One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle

Anna’s POV

The dim lighting of the upscale bar couldn’t mask my misery as I signaled the bartender for another drink. My third? Fourth? I’d lost count. The smooth jazz playing in the background felt like it was mocking my inner turmoil.

"Ms. Shaw, perhaps we should consider heading back," Rachel suggested from her position beside me, her voice carefully professional despite the concern in her eyes.

I ignored her, downing the amber liquid in one swift motion. The burn in my throat was a welcome distraction from the inferno of anger and hurt blazing inside me. This wasn’t my usual style Anna Shaw didn’t drink herself into oblivion in public. But tonight was different.

"Another," I demanded, sliding the empty glass forward.

Rachel frowned but didn’t argue. She’d been with me long enough to know when to push and when to stand back.

Tonight, her job was simple: keep the vultures away while I nursed my wounds with expensive whiskey.

This was the second time I looked like this. The first was when Jack asked Lucy to be the head of the Phoenix Project, and Jack and I had a big quarrel. I’d known then that I had to leave him. The divorce papers had been filed the following week.

And now, here I was again drowning my sorrows because Jack Simpson was still finding ways to wound me. Even divorced, even supposedly moving on with his life, he couldn’t let me have this one thing. He couldn’t bear to see me succeed without him.

"They want to take everything," I muttered, not caring if Rachel heard me. "My project. My technology. My dignity."

I took another sip, wincing at the burn. The bar had grown more crowded as the night wore on, businessmen loosening their ties, couples leaning into each other, everyone seeking connection or escape.

I envied their simplicity.