Break Up

Rowan stepped off the jet, the chill of midnight air hitting him as he crossed the tarmac. He’d been on edge since Paris, an uneasy feeling growing with every passing hour. Gigi had been calling him nonstop, her messages piling up, each one sounding more frantic than the last. He’d been avoiding her, letting his silence speak louder than any words, but now… now he was ready to end this charade.

As he climbed into the waiting car, his phone buzzed again. Another call from Gigi. He sighed, then pressed “accept.”

“Rowan!” Gigi’s voice was syrupy, but with an edge he’d come to recognize too well. “Finally, I’ve been calling you all day! Are you ignoring me?”

“No, I’m not ignoring you, Gigi. But we need to talk.” His voice was steady, calm—a tone he’d honed for delivering bad news.

She hesitated, her tone shifting slightly. “About what?”

“About the engagement,” he said, getting straight to the point. “I think it’s best we call it off.”

Silence stretched across the line, but he could feel her anger simmering through the phone. “You’re joking, right?” she finally said, her voice edged with disbelief. “Rowan, you know we’re good together. Why would you even think of—”

“Because you lied to me,” he interrupted. “Repeatedly. I may not have all my memories, but I know a lie when I hear it.”

“Lied? What are you talking about?” Her voice was sharp now, defensive.

“Don’t play games, Gigi,” he replied, his patience thinning. “For one, I know about the threats to my assistant. Callum has been with me for years, Gigi. He wouldn’t lie about something like this. And then there’s the story you fed me about my past. Filling in gaps with whatever suits you.”

“Rowan,” she protested, her voice dropping to a softer, pleading tone. “I just wanted to protect you, help you—”

“Help me?” Rowan almost laughed, shaking his head. “By rewriting my life to fit what you wanted me to believe?”

“Rowan, stop. You’re confused, okay? The accident… you don’t remember everything. I was just filling in some blanks.”

“Conveniently,” he muttered. “You left out a lot, Gigi. Like the fact that I had a wife.”

Her silence was deafening.

“Didn’t expect that, did you?” he said coldly. “You didn’t just hide things from me, you manipulated me.”

“Rowan, you don’t understand,” she said quickly, desperation slipping into her tone. “You and I—we’re meant to be together. You need me. Think about all we could have! Everything I did was for us, to protect what we’ve built.”

“We haven’t built anything, Gigi,” he shot back, his tone harsher than he’d intended. “This whole engagement has been nothing but a performance for you, hasn’t it?”

Her voice sharpened with frustration. “So what, you’d rather go back to that woman? That… that surgeon? She’s just using you, Rowan! You’re going to throw everything away for her?”

“You know what, Gigi?” Rowan said, his voice cold as ice. “I’d rather risk trusting someone honest than spend another second with someone who thinks lies are the answer.”

“You’re making a mistake,” she hissed, her anger barely contained.

“No, Gigi,” he replied, feeling a strange, newfound clarity settling over him. “I think this is the first right decision I’ve made in a long time.”

With that, he hung up, letting the silence fill the car. But the feeling of relief was short-lived, replaced by an unsettling suspicion that this wasn’t the last he’d hear from her.

Rowan leaned back against the leather seat, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm against his knee. Ending the engagement should’ve felt final, but a lingering tension in his chest told him otherwise. Gigi wouldn’t just let this go. He could feel it—a kind of silent threat hanging in the air, unsettled and unfinished.

The car rolled through the empty streets, city lights casting streaks across the dark windows. Finally, they pulled up to his penthouse building. He stepped out, nodding a quick thanks to the driver, and headed inside, his mind already racing with plans to protect what mattered. His gut told him Gigi wasn’t done, and the last thing he needed was her stirring up trouble with Remi.

As he entered his apartment, the dim, quiet luxury felt almost suffocating. He poured himself a drink, letting the whiskey burn its way down, as he leaned against the cold marble counter, replaying fragments of memories he still wasn’t sure were entirely real. Remi. Her face had lingered in his mind since Paris. That laugh, the quick wit… the way she looked at him as if there was something more, something he couldn’t quite remember.

He barely had time to process it when his phone buzzed again. He sighed, already assuming it was Gigi with another barrage of calls. But the screen displayed an unknown number.

Curious, he answered, his tone guarded. “Rowan Vaughn.”

“Rowan.” The voice was low, with an edge he didn’t immediately recognize. “We need to talk. About your fiancée.”

Rowan’s grip on the glass tightened. “Who is this?”

“Let’s say I’m… someone who thought you should know a few more things about the woman you just broke things off with.”

Rowan’s instincts sharpened, the tension in his shoulders rising. “I’m not interested in games. If you have something to say, get to the point.”

The caller chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. “Straight to business. I respect that. Fine, here’s the short version: Gigi has been siphoning money from your accounts.”

Rowan’s jaw clenched. He moved to his laptop, fingers typing quickly to access his accounts. “You’d better have more than just words to back that up.”

“Check your investments in Zurich. She’s been moving funds for months. As for proof…” There was a pause, and then a ping as an email landed in his inbox.

He clicked it open, and his blood ran cold. Screenshots of transactions, dummy accounts, and Gigi’s name tied to the entire scheme. She’d been bleeding his company—methodically, ruthlessly.

“You’ll see she’s thorough,” the caller continued, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “But she got sloppy. I’d have a word with your financial team if I were you.”

Rowan scanned the details, the weight of betrayal sinking in. He’d been so focused on trusting her word, on giving her the benefit of the doubt, that he’d missed it right in front of him.

“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice hardening.

“Let’s just say someone who’s had enough of her schemes,” the man replied, his tone unyielding. “You’ve already given her more than she deserved. I’d consider this a warning.”

The line went dead, leaving Rowan staring at his screen, the cold, hard evidence of her deceit staring back. He closed the laptop, his hand running through his hair as he let out a sharp exhale. This was bigger than he thought, and if Gigi was capable of this level of betrayal, there was no telling what else she’d do.

He took another drink, steeling himself. He had a decision to make—and quickly. If Gigi had been lying to him from the start, if she’d crafted an entire story around his memory loss, then Remi… Remi was part of that story, too. His instincts told him he needed to know the truth about her, about everything he’d lost.


---

The next morning, Rowan dialed Callum, his assistant, who picked up on the first ring.

“Callum,” he began, the tension still simmering in his tone. “I want you to pull every file we have on my relationship with Gigi, past and present. I want to know everything she’s done, every contact she’s ever made with this company.”

“Yes, sir,” Callum replied, his professionalism masking any surprise. “I’ll get on that immediately.”

“One more thing.” Rowan hesitated, but only briefly. “Find everything you can on Remi West. I need to know who she is, what she was to me. And what I was to her.”

“Understood.” Callum’s voice softened, sensing the importance of this request. “Is there anything specific you’re looking for?”

Rowan paused, the images from Paris flashing in his mind. Remi, looking at him with that mix of hesitation and longing, like she wanted to say a thousand things but couldn’t. “I just… need to know what we were before the accident.”

“Understood, Mr. Vaughn,” Callum replied quietly. “I’ll report back as soon as I have something.”

Rowan hung up, pacing the length of his living room, waiting for any answers, any piece of information that might explain why his life felt like it was caught between two worlds. The one Gigi had told him, and the one that seemed to be unraveling before him now.

Hours later, his phone rang. It was Callum.

“Sir, I’ve found something you might want to see,” Callum’s voice was hesitant. “It’s… not exactly what we expected.”

“Tell me,” Rowan said, bracing himself.

“There’s evidence,” Callum continued, “that suggests Gigi intercepted records about your marriage. A marriage certificate, wedding photos, everything. She had them suppressed right after your accident.”

Rowan’s hand tightened around the phone. “So Remi…”

“Was your wife, sir,” Callum finished quietly. “And it appears Gigi went to great lengths to erase that.”

Rowan’s mind raced, memories flickering like half-lit snapshots. “And Remi… she didn’t say anything?”

“It seems she respected your lack of memory. But sir, there’s more. Gigi took over as your primary contact post-accident. She intercepted Remi’s attempts to reach you, changed your emergency contacts, and made sure she alone had control over your care.”

Rowan felt a surge of anger—a depth of betrayal he hadn’t felt in years. He could barely breathe as the truth finally sank in. Gigi had rewritten his life, turning it into something he couldn’t recognize. She’d turned him against someone who had once been… his everything. And Remi, all this time, had been left with nothing.

“Thank you, Callum.” His voice was tight, raw. “I’ll handle the rest from here.”

“Yes, sir,” Callum replied, sensing the finality.

Rowan hung up, his pulse thrumming. He didn’t need more proof. He knew, now, that everything he’d built since his accident had been built on Gigi’s lies. And as he stood there, his jaw set, Rowan knew that his next move would be for Remi.

For the truth.