"Great job, Erika, you made it."
She exhaled, her body sinking into the chair. The words felt hollow, a forced attempt at self-congratulation. Six hours—six relentless hours—of analyzing reports, cross-checking data, and meticulously crafting a year-long strategy. Her temples throbbed.
She hadn't even looked at herself in the mirror today. The dark circles under her eyes felt like bruises, her hair was scraped back into a tight ponytail, and she had forgotten to dab on her usual perfume. Even the comforting scent of lavender and vanilla had no place in today's madness.
She reached for the small plastic bottle beside her keyboard. With a sharp flick of her wrist, she twisted off the cap and downed three painkillers in one go. A grimace contorted her lips as the bitterness clung to her tongue. She tilted her head back, staring at the city skyline through the window, her gaze unfocused.
Neon lights flickered. Life buzzed outside—cars rushing by, people chasing their dreams, or maybe just trying to survive.
Suffering. Pain. Misfortune. The inability to move forward.
Once, these had been her closest companions, haunting her days, weighing on her nights. But she had clawed her way out, piece by piece, breaking apart only to build herself up again.
'Not anymore.'
She straightened her spine and shut her laptop with a firm snap. "Well, I'll see if the CEO is available," she murmured, gathering her files. "Might as well finish this tonight. No time to waste."
The office was eerily quiet as she walked down the hall. The elevator was out of service, so she took the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. By the time she reached the executive floor, her muscles burned, but she pushed forward.
She had emailed Mr. Grand, but there had been no reply.
A security guard stood by the entrance to the executive wing. "Mr. Grand's still inside," he informed her with a nod.
She exhaled, smoothing out the creases in her blazer. Just as she reached for the door handle, a sound from inside made her freeze.
A long, drawn-out moan.
Erika's breath hitched.
Another moan—louder, shameless. The unmistakable sound of flesh against flesh, of a woman gasping in unfiltered pleasure.
She stiffened, her fingers curling against the file she held.
Her mind scrambled for explanations, but the moment she stepped inside, reality struck her with merciless clarity.
'Redima. On top of Mr. Grand.'
The woman was completely uninhibited, moving with practiced ease, her lips parting into a slow, satisfied smile as she turned her gaze toward Erika.
"Finally," Redima purred, her tone laced with amusement. "You sure took your time getting here."
Mr. Grand's face was buried in the crook of Redima's neck, his body taut with pleasure, oblivious or simply uncaring of the fact that someone had walked in.
Erika's heart pounded, her stomach twisting into a tight, sickening knot. She staggered backward, the air in the room suffocating her.
Before she knew it, she was running.
The garage. The car. The overwhelming need to escape.
She barely registered turning the key in the ignition before she slammed her hands against the steering wheel, a scream tearing from her throat.
A tap at her window made her jump. The gatekeeper peered inside, concern etched on his wrinkled face.
"Miss Erika, are you alright?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Instead, she sped off, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Her mind was a hurricane of thoughts.
'How? Why?'
She loathed workplace affairs, detested the power plays and whispered trysts that turned corporate environments into breeding grounds for scandal. And yet, here she was—witnessing the very filth she had sworn to avoid.
Her loyalty to this company had been unwavering. While she poured herself into ensuring its success, Mr. Grand had been indulging in reckless pleasure.
'They don't give a damn about this place.'
A laugh—sharp, bitter—escaped her lips.
There were plenty of hotels, apartments, hidden corners for these "night games," yet they had chosen the office.'Disrespectful. Disgusting.'And she had no doubt—this had Redima's fingerprints all over it.
Erika's thoughts were abruptly interrupted as she reached her apartment complex. She barely had the energy to climb out of the car, her legs feeling like lead as she stepped toward the entrance.
But just as she reached her door, someone was waiting for her.
A tall figure emerged from the shadows. His presence was undeniable.
She didn't need to see his face to know who it was. The scent of his cologne wrapped around her like an uninvited embrace—deep, masculine, familiar.
"You're late," the man said smoothly, stepping closer.
'Mr. Rafael.'
Erika swallowed, forcing herself to meet his gaze. His dark eyes bore into hers, searching, challenging.
"I'm not in the mood for this," she said coldly.
"I'm really sorry, Erika." His voice dropped, laced with something almost...genuine.
She clenched her jaw.'Not now. Not tonight.'
"Kneel," she commanded, her tone steely.
A flicker of disbelief crossed his face before amusement took over. He let out a low chuckle, clapping his hands in mock applause.
"Is this bitch seriously asking me, Rafael Diox, to kneel?" he mused aloud.
She didn't flinch. "Yes."
His laughter died abruptly. He stepped forward, grabbing her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "I think you're forgetting your place, Erika."
Before she could respond, she was yanked backward—into another presence, another warmth.
"You're taking too long talking to this thick-headed husband of yours," a voice whispered against her ear.
Her breath caught.
'Ronald.'
Before she could react, Ronald moved in front of her, his tall frame blocking her from Rafael's seething glare.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Rafael snapped, his voice dripping with venom.
"Isn't it obvious?" Ronald smirked, adjusting his sleeves. "I'm closer to her than you'll ever be."
The tension crackled like static in the air. And then—Rafael snapped.
His fist shot forward, aiming straight for Ronald's jaw.
But Ronald was faster.
With a sharp twist, he caught Rafael's punch mid-air, shoving him back effortlessly. "Weak," he muttered.
Erika had had enough.
Without another word, she turned on her heel, storming into her apartment, and slammed the door shut behind her.
"Both of you—go to hell!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the hallway.
Her body slid down against the door, her breaths coming out ragged.
Tonight had shattered something inside her.
And she wasn't sure if she could ever piece it back together.
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