The storm hit harder than I ever expected.I had been fighting battle after battle, proving my worth as the new chairwoman of Perez Group, but nothing could have prepared me for this.Because this time, the mistake was mine.A hundred billion dollars.Gone.Just like that.I sat frozen in my office, staring at the numbers flashing on my screen. My hands felt cold, my heartbeat was erratic, and my mind refused to process what had just happened.I clicked through the files again, reading every detail of the deal I had approved just weeks ago—the one that was supposed to be a game-changer for Perez Group.Instead, it was turning into a disaster.It had all seemed so promising. A massive investment in a new tech startup, one that had been projected to dominate the market in the next few years. I had been convinced that it was the right move—an aggressive expansion, a statement that Perez Group was evolving.I had pushed for it.I had signed off on it.And now?The startup collapsed overni
By the next morning, the damage control operation was in full swing.Brent had compiled a detailed report of our remaining assets, while Chelsea had managed to set up an emergency meeting with some of our most powerful investors.The board might have doubted me, but I wasn’t about to let this company collapse under my leadership.I stood at the head of the Perez Group executive conference room, dressed in a sharp black suit, my chin lifted in defiance.The air in the room was thick with tension.Seated before me were some of our biggest stakeholders, investors who had trusted me with their money. Investors who, after the billion-dollar loss, were now questioning whether that trust was misplaced.I refused to let them see how much their doubt shook me.If I wanted to fix this, I had to show them confidence, even if I didn’t fully feel it myself.*****"Ladies and gentlemen," I began, my voice clear and steady, "I won’t stand here and make excuses for what happened. Perez Group has suff
I met Lorenzo at an exclusive lounge in one of his high-end hotels.The moment I walked in, he was already waiting for me, his signature smirk in place, a glass of whiskey in his hand."You're late," he said, his tone laced with amusement.I ignored him and sat down across from him."Let's get to the point," I said coolly. "I need investors. You have connections."Lorenzo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "And what do I get in return?"I swallowed, already knowing what was coming."Partnership," I said reluctantly. "A seat at the table. Limited control."His dark eyes gleamed with interest. "Limited?""I’m not handing over the company, Lorenzo," I said firmly.He chuckled. "Oh, Demi. That’s what I love about you." He swirled his drink before taking a sip. "You walk into the lion’s den, but you still think you can tame the beast.""I can," I shot back, refusing to let him see my hesitation.Lorenzo leaned back, studying me. "Alright. I'll consider it."It wasn’t a yes, b
Every fiber of my being screamed no.Jeff Ortega was the last person I wanted to be tied to again.But I wasn’t just Demi Perez anymore.I was the chairwoman of Perez Group.And right now, my company was drowning.I sucked in a breath, ignoring the way Jeff's smirk made my skin crawl.“What exactly does this ‘partnership’ entail?” I asked, keeping my voice steady.Jeff leaned forward, his dark eyes gleaming. “Simple. You and I run the merger together. Equal shares. Equal power. No buyout, no takeover—just you and me, like old times.”I almost laughed at that.Like old times?The old times where he manipulated me? Lied to me? Betrayed me?I hated him.But I hated losing even more.And if I refused…Lorenzo Cruz would win.I refused to let that happen.I exhaled sharply and lifted my paddle.“The Perez Group accepts your offer,” I said.The room erupted.***I felt Chelsea stiffen beside me.She turned, her eyes wide. “Demi… are you sure?”No.But I had to be.Jeff grinned like the bast
I needed coffee.And maybe a stronger escape route from my reality.The past few weeks had been absolute hell. The company was still recovering from the losses, the board was breathing down my neck, and Jeff Ortega was slithering his way into every aspect of my business, just waiting for the perfect moment to tighten his grip.So, when Chelsea got called into an urgent meeting and I found myself with an unexpected break, I did the first thing that made sense—I ran to a café nearby.The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of background chatter were a much-needed distraction.I exhaled, stepping in line.Finally, a moment of peace.And then, his voice cut through the air.“Didn’t expect to see you here, cariño.”I froze.Of all the places in this city, of all the cafés in this block—why the hell was Jeff Ortega here?I turned slowly, my gaze locking onto his smirking face.“Great,” I muttered under my breath. “Just what I needed.”Jeff stood just a few feet away, hands casua
I sat there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the spot where Jeff had just been, my mind tangled in a web of disbelief.What the hell just happened?A part of me wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all—Jeff Ortega, the man who had once thrown away our marriage like it meant nothing, was now offering me a deal that required me to move in with him again.Why?What was his real angle?I curled my fingers around my coffee cup, trying to steady myself. My heart was pounding, and my emotions were swinging between anger, confusion, and something else I refused to name.Jeff wanted me back under his roof?The same man who had once signed the divorce papers without hesitation?The same man who had walked away as if I had been nothing more than a passing chapter in his life?I clenched my jaw.It didn’t make sense.And the worst part?I didn’t want to ask him why.Something about that question—about admitting my curiosity—felt too dangerous.I didn’t want to give Jeff the satisfacti
I had barely gotten any rest in the past few days. Between my father’s condition, the chaos at Perez Group, and Jeff’s relentless interference, I felt like I was suffocating.As I sat beside my father’s hospital bed, I watched his peaceful, sleeping face. He looked so frail, a far cry from the powerful businessman I had always known him to be. Seeing him like this made my heart ache.I reached for his hand, gripping it gently.“Dad,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “I know you’d probably scold me if you were awake right now. You’d tell me I should be at the company instead of hovering over you. But… I just don’t know what to do anymore.”The weight of my failures pressed down on my shoulders like a boulder.The company was crumbling. Investors were pulling out. Lorenzo Cruz was circling like a vulture, and Jeff… Jeff was forcing me into a corner I never wanted to be in.And now, I was running out of options.Just as I was lost in thought, my phone buzzed violently in my hand. I sighe
I sat in my office, staring blankly at the document in front of me, but I wasn’t reading a single word. My mind was elsewhere.Nolan’s offer replayed over and over in my head.“I don’t want anything in return. Just trust me.”It sounded too good to be true.I had spent years surrounded by men who only helped when they had something to gain—whether it was control, power, or even me.And yet, here was Nolan, offering me a way out without asking for a single thing.It didn’t make sense.Was he playing some long game I wasn’t seeing? Did he have a hidden agenda?I wanted to believe he was different. That maybe, for once, someone was actually looking out for me.But I also wasn’t naïve.I knew better than to trust people at face value.A knock on my office door made me flinch. “Come in.”Brent stepped inside, his expression tense. He shut the door behind him before walking toward my desk.“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asked, crossing his arms.I sighed. “You already know the a
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
I didn’t go far. Just to the small park down the block from Jeff’s condo unit—the one with the crooked benches and a fountain that hadn’t worked since spring. I sat there, my coat tight around me, watching the early evening swallow the sky whole.I didn’t cry. Not really.I was too tired for tears. Too wrung out from constantly stitching together the pieces of us, only to watch them come loose again.I pulled my phone out, stared at the blank screen. No texts. No calls. And maybe that was the point. Jeff had said he wouldn’t stop trying, but he hadn’t come after me. Not this time.Maybe he was learning to give me space. Or maybe he was just as exhausted as I was.A gust of wind tore through the branches above, scattering brittle leaves across my boots.Why does love feel like this sometimes?Not soft and soothing, but raw. Like walking barefoot on broken glass, hoping every step doesn’t cut too deep. Hoping the bleeding stops before the next fight.But despite everything, I didn’t wan
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
By Monday, we were back in the city.Jeff dropped me off at my place, and though we kissed goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, something lingered between us—something unspoken and tense, like a storm hovering just beyond the horizon.I tried to shake it off as I stepped into my apartment. I unpacked slowly, letting the quiet settle around me. But my thoughts refused to sit still.Why now? Why was Stella suddenly trying to reappear? And why did Jeff hesitate before telling me?It wasn’t fair—he’d done so much to regain my trust. He’d been showing up, loving me in all the right ways. But one whisper from the past, and the walls I’d slowly let fall started climbing back up.I turned on some music, something soft, just to quiet the noise inside my head. And that’s when my phone buzzed.It was a message. From an unknown number.Unknown: "You can believe him if you want. But you should know he came back to me once before. Right after the first time you left."I stared at the scre
There’s something strangely intimate about folding laundry with someone you love. Not the kind of love that’s still wrapped in red ribbons and candlelit dinners, but the kind that shows up in the quiet domesticity of Sunday afternoons—barefoot, soft music in the background, mismatched socks everywhere.Jeff held up one of my oversized sweaters, the sleeves drooping like tired arms. “This still smells like that coconut shampoo you use.”I glanced up from the pile of towels. “I haven’t used that shampoo in months.”“Must be haunted,” he smirked, then tossed it gently to my side of the bed.I laughed, but it came with a soft ache. This was good. Easy. Comfortable. Almost too comfortable.Maybe that’s why it blindsided me when the tension returned—sharp and unexpected like stepping on glass in a room you thought was safe.It happened that evening.We were cleaning out the hallway closet when Jeff’s phone buzzed on the console table. Once. Twice. Three times.He didn’t reach for it.I woul
Demi's POVI stared at the message long after Jeff disappeared down the stairs, heading toward the beach. The wind outside had picked up, brushing against the glass like a warning. I hated that this had happened—now, of all times. Things were just starting to feel steady again.I didn’t even know how he’d gotten my number. I’d deleted it all—his texts, his name, his presence from my life the moment I realized he was a distraction from what I really wanted.From Jeff.And now he comes crawling back, like the past didn’t already do enough damage.I grabbed my phone and typed a response, my fingers moving fast and sharp.“Do not contact me again. This is inappropriate and unwanted. I’m with someone I love—don’t ruin what little decency you have left.”Send.Block.Delete.My chest heaved as I placed the phone face down on the railing of the porch. The waves crashed in the distance, but I couldn’t hear them over the thud of my heart. This wasn’t fair—not to Jeff, not to me, not to what we
Chelsea popped her head into my office later that day.“You look like someone ran over your optimism.”“Not now, Chels.”She walked in anyway, plopping down on the chair across from me. “Okay. Spill.”I told her.Everything.From the breakfast to the journal to the half-confession that landed like a gut-punch instead of a step forward.Chelsea didn’t say anything right away. Then: “Do you regret telling him?”“No. But I hate that it hurt him.”“Demi, listen.” She leaned forward. “You did what most people wouldn’t have the guts to do. You gave him the full picture. He asked for proof you were in this for real, and you gave it. He needs to sit with it, sure—but that doesn’t mean he’s leaving.”“I know,” I said quietly. “But I can’t help feeling like I poked a hole in something just as it was starting to feel whole again.”“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe that hole is where the light gets in.”I groaned. “Did you just quote Leonard Cohen at me?”She grinned. “Absolutely.”I managed a smile,
Demi's POVIt wasn’t the phone call that broke me.Not really.It was the pause. That flicker of hesitation in Jeff’s eyes. The microsecond where I saw him debate whether to tell me the truth. It was the weight of everything we were trying to rebuild pressing on one fragile moment.And I hated that it felt familiar.That split-second uncertainty—the one that made me question whether I was still the girl who could be forgotten. Set aside. Replaced.But I didn’t spiral. Not this time.Because I’d promised myself something too: that I wouldn’t run anymore. That I would stay. That I would speak instead of shut down.Even if it hurt.The morning after he blocked Stella, we went through the motions like nothing had happened.Coffee. Shower. Quiet music playing from my phone as I tied my hair up.But my stomach still twisted when I caught him staring at me—like he was trying to read between the lines of my silence.“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, gently.I thought about lying. I re
Trying is one thing.But staying?That’s the real test.And for the next week, Jeff and I tried.Not in grand, sweeping gestures. Not in dramatic confessions under the rain or fairy tale moments. But in the quiet decisions—the daily check-ins, the shared silences, the soft compromises that slowly stitched us back together.I started trusting him again. Not all at once, but in fragments. Like handing him pieces of a puzzle that used to be whole, asking him to rebuild without the picture on the box.And Jeff?He never once complained.He didn’t push when I asked for space. He didn’t flinch when I brought up Ethan, or Stella, or the silence that had almost swallowed us whole. He listened. He showed up. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was walking alone.Until Thursday.We were supposed to meet at the gallery.My newest commission piece had just been installed, and Jeff offered to help me with the lighting setup before the weekend preview. It was a simple ask—sh