Death-versary

FIVE YEARS LATER…

GLORY

“I still don’t see any tangible reason to invest in this, Mr. Mahoor.” My voice was calm, deliberate. I leaned back in my chair, gaze flicking from the poorly structured flip charts to his anxious, sweat-beaded face.

He swallowed hard, shifting on his feet, his fingers gripping the edge of the podium as if it were the only thing keeping him standing.

“The thing here is that if we—”

“Mr. Mahoor.” My exhale was slow, measured. “When it comes to doing business with me, I don’t deal in ifs.”

“Oh, I deeply apologize, ma’am.” He let out a weak laugh, but no one else found anything funny. I caught one of his team members discreetly motioning for him to wrap it up.

They were all the same. They thought they could impress me with half-baked proposals, second-rate pitches, and surface-level research. As if I would lower my standards for them.

“Before you continue,” I glanced at my wristwatch, the diamonds glinting under the conference room lights, “you have exactly fifteen minutes to convince me.”

Fifteen minutes.

And in that time, all he did was stumble through his pitch, flipping back and forth between charts, repeating himself like a broken record.

By the tenth minute, I had already made my decision.

By the fifteenth, I was merely waiting for him to stop talking.

“Are you done?” I arched a brow.

Mr. Mahoor nodded eagerly, smiling as if he had just presented the business deal of the century.

I glanced down at my tablet, scanning through their supposed “strongest” points. A joke. The air in the conference room thickened with anxiety as I let the silence stretch. They were waiting for my verdict.

I lifted my gaze, locked eyes with him, and simply said, “No. I don’t accept this proposal.”

A beat of silence.

Then, the sound of collective disappointment—the sharp inhales, the quiet sighs, the subtle deflation of shoulders.

I felt nothing.

As I rose, Kevin, my secretary, was already at my side. Without sparing them another glance, I strode out of the room, my heels clicking against the marble floor.

As soon as I stepped into the hallway, I heard the murmurs behind me.

“What were you thinking? Impressing a rock like her?”

“Glory Scott only invests in perfection. She’s ruthless.”

“I even bought a new shirt for this! Heartless woman.”

I didn’t stop walking. I didn’t need to.

The smirk that curled my lips was instinctive.

“Kevin,” I murmured as we neared the elevator.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Cancel all interviews for the rest of the week.”

There was a slight pause.

“All of them?” he asked carefully.

I turned my head slightly, pinning him with a look.

Three years working for me—he knew better than to argue.

“Noted,” he said, giving a firm nod before walking away to carry out my orders.

I stepped into my office, shutting the door behind me. The moment I was alone, I let out a quiet exhale, rolling the tension from my shoulders before settling behind my desk.

I dove into work, losing myself in numbers, reports, projections. The world outside my office ceased to exist.

Until Kevin’s voice broke through the silence.

“Boss, it’s getting dark.”

I blinked, my fingers pausing over my keyboard. Turning slightly, I glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows behind me.

The city lights were glimmering against the night sky.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Give me a few minutes to wrap this up.”

Kevin nodded but didn’t leave. He knew I wasn’t good at keeping track of time when I was working.

A few minutes stretched into twenty, but eventually, I shut down my monitor, gathered my things, and exited the office.

Kevin followed closely behind, a silent shadow. He rushed ahead to open the car door, bowing slightly as I slid into the backseat.

The drive home was quiet. Too quiet. And I savored it.

I stared out the window as the city blurred past, my mind drifting somewhere I didn’t want it to go.

When we reached my penthouse, I barely made it to the couch before sinking into it with a sigh.

“You have a meeting with the Mayor tomorrow,” Kevin reminded me, setting a glass of wine on the table before me.

I took a slow sip, savoring the taste before licking my lips. “Cancel everything on my schedule tomorrow. Don’t disturb me.”

Kevin hesitated. “But it’s the Mayor and—”

I turned my head slightly, my gaze cutting and dark. He shut his mouth immediately.

“Noted,” he said quietly.

He knew what tomorrow was.

And yet, he still—

I shook my head, drowning the thought with another sip of wine. I didn’t want to think about it.

I just wanted to drink and forget tomorrow.

Just like I did every year on this day. Like a ritual.

The wine glass trembled slightly in my grip, but I forced my fingers to tighten around it, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat.

I wouldn’t break.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

But as I stared into the glass, watching the deep red swirl under the dim lights, I felt it—the weight of tomorrow pressing down on me like a ghost I couldn’t escape.

And this time… I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.