Breaking Free

" I am glad you have come to the right choice," Mr Gregory says, his creepy smile getting wider every second I stare into his evil eyes.

"I am too, " I say, standing up; he relaxes on his chair, spreading his legs, waiting for something that I know will never happen instead of doing anything he thinks I was planning on doing.

I pick up his mug full of coffee , hoping it's scalding hot, the feel of the warm mug makes me smile as I dump the contents on his head .

"How dare you?" he bellows in anger after he realizes what I just did.

"Did you really think I was going to sleep with you "

"What a joke "

"You are a dirty pig, and I would rather be homeless than be with you, you perverted asshole, " I say, throwing his mug at him , watching with satisfaction as it hits his head, breaking on the floor .

"You fucking bitch , how dare you, you think you can get away with this, you are just an ugly whore that will never make it in this industry, no matter how hard you try," he said standing up fuming in anger , which is my queue to leave, I always choose my battles wisely and that fat old man just might overpower me if I try to fight him.

"I don't care, I quit, " I say, storming out of his office and seeing a group of people standing not too far away; I stare at them for a while before they do what I don't expect.

They start clapping and I know why . This was probably the first confrontation anybody has ever heard when it came to Mr. Gregory.

The girls who refuse to have sex with him only leave quietly, and it's always a rumor about why they leave. No one even speaks about it, it all kept quiet.

I stepped out of the glass doors of the office building, the weight of countless hours of hard work heavy on my shoulders. I had clawed my way up the corporate ladder for months, sacrificing evenings and weekends to earn that much-coveted promotion. Now, in a single moment of frustration, it was all gone—lost to someone who didn't appreciate the effort I had put in.

As I stood on the bustling street, the thrill of liberation was already fading, replaced by a gnawing uncertainty. I had just quit my job, and a wave of panic washed over me as I realized I had no plan for what came next.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. I fished it out and glanced at the caller ID—Mia's name lit up the screen.

"Hey, what's up?" I greeted her, trying to sound casual.

"Don't you dare ask me what's up!" she shouted, her voice rising to a level that made me flinch and pull the phone away from my ear.

"Not so loud, Mimi," I whined, shaking my head in disbelief, relief washing over me as I hoped my eardrums were still intact.

"You better tell me where you are," she insisted, her tone a mix of concern and urgency that made me sigh heavily.

"Well, I can't talk right now. How about we meet at that café near the office?" I suggest.

"Fine, I’ll meet you in five minutes," she snapped before hanging up, leaving me alone with the weight of my decision and the unknown path ahead.

Five minutes later, I find myself sitting across from a visibly fuming Mia, her arms crossed tightly and her brow furrowed in frustration. I can feel a knot tightening in my stomach; I really hate to see her like this, and I can't shake the guilt of feeling like a terrible friend. This is the second time today that she’s been this upset. It’s a sinking feeling to know I’ve disappointed her.

“Hey, love,” I try to lighten the mood with a nervous chuckle, but her scoff cuts through the air like a knife.

“Don’t you ‘hey love’ me! First, you owe me an explanation for your sudden decision to quit, and then you need to explain why David’s sister is posting pictures of her and him on the beach, captioning it with ‘my future husband,’” she demands, her voice rising with indignation. I can almost see steam coming out of her ears, her expression so fierce it’s as if she could set the table on fire with her glare.

“Nervously, I ask, “You know about that?” I had intended to reveal everything to her, but the moment never felt right.

“Of course, I know about that!” she explodes, her voice echoing throughout the café, drawing the attention of several nearby patrons who now stare at our table in curiosity.

“Let’s avoid creating a scene that’ll get us kicked out of here,” I say, trying to defuse the tension. “How about we meet at your apartment?”

"Not before you tell me everything," she says, folding her arms and staying firmly in her chair. I stand up, looking at her helplessly.

"Don't you have work to do?" I ask, hoping she might forget this for now and wait until later tonight. Instead, my question only makes her glare harder.

"That can wait. I need to help my best friend, who is currently acting like a total witch," she retorts, turning her face away from me with a huff.

"You know how Mr. Gregory will get," I sigh, stating a truth we both know. I don't want her to get fired because of me.

"You know Dad owns enough shares in the company for me to do nothing and still be fine, so don't try that with me."

"Why do you think Mr. Gregory hasn't ever tried anything with me and never will?"

"Obviously because Dad would run his company into the ground," she says. I sigh again. Her dad, Gabriel Anderson, is the CEO of Ander Group and a powerful figure, but that’s only on the surface.

He’s a big softie who goes crazy if you tickle him in the ribs. He’s a loving father and husband—just a great person overall. He’s a bit disciplined, but I know he just wants the best for Mia.

"You know, if you came out and said you were my sister, Mr. Gregory wouldn’t have come near you, and Dad would already be working on ruining his company," she says softly. I know I was adopted by them, but I've never used their name for anything; it always felt wrong.

"Well, I am not his daughter. It's not his responsibility to fight a battle he shouldn't be involved in. If I explain everything to you, you have to promise not to tell your parents or any of your uncles or cousins."

"I’m serious," I say, the disappointment clear on her face, but I can't bring myself to apologize.

"How about I tell you in the car on the way to your house?" I suggest. She looks at me and then scans the crowd; most people aren’t paying attention to us anymore, but some are still trying to mind our business.

"Fine, but you're driving. I don’t need us crashing because I got too shocked to focus on the road," she says, standing up and walking out the door.

"It's now or never.”