Chapter 14

GRACE'S POV 

I was forced to believe that I was going to have to pull out my skills to send a complaint to the management. They had two choices, to move the men's bathroom, or to move the men's bathroom. There was no other option to solve the problem. 

Because why would I have to deal with the sight of Brett from finance always half way through pulling his pants up? He never did it in the bathroom. The last time someone asked him, he said he was late for a meeting. 

Well, that must be one regular meeting because I could probably sketch his manhood at that point. 

And every time, he'd look absolutely ashamed and embarrassed, like he didn't realise he did something uncomfortable. 

“Oh…uh…” He started to say. He was almost bent over, with his hands on his belt. 

“Don't bother.” I said, waving him off, before entering the ladies' bathroom, tired of the performance.

I walked to the mirror and stared at my reflection. It was like I was in another person's body, except it was definitely mine. So, why did I feel like an imposter? 

My mind went back to the dream I had the previous night, about Michael, Susan, and my dad. I couldn't quite figure out the meaning just yet, and it bugged me to the core. 

I opened the tap on the sink, and splashed water on my face. It seemed to awaken something in me. That dream wasn't just a dream, it was some sort of information, and all I wanted to do was crack the code. 

I walked slowly towards the bathroom wall, until I leaned against it, completely in thoughts. 

Suddenly, something snapped in me. Of course, that was it. My late father saved my life, or was trying to save my life. He was the one who gave me this second chance. 

At the thought of it, a sob broke out of my mouth. I put my hand over my mouth and tried to muffle the sounds. As much as my heart soared at the thought of my father saving me, pain tore through my heart at the same time. 

When my father passed away when I was younger, I wasn't even allowed to grieve as long as I wanted. My mother changed after his death and I became the receiver of whatever kind of rage she emitted. It was like she blamed me for his death. 

And frankly, I didn't totally blame her. His passing away had a lot to do with my actions. My actions weren't intentional, it just happened. I didn't fully heal from it, only choosing to push everything to the back of my mind so I didn't dwell. 

But at that moment, as I leaned against the bathroom wall, realisation washing over me totally, I couldn't help but start to grieve over again. My dream was a confirmation that he loved me still, even in death. He was still looking after me, even going as far as making sure that I got a second chance at life, to redo the things that led to my demise. 

Sigh. It really wasn't my time to die, and I'd be damned if I let it happen again. 

___

Back at my desk, a slight commotion caught my attention. 

Two of my coworkers were arguing quietly. And by quiet, I meant in loud whispers. If that made any sense. 

I searched till I found the culprits. Lana and her work wife, Victoria, were talking in hushed tones. And they clearly didn't even realise that the entire office was listening in on their conversation. Even I leaned closer, surreptitiously, just so I could hear properly. 

“That's what I said!” Victoria hissed, her hands in tight fists. She looked like she wanted to visibly hit something, and I prayed it wasn't Lana. 

“No! You said you didn't think he really liked me.” Lana hissed back, leaning towards Victoria.

Victoria shook her head in frustration. “How well would you prove that what you just said is what I said verbatim? You're just twisting words, as usual.”

“Oh? Like you twisted your way into Leo Cross’s bed?” Lana attacked, and leaned back into her seat, looking satisfied. 

Victoria gaped, her skin, previously tan, now pale as luminous paper. “H-how do you know that? I didn't tell anyone.” 

Lana smirked, enjoying the upper hand she had. “Why would I say? Who knows? I would probably be twisting my words, twister pants. Ooh, I should call you twisty.” She cackled, head thrown in the air. 

Victoria's head snapped towards the eavesdroppers who immediately picked up random objects to convince her they weren't listening at all. It failed ever so because she looked like she was going to cry, but swallowed hard and turned to look at Lana.

“Low blow, Lana. But you know what's lower? The fact that you still go behind my back to sleep with my 67 years old Uncle, while dating his son. What? You didn't think I'd find out? I never should've introduced you to any of them.” Victoria shot. Then, she stood up, grabbed her purse and stalked off. 

I held my breath as Lana froze, then shot a sharp gaze at us, jaw clenching. 

“What are you looking at?” She asked, pushing herself off the chair. She stumbled back, kicking her chair in the process. She stretched her hand to grab a hold of the table, but it didn't seem to quite meet her hand. Instead, she tripped and fell, landing on her buttocks. 

A laugh got stuck in my throat, as I desperately tried to look away. However, others failed woefully, because they burst into wild laughter, some of them shielding their faces with whatever they could find. 

When Lana finally managed to stand up properly, she left the office, with her hair covering her face. 

The moment the door closed behind her, the laughter increased. 

Although, why was Victoria sleeping with our CFO’s son?