Chapter 13
Amara strutted out of the glass doors of the fashion mall, heels clacking against marble like punctuation marks. Another pitch, another rejection. The executives had smiled, nodded, then gently handed her the polite version of no thanks.
She rolled her shoulders back, refusing to sulk. "It's fine," she muttered under her breath, tossing her curls. Not the end of the world, baby girl. One no closer to a yes. Her boutique wasn't built overnight, and it sure as hell wouldn't die because of a couple of stiff-neck suits who couldn't tell style from staplers.
Then came the laughter. High, tinkling, fake as press-on nails.
Amara turned.
A group of girls waltzed through the lobby like they owned the floor tiles, and right in the middle was a face Amara would never forget Celeste Marigny. Perfect hair, perfect outfit, perfect bitch.
Amara's lips twitched. Oh, she remembered her. The same witch who had smiled sweetly at the de la Croix gala, then found a way to embarrass her so bad she'd been escorted out like a thief. Humiliated in front of everyone. Amara didn't forget. She never forgot.
Instead of charging over and yanking that platinum weave out of her head, Amara did what the new, grown-up her did. She slipped her phone out, tilted it like she was checking her reflection, and click. A nice, clean shot of Celeste and her little entourage.
Good. I'm going to show Kairen later. We'll roast this Barbie till her Chanel looks like clearance-bin polyester.
She was grinning to herself when Celeste's voice floated over, sharp and conspiratorial.
"That's how he abandoned me. I was so embarrassed."
Amara's brows pinched. Her heels slowed.
Celeste leaned into her little court of girls, voice low but dripping poison.
"I don't care. I'll drain him. Every last dime. If I can't get it with gifts, I'll seduce him. And if that doesn't work… well, babies secure futures, don't they?"
Her friends squealed, some clapping, others gasping in delighted horror.
Amara's jaw dropped. This girl is crazy. Babies? She's about to turn a man into a trust fund and a pacifier all in one.
She lifted her phone again. Snap. Snap. Receipts secured.
But then like a twist in a cheap soap opera a man walked into the frame. Tall, casual, sliding his arm around Celeste like she belonged to him. The whole group dissolved into giggles as he ushered them toward the exit.
Amara froze.
Wait… wait, wait… is that
Yes. Larry!!?.
Kairen's ex. The same man who cheated, the same one who couldn't leave Kairen alone after the breakup. Now smiling like an idiot with Celeste hanging on him.
Amara nearly burst out laughing right there. Oh, Lord. So he left my boy for this dollar-store Disney villain? And she's planning to bleed him dry? Out of what his bus fare?
She snapped a few more pictures for good measure, biting her lip to keep the cackle in. She couldn't wait to show Kairen this. It was going to be better than Netflix.
What she didn't realize what no one around her realized was that Larry wasn't the main prize Celeste had her eyes on. He was just a stepping stone. A pawn.
The real target was still waiting at the top of the Cross empire.
And Amara? She'd just stumbled onto the opening scene of another war.
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Kairen pushed through the door of section 001 like a ghost crawling back to life. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, his hair sticking at the edges of his forehead. He barely had the strength to lift the oversized cup of coffee in his hand, but somehow he managed, shoulders trembling with each breath.
At the corner desk, Elodie leaned back in her chair and groaned.
"I swear to God, if that boy comes down for the thirtieth time today, I'm quitting."
Julian, without lifting his eyes from his paperwork, tapped his pen against the desk and nodded toward the door.
"Then you might want to draft your resignation letter, Elodie."
Elodie snapped her head around and there he was. Kairen. Again. Shuffling, hollow-eyed, dragging his legs like a soldier sent out to die. He moved to the coffee dispenser without even looking at anyone, as though acknowledging their stares would drain the last ounce of life he had left.
Elodie raised her brows. "At this point, is he serving coffee to the whole company?"
Kairen didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat was raw, his chest burned from climbing what felt like a thousand steps. Sweat trickled down his temple, stinging his eyes. The machine hissed as it filled another cup, the sound almost mocking. He gripped the handle tighter, praying his hand wouldn't slip.
The truth was, he'd lost count. Thirty trips? Forty? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was the routine:
Sebastian would take the cup, sniff it, sip it, sneer.
"Too hot."
"Too cold."
"Too much sugar."
"No sugar."
"Not enough milk."
"Too much milk."
"Get a bigger cup."
"This cup is ridiculous—get a smaller one."
Every correction another lash. Every rejection another crack in his pride. And every time, back down the staircase, because the elevator was forbidden. Sebastian made sure of that, his broad shoulders always leaning casually against the elevator doors, smirking like a gatekeeper.
Kairen once thought about defying him, just pressing the button anyway. But Sebastian's voice rang in his ears: "Don't keep me waiting." And Kairen, as much as he hated himself for it, obeyed.
Now, gripping the filled cup, he turned toward the stairs again. His legs screamed, his knees begged to buckle, but he swallowed it down. Not here. Not in front of them.
Elodie muttered something under her breath, half-annoyed, half-curious. Julian shot her a look that said don't start. She rolled her eyes but said nothing.
Kairen started up the steps again, one trembling leg after the other. He couldn't even cry anymore—the tears had dried hours ago. All that remained was a numbness, a hollow determination. He whispered to himself, voice hoarse, "Please… let this one be right. Just let this one be right."
But deep down, he knew. That devil upstairs didn't want coffee.
He wanted him broken.
Kairen's legs were jelly by the time he reached the last set of steps. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, sweat dripping into his lashes, his shirt clinging to his back. And there he was Sebastian Cross, lounging in a chair like a king on his throne, arms folded, that damned smirk carved across his face.
The moment their eyes met, Kairen thought: If I had any courage left, I'd haul this coffee straight at this goat.
But he didn't. He couldn't. His job… his family… his survival chained him to silence.
"Nu nu," Sebastian drawled, voice smooth and mocking. "I've been waiting."
Kairen clenched his jaw, forcing his body to keep moving. Each step felt like carrying a hundred pounds on his shoulders. He said nothing, not even when Sebastian tilted his head with faux curiosity.
"Tired already?" Sebastian teased, though his eyes glittered with something darker. He wasn't really asking—he was watching, waiting, daring him to crumble.
Inside, Sebastian was amused. Not surprised Kairen was always stubborn but today, he swore he'd drag that stubbornness into the ground. He wanted to see him beg. Or break. Or both.
Two more steps. Just two. Kairen raised the cup with trembling hands, every muscle screaming. His vision blurred. His grip loosened
And then it happened.
The coffee slipped. Gravity tore it from his fingers. It splashed across Sebastian's suit, the dark liquid bleeding down his crisp shirt, dripping heavily over his lap. Right on his groin.
Kairen froze. His heart stopped. His head shook violently as if denial could undo the spill. No… no, no, no. He was finished.
Sebastian stood, slow as a storm gathering, volcanic fury flickering beneath his calm exterior. His jaw tightened, his hazel eyes blazing like fire set to gold. He looked down at himself, soaked and stained, then back at Kairen with a look that promised hell.
And just as the silence thickened, just as the air itself seemed to tremble
Ding.
The elevator chimed. The doors slid open.
Both of them turned.
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Author's Note
Hello dear readers
I just want to take a moment to say thank you. Apart from the encouragement I get from my friends, seeing the external support here your collections, your time, your attention means so much to me. I notice the growth, and it truly gives me strength to keep writing.
This is my very first romance novel, so every bit of support pushes me forward. I pray you don't stop walking this journey with me. To help me improve, please feel free to drop your thoughts, corrections, and suggestions. I'll gladly listen and take them in because your feedback matters a lot.
Thank you for being here with me
Collie....