Secretary’s your New mom? Great—Here's Your New Family Package Deal - Chapter 94: Chapter 94

Dante didn't come home that night. For the next few days, he vanished completely—ignored my texts, sent my calls straight to voicemail. When I kept trying, all I got were red exclamation marks.
He'd blocked me. His signature move.
This wasn't new. Dante was the king of silent treatment, and every single time I'd had to beg and grovel for days before he'd even acknowledge my existence.
But this time I was drowning in work handovers and job transitions. I didn't have time to chase after his wounded ego.
I was booking my flight to Washington when my phone buzzed.
Marcus. Dante's drummer and closest friend.
The background noise hit me like a wall—shrieking laughter, bass thumping so hard I could feel it through the speaker.
"Katrina! Thank God. Dante's completely fucked up. Can you come get him?"
Of course he was.
Dante lived for this scene. The clubs, the chaos, the endless stream of admirers. His trust fund made sure he never had to worry about real life—the band was just his expensive hobby.
I'd asked him once why he didn't take over his family's business empire. He'd laughed, bitter and sharp. "Why fight over scraps with my dad's bastard kids when I'm inheriting everything from my grandfather anyway? Let them tear each other apart."
No ambition. No drive. No point in building anything together.
Whenever I got promoted or closed a big deal, his eyes would glaze over with boredom.
"What's the point of killing yourself for peanuts?" he'd said once. "I spend more than your monthly salary on a single night out."
We were from different worlds. Beyond the sex, we had absolutely nothing in common.
I didn't give a shit about his soul. He was just a beautiful distraction.
He ignored everything real about me. I was just convenient—the girlfriend who never caused problems.
It would make this easier. No messy emotions when it ended.
I told Marcus I'd be there, hung up, and stared out at the city lights bleeding into the darkness.
My flight details glowed on my phone screen. Tomorrow morning, 8 AM.
Honestly? Part of me wasn't ready for this to be over. Dante and I had incredible chemistry, and with all the stress of starting over, I'd been hoping for one last goodbye fuck.
But if he wanted to burn it all down in public, fine.
His choice.
The club was exactly what I expected—overpriced drinks, underaged college girls, and Dante holding court like some kind of rock god.
He was surrounded by his usual collection of admirers. All gorgeous, all young, all desperately competing for his attention.
There was Pepper, of course, practically glued to his side. Some redhead I didn't recognize giggling at everything he said. A brunette in a dress that barely qualified as fabric.
I spotted the rest of his crew scattered around the VIP section. Marcus behind his drum kit, looking uncomfortable. Jake, their bassist, trying to keep the peace. Even Tommy from their management company was there, probably babysitting.
God, I felt ancient looking at these girls. All that fresh-faced confidence, unmarked by years of compromise and disappointment.
I remembered Dante's words from last month: "You're twenty-seven, babe. Maybe it's time to invest in some work? You know, refresh things a little?"
No wonder he was over me. Why settle for tired when you could have endless variety?
I didn't announce myself, just stood at the edge of their circle watching the show.
When Dante's eyes finally found mine, he looked right through me like I was invisible.
Then he turned back to Pepper, who was swaying against him, cheeks flushed pink from alcohol.
"One more shot, baby," she purred, trailing her fingers down his chest.
Dante's smile was sharp as broken glass. "Drinking's boring. Why don't you make it interesting?"
"How?"
He didn't answer, just stared at her with those predatory amber eyes.
It took Pepper maybe two seconds to catch on. Her face lit up like Christmas morning as she tilted her head back and drained the whiskey in one smooth gulp.
Then Dante grabbed her face and kissed her.
It wasn't romantic. It was vicious, punishing, meant to hurt. Pepper arched back to take it, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes as alcohol spilled from their joined mouths.
When they finally broke apart, a thin string of saliva connected their lips.
The crowd went absolutely wild.
My chest felt hollow, like someone had scooped out everything inside and left me empty.
This was deliberate. Performance art designed specifically to destroy me.
Punishment for walking away that night. For not crawling back and apologizing like I always did.
When I finally stepped into the light, the noise gradually died.
Dante looked up at me, his expression completely blank.
"What are you doing here?"
I stared at that perfect face—the same face I'd traced with my fingertips countless times, kissed until my lips were bruised, worshipped like he was something sacred.
When we were alone together, tangled in sheets and drunk on each other, we used to whisper that we loved each other.
Did this hurt?
Yeah. It fucking destroyed me.
But I'd known who he was from day one. A beautiful, selfish creature who'd never change.
My voice came out shaky, broken. "That was cruel, Dante."
He leaned back in his chair, somehow managing to look down on me even though I was standing.
Same bored expression. Same cruel little smile.
"Cruel? You can always leave. Nobody's forcing you to be here."
I stood there, silent, counting all the times he'd thrown that threat at me.
Fifty? A hundred? More?
Marcus shifted uncomfortably. "Dude, come on. That's fucked up, even for you."
Jake nodded. "She doesn't deserve this shit, man."
Tommy just looked embarrassed, like he wanted to disappear.
Even they could see he'd crossed a line.
I was crying now—real tears, not the fake ones I'd planned. They burned as they fell.
When that first tear hit the floor, I saw something flicker across Dante's face. His fingers twitched around his cigarette.
But he didn't speak. Just kept staring at me with those cold, beautiful eyes.
That's when I said it:
"Okay, Dante."
"Let's break up."
The color drained from his face. For a split second, I thought he might actually lose his shit completely.
Instead, he laughed—but it sounded like grinding glass.
"Fucking finally. About time you grew a spine." His voice was venomous. "Just remember, I don't do second chances. When you realize what a massive mistake this is, don't come crawling back like a pathetic little bitch."
"I won't." I wiped my face, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.
Then I turned around and walked out without looking back.
I spent that night erasing every trace of him—deleted his contact info, threw away his photos, packed everything that mattered into two suitcases.
The next morning, I caught the first flight back to Washington.
As the plane climbed above the clouds, I pulled out my SIM card and dropped it in the trash bag.