Chapter 05: His Queen

Chapter 05: His Queen

Briella’s POV

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“Hello, Deniz? Good morning! I’ve got great news for you!” Chelsey said excitedly over the phone. Her voice was practically bubbling with joy.

I glanced at her, curious about who she was calling so early. From how she sounded, I could tell it had something to do with me.

“Do you have a show today? Can Briella make an appearance?” she asked. “Yes! She wants to come back and start with a small event, you know? It’s more fulfilling to begin from the ground up,” she tried to convince him.

Chelsey was talking to Deniz, a flamboyant and well-connected fashion show organizer who had been instrumental in launching my modeling career years ago. I had walked a few shows for him before I became known in the industry. Honestly, if I hadn’t met him, I probably wouldn’t have made it as far as I did.

“Really?!” Chelsey exclaimed. “Great! Where is it? We’re heading there now!”

She looked at me with a grin and gave me a thumbs-up. I returned the smile with a nod, feeling excitement for the first time in a long while.

When she ended the call, she turned to me with triumph. “Looks like luck is on our side today! The model who was supposed to open and close the show ditched at the last minute. You’re in! Let’s go?”

“Sure, I’ll just get changed real quick,” I said, returning to the room. It didn’t take long, my suitcase was already packed, and I decided my current outfit would do just fine for now.

The venue wasn’t far, and in less than thirty minutes, we were pulling up at a posh five-star hotel. Deniz was already waiting for us in the lobby, looking as dramatic and fabulous as ever.

“Oh my God, Briella!” he squealed, pulling me into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you! Thank the heavens you’ve come to your senses and returned to modeling. You’ve been wasting that beautiful face, girl!”

Chelsey smiled with a playful grin, “She didn’t just come to her senses—she hit her head hard!”

I shot her a warning look. She needed to chill before she accidentally blurted out the real reason I was doing this. I hadn’t told her everything yet. She was loyal, yes, but also impulsive and loose-lipped. I needed to explain things to her properly, in my own time.

“We don’t have much time left to get ready, so shall we?” Deniz asked with a bright smile, extending his hand toward me.

I took it, letting him guide us into the dressing room initially meant for the missing model.

“Today’s theme is casual summer dresses,” he explained as he walked around the room, giving instructions to his assistants. “You’ll be opening and closing the show. There are only two outfits, but they’re the highlights of the entire event. I know you can pull this off, Briella! Now, I’ll leave you two to prep.”

He winked before leaving me and Chelsey in the dressing room. I took a deep breath and faced the mirror.

This was it. My first step back onto the runway. And I’d make damn sure they remembered exactly who I was.

He pointed to the two maxi dresses still displayed on the mannequins, fully styled with summer accessories. One was a white, deep V-neck, backless spaghetti strap floral maxi dress, while the other was a red boho-style maxi with patterned short sleeves.

As soon as Deniz left, Chelsey sprang into action, helping me get ready with barely contained excitement. Obviously, this moment had reinvigorated her, and honestly, it was contagious. Within minutes, I wore a white dress that perfectly hugged my frame. The soft fabric, the way it moved with me, and the floral design all came together flawlessly. I could already feel eyes on me; we weren’t even on the runway yet.

“Wow, no one can beat your beauty, Briella!” Chelsey said in awe, giving me an admiring once-over.

Before I could respond, three knocks sounded at the door. Deniz entered, slightly breathless, but stopped when he saw me.

“You’re still a natural goddess, Briella!” he gasped. “Good thing you thought you would call me today! Come on, we need to get you backstage.”

He motioned for me to follow, clearly pleased. Chelsey walked behind us, her eyes still glowing with pride. She wore a simple summer dress, yet she somehow pulled off an effortlessly stylish look. That was Chelsey, sharp, radiant, and always putting others first.

As we passed through the hall, I noticed heads turning. Whispers followed us, curious glances trailing my every step. I kept my gaze forward, forcing myself to focus on the task.

Deniz walked beside me, adjusting the oversized summer hat on my head to ensure it tilted just enough to hide half my face. “Keep it angled like this,” he said gently, his voice low. “It adds mystery.”

When the music’s beat started pulsing through the speakers, I took my place at the entrance of the runway. I could hear the crowd’s energy buzzing in the distance. Chelsey had positioned herself nearby, already snapping photos with her phone, her eyes locked on me.

I inhaled slowly, grounding myself, then glanced at Deniz for the cue. He gave a subtle nod. I stepped forward.

Chin up. Eyes ahead. Shoulders back. Every step I took was measured, fluid, and deliberate. I didn’t need to speak or smile. The audience’s reaction said everything, the gasps, the rustle of excitement, the wave of chatter as I walked the runway in silence, cloaked in elegance and calm confidence.

In just a few minutes, it was over. I turned at the end, pivoted, and walked back. Deniz was waiting as soon as I was offstage, his face beaming.

“That was perfect! Get changed quickly. I’ll call you when we’re close to the finale. Thank you so much, Briella!” he said, pulling me into a warm hug.

We rushed back to the dressing room. I easily slipped into the red boho maxi dress, brushing down the soft fabric as I moved.

Chelsey looked at me with a satisfied grin. “How did it feel being up there again?”

I tilted my head and gave a slight shrug. “Fine. Should I be feeling something else?”

She laughed and shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

Maybe I should’ve felt more nerves, nostalgia, adrenaline. But honestly, all I felt was clarity. I was finally back where I needed to be. This wasn’t just a comeback. It was the beginning of my rise.

Chelsey chuckled. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I said, meeting his eyes. “I have a plan in mind, and I need you to trust me.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “What kind of plan?”

“I won’t let them know I’ve discovered their betrayal. Not yet,” I said, my voice low and resolute. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stay quiet. Starting today, everything I do is preparation for their downfall.”

I stepped closer, my gaze unwavering. “I’ll rise again. I’ll be recognized. And when that happens, those two—” I didn’t even need to say their names “—they’ll fall. They’ll kneel before me.”

Chelsey and I locked eyes, and slowly, a smile spread between us, full of quiet fire and shared purpose. Her eyes had a different kind of glint, which told me she understood exactly what I meant.

“I trust you,” she said with sincerity. “When it comes to these things, I’m all in. Whatever you need, I’ve got your back.” Then, her lips curled into a grin. “And I must admit, I’m pleased you’re back in the game.”

I returned the smile, modest but full of silent gratitude. A knock came at the door before either of us could say more. Chelsey opened it to find a staff member waiting, signaling it was time for the finale.

I took a deep breath and stood, adjusting my posture. No nerves, just determination.

Backstage, the energy was electric. Deniz rushed over and quickly ushered me to position, whispering that I’d be joining the designer who created the collection for the show.

But as I stepped closer, the designer eyed me with a furrowed brow. “Wait... Who are you?”

I glanced at Deniz, seriously? He didn’t tell the designer I’d be stepping in?

Before I could respond, the designer waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. We’ll talk later.” He turned his glare to Deniz, who suddenly looked uncomfortable.

Then he grabbed my arm, and just like that, we were stepping out onto the runway together.

There was a moment of pause, surprise, curiosity, and perhaps even disbelief from the audience. I held my head high, my expression composed. I could see the raised eyebrows, the whispers, and the recognition. They didn’t expect to see me, not here like this.

But I wasn’t here for their approval. I was here for my comeback.

As we stepped off stage, I barely had time to breathe before a man in a crisp suit stormed up, anger written all over his face. He glared at me with seething intensity.

“What the hell is this?!” he barked at the designer. “Where is Samia Mercado?”

“Sir, I’ll explain everything. Please—”

“No!” the man snapped. “I’m not talking to you.” He turned his wrath on Deniz, who had just appeared behind the curtain.

Then, his attention shifted to me.

“And you, Miss Montañez,” he snarled, “I’ll see you in court for trespassing and ruining my fashion show. I’m calling your management—now.”

Without warning, he grabbed my arm, trying to yank me offstage. I struggled to free myself, his grip bruising-tight.

“Let go of me!” I hissed, wincing. I knew I’d have marks by the time this was over.

But if he thought bruises would stop me, he had no idea who he was dealing with.

“Let me go, Mr. Cayab,” I said firmly, trying to shake off his grip. “Listen to your staff, if I hadn’t stepped in, your show would’ve been a disaster—”

“Don’t deceive yourself!” he cut me off, tightening his hold on my arm. “No matter what you say, no one will believe you! Are you that desperate to steal a spotlight that was never yours?”

The words stung, but I didn’t flinch. Around me, I could hear the crowd murmuring in disapproval. Some even started throwing plastic bottles in my direction. But I stood tall, refusing to let any emotion show on my face. I had nothing to be ashamed of. I wasn’t the guilty one here.

Then, the chaos came to a stop. A man began to ascend the stage, and instantly, the atmosphere shifted. He exuded power with each step, commanding, magnetic, untouchable.

“That’s Braun El Cueva, the CEO of Crown Star Entertainment!” a photographer gasped nearby, his camera clicking rapidly.

I drew in a breath and nearly choked. Braun? What the hell was he doing here?

We had an agreement. He said he had a meeting. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this event. And yet, he was walking straight toward us, looking like a king who didn’t need a throne.

I stayed silent, frozen beside Mr. Cayab, whose hand was still clamped around my arm.

“Mr. El Cueva! What a pleasure! I’m honored you came to our little event,” Cayab said, practically beaming now as he finally let go of me and turned to the CEO like a dog wagging its tail.

Braun’s voice was calm and deliberate. “I just happened to be passing by. Thought I’d see something interesting.”

His eyes flicked to me for a second, unreadable. I looked away, swallowing the lump in my throat. I wanted to drag him aside and ask why he was interfering in something he had no business in. But I couldn’t, not in front of all these people. I didn’t need to add desperate and unprofessional to my growing public list of failures.

To them, I was just a washed-up model, trying to latch onto someone powerful to claw my way back into the spotlight.

Then Mr. Cayab opened his mouth again, and the venom poured out.

“Oh, I’m sorry for the inconvenience. This bitch ruined the—”

“Mr. Cayab.” Braun cut him off smoothly, his voice like ice. “I heard you’re using my artist’s image without consent. Expect a lawsuit. My legal team will be in touch.”

I blinked. Artist? Did he just—?

Then Braun turned to me, meeting my eyes. “You did well today,” he said plainly. “The outfit looked good on you. Keep at it. I see you becoming one of the top models soon.”

And just like that, he walked off the stage and out of the room, leaving behind a stunned silence that lasted for a beat before reporters erupted into a frenzy, chasing him for photos and statements.

Suddenly forgotten, I was left standing there as all the attention shifted to Braun El Cueva’s grand, unexpected exit.

I slowly stepped down from the stage, the adrenaline still humming in my veins. Deniz and Chelsey rushed over to me when I reached the side.

“I’m so sorry, Briella,” Deniz said, breathless with guilt. “I didn’t know it would turn out like this. I swear—”

“It’s okay,” I told him gently. “Really. I’m fine.”

But inside, I wasn’t just fine. I was awakened. And I wasn’t stepping down again.

“Chelsey, I’ll go ahead. Please help Deniz explain things to the designer and Mr. Cayab,” I said quickly, already slipping out of the conversation. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

I didn’t wait for her reply. I was too overwhelmed, too desperate to escape the suffocating air backstage.

I changed out of the outfit as fast as possible, ignoring the hushed whispers and dagger-like glances thrown my way. Some people didn’t even bother hiding their cruel remarks. But I didn’t react. I couldn’t afford to. I held my chin up and walked out of the hotel like I hadn’t just been publicly humiliated.

Once I stepped outside, I finally exhaled. The air was sharp and fresh, washing away the tension clinging to my skin like sweat. My phone buzzed.

A text from President Braun. My heart skipped a beat as I caught sight of the familiar blue car parked nearby. I climbed inside, greeted by Luigi’s warm smile. I nodded to him, slid into the back seat, and the engine purred to life as we pulled away.

President Braun sat beside me, reading a document like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just flipped the entire event on its head with a few well-chosen words.

“Speak up,” he said without looking at me, pulling me out of my daze. Then his eyes lifted to meet mine, and I saw that look again. The one that demanded respect and left no room for opposition. He didn’t need to raise his voice to silence a room.

“I told you not to come on my behalf,” I said, forcing my voice to sound steady.

The corner of his lips curled into a smirk. “I didn’t. You heard me. That company used my model’s image without permission. That’s a problem I need to handle… love.”

Love . . .

I blinked, my heart thudding just a little too fast. I played it cool, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Do you need to attend such a small event yourself?”

He returned to his document nonchalantly. “I came to pick you up. No point bothering my lawyers when I can handle it personally.”

I bit back a smile. My lips itched to curve, but I managed to stay composed. I noticed Luigi suppressing a grin from the corner of my eye. But the second Braun spoke again, that grin vanished like it had never existed.

“Take us to Glamour Hotel,” he ordered. “We’ll spend the night there. I’m not taking you home just yet. I can’t enjoy our honeymoon in that place.”

Honeymoon? Oh, right. We did get married earlier today.

My throat felt dry. Luigi complied without hesitation, and minutes later, we arrived at the private lobby of one of the city's most luxurious hotels.

Braun stepped out first and held out his hand. Without thinking, I took it.

Whatever happened tonight, I wouldn’t regret it. I wanted this. I wanted him. And I wanted to reclaim the power stolen from me by those who dared to trample on my name.

Inside the elevator, he pressed the button for the twentieth floor.

The penthouse. I instinctively moved away, worried someone else might step in and see us together. He pulled me close without warning.

“People might see us,” I whispered nervously.

He chuckled lowly. “Don’t worry. This is a private elevator. No one else can access it but me.”

“Oh,” I breathed out. Then I laughed softly. “Perks of being The King, huh?”

“You can say that,” he murmured, tilting his head with that knowing smirk.

When the elevator doors opened, I froze.

The penthouse was minimalist in design yet dripping in elegance and power. Expensive furniture gleamed in the sunlight, spilling through floor-to-ceiling windows. This place wasn’t just luxurious. It was his. It was him.

I hesitated at the threshold.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, noticing my pause.

“It’s just… It’s too good to be true,” I admitted, biting my lower lip. “Are you sure it’s okay if I—”

He didn’t let me finish. He pulled me inside, and before I could think, I was buried in his chest, surrounded by the clean, masculine scent of his cologne. I felt dizzy. Addicted.

“You’re my wife now,” he said, his voice deep and rich. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Okay,” I whispered, stepping back before I lost all self-control.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, casually removing his jacket. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong forearms that made my mouth dry. His polo shirt clung just right to his toned frame, broad chest, taut abs, a body carved like a god.

Damn! I wanted to run my hands over him.

“Hey, love,” he teased with a grin. “I meant what I said. What’s mine is yours. If you want me, say so.”

“Huh?” I blinked, startled. My face burned. Why did he always catch me ogling him?!

He laughed and stepped closer. “Are you hungry? Want me to cook something?”

Huh? Again? I mentally cursed myself. Snap out of it! Was this how every woman felt around him?

I pinched myself discreetly, trying to reset my brain. But then, he noticed my arm.

“What’s this?” he asked, frowning deeply.

I stiffened, the bruise. Of course. I knew it would show.

“It’s nothing. It’s just a scratch. It’ll fade,” I said quickly, trying to hide it.

He wasn’t convinced. “It’s not nothing.”

His voice changed. Low. Dangerous. A storm beneath the surface. I shivered.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, and I swore the air dropped ten degrees.

I stayed silent. Naming names wouldn’t help. But he already knew.

“It was Mr. Cayab, wasn’t it?”

I hesitated, then sighed. “It’s fine, President Braun. Really. I’m okay.”

His jaw clenched. “He dares lay a hand on my Queen…” he growled, picking up his phone.

My breath caught—his Queen.

The words echoed in my chest like a drumbeat. I stared at him, stunned and speechless.

This man… This King… was about to go to war for me?