(Gloria)The next day I’m at home. I’d gone home early the previous day after telling Gabriel I’d take the day off, much to his delight. I guess he was happy to get me to relax a bit.Now, I’m on the couch, wrapped in my blanket mindlessly eating Chinese takeout. The TV’s on but I’m not really watching anything. I’m just sort of… there. My thoughts are too tangled, too all over the place, and I can’t seem to shake off this feeling of being stuck.I’m lost in the emptiness of the moment when the doorbell rings, interrupting the silence. I almost ignore it, who the hell is visiting me? I’m not expecting anyone. But the damn thing rings again, louder this time. So, I roll my eyes and reluctantly pull myself up off the couch.When I open the door, I’m hit with the surprise of a delivery guy standing there holding a big hamper. There’s food, fruit, and… flowers? My first thought is, What the hell?He hands me a card after I sign for it. I glance at it, almost as if I don’t want to know who
(Gloria) I wake up with a jolt with my phone vibrating against my chest and pressing into me like it’s trying to make sure I’m awake. Groaning, I push it off and onto the couch, the screen lighting up and blinking at me like a warning sign. I rub my eyes, feeling the ache in my head from too much sleep, and I shuffle to the kitchen, craving some water to shake off the grogginess. The cool glass of water hits my lips but it doesn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my gut. I can hear my phone, no, I can feel it vibrating from the other room. Then the beeps start. A flood of notifications, calls. I freeze, water halfway down my throat, and a cold shiver races down my spine. I know what’s happening. I know. It’s over. They’ve done it. Just like they said they would. I’ve been exposed. My heart races as I stare at the water in my hand, as if it could somehow give me the answers I need, some way out. But there isn’t one. It’s too late now. I ignore the phone, my fingers twitching as the n
(Gabriel)“Well?” I ask, the word coming out as more of a command than a question. My eyes rake over her coldly but inside, a storm is raging. She looks like a mess, unkept, terrified, and I can barely keep it together.I’m fighting every impulse not to grab her and shake the answers out of her, demanding she tell me what the hell is going on. Instead, I stand there stiffly, my fists clenched at my sides trying to control the rage that’s boiling in my veins.Kate had walked into my office earlier, slamming that tablet down in front of me with an expression that said ‘you need to see this’. The documentary was everywhere, the headline hitting me like a slap across the face: Ex-Drug Dealer’s Secret Contract to Marry Montclair CEO. The words felt like they burned into my skin.Gloria, an ex-drug dealer working with her trash of an ex, Ethan. And then the real kicker, a contract from my mother, Eleanor Montclair, to marry me for money. All over the media. I’m still trying to wrap my head
(Gloria)I stare at the door hoping it might swing back open like Gabriel forgot something, maybe his sanity, maybe his heart. Maybe the part of him that didn’t just threaten me like a mafia boss in a three piece suit.But no. It stays shut.And I’m just standing there, jaw slack and completely, spectacularly, ruined.“Welp,” I whisper, blinking. “I think that went well.”A tiny, pitiful laugh bubbles out of me but it dies as fast as it came.I take a step forward, my knees buckle. Okay. That’s fine. That’s totally okay. I’ve been through worse.…Haven’t I?Then I collapse onto the floor in a heap, one arm flopped over my stomach like I’ve just been fatally wounded in battle. Maybe I have. The battle of the heart. The war of love. The massacre of dignity.And then it happens, the sobs.Real ones, loud and messy. Not those pretty movie tears. Nope. This is the kind of crying that makes your face puff up like a marshmallow and your nose run like a broken faucet.I bury my face in my han
(Gloria)My phone rings and I almost drop it. Eleanor Montclair.Her name stares back at me like it’s been branded on my screen. I freeze, every one of my muscles tightening. Suddenly, the idea of crying over a documentary feels like a warm up for the real horror show to come .Because if there’s one person who’s probably angrier than Gabriel right now, it’s his mother.I imagine her standing in a designer robe, swirling a glass of wine like a villain from a movie, already drafting the legal papers to sue me into poverty. I picture myself back on Elena’s couch begging for space, struggling to afford groceries, and eating cheap ramen in bulk while I try to pay back…The phone buzzes again in my palm demanding an answer.Shit. Okay.I swipe. “Hello?”No greeting and no hesitation.“I’ll pay it back,” I blurt. “Please. Just give me a payment plan or something. I… I know the contract’s over, but I swear I’ll find a way. You don’t have to take me to court or ruin my life or… ”“Gloria,” El
(Gabriel) The saltwater clings to my skin as I step out of the ocean, feeling the waves pull away from me with each step forward and i take a deep breath to enjoy the tropical air. Hawaii’s warm breeze is supposed to wash away the anger, frustration, and chaos of my life, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t do a damn thing to numb the knot in my stomach or the rage simmering just beneath the surface of my skin.I make my way to the beach dragging my board behind me, the sound of the ocean drowned out by the rush in my ears. The soft sand shifts under my feet as I approach the edge of the beach, and that’s when I see them.Two women. Tall, tanned, and wearing almost nothing. They’re eyeing me up like I’m their next meal. I don’t blame them, no doubt the waves have done wonders for my physique.The blonde is the first to speak. “Nice ride out there,” she says with flirtation in her voice.I glance over to them disinterestedly. I’m not in the mood for small talk. But then I notice the brunette.
(Gabriel)The moment I step out of the car back home, flashes go off like fireworks from the cameras shoved into my face, with reporters barking questions I have zero interest in answering.“Mr. Montclair, is it true you fired your secretary?”“Was the relationship ever real?”“Did she seduce you for the money?”I keep walking with my sunglasses on. Let them feast on the scraps because I’m here for the queen of manipulation herself.I push open the grand double doors and make my way inside without a word to the housekeepers who bow and scurry out of my way. Up the marble stairs, past the lifeless portraits of smiling men I never cared to resemble, and straight to her favorite room, the tea room.The door’s already open of course. She probably wants this to feel casual and warm. My mother sits by the window elegantly like she’s been waiting for me to arrive. She smiles like I’m her darling boy coming home from war.“Gabriel,” she says softly, patting the velvet cushion beside her. “Co
(Gloria)Elena sinks into the chair beside me, picking up the halfempty wine bottle on the table. “So… everything’s unraveling fast, huh?”I let the rim of the glass rest on my lips before I answer. “Apocalyptic.”She winces. “Sorry.”I shrug stiffly. “Don’t be. Eleanor Montclair doesn’t back down. I’ll give her that.”There’s a beat of silence, then Elena says quietly, “You admire her?”I scoff. “No. Maybe. Hell, I don’t even know. She’s scary but effective. She sent me this ridiculous form to fill out, and when I hesitated, she hit me with so much legal jargon, I thought I’d be arrested for lying about my blood type.”Elena lets out a low whistle. “She really did her daughter-in-law homework.”“Thoroughly,” I mutter, setting the glass down harder than I mean to. “Shame her son isn’t going along without a fight”Elena shifts. “He was angry…”“He was humiliated,” I cut in. “And now he thinks marrying me is the worst decision of his life.”Elena clears her throat. “Jordan hasn’t called
(Gloria)Elena sinks into the chair beside me, picking up the halfempty wine bottle on the table. “So… everything’s unraveling fast, huh?”I let the rim of the glass rest on my lips before I answer. “Apocalyptic.”She winces. “Sorry.”I shrug stiffly. “Don’t be. Eleanor Montclair doesn’t back down. I’ll give her that.”There’s a beat of silence, then Elena says quietly, “You admire her?”I scoff. “No. Maybe. Hell, I don’t even know. She’s scary but effective. She sent me this ridiculous form to fill out, and when I hesitated, she hit me with so much legal jargon, I thought I’d be arrested for lying about my blood type.”Elena lets out a low whistle. “She really did her daughter-in-law homework.”“Thoroughly,” I mutter, setting the glass down harder than I mean to. “Shame her son isn’t going along without a fight”Elena shifts. “He was angry…”“He was humiliated,” I cut in. “And now he thinks marrying me is the worst decision of his life.”Elena clears her throat. “Jordan hasn’t called
(Gabriel)The moment I step out of the car back home, flashes go off like fireworks from the cameras shoved into my face, with reporters barking questions I have zero interest in answering.“Mr. Montclair, is it true you fired your secretary?”“Was the relationship ever real?”“Did she seduce you for the money?”I keep walking with my sunglasses on. Let them feast on the scraps because I’m here for the queen of manipulation herself.I push open the grand double doors and make my way inside without a word to the housekeepers who bow and scurry out of my way. Up the marble stairs, past the lifeless portraits of smiling men I never cared to resemble, and straight to her favorite room, the tea room.The door’s already open of course. She probably wants this to feel casual and warm. My mother sits by the window elegantly like she’s been waiting for me to arrive. She smiles like I’m her darling boy coming home from war.“Gabriel,” she says softly, patting the velvet cushion beside her. “Co
(Gabriel) The saltwater clings to my skin as I step out of the ocean, feeling the waves pull away from me with each step forward and i take a deep breath to enjoy the tropical air. Hawaii’s warm breeze is supposed to wash away the anger, frustration, and chaos of my life, but it doesn’t. It doesn’t do a damn thing to numb the knot in my stomach or the rage simmering just beneath the surface of my skin.I make my way to the beach dragging my board behind me, the sound of the ocean drowned out by the rush in my ears. The soft sand shifts under my feet as I approach the edge of the beach, and that’s when I see them.Two women. Tall, tanned, and wearing almost nothing. They’re eyeing me up like I’m their next meal. I don’t blame them, no doubt the waves have done wonders for my physique.The blonde is the first to speak. “Nice ride out there,” she says with flirtation in her voice.I glance over to them disinterestedly. I’m not in the mood for small talk. But then I notice the brunette.
(Gloria)My phone rings and I almost drop it. Eleanor Montclair.Her name stares back at me like it’s been branded on my screen. I freeze, every one of my muscles tightening. Suddenly, the idea of crying over a documentary feels like a warm up for the real horror show to come .Because if there’s one person who’s probably angrier than Gabriel right now, it’s his mother.I imagine her standing in a designer robe, swirling a glass of wine like a villain from a movie, already drafting the legal papers to sue me into poverty. I picture myself back on Elena’s couch begging for space, struggling to afford groceries, and eating cheap ramen in bulk while I try to pay back…The phone buzzes again in my palm demanding an answer.Shit. Okay.I swipe. “Hello?”No greeting and no hesitation.“I’ll pay it back,” I blurt. “Please. Just give me a payment plan or something. I… I know the contract’s over, but I swear I’ll find a way. You don’t have to take me to court or ruin my life or… ”“Gloria,” El
(Gloria)I stare at the door hoping it might swing back open like Gabriel forgot something, maybe his sanity, maybe his heart. Maybe the part of him that didn’t just threaten me like a mafia boss in a three piece suit.But no. It stays shut.And I’m just standing there, jaw slack and completely, spectacularly, ruined.“Welp,” I whisper, blinking. “I think that went well.”A tiny, pitiful laugh bubbles out of me but it dies as fast as it came.I take a step forward, my knees buckle. Okay. That’s fine. That’s totally okay. I’ve been through worse.…Haven’t I?Then I collapse onto the floor in a heap, one arm flopped over my stomach like I’ve just been fatally wounded in battle. Maybe I have. The battle of the heart. The war of love. The massacre of dignity.And then it happens, the sobs.Real ones, loud and messy. Not those pretty movie tears. Nope. This is the kind of crying that makes your face puff up like a marshmallow and your nose run like a broken faucet.I bury my face in my han
(Gabriel)“Well?” I ask, the word coming out as more of a command than a question. My eyes rake over her coldly but inside, a storm is raging. She looks like a mess, unkept, terrified, and I can barely keep it together.I’m fighting every impulse not to grab her and shake the answers out of her, demanding she tell me what the hell is going on. Instead, I stand there stiffly, my fists clenched at my sides trying to control the rage that’s boiling in my veins.Kate had walked into my office earlier, slamming that tablet down in front of me with an expression that said ‘you need to see this’. The documentary was everywhere, the headline hitting me like a slap across the face: Ex-Drug Dealer’s Secret Contract to Marry Montclair CEO. The words felt like they burned into my skin.Gloria, an ex-drug dealer working with her trash of an ex, Ethan. And then the real kicker, a contract from my mother, Eleanor Montclair, to marry me for money. All over the media. I’m still trying to wrap my head
(Gloria) I wake up with a jolt with my phone vibrating against my chest and pressing into me like it’s trying to make sure I’m awake. Groaning, I push it off and onto the couch, the screen lighting up and blinking at me like a warning sign. I rub my eyes, feeling the ache in my head from too much sleep, and I shuffle to the kitchen, craving some water to shake off the grogginess. The cool glass of water hits my lips but it doesn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my gut. I can hear my phone, no, I can feel it vibrating from the other room. Then the beeps start. A flood of notifications, calls. I freeze, water halfway down my throat, and a cold shiver races down my spine. I know what’s happening. I know. It’s over. They’ve done it. Just like they said they would. I’ve been exposed. My heart races as I stare at the water in my hand, as if it could somehow give me the answers I need, some way out. But there isn’t one. It’s too late now. I ignore the phone, my fingers twitching as the n
(Gloria)The next day I’m at home. I’d gone home early the previous day after telling Gabriel I’d take the day off, much to his delight. I guess he was happy to get me to relax a bit.Now, I’m on the couch, wrapped in my blanket mindlessly eating Chinese takeout. The TV’s on but I’m not really watching anything. I’m just sort of… there. My thoughts are too tangled, too all over the place, and I can’t seem to shake off this feeling of being stuck.I’m lost in the emptiness of the moment when the doorbell rings, interrupting the silence. I almost ignore it, who the hell is visiting me? I’m not expecting anyone. But the damn thing rings again, louder this time. So, I roll my eyes and reluctantly pull myself up off the couch.When I open the door, I’m hit with the surprise of a delivery guy standing there holding a big hamper. There’s food, fruit, and… flowers? My first thought is, What the hell?He hands me a card after I sign for it. I glance at it, almost as if I don’t want to know who
(Gloria)I walk through the office doors with my face set in a grim expression. The air feels thicker and heavier today as the weight of everything is dragging me down. My mind’s a mess, and no matter how hard I try to push it away, the blackmail message keeps circling back and I can’t shake it.I’m almost at my desk when I hear footsteps behind me. Gabriel. I can feel his gaze on me before he even speaks.“Gloria,” he says, his voice low and concerned. “I told you to take the day off. Why are you here?”I try to keep my voice steady, but there’s a tightness in my chest. “I feel better. Besides, I’d just be bored at home.”The words come out before I even think about them. But as I look at him, really look at him, I feel the guilt hit me. He’s genuinely worried and I can see it in the way his brow furrows, in the way his eyes search mine like he’s trying to figure out if I’m lying.I swallow hard. “I’m fine.”He doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t press me. Instead, he gives me a s