Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 11 - Chapitre 20

(Gloria) It’s been an hour since I saw Kate sneaking around the printer room, and my brain refuses to let it go. I chew on the inside of my cheek, staring at my screen, but I’m not really seeing anything. My hands are still resting on my keyboard, completely frozen, and i can’t focus. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself it was nothing, my gut tells me otherwise. Kate isn’t the type of person to make mistakes. So why did she look so… nervous? I glance toward Gabriel’s office. The door is cracked open, the light spilling onto the carpet. He’s still working. Of course he is. I sigh. He’s probably the last person who’d want to hear this from me. In the few days I’ve worked here, he’s made it very clear that my presence in his company is unwanted. But this… this feels important. If something shady is happening, it has to be his problem, right? Before I can overthink it, I stand up, smooth down my skirt, and march to his door. I knock once, then push the door open a

(Gabriel) I grip the steering wheel tighter as I pull into the neighborhood, my mind already trying to rationalize why I’m even doing this. It’s standard protocol. I should know my secretary’s address in case of emergencies. She has access to confidential files, and if anything were to happen… That’s it. Nothing more. Yet, as I drive past the neatly manicured lawns and sleek apartment buildings, my brows knit together. This area isn’t cheap. I was expecting something far less… posh. Interesting. I park near the entrance, my fingers drumming against the steering wheel. This is stupid. A text would’ve sufficed. Yet here I am, at nearly midnight, in front of Gloria Williams’s apartment. I exhale sharply, leaning back against my seat before typing out a message. Me: Are you awake? Her response is almost immediate. Gloria: Yes. I glance at her building, jaw tightening. What the hell am I even doing? Still, my feet move before my brain catches up. I step out of the car, adjust

(Gloria) I never thought I’d be the kind of person to plot someone’s temporary demise, but here I am, standing in the grocery store aisle, holding a pack of activated charcoal with a smile so devious the cashier is giving me side eye. Don’t judge me, lady. Kate wants to sabotage me? Fine. But I refuse to be the bigger person. In fact, I’m about to be the pettiest person who ever lived. After paying, I head home, humming to myself, already picturing the delightful mess tomorrow will bring. Kate adores her stupid pink coffee mug, the one she never lets anyone else touch. It’s her pride and joy, a symbol of her existence. Well, guess what, Kate? That mug’s about to betray you. After a quick shower, I slide into bed, texting Jordan and Elena about my day, deliberately leaving out the drug dealer drama. The last thing I need is another “Gloria, go to the police!” lecture.

(Gloria)I practically flew out of the office the moment the conversation ended, my heart threatening to escape my chest with excitement. Belle Maison’s glass doors glided open, and the moment I stepped inside, I spotted her, the same attendant from last time. Long dark hair, sharp eyes, and an aura that screamed ‘I know fashion better than you.’She glanced up, and the moment she recognized me, her lips curled into a delighted smile. “You’re back!” she said, her tone more excited than I expected. But I mean, I spent a shitload of money the last time I was here, so I understand her excitement. “I had a feeling I’d see you again. Special occasion?”I grinned. “A gala.”Her eyes lit up like I’d just given her the best news of the day. “Oh, now that is exciting. And let me guess… you need a dress that…”“Turns heads,” I finished with a nod, my voice dripping with anticipation. “Like, really turns heads.”She laughed, clapping her hands together excitedly “I love this energy. Alright, com

(Gabriel)I stood near my designated table, listening to the conversations between a few business associates. The gala was in full swing with the buzz of laughter and music filling the grand hall.“Your latest campaign was impressive, Montclair,” one of the men, a senior executive from Weston & Co., remarked. “I imagine it’s only a matter of time before Montclair Enterprises makes another move to compete.”“They can try,” I replied smoothly, taking a sip of my whiskey. “But let’s just say I’ve planned ahead.”The men chuckled, clearly amused. Another one leaned in. “Montclair Advertising is always one step ahead. You have a sharp team.”I nodded once, not bothering to correct him. I didn’t rely on a team, I relied on myself.Just then, a woman slid up beside me. Madison Clarke, if I remembered correctly. She was dressed in a matte black gown, her lips curved in a knowing smile. “Gabriel,” she drawled, brushing her fingers along my sleeve. “I was just telling your business friends her