(Gloria)
Dragging myself into Montclair Advertising at the crack of dawn should be illegal, honestly. The city is still half asleep, but here I am, trudging through the sleek, modern office like a zombie.Eleanor’s text was clear: Be early, impress him, and don’t mess up.Easy for her to say. She’s not the one dealing with a six foot three nightmare with an ego problem.I step into the CEO’s office, prepared for battle. But instead of the usual cold glare and scowl, I find Gabriel already at his desk, his sleeves rolled up, tie discarded, and glasses perched on his nose as he types away.I blink. Okay. Wow.Not that I care. Nope. Not at all.“Morning, boss,” I say, forcing a smile.He doesn’t look up. “Sit, watch, and learn.”And that’s how my first official day of training begins. For the next few hours, something shocking happens. Gabriel actually… teaches me.No sharp comments, no insults, just straight up explanations.“This is how we(Gloria)“Breathe,” 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 didn’t 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. “You ready?” 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.“You look like you’re about to jump the hedge,” she said. “If you do, I’m 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. “So… everything’s unraveling fast, huh?”I let the rim of the glass rest on my lips before I answer. “Apocalyptic.”She winces. “Sorry.”I shrug stiffly. “Don’t be. Eleanor Montclair doesn’t back down. I’ll give her that.”There’s a beat of silence, then Elena says quietly, “You admire her?”I scoff. “No. Maybe. Hell, I don’t even know. She’s 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 I’d be arrested for lying about my blood type.”Elena lets out a low whistle. “She really did her daughter-in-law homework.”“Thoroughly,” I mutter, setting the glass down harder than I mean to. “Shame her son isn’t going along without a fight”Elena shifts. “He was angry…”“He was humiliated,” I cut in. “And now he thinks marrying me is the worst decision of his life.”Elena clears her throat. “Jordan hasn’t 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.“Mr. Montclair, is it true you fired your secretary?”“Was the relationship ever real?”“Did she seduce you for the money?”I keep walking with my sunglasses on. Let them feast on the scraps because I’m 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 door’s already open of course. She probably wants this to feel casual and warm. My mother sits by the window elegantly like she’s been waiting for me to arrive. She smiles like I’m her darling boy coming home from war.“Gabriel,” she says softly, patting the velvet cushion beside her. “Co
(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. Hawaii’s warm breeze is supposed to wash away the anger, frustration, and chaos of my life, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t 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 that’s when I see them.Two women. Tall, tanned, and wearing almost nothing. They’re eyeing me up like I’m their next meal. I don’t blame them, no doubt the waves have done wonders for my physique.The blonde is the first to speak. “Nice ride out there,” she says with flirtation in her voice.I glance over to them disinterestedly. I’m 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 it’s 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 there’s one person who’s probably angrier than Gabriel right now, it’s 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 Elena’s couch begging for space, struggling to afford groceries, and eating cheap ramen in bulk while I try to pay back…The phone buzzes again in my palm demanding an answer.Shit. Okay.I swipe. “Hello?”No greeting and no hesitation.“I’ll pay it back,” I blurt. “Please. Just give me a payment plan or something. I… I know the contract’s over, but I swear I’ll find a way. You don’t have to take me to court or ruin my life or… ”“Gloria,” 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 didn’t just threaten me like a mafia boss in a three piece suit.But no. It stays shut.And I’m just standing there, jaw slack and completely, spectacularly, ruined.“Welp,” I whisper, blinking. “I think that went well.”A tiny, pitiful laugh bubbles out of me but it dies as fast as it came.I take a step forward, my knees buckle. Okay. That’s fine. That’s totally okay. I’ve been through worse.…Haven’t I?Then I collapse onto the floor in a heap, one arm flopped over my stomach like I’ve 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