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Chapter 2 - Chapter 2

Ava Morales had just stepped out of the boardroom, the door clicking shut behind her after a long meeting with the investors. As she walked down the hallway, she spotted a group of her female employees clustered near the elevators, giggling over something on their phones.

Their laughter echoed softly in the polished corridor, a sharp contrast to the tension Ava had just left behind. One of them glanced up, eyes widening when she saw Ava approaching. The others quickly followed suit, their smiles vanishing as they straightened up and tucked their phones away.

Ava didn't slow her stride. Her heels clicked with quiet authority against the marble floor as she passed them.

"Let's stay focused, ladies," she said smoothly, not unkind, but with enough weight in her tone to send them scattering.

Ava kept walking, her face unreadable. when she got to the elevator and was about to press the button a familiar voice called out behind her.

"Ava, babes, are you okay?" Camila, her best friend and PR head, rushed up, concern written all over her face.

Ava arched a brow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Camila hesitated, then held up her phone. "You haven't checked your phone yet, have you?"

Ava gave a faint, dismissive smile.

"I've been in meetings all morning, Camy. What is it?"

Camila handed her the phone without a word. Ava took it, glanced at the screen and froze.

It was a video. Grainy, obviously taken by someone in a car. But clear enough.

There she was, Ava Morales, in her wedding gown, dragging a small overnight bag behind her as she stepped into a rundown motel. Alone. Her veil trailing slightly behind her. No groom in sight. Just the blinking vacancy sign above her and the sagging door she had to push open herself.

The memory crashed into her like a wave.

That night. That godforsaken night.

She remembered sitting stiffly in Mark's car, the leather seats cold beneath her.

"Why are we here?" she had asked, eyes scanning the run-down parking lot.

"It's late," he said, not even looking at her. "We'll crash here and head home in the morning."

He hadn't helped her with the bag. Hadn't looked at her. Hadn't said a single word as she stepped out, her lace gown dragging along the dirty ground.

And now the whole world had seen it.

"Ava," Camila whispered, "come to my office. Just for a minute."

But Ava shook her head. "No. I need.. I need a moment."

She turned and hurried into her office. The door clicked shut behind her, muffling the low hum of gossip already spreading through the floor.

She nervously bit down on her lip, hard enough to taste the sharp sting of restraint.

She collapsed into her chair, staring blankly at the far wall.

Her phone buzzed—notifications piling up. Messages. News alerts. Memes.

Her wedding, once whispered about in boardroom corners, was now public humiliation.

She was the General Manager. The youngest in the company's history.

This was personal. And cruel.

The video kept flashing in her mind, her in that gown, dragging that pathetic bag, her dignity trailing behind her like her veil.

Ava didn't go out for lunch.

She closed the blinds, locked the door, and sat at her desk, her back rigid, fists clenched. Her vision blurred before she could stop it.

Just a few tears. Silent. Angry.

She wiped them away with a precision that betrayed years of practice, then opened her laptop. Her fingers hovered for a second before she began typing.

....

Later that afternoon, someone opened the door, waking Julian from his sleep.

"Get out," he muttered, eyes still closed.

Silence.

He stretched, got out of bed, naked, and walked into the bathroom, unfazed. The marble tiles were cold under his feet. He turned on the tap. Water thundered into the tub, steam rising.

Outside the door, Clara cleared her throat. "Sir, your meeting is in an hour. Ms. Lily called to remind you, and said she was in her way."

He didn't answer.

Clara placed a tray beside the bed: black coffee, his phone, and the file he'd left lying around, then disappeared down the hall.

Julian finally emerged from the bathroom, towel slung low, water still clinging to his chest. He walked straight to the window, ignoring the tray.

A knock came, crisp and timed.

"Come in," he said, gaze still on the skyline.

Lily entered, folders in hand. Her dress was businesslike, pale blue with sharp pleats. Hair pinned back. Efficient. Calm.

"Good morning Julian," she said, not waiting for him to acknowledge her presence. "I've confirmed your lunch with Mr. Reyes. Your call with the Tokyo office has been moved to seven. And the security report from last night came in, you'll want to read it."

Julian finally looked at her. "Did I ask for any of that this morning?"

"No. But if I waited for your permission, nothing would get done." She set the folders down. "Also, your brother called. Twice."

"I don't care."

"He said that. Then hung up."

Julian smirked, sipping his coffee. "Anything else?"

She hesitated. "Yes. The woman from last week, she called three times. She used the word urgent."

He snorted. "Delete her number."

"Already did." she said smiling.

Julian leaned back against the window. "That's why I keep you."

Lily raised a brow. "Because I delete your mistakes?"

"No," he said, voice low, dangerous. "Because you're efficient."

She didn't flinch. "Your ten o'clock tomorrow is with the senator's wife. Do I cancel it again, or will you behave?"

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "Define 'behave.'"

She gave him a cool smile. "In a way that won't land us in another tabloid scandal."

A beat of silence passed between them.

"Don't be late," she added, turning on her heel and walking out.

Julian watched her go, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Lily was smart. Calculated. Completely immune to him.

Too bad she was pregnant and will be taking some time off. He needed someone efficient to replace her for some months.

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