Episode 14
1805 Words
Bea Learns to Leave
Bea had always believed she could endure anything if she stayed quiet long enough.
Silence was armor.
Obedience was protection.
Endurance was survival.
That was how she survived losing her parents. That was how she survived watching her family’s empire crumble while people who once called her family friends quietly disappeared. That was how she survived the humiliating calls from creditors, the legal letters, the contracts she signed with hands that shook but a face that never did.
She told herself that surviving meant not wanting. Not reaching. Not hoping.
And yet here she was, sitting outside Ace Monteverde’s office, wanting something she could not name without breaking herself.
The last few days had been strange.
Ace had been quieter. Less openly cruel. More controlled. Like he was holding himself back from something. Bea could not decide if she preferred that version of him or the one who tested her patience with deliberate cruelty. At least with cruelty, she understood the rules.
With silence, she did not.
Because silence invited imagination.
And her imagination always led to the same dangerous thought.
What if he notices me for real?
She hated that thought.
She hated that her heart still reacted every time the intercom clicked. Hated that she still straightened when he stepped out, as if her body needed to be ready for him even when her mind begged her to stop.
She focused on the day’s schedule instead. Meetings. Calls. Lunch with a foreign investor. A board review at four.
At nine thirty, the elevator doors opened and a woman stepped out.
Bea recognized her immediately, not because she had seen her before, but because she looked like every woman who belonged in Ace Monteverde’s world.
Perfect hair. Perfect dress. A scent that cost more than Bea’s weekly groceries. Her heels clicked against the floor like she owned it.
She approached Bea’s desk with a lazy smile.
“I’m here to see Ace,” she said, as if she were announcing something inevitable.
Bea kept her expression calm. “May I have your name, ma’am?”
The woman’s smile widened slightly, amused by the question. “Celeste Araneta.”
Bea’s fingers paused for a fraction of a second.
Araneta.
One of the wealthiest families in the city. Old money. The kind of name that moved through boardrooms like a ghost no one dared to offend.
Bea had heard the whispers during her first week. Celeste had been connected to Ace before. An ex. A “favorite.” One of the women people assumed would end up beside him permanently.
Bea forced her hands to keep moving. “One moment, ma’am.”
She pressed the intercom. “Sir, Ms. Celeste Araneta is here.”
The pause that followed felt longer than necessary.
Then Ace’s voice came through, calm and cold. “Send her in.”
Celeste leaned closer to Bea, as if they were sharing a secret. “He still keeps you right outside,” she murmured, eyes glittering with amusement. “Interesting.”
Bea did not respond.
Celeste walked into Ace’s office like she belonged there.
The door closed softly.
Bea stared at her computer screen.
The numbers blurred.
She told herself not to listen.
But how could she not?
She was right outside the door.
A laugh floated through the wall. Low. Feminine. Familiar.
Bea swallowed.
Not because she was shocked.
Because she was tired.
Tired of this being part of her daily life. Tired of being the silent witness to a man’s private world. Tired of feeling like a shadow in her own story.
She forced herself to focus on her inbox. She typed replies with steady fingers. She scheduled calls. She arranged files.
But every few minutes, her mind was dragged back to the closed door.
Celeste’s laughter.
Ace’s silence.
The imagined intimacy behind wood and glass.
This is not your life, she reminded herself.
It should not hurt because it is not yours.
But it did.
And worse, a part of her hated herself for letting it matter at all.
After thirty minutes, the door opened.
Celeste stepped out slowly, lipstick perfect, eyes bright with victory. She glanced at Bea and smiled like a knife hidden behind silk.
“I’ll see you soon, Ace,” she said loudly enough for Bea to hear, then turned toward the elevator.
Before stepping inside, she looked back at Bea and tilted her head.
“You’re pretty,” Celeste said softly, sweetly. “But you look like you still believe kindness means something.”
Then the elevator doors closed.
Bea sat frozen for a moment, words echoing in her head.
She still believes kindness means something.
Maybe she did.
Maybe that was her weakness.
The intercom clicked.
“Miss Bea. Inside.”
Her chest tightened.
She stood and walked into Ace’s office with controlled steps.
Ace sat behind his desk, expression unreadable. If he had just been with Celeste, there was no sign of it except the faint smell of perfume lingering in the air like a stain.
Bea placed a folder on his desk. “Your ten o’clock paperwork is ready, sir.”
He did not look at the folder.
He looked at her.
“Are you upset?” he asked.
The question caught her off guard.
She kept her face calm. “No, sir.”
“That is not the truth.”
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the folder. “I’m here to work.”
His gaze sharpened. “Don’t hide behind that.”
Her pulse jumped.
He stood slowly, stepping around the desk.
Not rushing. Not angry.
Just deliberate.
“Celeste came because she wanted something,” he said. “Most people do.”
Bea’s throat tightened. “I don’t care why she came.”
He stopped a few steps away, close enough for her to feel the heat of his presence.
“You don’t care,” he repeated, voice quiet. “Or you refuse to care.”
Bea inhaled slowly. “Sir, may I return to my desk?”
Ace’s eyes narrowed, like her request annoyed him. “You’re avoiding the question again.”
“There is no question to answer.”
“There is,” he said, stepping closer. “Does it bother you?”
Bea’s heart pounded. She felt anger rise, not just at him, but at herself for being trapped in this conversation.
“I’m not supposed to be bothered,” she said quietly.
Ace’s voice lowered. “But you are.”
Her breath caught.
Because he was right.
Ace watched her face like he was memorizing every crack in her composure. “Why do you keep doing this?” he asked.
Bea stared at him. “Doing what?”
“Enduring,” he said, voice almost soft. “Standing here while you feel everything.”
Her chest ached.
She could not explain the truth without making herself vulnerable. Could not admit that she was tired of being tested. Tired of being watched. Tired of carrying pain like it was part of the job.
“You’re my boss,” she said, voice steady but thin. “I do what’s required.”
“That’s not all you do,” he murmured.
Silence stretched between them, thick and dangerous.
Bea felt like she was standing on the edge of something she should not fall into.
She took a step back, needing space. “Sir, I need to prepare for your noon meeting.”
Ace’s eyes darkened.
He did not like her stepping away.
He moved closer again, closing the distance she tried to create.
Bea’s back met the desk behind her.
The familiar position.
The same helpless angle.
Not touching. Not holding.
But cornering her with presence alone.
Ace’s voice was low. “You should learn how to stop reacting.”
Her anger flared. “Maybe you should stop trying to make me react.”
The words slipped before she could stop them.
For a moment, Ace’s expression shifted. Something like a surprise. Something like satisfaction.
Then his eyes hardened again.
“You think you can speak to me that way?” he asked quietly.
Bea’s hands shook, but she kept her chin lifted. “I think you enjoy this,” she said, voice trembling now. “I think you enjoy watching me pretend it doesn’t hurt.”
The silence that followed felt like a blade.
Ace’s jaw tightened. “You’re crossing a line.”
Bea laughed softly, bitterly. “What line? You crossed it the day you made me sit outside this office like a warning sign.”
Ace’s eyes flashed. “You chose this job.”
“I chose to survive,” Bea snapped. “Not to be humiliated.”
Her voice echoed in the room.
The words hung between them like something broken.
Ace took a slow breath, then stepped back.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he had to.
He turned away, voice cold again. “Return to work.”
Bea stood still for a second, heart racing.
She should have felt satisfaction for finally saying something.
Instead, she felt fear.
Because she had just shown him she could break.
And men like Ace Monteverde did not stop when they found a weakness.
They pressed harder.
Bea walked out of the office with steady steps, but the moment she sat down, her hands trembled badly.
She stared at her fingers, angry at herself.
Why did you speak?
Because she was tired.
Because she was human.
Because she was starting to understand something she had been refusing to see.
Ace was not the only one with power here.
Not really.
The moment she stopped enduring, the entire dynamic shifted.
The moment she chose to leave, he would lose his front row seat to her pain.
And the thought of leaving, once terrifying, suddenly felt like air.
Like possibility.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Adrian.
Are you okay? You seemed quiet the last time I saw you.
Bea stared at the words for a long time.
Then she typed slowly.
I’m tired.
A moment later, his reply came.
Then let me take you somewhere you can breathe.
Bea swallowed hard.
Because breathing sounded like freedom.
And freedom sounded like something she might actually choose.
She glanced at Ace’s closed door.
For the first time, she did not feel like a shadow.
She felt like a person standing at the edge of a decision.
And somewhere inside that office, Ace Monteverde sat behind his desk, staring at nothing.
He told himself he had won.
That he had reminded her who held power.
But the truth clawed at him, quiet and relentless.
He had seen something in her eyes today.
Not fear.
Not longing.
Resolve.
And for the first time, Ace Monteverde realized something he had never considered before.
She might actually leave.
- Writer
