7:42 PM - Monroe Tower
Leo walked up to the car, expecting to see Ariella waiting by the driveway like always. Instead, she was already sprawled across the back seat of the SUV, looking like she'd been there for a while.
Red flag.
The sweet, artificial smell hit him the moment he opened the door - that telltale scent of whatever pills she'd gotten her hands on this time. Ariella was slumped against the leather seats, designer sunglasses perched on her nose even though the sun was already setting. Her breathing was slow and shallow.
"Ariella." He caught her glassy eyes in the rearview mirror. "What did you take this time?"
She barely lifted her head, that familiar lazy smile spreading across her face. "Chill bro. It's just prescription stuff."
"Prescribed by who?"
"Does it matter?" She let out a soft laugh. "Not that it's any of your business..... Just drive."
Leo's hands tightened on the steering wheel. It's his third week at this job , and every week seemed to come with a drama. Parties, pills, drinks, and recklessness.
"You can't keep doing this," he said quietly, putting the car in park. "How long will you keep living like this?."
"Oh, come on." Ariella waved him off like she was shooing away a fly. "Don't try to preach,soldier . Just take me to the club, my friends are waiting."
"No."
The word hung in the air between them.
Ariella's head snapped up, sunglasses sliding down her nose. "No?"
"I said no." Leo turned around to face her fully. "Go back to your room. I'm not driving you anywhere like this."
For a moment, she just stared at him. Then she started laughing - that sharp, incredulous laugh that meant someone had just crossed a line they didn't know existed.
"The other day, it was just a few drinks. Last week before that, it was just some weed from a party." Leo's voice was steady, almost gentle, but there was steel underneath. "I can't and wont drive you when you overdose."
The words hit her like cold water. She'd heard worse things - tabloids had called her everything from "spoiled brat" to "walking disaster." But somehow, coming from Leo, the truth felt different. Sharper.
"Okay, you're the boss now, right?" she said, sitting up straighter."Because of a few chats, you think you're my friend now, right?. "You want to teach me how to live my life, you? A mere driver? Get out of the car and never come back!"
Leo looked at her for one more long moment, then opened the door.
"I said GET OUT!"
The door slammed shut, and she was alone. Her hands were shaking.
When was the last time someone had looked at her with disappointment instead of fear or pity or opportunism?
Flashback- Age 19
The Monroe Mansion
"You keep embarrassing the Monroe Empire, Ariella! Your mother should have taken you along with her. Why leave me with this mess of a daughter"
Her father's voice had echoed through their sprawling house, bouncing off marble floors and crystal chandeliers.
She had overdosed and messed up at her father's business associate's birthday, causing a total disaster.
He kept cursing at her, threatening to disown her or lock her up in a room.
Back to Reality
Screw Leo.
Ariella dropped into the driver's seat with a heavy sigh, running her fingers through her hair. The familiar weight of the steering wheel under her hands felt like the only real thing left in her world. The Lambo had been replaced with this sensible BMW SUV, probably hoping it would keep her out of trouble. Fat chance.
"I can actually drive myself," she whispered to the empty car as she turned on the engine and sped off.
11 Minutes Later – Sunset Strip
The music was loud, as always . For a moment, she almost felt...calm.
Then everything changed in an instant.
She didn't see him until it was too late—a man stepping into the crosswalk, looking down at his phone. Her heart stopped as she realized what was about to happen.
The impact wasn't as violent as she'd feared, but it was enough. Her SUV knocked him down, and she slammed the brakes so hard her seatbelt cut into her chest.
"Oh shit!" she breathed, hands shaking as she fumbled for the door handle.
The crowd materialized like vultures—where did they even come from? Camera flashes exploded around her as she stumbled out, her legs barely holding her up.
"Sir? Sir, are you okay?" She knelt beside the man, who was conscious but clearly hurt, holding his leg and wincing.
"It's the Monroe Princess again!"
"Another crash in a month!"
"Can't you drive or something?"
The shouted questions hit her like physical blows. She wanted to disappear or run away.
A Memory, Sharp and Unwelcome
She was nine, small for her age, sitting in the back of a town car while lawyers and assistants shuffled papers around her like she wasn't even there.
"The girl's going to be a liability," someone had said. "James, you sure you want this responsibility?"
Even then, she'd understood: she was a problem to be managed, not a daughter to be loved.
Back to the Present
The paramedics arrived, thank god, and took over caring for the injured man. He'd be okay—bruised and shaken, but okay. That was something, at least.
Ariella found herself sitting on the curb, head in her hands, as the crowd swirled around her. A police officer was asking questions she could barely process. The cameras kept clicking.
This was going to be everywhere by morning.
Monroe Tower – 1:20 a.m.
James Monroe wasn't sleeping. He never really did anymore.
Standing at his office window, he watched the city sprawl below while his phone buzzed with damage control calls from his PR team. His daughter—brilliant, lost, self-destructive Ariella—had done it again.
But this time felt different. This time, someone could have died.
"Mr Cruz," he said when the familiar voice answered. "What happened? Why was she driving?"
"She fired me." Leo's voice was tired but not surprised, he had already seen the news.
"I hired you, and you answer to me, not my daughter." James' composure cracked for just a moment. "You don't leave until I ask you to, so please resume by morning. Thank you. "
The call dropped.
After the call ended, Leo sat in his small apartment.
He thought about her tonight, probably alone in some sterile hospital room or police station, facing another scandal that would follow her for years. Thought about how scared she must be, even if she'd never admit it.