Chapter 3

Elizabeth's POV

***

Morning came.

I thought my problems would be over quickly since I had already found out who was behind spreading the video of what happened inside the restaurant.

The video of how I was humiliated by that man—the one with the blue eyes, the handsome face, and the well-built body.

But even though I had learned so much about him, it wasn’t enough to shield me from the wrath of Mr. Buenaventura—my father.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when his palm slammed against the desk while I stood in front of him. I could clearly see the rage burning in his eyes, and it told me one thing: I was completely screwed today.

“What do you think you’re doing, Elizabeth? Causing a scandal? And inside a crowded restaurant of all places?” His voice was so loud that I flinched and shut my eyes.

I wanted to roll my eyes at what he was doing right now.

If I was the scandalous one, then what did that make him? Was it acceptable for him to humiliate me in front of his business associates, right here inside his own office?

I could feel their stares crawling all over my skin.

These bastards were just standing there, watching my father scream directly into my face.

My God. I was already ruined yesterday because of that damned asshole, and now this too? What the hell?

“Have you no shame for what you’ve done?” he continued. “You’re embarrassing me, Elizabeth! You’re dragging my name through the mud!” His voice thundered against the four corners of the room.

I was certain that some of the people witnessing this—watching him scream at his only daughter—were silently thanking their lucky stars that they weren’t the target of his anger.

Damn. It was still so early in the morning, and this was how my day had to begin? Really?

“Get out.”

When I didn’t move from where I stood, his sharp glare felt like it could pierce straight through my entire body. My body was already screaming at me to leave. As if I even wanted to be here in the first place. As if I enjoyed surrounding myself with people like this.

My heels clicked loudly against the floor as I walked out of his office.

If anyone ever asked me why I never called him “Dad,” or “Papa,” or anything else that reminded me he was supposed to be my father—

Then don’t ask me. Because I would never waste my breath answering such a pointless question.

The moment I stepped outside his office, I found Mr. Peter waiting, holding my expensive bag. When he saw me, he immediately moved to approach, likely wanting to comfort me after witnessing how my own father had screamed at me in front of everyone.

I turned away before he could.

Mr. Peter was used to seeing me like this, and I had grown used to my father treating me this way. Almost every morning, without fail, he saw me being scolded inside that office. Meeting or no meeting, if my father was angry with me, he would unleash it, no matter who was watching.

I rolled my eyes when I noticed Mr. Peter still wanted to say something. Instead of letting him speak, I simply snatched my bag from his hands and walked away as if nothing had happened.

I thought he wouldn’t follow me, but I felt his presence trailing behind me.

I sighed in defeat.

In situations like this, I sometimes let Mr. Peter win.

Sometimes.

“Okay. What do you want?” I asked, pressing the down button for the elevator. “Don’t tell me you’re about to recite one of your daily inspirational quotes again.”

When the elevator doors slid open, I stepped inside, and he followed. I pressed the button for the 20th floor and let the doors close.

“N-no, Miss,” he said. “But there’s someone waiting at your office.”

That made me frown. I turned to face him.

“Who? Am I expecting a visitor today?”

“You don’t remember, Miss?”

“Remember what?” I snapped. “You know what, just tell me who is waiting in my office instead of answering my questions with more questions. My patience is running thin.”

So he would understand that my patience had limits too.

He took a deep breath before finally telling me the name of the person waiting for me.

I wished—I truly wished—that I had never asked.

Because whatever patience I had left seemed to vanish completely.

Rage boiled inside me the moment I pushed open the door to my office and saw that shameless man, Rodolfo Gallagher, sitting comfortably on my pink sofa while Janet stood beside him, serving him a cup of coffee.

My irritation reached its peak when he smiled at me the instant our eyes met.

What did this man want?

He and that blue-eyed bastard were the reason I had to endure my father’s fury this morning.

There was no way I would let what they did to me slide.

Janet and Mr. Peter quickly excused themselves and left us alone in my office. They both knew exactly what I was capable of doing to this man once whatever respect I had left for people like him disappeared.

And who exactly gave him permission to sit on my pink sofa like that? Especially after he chose someone else over me yesterday?

Okay. Compose yourself, Elizabeth. This man was a major client my father wanted. Still… I couldn’t just stand there and let him do whatever he pleased with me.

I took a deep breath and walked toward my chair, forcing myself to ignore the tempting thought of grabbing the arnis stick hidden beneath my desk and smacking him over the head with it.

Please don’t lose your mind today.

Once I settled into my seat—my throne—I fixed him with a sharp, cold stare.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “Do you want to humiliate me too, just like that asshole did yesterday?”

I had no intention of playing the polite, well-mannered woman in front of this man.

I was already screwed today because of what happened with my father, and I refused to endure another disaster.

I watched as he choked on his coffee at my words.

Why? Was he expecting something from me after everything that happened yesterday? Was he serious?

“Oh? Are you okay?” I asked flatly. “Should I call a doctor to have you carted out of my sight?”

Who ordered him to come here? I had no meetings scheduled, yet this man was absolutely ruining my day—just like my father had.

“N-no… I’m… I’m okay,” he mumbled weakly, wiping at the coffee stain on his shirt from choking earlier.

I rolled my eyes at the sight.

Really?

I stood up and pulled a roll of tissue from the drawer beside me. He was still dabbing at his blue long-sleeved shirt with his handkerchief, trying to clean the coffee stain.

I didn’t want his wife to worry over something so trivial.

I placed the tissue quietly on the table in front of him, then quickly returned to my seat and looked at him again.

“You know what? I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now, Mr. Gallagher,” I said, meeting his eyes directly.

He looked back at me and let out a sigh.

“Well, I expected you to say that,” he said with a small smile, “even though I haven’t even started explaining why I’m here.”

After everything, he still had the nerve to smile at me like that? Wow.

But his words piqued my curiosity. Now I genuinely wanted to know the real reason behind his visit and whatever it was he wanted to say.

Talking to Mr. Gallagher was never part of my schedule—especially since I had already planned to take him down. And yet, here he was, sitting right in front of me.

I studied him, weighing my next words. Should I kick him out? Or keep him here just long enough to get the answers I wanted?

In the end, curiosity won.

The answers I wanted mattered more.

So when he looked like he was about to stand and leave, I called out for him to sit back down.

“Tell me,” I said. “What’s the real reason you’re here, Mr. Gallagher?”