5: Latest by Tomorrow

I headed downstairs, arms folded tight across my chest. My mouth was dry, my heart still thumping from what I saw. Or thought I saw.

Frank’s disaster from earlier was thankfully gone from the living room. Couch was empty. Lights were dimmed. I let out a slow breath, half-expecting to find Alan crouched behind the damn counter.

Nothing.

No one.

I stepped toward the door and peeked out through the peephole. Street was quiet. Just a few parked cars, some flickering streetlights, and not a single rich psycho billionaire in sight.

Maybe I was hallucinating.

I backed away, rubbing my hands down my arms.

The moans from Frank’s room started up again. I groaned and dragged myself back upstairs.

Couldn’t even come home to peace.

---

The next morning, I padded into the kitchen wearing the oversized tee I always stole from the laundry basket. Frank was at the counter, pouring cereal like nothing happened.

He looked up when I walked in, half-guilty. “Hey…”

I rolled my eyes. “Drop it, fool.”

“I said I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought you were out till five.”

I pulled open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. “Next time use your damn bed. I eat on that couch.”

He nodded quickly, “you’re right. For real, I’ll disinfect it.”

I collapsed into the chair and took a sip. Frank scratched the back of his neck. His hair was messy, eyes still red from barely sleeping. He was annoyingly good-looking. Soft brown skin, full lips, kind of a boy-next-door thing going on. But to me? He was furniture. An annoying, lovable piece of furniture I couldn’t see as anything other than a brother.

“You quit for real?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Shit, that’s wild. I mean… good wild. You deserve rest, that boss of yours was an asshole.”

I nodded and stared at the screen in front of me. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my boss and I knew how easily Frank could read me.

My laptop was open. Inbox flooded. Job boards, application portals, CV tweaks. I was already knee-deep in it again.

Frank leaned over my shoulder. “The fuck? You’re already applying to new companies? Girl, chill for once.”

I tilted my head and looked up at him. “I didn’t quit because I hate working. I quit because I couldn’t stand that bastard one more day.”

He let out a short laugh, “fair.”

I scrolled through another job listing, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’ve sent over a hundred applications this morning.”

“Hazel,” he blinked, “it’s not even noon.”

I shrugged, “I need something lined up.”

Frank dropped onto the couch beside me. “You’re insane. But like… in a good way. I don’t know anyone who works harder than you.”

I didn’t answer, just kept clicking, whatever happened last night didn't matter anymore, I would never see Alan ever again anyways.

“Look,” Frank said, nudging my leg with his foot, “I’m sure every company you applied to is going to line up and beg to hire you. You’re brilliant, you’re organised, and you never let anything slip. You’re like a machine. A scary-ass, unstoppable machine.”

I smirked, “thanks.”

“I mean it,” he added. “You don’t need that toxic bastard, you’ve carried his company on your back for five years, let him choke on the loss.”

I glanced at the screen again. My eyes burned from staring too long.

“I just need to move forward,” I mumbled. “I can’t look back.”

*

A month passed.

A whole month and every day felt like another punch to the throat.

Rejection email after rejection email kept rolling in. At first I laughed it off. Then I got irritated, then I got nervous, then I started waking up with my stomach in knots. And now? Now I was at the stage where opening my inbox made my hands shake.

Nobody wanted me, not one company, not even an unpaid internship.

My savings were gone too. Evaporated.

Rent, groceries, bills, life.

Everything was draining me dry. Frank tried to slip money into my account once, but I sent it right back. I wasn’t asking him for help. I wasn’t asking anyone.

But I was losing my damn mind.

I tried going back to the strip club once. I stood outside the entrance for ten whole minutes, staring at the neon lights. My chest tightened, my legs froze, my hands went cold and I turned around and went straight home. I couldn’t step foot in there after what happened. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Alan sitting in that chair like he owned the world.

All month I pretended I was fine, that I was strong and that I could survive this.

But today? I broke.

I sat on my bed, laptop open, staring at another “Unfortunately, we have decided to move forward with other candidates.” My vision blurred, my throat tightened, my chest felt like it was collapsing in.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” I whispered.

Silence answered.

And then the thought hit me. The one I’d been pushing away, burying, refusing to acknowledge.

I could call him.

I didn’t want to. I hated myself for even thinking it but I had no money, no job, no hope, and no one willing to hire me. The pattern was too clear.

He did this, he blacklisted me.

I swallowed hard, grabbed my phone, and pressed his name. My thumb shook, ny pride screamed but I hit call anyway.

The line rang once, twice and then his cold voice slid through the speaker, “did you finally come back to your senses?”

I closed my eyes, “I know you used your connections to make sure I didn’t get any of those jobs.”

He didn’t deny it. Of course he didn’t.

“If I come back to work,” I forced out, “will you let it go? Will you stop blocking me?”

There was a long pause, my heart hammered painfully in my chest because what kind of toxic beast would go this far to keep me as his secretary.

Then he said, calm and sharp, “that offer ended a long time ago.”

My throat tightened, “then what do you want?”

“I have a new one,” he said.

My stomach dropped.

“If you want your life back, Hazel… you need to marry me.”

Excuse you ?! I was almost sure I'd heard him wrong until he added.

“By tomorrow Hazel, you need to marry me tomorrow.