until Wendy caught him with Rafaella Simonetti, the socialite he was allegedly banging too. So, Wendy did what Wendy would do. Lost her shit and trashed Shane’s place. Literally ripped down his wallpaper and threw a chair at the wall, allegedly.
But now? From the way it looks across the bar, the way they’re leaning in, laughing like nothing ever happened, Shane and Wendy look fine. Too fine. Like maybe they’re back-on-their-bullshit fine.
Beside her, Nina Grabowski chatters on, oblivious: “Gary emailed me at nine-thirty last night about deck edits. Like I’m his assistant? I don’t get paid enough to babysit his ego, too.”
Leah doesn’t respond. Just watches Wendy kiss Shane on the cheek. Watches her laugh, soft and unguarded. A different Wendy. Sweeter. Almost… human.
It hits her then, as Wendy walks out of the bar. Wendy’s greatest weakness had been hiding in plain sight all along. How did I ever miss it?
“And HR still wants five days a week in-office,” Nina grumbles. “I’m two bad days away from staging a walkout.”
Leah nods, barely listening. “Totally agree.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Did you hear about Michelle?” Nina asks. “Wendy straight-up knifed her.”
Leah perks up. Swings toward Nina. “Oh really? Sounds like a story that needs another drink.” She rises, already reaching for her bag. “This one’s on me.”
She makes a beeline to the bar, past the crowd, straight to Shane. “Hey, neighbor,” she says, voice just shy of flirty.
He sees her approach, then meets her with an easy nod, already halfway to a smile. “Hey, Leah. What’ll it be?”
“Two vodka sodas, please.”
She waits until he turns. Then leans in toward Nina, voice pitched just enough to carry: “So… Wendy. You were saying?”
Nina dives back in like she’s been waiting for the green light. “So. Michelle lined up this buzzy TikTok chef. And Wendy? Told her he was a waste of time. So Michelle backed off.”
Leah nods, eyes flicking toward Shane, just in time to catch his glance.
“Next thing we know, Wendy swoops in, signs him herself. Now she’s shopping his memoir-cookbook with a six-figure advance on the table.”
Leah lets it hang a second. Then flashes Shane a smile. She turns back to Nina. “Oh yeah, I heard about that,” she says, just a little louder. “Wendy told me Michelle was ‘naïve’ for trusting her. Who says that about themselves? Savage.”
“Exactly! And Alan? Didn’t say a word. Because Wendy ‘gets results,’ and because, his words, ‘Wendy’s gonna Wendy.’ Honestly? I don’t know how you work for her.”
“Me neither,” Leah mutters, just as Shane slides their drinks across the bar. She takes a slow sip, eyes locked on him. “It’s like being in a toxic relationship. You know what that’s like, don’t you, Shane?”
He stills, caught off guard. “Say what?”
“I’m just playing with you. Can’t tell if you’re taken or single.” She shrugs, smiling too sweetly.
“Definitely single. Beyond single,” he says, before flashing her a wink, then turning to another customer.
“Noted,” Leah murmurs, the laugh already fading.