Out of sheer shock, fear, dread, and every emotion sharp enough to make her hands tremble, she dropped her glass. The crystal shattered against the hardwood floor, sending shards across the kitchen.
No, no, no.
She had been careful. She barely told anyhow about this.
So how did he know?
And, more importantly, who told him?
She exhaled shakily, steadying herself. Panicking wouldn't help.
After a moment, she knelt and swept up the broken glass, discarding the pieces before wiping the floor clean. She had been through too much to let this ruin her night. This was her moment. Victor had already taken enough from her, he wasn't going to take this, too
Ignoring the message, she turned on her music box, opting for it over her usual vinyl records since the last one had started skipping. She turned the volume down low, just enough for her to hear. Because, if she was being honest with herself, she was starting to feel uneasy in her own apartment again.
A terrible sign.
The weekend passed in a blur. And then, it was Monday.
Her week.
The start of something bigger.
Elena stepped into Moretti Enterprises with an energy she didn't allow to show on her face. She was careful to keep her emotions measured, neither too eager nor too detached. But inside, she was electric.
Today mattered.
She was early, of course. She had to be. It was crucial to establish the right impression from the start. This position wasn't just given; it was taken, fought for.
And waiting for her, unexpectedly, was Dramine.
The young receptionist was no longer behind the counter. Instead, she stood in the middle of the lobby, her expression brightening the moment she spotted Elena.
"Ms. Elena! Congratulations!" Dramine beamed, stepping forward with an easy familiarity that would have seemed forced from anyone else. She moved in for a hug, one that Elena reciprocated easily.
Dramine smelled like jasmine and ink, her cropped blazer revealing a tattooed wrist, a tiny cherry blossoms and something written in Japanese trailing under her cuff.
"Thanks, Dramine," Elena replied, her voice smooth. "How are you today?"
"Nuh-uh, today isn't about me, it's about you." Dramine grinned, teasing but warm.
Elena smiled in return.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, scanning the lobby. It was oddly empty for this time of day.
"We're about to close," Dramine said, flashing another easy smile. "And I was sent here to wait for you."
"Close?" Elena frowned slightly but didn't question it. Instead, she followed as Dramine gestured ahead. Except they weren't heading toward the elevators or the stairwell.
Instead, Dramine led her around them.
Elena's brows lifted slightly.
This was the second conference room.
Margaret had mentioned it briefly before, a space large enough to accommodate all the employees. Dramine stopped in front of a set of double doors, pushing them open without hesitation. Inside, Elena was met with a small gathering.
An official welcome.
Staff members, some familiar, others not. All stood in a semi-circle, their expressions ranging from genuine enthusiasm to polite obligation. And among them, just as expected, was Gabriella.
The woman looked put together as always, poised with just the right amount of detachment to make it clear she wasn't here out of personal excitement.
But Elena barely paid her any mind because at the far end of the room, sitting in the lead chair, was Xavier Moretti.
And beside him, the COO himself, Dominic Ricci.
A young slim man, around the same age as Xavier... or younger. He was seated close to Xavier. If she didn't know any better, she'd say they were very close buddies.
Still, Elena kept her expression controlled, only allowing her lips to part in surprise as she lifted a hand to her mouth. It was a carefully measured reaction on her part, not too dramatic, but enough to sell the moment.
And then, to her greatest surprise, she saw her.
Margaret.
Elena felt genuine shock right in her bones. Margaret was the new Head of the Fashion Department. She hadn't expected that.
After the introductions, the meeting shifted to the upcoming gala.
It was a grand event, an annual showcase of Moretti Enterprises' power, wealth, and connections. Every major player in the industry would be there, investors, media outlets, high-profile clients, celebrities, prominent men and women. It wasn't just about celebrating success; it was about securing influence.
And this year, the introduction of new key figures within the company:
The introduction of the new Executive Assistant - Elena.
And the new Head of Fashion - Margaret.
This year's gala event was going to be held at the new grand venue, the Elysian Grand hall which had already been booked. It was already one of the most exclusive event halls in the city within a space of five months. This will be its second usage, after which images could then be circulated publicly.
Everyone in the room was expected to attend, new hires would be scrutinized, alliances reaffirmed. Xavier himself would be making a rare public speech, meaning the pressure was on.
Seating arrangements had to be planned strategically, who sat with whom could determine the course of business deals. The press coverage had to be curated, ensuring Moretti Enterprises remained untouchable in its prestige.
The team discussed themes, color palette, even the exclusivity of the guest list.
Elena listened carefully. Every detail mattered.
The conference room air went cold the moment Xavier mentioned his father's name.
"Matteo Moretti will be in attendance," he said, his voice slicing through the murmured reactions like a war blade. "This gala isn't just a celebration, it's a statement. Every detail will be scrutinized. Every misstep will be your last."
Elena studied the room. Not a single flinch. Not even from Gabriella, who usually wore her disdain like perfume. Only the faint tightening of Dominic's jaw betrayed any tension.
Either they trust him… or they're terrified of him.
With a final nod, Xavier dismissed everyone, except Elena and Margaret.
When the others filed out, Gabriella lingered just a second too long at the door, her manicured fingers curling around the knob. Xavier didn't look up.
"Close it," he said.
She pulled it shut behind her with a quiet click.
Dominic leaned against the window, arms crossed, his tailored suit pulling taut over his shoulders. Up close, Elena could see the faint scar cutting through his left eyebrow, fully healed. An old one.
"Elena," Xavier began, "this is Dominic Ricci. My COO. My right hand."
Dominic's smile was all charm, but his eyes, brown catching the sunlight, were assessing. "Heard a lot about you," he said, extending a hand. His grip was warm, his thumb brushing her pulse point just once.
Xavier continued without preamble dragging them back to the matter at hand.
"The gala is more than just a company event. Matteo Moretti will be there. That means eyes will be on us, on you two."
He gestured toward Elena and Margaret.
"Both of you will be on stage, officially introduced as the new faces of Moretti Enterprises. And you will speak. The right words, the right demeanor, it all matters. Three minutes will be all you get. Do not disappoint me."
Margaret nodded, her fingers twisting the silver bangle she always wore, a nervous tell Elena had took to notes at the elevator last week.
"Any questions?" Xavier turned to Elena.
She swallowed. "What's the messaging?"
A beat. Then, almost imperceptibly, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Loyalty. Legacy. The future of Moretti Enterprises." He pushed a folder across the table. "Stick to the script."
The dismissal was clear. Margaret scurried out, but Elena hesitated at the door.
Xavier didn't look up from his papers. "You're still here."
She forced her feet to move.
It was late Wednesday afternoon. Everything's been going well with Elena. She had her own office now. No useless text messages from her brother, but she knew whoever was spying on her was still giving out her info to him.
Just then, her desk phone buzzed at 3:17 PM.
"Mr. Moretti will see you now."
Her pulse picked up, a reaction she wasn't entirely proud of. Was it normal to feel this way around him? She had barely adjusted to the new role, and now he was summoning her like there was more to handle.
She stepped into his office, where he stood near the window, the cityscape stretching beyond him. He didn't turn at first.
"Sit."
She did.
"We're about finalizing accommodations for the Tokyo delegation," he said, tossing a file onto the desk. "You'll accompany me to inspect the penthouse suite at The Laurent. And I need you to finalize the arrangements."
It made sense, but something about it didn't sit right. Why her? Why personally accompany him?
She opened her mouth to ask, but then he turned to face her. Dead in the eyes.
Unyielding. Silent. He didn't have to say anything. The intensity of his stare alone crushed any resistance she might have had.
Her fingers curled into her palm. Under his gaze, she felt like she was being sized up, judged, prosecuted.
She swallowed. "Okay. What time?"
He walked back to his desk, writing something on a small slip of paper before sliding it across to her.
"Meet me here. Tonight. 7 PM."
Elena frowned, picking up the note. An address. Not an office. Not a hotel.
"A bookstore?" she asked skeptically.
Xavier merely waved a hand in dismissal, already turning away from her. "Don't be late."
And just like that, she was dismissed.
The moment she was out of his office, she headed straight for Margaret.
"How was it when you started?" she asked, not bothering with pleasantries.
Margaret, ever poised, gave her a small smile. "You'll face a bit of challenges. But you'll be fine."
"That's not what I meant."
Elena leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "You were supposed to leave the company. Now you're head of fashion? What happened?"
Margaret sighed, rolling a pen between her fingers. "I couldn't take on a role as demanding as Executive Assistant. My family needs me. So I spoke to Xavier, and we worked something out."
It was a reasonable explanation. But something about it still felt off... or perhaps, it was just her.
Margaret must have sensed her doubt because she gave her a knowing look. "Sometimes, Elena, it's better not to question everything."
Elena wasn't buying it. But she let it go, for now.
She arrived early. Too early.
The bookstore was old, its wooden sign faded with time. It stood tucked between two larger buildings, the kind of place people walked past without a second glance. Inside, the scent of aged paper and ink filled the air, the warm glow of dim lights casting shadows painting the shelves.
Elena walked the aisles, pretending to browse while keeping her eyes on the street outside. She wasn't stupid. She wasn't about to just walk into a situation blind.
And then she saw something. Not what she was expecting.
A black BMW, tinted windows, a fairly recent model, the kind of car that belonged to someone who didn't want to be seen. It pulled up to the curb, idling there. No horn. Engine still steaming.
A second later, he stepped out.
Not in his usual tailored suit, but something more casual. A dark button-down, sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets as he looked toward the bookstore.
He was waiting.
For her.
Elena exhaled slowly, steeling herself. And then, without hesitation, she walked out to meet him.
Walking out she had just realized this part of town barely had people by time of the day. That was mostly because old people inhabited this part of town. So he was safe coming out like that acting all tough.
Crossing to the other side to meet him, he didn't move. He stood by the car, both hands in his pockets. His eyes swept over her once, before he pushed off and walked around to the driver's side.
"Get in."