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Chapter 9: Interview with the Devil
Last Updated:
2025-02-20 20:50:46
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The Divorcee's Redemption Chapter 13: Careful, Elena
~Elena's POV ~ I say nothing. Not because I have nothing to say, but because I don’t have the energy for another round of verbal sparring with my insufferable boss. I grip the tablet in my hands so tightly my nails dig into my palms. “Anything else, sir?” My voice is clipped, sharp with impatience and the urge to walk out of his office before I do something we both regret. His eyes size me up in an assessing, amused, infuriatingly composed manner as he rests back on his seat. Then, without a word, he dismisses me with a lazy flick of his wrist. I don’t wait for another word. I spin on my heel and walk out, my pulse hammering as I slam the door behind me with more force than necessary. The moment I’m out, I exhale, shoulders slumping in relief. If hell had an address, it would be Vale Enterprises. And if the devil had a name, it would be Sebastian Fucking Vale. I’ve survived exactly one morning under his rule, and already, I’m convinced he was sent to personally dismant
The Divorcee's Redemption Chapter 12: First Day in Hell
~Elena’s POV~ Today is my first day at work, and already, I feel like I’m walking into the seventh circle of hell. The nerves hit me the second my alarm went off this morning, and Isa's teasing certainly didn’t help. Neither did my damn brain, which played the events of two nights ago on repeat, torturing me like some sadistic movie director. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Sebastian Vale. The way his gray eyes locked onto mine. The way his hands gripped my waist, firm, possessive. The way his mouth tasted like whiskey and mint as I leaned in and kissed me.The slow, consuming way his mouth moved over mine that made me weak in the knees. I groan and shove the memory away. It was nothing. A mistake. A drunk, stupid mistake. Except my body doesn’t seem to get the memo. I need therapy. Or maybe a full-blown exorcism. I focus on getting ready for work or perhaps the battle I'm about to embark on because let’s be honest, that's what today is. I put on a high-w
The Divorcee's Redemption Chapter 11: Please Tell Me That Didn’t Happen
~Elena’s POV~Pain.That is the first thing I register.A head pounding what-the-actual-fuck level of pain.It's a full-scale attack on my skull, hammering away like my brain personally offended the gods of tequila and they’re exacting their revenge with a damn jackhammer.The second thing I register?My stomach.It’s currently staging a full-scale rebellion, twisting and turning like it’s ready to eject every ounce of last night’s poor decisions.I groan, rolling onto my side.I barely crack one eye open only to come face to face with Isa, who is grinning like she just won the goddamn lottery with her head propped on her hand.Oh no.That look never means anything good.I squeeze my eyes shut, praying to the universe to rewind time. Pleading with My brain to try everything in its power to remember the events of last night."Please, please tell me I didn’t do something stupid."Isa hums, stretching like a cat. “Sooo…” She draws the word out, her voice practically singing with delight.
The Divorcee's Redemption Chapter 10: She’s in My Head, and I Fucking Hate It
~ Sebastian's Pov ~ I’m not supposed to be thinking about her. I should be drinking, flirting and enjoying my night. But even with a glass of whiskey in my hand and a woman pressing her body against me, all I can think about is her. Elena Carter. I wasn’t expecting to see her name when I looked through the applicants for my personal Assistant. And sure as hell wasn’t expecting her to walk into my office today, looking like sin wrapped in silk. She tried to act unaffected. Like I didn’t get under her skin. Like she didn’t want me. But she did. I saw it in her eyes. That look of something hot before she shoved it down. I drain my whiskey in one gulp. Lucas leans over, smirking. “Boss man, are you actually going to enjoy yourself tonight, or are you just going to sit here and brood like some dark, tortured villain?” I shoot him a look. “I don’t brood.” He snorts. “Right. And I’m a fucking virgin.” I roll my eyes, playing with the metal lighter in my hands f
The Divorcee's Redemption Chapter 9: Interview with the Devil
~Elena’s POV~ Buzz! Buzz! My alarm blares like a siren, yanking me out of sleep like I owe it money. I groan, slamming my hand against the clock until the damn thing shuts up. Then it hits me. Shit. I don't have enough time to get ready for my interview. I don't even have an idea of what I'm going to wear. I bolt upright, my brain struggling to claw its way out of the comfort of the night rest. My legs feel like lead as I drag myself out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I step into the living room and it looks like a tsunami has thrown up here. Isa and her latest conquest, a half-naked, tousle haired guy sprawls out on the couch, limbs tangled, looking like they just survived a war… or started one. The room is a fucking disaster. Empty pizza boxes. Beer bottles. Discarded clothes. A red bra hanging off the goddamn lamp. I blink. Then scowl. "Wake up, you hungover disasters!" I slam my hand on the table like a judge delivering a death sentence. Isa l
The Divorcee's Redemption Chapter 8: Rock Bottom Never Looked So Good
~Elena’s POV~ The past two nights have been hell. I wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, haunted by nightmares. The news of the baby, the image of Damian and Sophia in that bedroom replays in my head, reminding me of every moment I was blind, every second I was stupid enough to believe in forever. And now, I’m here. Bundled up on this couch, drowning in love-sick misery. The dim glow of my laptop screen flickers across my face, illuminating the painful lie I keep replaying over and over. Our wedding video. Damian’s smile. His vows. The way he kissed me like I was the center of his universe. It was all bullshit. And yet, I can’t stop watching. That is, until Isa slams the laptop shut. “What the actual fuck, Elena?!” she shrieks, her honey colored eyes ablaze with pure, outrage. I blink up at her. My head is heavy, my body sluggish from too much alcohol and too many broken dreams. “What the hell are you doing?” she demands. Her nostrils flaring, “Are you serious
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