By the next morning, the damage control operation was in full swing.Brent had compiled a detailed report of our remaining assets, while Chelsea had managed to set up an emergency meeting with some of our most powerful investors.The board might have doubted me, but I wasn’t about to let this company collapse under my leadership.I stood at the head of the Perez Group executive conference room, dressed in a sharp black suit, my chin lifted in defiance.The air in the room was thick with tension.Seated before me were some of our biggest stakeholders, investors who had trusted me with their money. Investors who, after the billion-dollar loss, were now questioning whether that trust was misplaced.I refused to let them see how much their doubt shook me.If I wanted to fix this, I had to show them confidence, even if I didn’t fully feel it myself.*****"Ladies and gentlemen," I began, my voice clear and steady, "I won’t stand here and make excuses for what happened. Perez Group has suff
I met Lorenzo at an exclusive lounge in one of his high-end hotels.The moment I walked in, he was already waiting for me, his signature smirk in place, a glass of whiskey in his hand."You're late," he said, his tone laced with amusement.I ignored him and sat down across from him."Let's get to the point," I said coolly. "I need investors. You have connections."Lorenzo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And what do I get in return?"I swallowed, already knowing what was coming."Partnership," I said reluctantly. "A seat at the table. Limited control."His dark eyes gleamed with interest. "Limited?""I’m not handing over the company, Lorenzo," I said firmly.He chuckled. "Oh, Demi. That’s what I love about you." He swirled his drink before taking a sip. "You walk into the lion’s den, but you still think you can tame the beast.""I can," I shot back, refusing to let him see my hesitation.Lorenzo leaned back, studying me. "Alright. I'll consider it."It wasn’t a yes, b
Every fiber of my being screamed no.Jeff Ortega was the last person I wanted to be tied to again.But I wasn’t just Demi Perez anymore.I was the chairwoman of Perez Group.And right now, my company was drowning.I sucked in a breath, ignoring the way Jeff's smirk made my skin crawl.“What exactly does this ‘partnership’ entail?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.Jeff leaned forward, his dark eyes gleaming. “Simple. You and I run the merger together. Equal shares. Equal power. No buyout, no takeover—just you and me, like old times.”I almost laughed at that.Like old times?The old times where he manipulated me? Lied to me? Betrayed me?I hated him.But I hated losing even more.And if I refused…Lorenzo Cruz would win.I refused to let that happen.I exhaled sharply and lifted my paddle.“The Perez Group accepts your offer,” I said.The room erupted.***I felt Chelsea stiffen beside me.She turned, her eyes wide. “Demi… are you sure?”No.But I had to be.Jeff grinned like the bast
I needed coffee.And maybe a stronger escape route from my reality.The past few weeks had been absolute hell. The company was still recovering from the losses, the board was breathing down my neck, and Jeff Ortega was slithering his way into every aspect of my business, just waiting for the perfect moment to tighten his grip.So, when Chelsea got called into an urgent meeting and I found myself with an unexpected break, I did the first thing that made sense—I ran to a café nearby.The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of background chatter were a much-needed distraction.I exhaled, stepping in line.Finally, a moment of peace.And then, his voice cut through the air.“Didn’t expect to see you here, cariño.”I froze.Of all the places in this city, of all the cafés in this block—why the hell was Jeff Ortega here?I turned slowly, my gaze locking onto his smirking face.“Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Just what I needed.”Jeff stood just a few feet away, hands casua
I sat there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the spot where Jeff had just been, my mind tangled in a web of disbelief.What the hell just happened?A part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all—Jeff Ortega, the man who had once thrown away our marriage like it meant nothing, was now offering me a deal that required me to move in with him again.Why?What was his real angle?I curled my fingers around my coffee cup, trying to steady myself. My heart was pounding, and my emotions were swinging between anger, confusion, and something else I refused to name.Jeff wanted me back under his roof?The same man who had once signed the divorce papers without hesitation?The same man who had walked away as if I had been nothing more than a passing chapter in his life?I clenched my jaw.It didn’t make sense.And the worst part?I didn’t want to ask him why.Something about that question—about admitting my curiosity—felt too dangerous.I didn’t want to give Jeff the satisfacti
I had barely gotten any rest in the past few days. Between my father’s condition, the chaos at Perez Group, and Jeff’s relentless interference, I felt like I was suffocating.As I sat beside my father’s hospital bed, I watched his peaceful, sleeping face. He looked so frail, a far cry from the powerful businessman I had always known him to be. Seeing him like this made my heart ache.I reached for his hand, gripping it gently.“Dad,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “I know you’d probably scold me if you were awake right now. You’d tell me I should be at the company instead of hovering over you. But… I just don’t know what to do anymore.”The weight of my failures pressed down on my shoulders like a boulder.The company was crumbling. Investors were pulling out. Lorenzo Cruz was circling like a vulture, and Jeff… Jeff was forcing me into a corner I never wanted to be in.And now, I was running out of options.Just as I was lost in thought, my phone buzzed violently in my hand. I sighe
I sat in my office, staring blankly at the document in front of me, but I wasn’t reading a single word. My mind was elsewhere.Nolan’s offer replayed over and over in my head.“I don’t want anything in return. Just trust me.”It sounded too good to be true.I had spent years surrounded by men who only helped when they had something to gain—whether it was control, power, or even me.And yet, here was Nolan, offering me a way out without asking for a single thing.It didn’t make sense.Was he playing some long game I wasn’t seeing? Did he have a hidden agenda?I wanted to believe he was different. That maybe, for once, someone was actually looking out for me.But I also wasn’t naïve.I knew better than to trust people at face value.A knock on my office door made me flinch. “Come in.”Brent stepped inside, his expression tense. He shut the door behind him before walking toward my desk.“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked, crossing his arms.I sighed. “You already know the a
The next few days were absolute chaos.Despite my best efforts to stay focused, the pressure was crushing.Lorenzo wasn’t slowing down. If anything, he was accelerating his takeover plans. More investors were pulling out. More rumors were circulating. And every time I thought we had a moment to breathe, another headline would appear, twisting the knife deeper.But through it all, I waited for Nolan.I had no idea what he was planning.I hated that.I hated sitting in my office, staring at my phone, waiting for a call that might never come.Brent and Chelsea were both wary of the situation. Brent especially.“You’re relying on a man we barely know, Demi.”I knew that.But at this point, what choice did I have?Finally, on the fourth day, Nolan called.“Meet me.”That was all he said before hanging up.I grabbed my coat and left.***I found Nolan at a private lounge in one of the city’s most exclusive hotels.He was sitting in a leather chair, sipping whiskey like he had all the time i
It was raining again.Not the soft, romantic kind of rain. The soak you through your bones, make you late to everything, gray-for-days kind.Jeff hated the rain.Which was why I was surprised when I got a text that afternoon:"Be ready in 15. Wear something you can get muddy in."I stared at the message like it had come from an alien.Then again, Jeff had been… different lately.Softer.Less guarded.Like he was trying. Really trying.So, I tugged on my oldest jeans, shoved my hair into a messy braid, and waited.Fifteen minutes later, his truck pulled up, tires hissing against the wet pavement. I ran out, ducking into the passenger seat with a yelp as a sheet of rain chased me inside.“You look like a drowned cat,” he said with a grin.“You look like someone who’s about to explain what we’re doing driving into a storm.”He just handed me a thermos of coffee and said, “Trust me.”We drove for over an hour. Through back roads and winding trails that made my stomach flip. The farther we
It had been two days since the photo.Two days since the box. Since the kiss. Since we sat in the middle of his living room floor, surrounded by scraps of his past, and decided—quietly, stubbornly—that we were worth salvaging.And for a little while, it felt like we were okay.Better than okay, even.He made coffee just the way I liked it. I left a playlist on repeat that I knew he secretly loved but pretended to hate. He kissed the side of my neck when he thought I was asleep. I pretended not to notice, because pretending was easier than admitting I still melted when he did that.But under it all, something buzzed.Something unsaid.A wordless ache living in the spaces between our sentences.That’s the thing about relationships—we talk about the fights, the makeup sex, the milestones. But no one talks about maintenance. No one talks about how hard it is to just keep showing up.And maybe we were showing up for each other now.But what if one of us stopped again?The unease really sta
The next few weeks were a dance of small things.Late night conversations. Little confessions. Fighting over what movie to watch. Laughing until my stomach hurt. Crying when the weight got too heavy and letting him hold me through it.It wasn’t perfect.Sometimes I still flinched.Sometimes he still said the wrong thing.But we were learning.Learning how to be us without pretending the past didn’t exist.Learning that love isn’t about erasing scars—it’s about tracing them with reverence.One night, months later, after too much wine and too much laughter, Jeff pulled me close and said against my hair:“I don’t want a clean slate with you, Demi. I want the messy one. The one with mistakes and lessons and a thousand second chances. I want the real thing.”I smiled, my heart aching with something fierce and beautiful.“You already have it,” I whispered back.And for the first time in what felt like forever, I knew it was true.Love wasn’t a single moment of forgiveness.It was a thousand
The evening air hit me like a slap the second I stepped out of Jeff’s condo.Sharp. Cold. Unforgiving.I kept walking, barely aware of the streets, the familiar cracks in the sidewalks, the faint hum of the city coming alive for the night. I walked because standing still meant feeling everything at once, and right now, that felt unbearable.The photo burned in my mind. Stella's hand in his. Her smile. His.Closure, he had said. But how many versions of closure could one person have before it stopped being closure and started being something else entirely?I found myself at the small park three blocks away without realizing it. I collapsed onto a bench, wrapping my arms around myself, willing the tightness in my chest to ease.It didn’t.Because this wasn’t just about a photograph.It was about the small cracks in the foundation we were trying to rebuild. Tiny fractures that, left ignored, would one day split wide open and swallow us whole.And God, I was so tired of trying to be the o
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
I didn’t go far. Just to the small park down the block from Jeff’s condo unit—the one with the crooked benches and a fountain that hadn’t worked since spring. I sat there, my coat tight around me, watching the early evening swallow the sky whole.I didn’t cry. Not really.I was too tired for tears. Too wrung out from constantly stitching together the pieces of us, only to watch them come loose again.I pulled my phone out, stared at the blank screen. No texts. No calls. And maybe that was the point. Jeff had said he wouldn’t stop trying, but he hadn’t come after me. Not this time.Maybe he was learning to give me space. Or maybe he was just as exhausted as I was.A gust of wind tore through the branches above, scattering brittle leaves across my boots.Why does love feel like this sometimes?Not soft and soothing, but raw. Like walking barefoot on broken glass, hoping every step doesn’t cut too deep. Hoping the bleeding stops before the next fight.But despite everything, I didn’t wan
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
By Monday, we were back in the city.Jeff dropped me off at my place, and though we kissed goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, something lingered between us—something unspoken and tense, like a storm hovering just beyond the horizon.I tried to shake it off as I stepped into my apartment. I unpacked slowly, letting the quiet settle around me. But my thoughts refused to sit still.Why now? Why was Stella suddenly trying to reappear? And why did Jeff hesitate before telling me?It wasn’t fair—he’d done so much to regain my trust. He’d been showing up, loving me in all the right ways. But one whisper from the past, and the walls I’d slowly let fall started climbing back up.I turned on some music, something soft, just to quiet the noise inside my head. And that’s when my phone buzzed.It was a message. From an unknown number.Unknown: "You can believe him if you want. But you should know he came back to me once before. Right after the first time you left."I stared at the scre
There’s something strangely intimate about folding laundry with someone you love. Not the kind of love that’s still wrapped in red ribbons and candlelit dinners, but the kind that shows up in the quiet domesticity of Sunday afternoons—barefoot, soft music in the background, mismatched socks everywhere.Jeff held up one of my oversized sweaters, the sleeves drooping like tired arms. “This still smells like that coconut shampoo you use.”I glanced up from the pile of towels. “I haven’t used that shampoo in months.”“Must be haunted,” he smirked, then tossed it gently to my side of the bed.I laughed, but it came with a soft ache. This was good. Easy. Comfortable. Almost too comfortable.Maybe that’s why it blindsided me when the tension returned—sharp and unexpected like stepping on glass in a room you thought was safe.It happened that evening.We were cleaning out the hallway closet when Jeff’s phone buzzed on the console table. Once. Twice. Three times.He didn’t reach for it.I woul