Jilted Ex? I'm The Lost Heiress

Lana checked her watch for the fifth time. The leather strap felt tight against her wrist, trapping a layer of sweat against her skin.

7:45 PM. They were forty-five minutes late.

The candle in the center of the table flickered, casting a dancing shadow against the untouched wine glass in front of her. She stared at the dark red liquid. It mirrored the exhaustion settling deep in her bones. Her reflection in the glass looked distorted, tired.

"Would you like to order appetizers while you wait, Miss?" the waiter asked. His voice was soft, pitying.

Lana looked up and forced the corners of her mouth to lift. It felt like pulling against a heavy weight. "No, thank you. I'll wait a little longer."

The waiter nodded and retreated into the shadows of the private booth.

The heavy oak door swung open with a violence that made the silverware rattle.

Wayne walked in first. He didn't look at Lana. He was adjusting his cufflinks, his movements jerky and agitated. Jessica followed him, slipping through the door like a shadow.

The air in the small room shifted. It wasn't just the intrusion; it was the smell. A cloying mixture of Wayne's expensive cologne and Jessica's floral perfume. They smelled like the same bedsheets.

Lana stood up, her legs feeling unsteady. She reached out to hug Wayne, a reflex born of three years of habit.

He turned his shoulder. Her hands brushed against the fabric of his suit jacket and fell into empty space.

Jessica stepped forward. She looped her arm through Wayne's, her fingers digging into his bicep. She looked at Lana, her eyes wide and bright, but there was no warmth in them.

"Sorry we're late, Lana," she said. "Traffic was a nightmare."

She squeezed Wayne's arm. He didn't pull away.

"Sit down," Wayne said. His voice was flat.

They sat. The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. It pressed against Lana's eardrums.

Lana reached under the table and pulled out the small, velvet-wrapped box she had brought. "I wanted to celebrate," she said, her voice sounding too loud in the quiet room. "The Series B funding came through. I thought-"

"Lana, stop," Wayne interrupted. He didn't look at the box. He was staring at the tablecloth. "We need to talk about the equity structure."

The words hung in the air.

Suddenly, Jessica made a sound. A sharp, wet gag. She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes watering.

Wayne's head snapped toward her. The indifference vanished, replaced by a frantic, raw panic. He grabbed the glass of water in front of him.

"Jess? Are you okay?" He handed her the glass, his hand hovering protectively over her back. He wasn't looking at Lana. He was looking at her like she was made of glass.

Lana watched Jessica take a sip. Her other hand moved. It was a subtle movement, instinctive. She placed her palm flat against her lower stomach.

Lana's stomach dropped. It felt like the floor had opened up beneath her chair.

She looked at Wayne, then at Jessica's hand on her stomach. The pieces clicked together with a sickening snap. The late nights. The whispered phone calls. The smell of her perfume on his shirts that he claimed was from "client hugs."

Lana set her wine glass down. The stem clicked against the table.

"How many months?" Lana asked. Her voice was ice.

Wayne froze. His face drained of color.

Jessica straightened her spine. She lowered the water glass and looked Lana dead in the eye. A small, triumphant smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Twelve weeks," she said.

Wayne finally looked at Lana. His jaw was set tight. "Since you know, there's no point in dragging this out. We're breaking up, Lana. Jessica... she fits the image of Meridian better. She's better suited to be the wife of a CEO."

A high-pitched ringing started in Lana's ears. Her heart slammed against her ribs, a frantic, painful rhythm. Thump. Thump. Thump.

She took a deep breath, forcing oxygen into her lungs.

"You're too intense," Wayne continued, gaining confidence now that the words were out. "And frankly... your background doesn't help with the IPO. Investors want pedigree."

Jessica reached across the table. Her fingers were cold as she covered Lana's hand. "Lana, honey, you're still my best friend, right? For the baby's sake. We don't want any drama."

The touch burned. Lana yanked her hand back as if Jessica were a hot stove. She grabbed her napkin and scrubbed the skin where Jessica had touched her.

Lana stood up. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor. She looked down at them. Wayne, the man she had built a company for. Jessica, the woman she had trusted.

"Fine," Lana said. "I agree to the breakup."

Wayne let out a breath, his shoulders sagging. He thought he had won.

"Now," Lana said, "let's talk about liquidation. I'm pulling my capital."

Wayne let out a short, barking laugh. "Your capital? You have sweat equity, Lana. Sign the waiver, and I'll give you a fifty-thousand-dollar severance package. Don't be greedy."

Lana reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She tapped the screen, activating the voice recorder.

"I'm not talking about the shares," Lana said. "I'm talking about the patents registered in my name. And the core licensing agreement with Delta Lab."

Wayne blinked. "What does Delta Lab have to do with you?"

Lana didn't answer. She picked up her purse.

"My lawyer will contact you tomorrow," Lana said. "This meal? We're splitting the bill."

She signaled the waiter. She paid for her water.

Lana turned and walked out. She didn't look back. She held it together until the heavy oak doors swung shut behind her. Then, a single tear tracked a hot line down her cheek.

"Lana Day!" Wayne shouted from inside the booth. "You walk out that door, and you can forget every promise I ever made you! You'll have nothing!"

His voice was muffled by the wood.

Lana stepped out onto the sidewalk. The cool night air hit her face. Her phone buzzed in her hand.

She looked down. A text message from "Greg - Delta Lab VP."

Standing by for instructions.