(Gloria)So far, Iโve successfully dodged the GI - Gabriel Interrogation.Barely.He hasnโt asked again about the envelope, but the way he keeps looking at me? Like heโs waiting for a confession or a crack or maybe just for me to trip over my own guilt, itโs exhausting. Iโve spent the last day pretending to nap, sipping lukewarm soup, and mentally running laps around how I came to lose everything.And now, finally, Iโm getting out of this hospital.The door swings open and in walks Gabriel in a fresh suit, coffee in hand, andโฆ a box.I blink. โPlease tell me thatโs not another fruit basket.โHe smirks, then he walks over and places it on the bed beside me. โNope. Just thought you might want your life back.โI peel back the lid, and there it isโฆ a brand new phone.โGabriel,โ I say, stunned, โyou didnโt have toโฆโโI wanted to,โ he says simply, settling into the chair. โBesides, you need a way to ignore my texts again.โI laugh, but it hurts my ribs, so I wince instead. โStill not funny.
(Gloria)โSo are we gonna pretend that look he gave you at the door wasnโt straight out of a romance novel orโฆ?โI donโt even bother looking up from my phone. โElena.โโOh come on, Gloria.โ She throws herself dramatically onto the couch beside me before bouncing back up again, clearly too excited to sit still. โHe practically undressed you with his eyes. You guys are so in love.โI grunt. โWeโre not in love.โโSure,โ she says, heading into my kitchen. โJust sharing tender hospital hand holding and making googly eyes on the front porch. Totally platonic.โโI was nearly murdered, Elena. That wasnโt a googly eye moment, it was a โthank God youโre not deadโ moment.โโSame thing.โ She starts opening cabinets. โDo you even have food, or am I making a miracle out of stale cereal and bread?โโMiddle shelf. Thereโs pasta and the sauce you like.โโHa! Knew I was your favorite.โI roll my eyes, sinking further into the couch, with my blanket tucked around me like protective armor. My ribs still
I come back to my senses with the sharp sting of a slap that feels like Iโve been yanked from a deep, suffocating dream. My head spins, and everything is blurry for a moment. โElenaโฆโ I murmur weakly.Her hand is warm and shaking as she holds my face, the slap was just her frantic attempt to bring me back.โGloria! What the hellโฆ Gloria! Should I call the hospital?โ she asks, her voice rising in panic. โShould I call Gabriel?โI push her hand away weakly, trying to sit up, โNoโฆ no hospital,โ I mutter, my voice unsteady. โIโm fine. Justโฆ too much.โI try to stand, but my legs betray me and give out beneath me. I stumble forward, barely catching myself against the edge of the coffee table.โElena, IโฆโBut before I can say more, I crumble, tears welling up in my eyes and spilling over before I can stop them.โGloria?โ Elena asks, confusion in her voice. โWhatโs wrong? Whatโs going on?โI shake my head, unable to answer. โIโmโฆ Iโm just soโฆ overwhelmed.โ The sobs shake my whole body, and
(Gloria)I walk through the office doors with my face set in a grim expression. The air feels thicker and heavier today as the weight of everything is dragging me down. My mindโs a mess, and no matter how hard I try to push it away, the blackmail message keeps circling back and I canโt shake it.Iโm almost at my desk when I hear footsteps behind me. Gabriel. I can feel his gaze on me before he even speaks.โGloria,โ he says, his voice low and concerned. โI told you to take the day off. Why are you here?โI try to keep my voice steady, but thereโs a tightness in my chest. โI feel better. Besides, Iโd just be bored at home.โThe words come out before I even think about them. But as I look at him, really look at him, I feel the guilt hit me. Heโs genuinely worried and I can see it in the way his brow furrows, in the way his eyes search mine like heโs trying to figure out if Iโm lying.I swallow hard. โIโm fine.โHe doesnโt seem convinced, but he doesnโt press me. Instead, he gives me a s
(Gloria)The next day Iโm at home. Iโd gone home early the previous day after telling Gabriel Iโd take the day off, much to his delight. I guess he was happy to get me to relax a bit.Now, Iโm on the couch, wrapped in my blanket mindlessly eating Chinese takeout. The TVโs on but Iโm not really watching anything. Iโm just sort ofโฆ there. My thoughts are too tangled, too all over the place, and I canโt seem to shake off this feeling of being stuck.Iโm lost in the emptiness of the moment when the doorbell rings, interrupting the silence. I almost ignore it, who the hell is visiting me? Iโm not expecting anyone. But the damn thing rings again, louder this time. So, I roll my eyes and reluctantly pull myself up off the couch.When I open the door, Iโm hit with the surprise of a delivery guy standing there holding a big hamper. Thereโs food, fruit, andโฆ flowers? My first thought is, What the hell?He hands me a card after I sign for it. I glance at it, almost as if I donโt want to know who
(Gloria) I wake up with a jolt with my phone vibrating against my chest and pressing into me like itโs trying to make sure Iโm awake. Groaning, I push it off and onto the couch, the screen lighting up and blinking at me like a warning sign. I rub my eyes, feeling the ache in my head from too much sleep, and I shuffle to the kitchen, craving some water to shake off the grogginess. The cool glass of water hits my lips but it doesnโt stop the gnawing feeling in my gut. I can hear my phone, no, I can feel it vibrating from the other room. Then the beeps start. A flood of notifications, calls. I freeze, water halfway down my throat, and a cold shiver races down my spine. I know whatโs happening. I know. Itโs over. Theyโve done it. Just like they said they would. Iโve been exposed. My heart races as I stare at the water in my hand, as if it could somehow give me the answers I need, some way out. But there isnโt one. Itโs too late now. I ignore the phone, my fingers twitching as the n
(Gabriel)โWell?โ I ask, the word coming out as more of a command than a question. My eyes rake over her coldly but inside, a storm is raging. She looks like a mess, unkept, terrified, and I can barely keep it together.Iโm fighting every impulse not to grab her and shake the answers out of her, demanding she tell me what the hell is going on. Instead, I stand there stiffly, my fists clenched at my sides trying to control the rage thatโs boiling in my veins.Kate had walked into my office earlier, slamming that tablet down in front of me with an expression that said โyou need to see thisโ. The documentary was everywhere, the headline hitting me like a slap across the face: Ex-Drug Dealerโs Secret Contract to Marry Montclair CEO. The words felt like they burned into my skin.Gloria, an ex-drug dealer working with her trash of an ex, Ethan. And then the real kicker, a contract from my mother, Eleanor Montclair, to marry me for money. All over the media. Iโm still trying to wrap my head
(Gloria)I stare at the door hoping it might swing back open like Gabriel forgot something, maybe his sanity, maybe his heart. Maybe the part of him that didnโt just threaten me like a mafia boss in a three piece suit.But no. It stays shut.And Iโm just standing there, jaw slack and completely, spectacularly, ruined.โWelp,โ I whisper, blinking. โI think that went well.โA tiny, pitiful laugh bubbles out of me but it dies as fast as it came.I take a step forward, my knees buckle. Okay. Thatโs fine. Thatโs totally okay. Iโve been through worse.โฆHavenโt I?Then I collapse onto the floor in a heap, one arm flopped over my stomach like Iโve just been fatally wounded in battle. Maybe I have. The battle of the heart. The war of love. The massacre of dignity.And then it happens, the sobs.Real ones, loud and messy. Not those pretty movie tears. Nope. This is the kind of crying that makes your face puff up like a marshmallow and your nose run like a broken faucet.I bury my face in my han
(Gloria)โBreathe,โ Elena whispered, tucking a stray curl behind my ear.I tried but the air caught in my throat, thick and dry. My lungs were working, but it didnโt feel like breathing, it felt like drowning.The dress fit like a custom made trap.Silk, delicate and stupidly expensive, clunging to every inch of me like it had a personal grudge. White, backless, tight around the ribs, I looked like the kind of dreamy bride people wrote poems about. But underneath? I felt like a prisoner.We stood just behind a pillar out of sight, but I could already hear the rustle of guests, the low hum of whispers, and the click-click-click of paparazzi cameras fighting for a shot. โYou ready?โ Elena asked, her fingers brushing mine.I nodded, but the truth was, I wanted to run, like, just bolt. But my heels stayed rooted to the grass, like even they knew escape was pointless.โYou look like youโre about to jump the hedge,โ she said. โIf you do, Iโm not wearing flats under this dress for nothing. I
(Gloria)Elena sinks into the chair beside me, picking up the halfempty wine bottle on the table. โSoโฆ everythingโs unraveling fast, huh?โI let the rim of the glass rest on my lips before I answer. โApocalyptic.โShe winces. โSorry.โI shrug stiffly. โDonโt be. Eleanor Montclair doesnโt back down. Iโll give her that.โThereโs a beat of silence, then Elena says quietly, โYou admire her?โI scoff. โNo. Maybe. Hell, I donโt even know. Sheโs scary but effective. She sent me this ridiculous form to fill out, and when I hesitated, she hit me with so much legal jargon, I thought Iโd be arrested for lying about my blood type.โElena lets out a low whistle. โShe really did her daughter-in-law homework.โโThoroughly,โ I mutter, setting the glass down harder than I mean to. โShame her son isnโt going along without a fightโElena shifts. โHe was angryโฆโโHe was humiliated,โ I cut in. โAnd now he thinks marrying me is the worst decision of his life.โElena clears her throat. โJordan hasnโt called
(Gabriel)The moment I step out of the car back home, flashes go off like fireworks from the cameras shoved into my face, with reporters barking questions I have zero interest in answering.โMr. Montclair, is it true you fired your secretary?โโWas the relationship ever real?โโDid she seduce you for the money?โI keep walking with my sunglasses on. Let them feast on the scraps because Iโm here for the queen of manipulation herself.I push open the grand double doors and make my way inside without a word to the housekeepers who bow and scurry out of my way. Up the marble stairs, past the lifeless portraits of smiling men I never cared to resemble, and straight to her favorite room, the tea room.The doorโs already open of course. She probably wants this to feel casual and warm. My mother sits by the window elegantly like sheโs been waiting for me to arrive. She smiles like Iโm her darling boy coming home from war.โGabriel,โ she says softly, patting the velvet cushion beside her. โCo
(Gabriel) The saltwater clings to my skin as I step out of the ocean, feeling the waves pull away from me with each step forward and i take a deep breath to enjoy the tropical air. Hawaiiโs warm breeze is supposed to wash away the anger, frustration, and chaos of my life, but it doesnโt. It doesnโt do a damn thing to numb the knot in my stomach or the rage simmering just beneath the surface of my skin.I make my way to the beach dragging my board behind me, the sound of the ocean drowned out by the rush in my ears. The soft sand shifts under my feet as I approach the edge of the beach, and thatโs when I see them.Two women. Tall, tanned, and wearing almost nothing. Theyโre eyeing me up like Iโm their next meal. I donโt blame them, no doubt the waves have done wonders for my physique.The blonde is the first to speak. โNice ride out there,โ she says with flirtation in her voice.I glance over to them disinterestedly. Iโm not in the mood for small talk. But then I notice the brunette.
(Gloria)My phone rings and I almost drop it. Eleanor Montclair.Her name stares back at me like itโs been branded on my screen. I freeze, every one of my muscles tightening. Suddenly, the idea of crying over a documentary feels like a warm up for the real horror show to come .Because if thereโs one person whoโs probably angrier than Gabriel right now, itโs his mother.I imagine her standing in a designer robe, swirling a glass of wine like a villain from a movie, already drafting the legal papers to sue me into poverty. I picture myself back on Elenaโs couch begging for space, struggling to afford groceries, and eating cheap ramen in bulk while I try to pay backโฆThe phone buzzes again in my palm demanding an answer.Shit. Okay.I swipe. โHello?โNo greeting and no hesitation.โIโll pay it back,โ I blurt. โPlease. Just give me a payment plan or something. Iโฆ I know the contractโs over, but I swear Iโll find a way. You donโt have to take me to court or ruin my life orโฆ โโGloria,โ El
(Gloria)I stare at the door hoping it might swing back open like Gabriel forgot something, maybe his sanity, maybe his heart. Maybe the part of him that didnโt just threaten me like a mafia boss in a three piece suit.But no. It stays shut.And Iโm just standing there, jaw slack and completely, spectacularly, ruined.โWelp,โ I whisper, blinking. โI think that went well.โA tiny, pitiful laugh bubbles out of me but it dies as fast as it came.I take a step forward, my knees buckle. Okay. Thatโs fine. Thatโs totally okay. Iโve been through worse.โฆHavenโt I?Then I collapse onto the floor in a heap, one arm flopped over my stomach like Iโve just been fatally wounded in battle. Maybe I have. The battle of the heart. The war of love. The massacre of dignity.And then it happens, the sobs.Real ones, loud and messy. Not those pretty movie tears. Nope. This is the kind of crying that makes your face puff up like a marshmallow and your nose run like a broken faucet.I bury my face in my han
(Gabriel)โWell?โ I ask, the word coming out as more of a command than a question. My eyes rake over her coldly but inside, a storm is raging. She looks like a mess, unkept, terrified, and I can barely keep it together.Iโm fighting every impulse not to grab her and shake the answers out of her, demanding she tell me what the hell is going on. Instead, I stand there stiffly, my fists clenched at my sides trying to control the rage thatโs boiling in my veins.Kate had walked into my office earlier, slamming that tablet down in front of me with an expression that said โyou need to see thisโ. The documentary was everywhere, the headline hitting me like a slap across the face: Ex-Drug Dealerโs Secret Contract to Marry Montclair CEO. The words felt like they burned into my skin.Gloria, an ex-drug dealer working with her trash of an ex, Ethan. And then the real kicker, a contract from my mother, Eleanor Montclair, to marry me for money. All over the media. Iโm still trying to wrap my head
(Gloria) I wake up with a jolt with my phone vibrating against my chest and pressing into me like itโs trying to make sure Iโm awake. Groaning, I push it off and onto the couch, the screen lighting up and blinking at me like a warning sign. I rub my eyes, feeling the ache in my head from too much sleep, and I shuffle to the kitchen, craving some water to shake off the grogginess. The cool glass of water hits my lips but it doesnโt stop the gnawing feeling in my gut. I can hear my phone, no, I can feel it vibrating from the other room. Then the beeps start. A flood of notifications, calls. I freeze, water halfway down my throat, and a cold shiver races down my spine. I know whatโs happening. I know. Itโs over. Theyโve done it. Just like they said they would. Iโve been exposed. My heart races as I stare at the water in my hand, as if it could somehow give me the answers I need, some way out. But there isnโt one. Itโs too late now. I ignore the phone, my fingers twitching as the n
(Gloria)The next day Iโm at home. Iโd gone home early the previous day after telling Gabriel Iโd take the day off, much to his delight. I guess he was happy to get me to relax a bit.Now, Iโm on the couch, wrapped in my blanket mindlessly eating Chinese takeout. The TVโs on but Iโm not really watching anything. Iโm just sort ofโฆ there. My thoughts are too tangled, too all over the place, and I canโt seem to shake off this feeling of being stuck.Iโm lost in the emptiness of the moment when the doorbell rings, interrupting the silence. I almost ignore it, who the hell is visiting me? Iโm not expecting anyone. But the damn thing rings again, louder this time. So, I roll my eyes and reluctantly pull myself up off the couch.When I open the door, Iโm hit with the surprise of a delivery guy standing there holding a big hamper. Thereโs food, fruit, andโฆ flowers? My first thought is, What the hell?He hands me a card after I sign for it. I glance at it, almost as if I donโt want to know who