4: A CALL FOR HELP

ELARA’S POV

The sound of my phone buzzing jolts me awake with a groan.

With my eyes still closed, I stretch my hand, fishing around for my phone on the floor. Just when my fingers brush against it, I lose my balance and tumble off the couch with a thud.

“Shit,” I mutter, opening my eyes.

I really should’ve gotten a futon for the office. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t be falling on my face right now. After practically living here for the past three days, a proper couch would’ve come in handy.

I spot my phone in the corner and crawl over to grab it. I don’t know how it isn’t dead yet or how it even ended up there.

“Hello?” I mumble into the phone, barely awake.

“Hello, am I speaking to Mrs. Elara Westwood?” a voice asks, formal but a little rushed.

“Yes, this is she,” I reply, sitting up.

“Thank God,” the woman murmurs under her breath, footsteps sounding faintly in the background as if she’s hurrying somewhere. “My boss wants to speak with you.”

“Hello, darling,” a new voice purrs into the phone, every ounce of drowsiness instantly leaving my body.

“Mrs. Chelsea?” I ask, almost not recognizing her. Her usual confidence is missing; she sounds… rattled.

“Yes, honey, it’s me,” she says. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need your help. My assistant tried calling your office, but we couldn’t get through, and none of your employees were available.”

“Oh, we’re on break; that’s probably why you couldn’t reach anyone,” I explain. I gave all three of my employees the week off just before my anniversary, as a reward for working nonstop lately. They deserved it.

“What did you need help with, Mrs. Chelsea?” I ask.

“My fundraiser the one I mentioned last time we met?”

I don’t remember her telling me anything about a fundraiser. Then again, she’s always talking, and I couldn’t keep up with half of what she said in the car ride.

“The fundraiser for the black whales?” she adds when I stay silent.

“Oh, that.” I chuckle awkwardly, I still don’t remember but I chose to go with the flow.

“Great,” she says, sounding relieved. “My event planner backed out at the last minute, and I couldn’t find anyone else. I need you to step in. Can you help, please?”

“Mrs. Chelsea, I’m on break, and I’m an interior designer, not an event planner,” I reply, trying to keep my tone polite.

“It’s an indoor event, so it’s technically interior design,” she argues. “The event starts at six p.m., and if you don’t help, I don’t know who else to call. Please, Elara for me, or for the black whales. They need this fundraiser.”

Even though black whales aren’t exactly on my favorites list, heck I have never seen one in my life but I do care about animals. And Mrs. Chelsea’s pleading tone is something I’m not used to.

I sigh. “All right, send me the address, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, Elara, you’re a darling. I’ll have the details sent to you right away.”

Work is the last thing I want to do right now. After my anniversary night, it’s like Nate put my whole life on pause. I’ve called him twenty-five times in the past three days.

It’s pathetic, I know, but we’ve never gone this long without speaking. And I still haven’t told him about our child.

A ping interrupts my thoughts. It’s a text from an unknown number.

I scroll through my notifications, hoping for something from Nate, but I find only messages from my mom, teasing me about having “the nights of my life, when am I coming to get my car”

little did she know I’ve been having the worse nights of my life, sleeping on an uncomfortable couch in my office surviving off canned food.

Sighing, I open the new text. Mrs. Chelsea has sent the address.

It’s not far from the office, so I quickly call Jenna, my assistant, to see if she’s free to work. I ask her to reach out to the others, too, in case they want to pitch in.

For the first time in days, I actually shower, wash my hair, and do more than just brush my teeth. I throw on a black pantsuit and do my best to cover the dark circles under my eyes. I feel a little lighter when I glance at my reflection.

A growl from my stomach pulls me from the mirror. “My little angel must be hungry,” I say softly, rubbing my belly.

For the last three days the baby has been the only one keeping me in check.

The only reason I haven’t tried touching any alcohol, also giving me hope that theres a chance and I have something to live for.

With another growl from my stomach I head to the office kitchen, rummaging through the nearly empty fridge.

I find a can of baked beans, a few slices of bread, and two cold slices of pizza. Not exactly a healthy meal, but it’ll have to do.

I make a mental note to stock the office with healthier food for the baby’s sake.

When I arrive at the venue, Jenna is already by the gate, waiting for me. Mrs. Chelsea is inside, looking disoriented but relieved when she sees us.

“I have a team here to help with whatever you need, dear. I’ll check in later, but for now, I need to oversee a few things,” she says before hurrying off before I could say a word to her.

Her assistant hands me a catalog showing what the decorated hall is supposed to look like. I make a few adjustments to the design to suit my style, and with Jenna’s help and the team, we pull everything together.

By six p.m., Mrs. Chelsea returns, her satisfied smile confirming that the hall looks perfect.

“I’ll take my leave now,” I tell her.

“Oh, no! You have to stay,” she insists. “I want to introduce you to a few people.”

“I really should get going—”

“Thank you for the invite, Mrs. Chelsea. Elara would be delighted to stay for some introductions,” Jenna cuts in before I can finish, smiling brightly.