Chapter 3

Rowan's POV

Laughter explodes around the room.

"Rowan, you were a straight-A student back in the day. How'd you end up like this? Should've just apologized to Wyatt when you had the chance. You'd probably be living large right now."

"Seriously. Big dreams, zero follow-through."

I don't argue. Just sit there and listen. This level of insult barely registers. Doesn't even make me blink.

I pick up my glass. Take a sip.

Derek watches me sit there unbothered, and it clearly pisses him off. Like he's swinging at air. He slams his drink down on the table in front of me.

"Look, Rowan, we go way back, right? Can't just watch an old friend struggle like this." Derek looks down at me, voice dripping with fake generosity. "My dad's company needs a receptionist. Pay's not great, fifteen an hour, but it's steady work. Come by tomorrow. What do you say?"

The room gets louder. Everyone thinks it's hilarious.

I lift my eyes. My gaze cuts across Derek's face. I'm about to say something.

Then the door swings open.

"Sorry we're late." A syrupy voice floats in.

The room goes dead silent. Everyone slaps on fake smiles and jumps to their feet.

I glance toward the door. It's them.

Wyatt. And Gemma.

Wyatt looks older than he did three years ago. More polished. But the arrogance is still there, sharp as ever. Suit tailored to perfection. One hand in his pocket. Eyes sweeping the room like he owns it.

Gemma hangs off his arm in an expensive dress, diamonds glittering at her throat. Chin tilted up just enough to let everyone know she's above them.

"Wyatt! Gemma! Finally!"

"Come on, sit up front!"

The same people who were tearing me apart five seconds ago now swarm them, tripping over each other to suck up.

Wyatt gives a slight nod. Walks toward the center seat like a king.

Right before he sits, his eyes sweep the room. They land on the corner where I'm sitting.

He freezes mid-step, body going rigid. His eyes narrow, locked on me.

I don't look away. Just stare back. Like he's a stranger on the street.

Gemma picks up on it immediately. Follows his gaze. When she realizes it's me, her smile cracks for half a second before she plasters it back on.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is." Gemma walks over, tightening her grip on Wyatt's arm. "Three years and you haven't changed a bit. Still so… plain."

I stay seated. Don't even blink. "You haven't changed either, Gemma. Still annoying."

"What did you just say to me?" Gemma's face twists. Wasn't expecting the punching bag to punch back.

"Rowan, what the hell is wrong with you?" Brittany jumps in like a guard dog. "Gemma's a PhD student at Harrington now. She's about to join the federally funded lab! You don't even have a job. What gives you the right to talk to her like that?"

Shocked gasps fill the room.

"Wait, the lab? You mean the one Dr. Fletcher's running?"

"Oh my god, Gemma, that's insane! That's a federal grant. Only the best of the best get in there!"

"Of course she did. Look at her. Smart, gorgeous, perfect for Wyatt. Not like some people who thought they had a shot."

The praise pours in. Gemma tilts her chin higher, soaking it in.

"Oh, stop, it's really not that big of a deal." Gemma waves her hand like she's embarrassed, but her eyes gleam. "I just got lucky. My dad donated a building to the department, so the chair offered me an interview. But I heard the person running the selection process is Dr. Fletcher's principal doctoral student. Some genius no one's even met yet."

"From what I've heard, this person has serious pull. Work with them and you're set for life in academia. My dad's been working his connections. Tomorrow morning, the department chair's introducing me personally."

"Gemma, you're about to blow up!"

"Don't forget about us when you're famous!"

I almost laugh out loud.

A building donation for an interview slot? If Dr. Fletcher knew people were pricing her lab like a real estate deal, she'd fly back from Europe just to rip someone a new one.

Wyatt's been quiet this whole time. Now he moves. Pushes past the crowd and walks straight up to me. Looks down.

"When did you get back?" His voice sounds rough. Shaky.

"None of your business."

"Where the hell have you been for three years? Why'd you cut me off completely?"