My Fiancé Forced Me to Donate My Eye to His First Love

The engagement party ended at 2 AM. By 6 AM, I was standing in Massimo Carter's office with my hands shaking.

I hadn't slept. None of us had. Camilla Foster was in surgery. The police were asking questions. Witnesses were saying my name. Massimo's mother had looked at me across the hospital waiting room like I was something that needed to be removed.

Massimo sat behind his desk. The sunrise came through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, turning him into a silhouette. I couldn't see his face. Maybe that made it easier for him.

"They have three people who say you left the party," he said. His voice was flat. "They say you made a phone call outside. Twenty minutes later, Camilla was hit."

"I was inside all night." My voice came out steadier than I felt. "I never left. Check the security footage. Ask anyone—"

"Her family has a witness who saw you."

"Then they're lying."

He stood up. The light shifted. I saw his face now. It was a stranger's face. Carved from something that used to be warm.

"You knew I loved her first," he said quietly.

The air went out of my lungs.

"Massimo—"

"You knew, and you couldn't stand it. You couldn't stand that part of me still belonged to someone else."

I stepped forward. My hand reached for his desk to steady myself. "I didn't do this. I would never—"

"You're done at this firm." He opened a drawer. Pulled out a bundle of dark blue fabric. Set it on the desk between us. "Effective immediately."

I stared at the fabric. It took me three seconds to understand what I was looking at.

A janitor's uniform.

"You're going to work off your debt," Massimo said. "You're going to scrub the floors of this building until I decide you've paid enough."

My throat closed. "You can't be serious."

"The alternative is I pull Carter funding from your grandmother's facility within the hour." He said it like he was reading a stock report. "Nana Perry's care costs eighteen thousand a month. The facility is entirely Carter-funded. I signed the contract myself. I can end it with a phone call."

The room tilted.

Nana Perry. Nana, who raised me after my parents died. Nana, who spent every Sunday with me at the botanical garden. Nana, whose heart condition required round-the-clock monitoring and medications I could never afford on my own.

Massimo knew all of this. I had told him everything. I had trusted him with everything.

"She's eighty-three," I whispered.

"Then I suggest you make the right choice."

I looked at the uniform. Then at the man I was supposed to marry in six months. The man who used to tuck white gardenias in his pocket because I once said they were my favorite. The man I ran through a rainstorm for at 3 AM because he had a fever and I couldn't sleep knowing he was alone.

That man was gone.

"Put it on," he said.

I picked up the uniform. The fabric was rough under my fingers. Cheap polyester. The name tag slot was empty.

I didn't cry. I had learned a long time ago that tears were a luxury. Nana taught me that. Be strong, Zora. Be the one who doesn't break.

"Where do I change?" I asked.

Massimo's jaw tightened. For half a second, something flickered across his face. Then it was gone.

"Staff bathroom. Third floor."

I walked out of his office. My heels clicked on the marble. I passed the executive assistant's desk. She looked up, then quickly looked away. I took the elevator down. The doors closed. I was alone.

I pressed my forehead against the cold metal wall and counted to ten.

Then I straightened up. Smoothed my dress. Walked into the staff bathroom and changed.

The uniform hung loose on my shoulders. The pants were too long. I rolled them up. Looked at myself in the mirror. Three years ago, I graduated top of my class. Two years ago, I closed a deal that saved this company four million dollars. Six months ago, Massimo went down on one knee in front of three hundred people and called me the love of his life.

Now I looked like every other invisible person who cleaned up after the people who mattered.

I folded my dress. Left it in my locker. Walked back upstairs to the supply closet on the executive floor where someone had left a cart, a mop, and a bucket.

I filled the bucket. Pushed the cart down the hall. Passed my old office. The door was open. A woman I didn't recognize sat at my desk, typing on my computer.

I paused. One second. That was all I let myself have.

Then I kept walking.

Massimo's office door was open. He was on a call. He saw me pass with the cart. Our eyes met.

He looked away first.

I started scrubbing.