I should be back home, naked and in bed with Carlie.
Maybe even going for round two. Or three.
At least, that was the fantasy I had in my mind last night.
Instead, my nerves are frayed and my rage is simmering as I drive to St. Mary’s.
Saturday mornings are supposed to be for relaxation—for a brief respite from the week’s chaos. But today, I’m anything but calm.
The Instagram fiasco keeps replaying in my head like a bad movie on a loop.
IG has always been my thing. My place where I felt in control of the narrative and helped make a difference in people’s lives.
Everyone knows that.
Even exes.
I should’ve known Jillian was behind the drama lately. It’s just her style—subtle enough to deny, but obvious to anyone who really knows her. She must be getting one helluva laugh at our expense.
I pull up on the street outside St. Mary’s Hospital. This building, with its state-of-the-art gym, has been a sanctuary for me over the past few years—a place to clear my head and refocus. But today, as I walk through the familiar sliding doors, the hustle of the hospital only adds to the chaos in my head. It feels like just another stop in my quest for answers.
I head directly to the gym, the rhythm of my footsteps matching the rapid beat of my heart. I scan the area, searching for her familiar figure, but Jillian’s nowhere to be seen.
Approaching the front desk, I’m greeted by a guy I don’t recognize.
He looks up, his expression open and friendly.
“Hey, can I help you with something?” he asks, his eyes briefly scanning me up and down. “Oh, Adam. Hi.”
I might not know him, but evidently, he knows me.
“I’m looking for Jillian. Is she here today?” My voice is firmer than I intend, betraying my simmering anger.
He taps a few keys on his computer, his brow furrowing. “Sorry, man, Jillian doesn’t work Saturdays. Is there anything else I can help with?”
Not unless he has the power to snap his fingers and erase Jillian from the planet.
I shake my head and pat the counter in frustration. “Nah, thanks, though.”
I leave the gym, my frustration and irritation ratcheting up a notch. When I get outside, the morning sun does little to lift the darkness clouding my thoughts.
In my car, I sit motionless, gripping the steering wheel.
Right. Saturday. Jillian’s sacred day off.
The realization hits me with a mix of irony and anger. If she can stir up trouble from the shadows, then she can certainly face the music—even on her day off.
I start up the car, the engine’s hum a backdrop to the turmoil in my mind. As I drive to her house, I can’t help but think about how everything has spiraled out of control.
From the moment she cheated on me to right now—Jillian has fucked with me more than I ever thought possible.
She’s always craved attention, and playing games has been her forte. But this time, she’s crossed a line, and I can’t let it slide.
Not when it involves Carlie.
Her house comes into view, and it’s a symbol of the life she always wants to portray—perfect, orderly, unattainable.
I pull up, my resolve solidifying with every breath. She thinks she can play games with people’s lives? It’s time she learns that actions have consequences.
I march up to her door, my heart pounding in my chest. This isn’t just about setting the record straight. It’s about protecting what I’ve started to build with Carlie—about defending the semblance of peace I’ve found with her.
I ring the bell, ready for whatever façade Jillian chooses to present because I’m one hundred percent sure she’ll pick one.
The door swings open, and there she stands, her expression shifting from surprise to a calculated smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Adam, what a surprise,” she purrs, leaning against the door frame. “What brings you here?”
She doesn’t even have the courtesy to look sleepy or disheveled at eight in the morning.
“I need to talk to you. Now.” I don’t mince words, the urgency is clear in my tone.
“About what?” she feigns ignorance, but her eyes betray her.
“I’m here for the truth, Jillian,” I say, my voice steady. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
She chuckles—it’s an amused, totally obnoxious laugh that makes me want to break things. “You’re going to need to be more specific, Adam.”
“The Instagram bullshit. The lies about Carlie and me—about Foxx Fitness. I know everything was started by you,” I ground out, my fists at my side.
For a moment, her mask falters, revealing the briefest flicker of guilt, but she’s quick to regain her composure. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I care about you and Carlie? Or the notion that you’ll ever venture out and start your business?”
Her words cut like knives.
She was always so pissed that I didn’t start up my own gym and get out from under St. Mary’s. In her words, it’s the reason she cheated.
I was going nowhere.
“Don’t insult my intelligence,” I counter. “It’s over, Jillian. Whatever game you’re playing, it ends now. Stay away from me, and stay away from Carlie.”
“Or what?” she fires back, the lines in her jaw hardening. Her challenge hangs in the air between us, her smirk growing as she awaits my response. “Or what, Adam? What are you going to do? We both know that taking initiative isn’t your thing.”
I take a deep breath, steadying my nerves. It’s time to play my hand. “Or I’ll go to the hospital board with what I know. About your ‘extra-curricular activities’ with some of the gym clients. It’s against the policy, right? Fraternizing with clients in a way that could ... tarnish St. Mary’s reputation. It’s how I was fired—thanks to you.”
It all clicks into place. She’s a fucking projector.
Putting all eyes on me to take them off her own indiscretions.
I never said a word about her and that stupid asshole who jumped at her the first chance he got.
But I will. Oh, I fucking will.
Jillian’s smirk fades, her eyes widening slightly. It’s the reaction I was hoping for. “You wouldn’t dare,” she hisses.
“Oh, I would. And I have enough to back it up,” I say, my voice firm. “I’ve seen the way you operate, Jillian. The flirtations, the private sessions that are a little too close for comfort. It wouldn’t be hard for people to believe. Not to mention the clients you push around instead of helping. People like Carlie, for instance …”
Her façade crumbles, replaced by a look of panic. “You’re bluffing.”
I shake my head. “No more games, Jillian. I’m done playing. Leave Carlie and me alone, or I’ll make sure the hospital board hears about every inappropriate encounter you’ve had at the gym.”
She steps back, the doorframe no longer a support but a barrier between us. “You’re serious,” she whispers.
“Dead serious. This is your only warning, Jillian. Stay away from us.”
Jillian’s façade wavers, but she scrambles to regain her composure, stepping closer with a manipulative glint in her eye. “Adam, you’re upset. I understand. But you need someone who truly gets you. Carlie isn’t that person. She’s not good enough for you. I mean, look at her.”
“There is nothing wrong with Carlie. And for the record, she’s twice the woman you’ll ever be—” I spit out through clenched teeth.
She snickers under her breath. “Give me a break. You and I both know you need someone who hasn’t let herself go. Someone who has the body you’ve always seen yourself with.” She runs her hands down the sides of her torso, as if she’s actually suggesting she’s what I need.
I recoil from her advance. “No, Jillian. What I need is for you to stay out of my life.”
Her mask finally slips, revealing the anger beneath. “Fine, Adam. Have it your way,” she spits out, her voice cold. “But don’t come running back to me when you realize your mistake.”
“You’re fucking unbelievable,” I mutter.
I don’t wait for another word, turning on my heel and walking away. I can feel her gaze burning into my back, but I don’t look back.
Not this time.
I walk away from her house, the weight of the confrontation heavy on my shoulders.
In the car, I take a moment to breathe, letting the adrenaline rush subside as I take a deep breath, and try to calm the torrent of anger coursing through me.
From the corner of my eye, I see her front door shut and I slam the butt of my hand against the steering wheel.
“Fuck,” I mutter, closing my eyes and taking a few more deep breaths.
I start the car and pull away from the road.
Jillian had always been manipulative, but I never thought she’d stoop this low.
I don’t even get it. Why bother?
She has her boy toy.
Why fuck with me and Carlie?
As I drive home, I realize this is more than just a fight with an ex—it’s a battle to protect the new life I’m trying to build.
A life with Carlie.
When I pull into my driveway, the morning’s events are swirling in my mind.
It’s a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
I get out, slam my door harder than necessary, then stalk to my front door. However, when I reach it, I notice an envelope tucked under the mat. Picking it up, I recognize the insignia immediately.
Nocté.
A sense of foreboding washes over me as I tear it open.
Inside is a note, its message, succinct and unsettling.
Dear Mr. Foxx,
Thank you for your participation in Nocté’s Upper Tier. Your involvement is now concluded and access is revoked.
Into the Night,
Club Nocté
“What the fuck?” I blurt out, my eyes skimming the letter again.
Why would Nocté suddenly cut ties?
And why now, of all times?
I mean, it’s not like I had any intention of going back—not after Carlie. But what the hell?
The letter feels heavy, its words a stark finality to something I hadn’t even fully grasped.
Nocté had been an escape—a world away from the ordinary, and now, just as abruptly as it entered my life, it’s exiting.
The timing can’t be a coincidence.
That all too familiar frustration bubbles up, hot and unyielding.
Questions race through my mind, each one a dead end. I turn the letter over in my hands, as if the blank backside might hold more answers.
It doesn’t.
This is all too closely entwined with everything else—Jillian’s machinations, the Instagram chaos, and my deepening connection with Carlie.
Maybe Nocté caught wind of all the bullshit, too, and decided I’m a liability.
Carlie’s face flashes into my mind—the way she smiles, the way she looks at me—like I’m someone worth looking at, worth caring about.
The idea that she’s being drug into this mess, into the fallout from a part of my life she had nothing to do with, is unbearable.
I take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising panic.
This is a warning—hell, a sign.