Grace's POV
The taxi driver picked up on the anguish threading through my voice. I attempted to sound detached, but my words trembled, betraying my efforts to hide the devastation consuming me.
I could sense the driver forming theories in his mind, though heartbreak seemed the most likely conclusion.
I sensed he might be thinking something devastating must have occurred when I got back to my place. I could tell he was holding back from questioning me, because when he checked his rearview mirror, he witnessed me staring ahead with hollow eyes while tears continued streaming down my face.
He navigated the car quietly through downtown LA's streets. He avoided asking questions or making stops, simply driving without direction while steering clear of the area we'd left behind.
As we passed a liquor store, I suddenly spoke up, "Turn around to that shop. I need to pick up some things first."
"Y—Yes, Miss."
The driver pulled over and observed me entering the liquor store. My visit was brief – I emerged quickly carrying a bag loaded with alcohol, likely several bottles of spirits.
I slid back into the taxi and instructed, "Drive. I'll direct you where to go."
**
The taxi driver navigated through downtown LA until we arrived at an office building. The structure appeared dark save for the illuminated lobby.
The driver looked puzzled, "Are you certain you're spending the night here, Miss?"
"Yeah," I replied. Since work dominated my existence, I had nowhere else to turn except my office.
I pushed open the taxi door, clutching the bag of liquor as I stepped out.
I handed the taxi driver two hundred-dollar bills, noticing his uncertain expression.
"What's the issue with me staying here?"
"I'm just concerned that you might..." the taxi driver halted before voicing something terrible.
"Kill myself?" I finished his thought, and he gave a reluctant nod.
He found it presumptuous to assume, but I appeared like someone who might end their life after romantic betrayal.
I let out a bitter laugh, "Don't worry, I'm not some fool who'd take my own life over a worthless piece of trash like him." I turned to face the office building. "My office is on the upper floor – I'll spend the night there."
I looked back at the driver and offered him a weak smile, "Thanks for your help."
The driver watched the lady disappear into the lobby.
---
He exhaled deeply, 'Such a tragic woman. I can tell she's suffering tremendously.'
---
**
I swiped my card to access the elevator and hit the button for the upper floor.
The entire floor lay in darkness – it was late evening and nobody would be working at this hour. I used my employee badge to unlock the entrance and step into my office. I switched on several lights to illuminate my path.
Naturally, I knew I could simply book a hotel room or use one of my other apartments if I wanted to collect myself.
But this office—Crown Legacy Publishing company—was where I truly felt at home.
This was where everything began.
I launched my career because Charles's acting pursuits were going nowhere and couldn't support us financially, so I took this job.
I expected to work regular hours, arriving at nine and departing at five. But as my relationship with Charles crumbled, I began putting in excessive hours until the former CEO, Mr. Tristan Benjamin, noticed my abilities and advanced me repeatedly until I reached chief editor at a young age.
That was also when I started covering my mother's costly treatments and my sister's college expenses.
I also had to financially support Charles since acting provided him virtually no income, so I became the primary provider for multiple people simultaneously.
'Well, I believed that ensuring Charles lived comfortably would make up for my inability to give him children,' I reflected.
'How could I have been so naive? Obviously that wasn't sufficient for Charles. Nothing I accomplished satisfied him, while he put in minimal effort as a partner.' I mocked myself internally.
I moved through the vacant corridor, planning to reach my office and spend the night there.
But my focus shifted abruptly when I noticed lights burning in the CEO's office.
'Huh? I assumed the CEO office had been sealed since Mr. Benjamin's passing.'
I frowned, immediately suspicious. Fearing a possible break-in, I pulled out a wine bottle from the bag as a makeshift weapon and stealthily approached the CEO's office, attempting to catch the trespasser.
The door stood slightly ajar, heightening my suspicion. I peered through the opening and spotted a man's arm hanging over the sofa's edge. A distinctive black serpent tattoo coiled around his arm from elbow to hand, and he gripped a nearly drained bottle of premium liquor.
I doubted this man was a thief, particularly after spotting the limited edition Parker's Heritage bourbon in his grasp.
He clearly had wealth, at minimum.
This emboldened me to push the door open and investigate further. Who was this person bold enough to enter the office after hours?
There I discovered a blonde young man in his early twenties, reclining casually on the sofa, surrounded by additional bottles of the same bourbon he'd been consuming. He showed no reaction when the door opened, likely because he was heavily intoxicated by now.
"W—Who are you? How did you get into this office?" I questioned cautiously, brandishing my wine bottle like a blade and holding the remaining bag of bottles before me like armor. I was ready to hurl them at him and flee if this young man suddenly lunged at me.
The man finally rotated his head toward me, and my pulse quickened when I saw his face.
His striking features reminded me of someone I once respected, and his eyes could paralyze anyone who met them.
He possessed piercing green eyes that gleamed menacingly as he studied me in silence. They created the impression of a green-eyed serpent poised to attack when threatened.
I'd be dishonest if I claimed I wasn't frightened. But I had no intention of abandoning my office, and the man seemed non-threatening toward me as well.
I felt a shiver run down my spine as he examined me with those viper-like eyes, and when he finally spoke, my heartbeat accelerated.
"Which bastard dared to make you cry?"