A Comeback

3 Years later

Taylor

GRAND HOTEL

I had been there for eleven months. Eleven long months of being invisible.

People said internships were meant to be stepping stones, but for me, it felt more like quicksand. I fetched coffee, I rewrote press drafts a dozen times, and I smiled through meetings where no one remembered my name, just “the intern.”

No one talked to me unless they needed something. And even then, it was clipped, transactional. I didn't mind. Friends were a luxury I couldn't afford, not anymore. Not after losing almost everything , my marriage, my home… and nearly myself.

Everyone thought getting yourself back after a divorce was quick and sudden, but that shit only happened in TV shows and not in reality. It was hard taking yourself back up when your whole life had been controlled by your husband's money. Everything was taken away from me and even if he hadn't asked, I wouldn't keep any of his things in my life.

My shift started at 7:30, but I always came in earlier. I had to. My daughter’s daycare opened by six, and if I didn’t leave by five on the dot, I missed her pickup and faced judgmental stares from strangers who thought they knew what kind of mother I was.

That day was no different. I was tired, running on nerves and cheap coffee. My inbox was overflowing, my legs ached, and my name hadn't been said once all morning.

The elevator dinged open, but no one stepped out. Typical. They were all too busy pretending not to notice me carrying three iced coffees, a rolled-up media banner, and a tablet buzzing non-stop in my bag.

My heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as I hurried toward the conference room, five minutes late, sweat already dampening my blouse.

“Intern,” my supervisor barked before she even got the door fully open, “where’s the revised pitch deck?”

It was still in my inbox. Untouched. Because I had spent the last hour fixing a typo on the CEO’s statement that wasn’t even my damn job.

Fakely, I offered an apologetic bow, swallowing the urge to scream. “You should do your job and not me.”

“Don't offer me an apology and return these coffees. They don't drink coffee!” she said casually, like I hadn't climbed heaps of mountains to get here.

I gave her a bow and started walking away. This was a regular day for me…the harassment and the disrespect. I knew all this was for my daughter, Ashley. Our lives would be perfect in a few months. I believed in hard work; that's why I worked as an intern in the day and, at night, as a restaurant worker.

Then, of course, someone bumped into me. I stumbled. The paper cup in my hand splashed all over my blouse. Gasps, then snickers.

“Oops,” the girl said with a laugh, “that's not sorry at all. You should really watch where you’re going.”

Laughter trailed behind her, followed by whispers that weren't even subtle. I stood there, soaked and silent.

This was a regular thing for me.

Minutes later, my phone lit up. A message. Eyes shifted toward me. A few girls glanced over, then suddenly one walked up, all smiles.

“Hey! Congrats,” she said too sweetly. “You’re finally moving up, huh?”

I flinched when she touched my arm. She noticed. Her smile faded.

“Ugh. Never mind. No wonder no one likes you. Get a promotion and suddenly you’re too proud to say thanks.”

Before I could respond, my boss stepped out of his glass office.

“Can I have your attention?” he said.

“You all know we've had an intern for a long time now. Um…um…what's your name again?”

“Taylor,” I replied weakly.

“So…effective immediately, Tayli has been promoted to a full-time PR Assistant.”

Silence, then awkward applause. I lowered my head.

It should have felt like a win. But it didn't feel like that. I could feel the piercing gazes of people dug into me.

Nevertheless, I rubbed the feeling off and tried to live my moment.

—

Henry, my boss, decided to throw a dinner in my honor. He said it was to "officially welcome me to the team." But we all knew it was more about PR than appreciation.

Still, I smiled, nodded, and said thank you. I’d been an intern for a year, and now, finally, I had a permanent spot, maybe a seat at the table, but not necessarily a voice yet.

The night came quickly. I wore the only black dress I owned that still fit. Nothing flashy. Just simple. My friend, Lara, promised to watch my daughter. It was the only reason I even showed up. I hated leaving her, but I told myself this was for us. For a better life.

The hotel’s private dining space was grand: glass chandeliers, velvet seats, the scent of red wine and expensive cologne hanging in the air. People turned when I walked in. Compliments floated by, but they slid off me like oil. I was thinking about whether Lara had managed to get her to sleep yet… if she’d asked for me.

If I could have wished for anything, it was for this dinner to go as smoothly as planned.

Then, the air shifted.

I saw him.

Devon. He walked in like he owned the room. He probably did. I froze at first, my heart thudding so loud I could barely hear the background jazz. I ducked slightly behind the menu, but then straightened myself. No. I wasn’t that woman anymore. He didn’t deserve that power over me.

But what the hell was he doing there? I had heard he had gone to the Philippines for the past three years and now the minute he came back, he had to flaunt his face.

Suddenly, a toast was raised for me.

“Here's to Taylor!”

“Cheers.”

Glasses clinked. Laughter echoed.

And that’s when they noticed him.

I didn’t need to look. I could feel him. His eyes, watching me.

I turned slowly, and sure enough, our eyes locked across the table.

Time didn’t slow. It stopped.

Every damn memory hit like a slap. The mornings I waited for him to come home. The nights I cried in a cold bed. The moment I saw him, half-dressed, in Ivy’s apartment. The betrayal. The pregnancy. The divorce papers I signed with shaking hands.

Beads of sweat were forming on my head but I wiped them off. And as predicted, I became more uncomfortable than ever. Rage boiled over me. I didn't want to see his phony face or even feel his presence.

It hadn't reached up to twenty minutes when, in typical Devon fashion, he sent over a million-dollar gesture, a rare tuna delicacy, flown in, fresh.

“A gift from Mr. Devon for the lucky intern!”

Everyone gasped and started to ask questions that were disgusting to answer.

“Wow!”

“Do you know each other?”

“Is he your sugar daddy? I knew he was cheating!”

A gift. For me. How dare he? Did he think I was someone he could buy off?

I stood, my blood boiling.

I walked straight to him, ignoring everyone’s stares. “Don’t ever pull that stunt again,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice low, steady, dangerous. “Not now. Not ever.”

“I don't need your fucking pity… what type of games are you playing with me, find another player!” I snapped.

He didn’t respond, just looked at me like he wanted to say everything and nothing at once.

I turned to walk away, and that’s when Ivy entered.

Slowly, I shifted my gaze to them and saw her clinging to his arm, laughing like she was the only woman in the world, and looking at me like I was the dirt beneath her heels. She blinked at me and slowly kissed him on his neck.

“Hey… congrats loser!” she mouthed and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Out of everything odd, the thing I found most off was that Ivy was dressed like me , my favorite dress, favorite hairstyle and purse. Why does she have to pretend to me?

People started whispering at the table… speculating, pitying, mocking.

“Oh my God! She looks so beautiful with him.”

“They are the perfect couple!”

“God knows why that little wuss came to his table! She's not even in his league!”

I slammed my hand on the table. “Enough. Just stop.”

The room went quiet. Ivy smirked, probably thinking she’d won. She kept leaning into Devon, acting like a scene from a soap opera. But he wasn’t looking at her.

His eyes were on me.

All night.

My palms were sweating. My chest was tight. Henry kept refilling my glass, maybe trying to calm me or distract me. I didn’t know. All I knew was I felt dizzy. Too hot. Too exposed. Why was Devon there? Why then?

People started to leave. One by one. Until it was just Henry and me.

I couldn’t walk straight. I was stumbling.

“I’ll help you,” Henry said, slipping his arm around me. “Just rest in the lounge.”

We walked into a quiet hallway. My head was spinning. Every step made my legs shake. My breaths came fast, shallow. This isn’t right. Something’s wrong.

But something felt… off.

He led me to a small room. Dim lights and a couch.

I turned to thank him…and he kissed me.

No. No. I pushed back, but my limbs were heavy. I couldn't think clearly but…I couldn't believe the promotion was a ploy.

Then, he pushed me on the couch. His hands were on me now. I tried to speak, but everything was blurring. My pulse thundered in my ears. Adrenaline screamed through my veins. I pushed back, stumbled, nearly fell.

“Just stay quiet. We'll be done in a few minutes!” He said kissing me on my lips as he unbuttoned his trousers.

I’m not… I’m not scared of you!” I spat, voice cracking. “Don’t touch me!”

He smirked. “You don’t have a choice.”

Then everything paused.

The door burst open with a crash. Devon’s voice roared. “Get your hands off her!”

Then suddenly…I saw someone's fist on Henry's face.

Immediately, Henry stumbled back.

My eyes were blurry but I could see Devon, shaking his fist and biting his lip.

Henry lunged again, but Devon met him with a swing that sent him stumbling back into the wall. The thud made my ears ring. My hands trembled, gripping Devon’s shirt. Heat, fear, and adrenaline twisted through me like a storm.

“Are you okay?” Devon’s eyes searched mine, burning with concern and something else, anger, relief, something I couldn’t name.

“I… I’m fine,” I whispered, barely audible. My legs buckled, and Devon caught me, holding me tight. The world tipped, spinning, flashing in fragments of sound and light.

“Focus on me. Only me,” Devon said, voice cutting through the haze. “You’re safe now… just hold on.”

Groggily, I said, “Let me… let me go!”

“Don’t pass out,” he whispered, my eyes barely open. “Not now…”

He held me tighter.

My body went heavy. Darkness curled at the edges of my vision. Every sound, every movement, felt distant. I tried to speak, tried to fight, but the energy drained from me, like I was sinking into a black sea.

“The devil… he’ll rot me in hell… I don't trust him! He will do something to me! ”

Then everything went black.

.

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