Signed by Fate

CHAPTER FOUR

Hello, Ma. Good evening.

Good evening, Kylie. Are you free right now?

Yes, ma."

"I need you to run an errand. I'll send you a list — pick a few things up and bring them to Louis V. Executive suite 1504."

"Okay, ma'am. I'll head there now."

Miriam hung up and, out of habit more than curiosity, opened her call log.

Sixty-eight missed calls.

The number didn't feel real. She sat down hard on the floor, back against the bed frame, and stared at the skyline through the window until her eyes lost focus.

Roberts called ten minutes later.

Good evening, ma'am."

"Good evening, Mr. Roberts. Any news about the scandal?"

"I spoke with the investors. They've agreed to give us a month to arrange the refund. If we can't produce it in that time, they're pursuing jail time."

"A month." Her stomach dropped. "How is anyone supposed to raise two billion dollars in a month?"

"I tried to push for more time. They wouldn't move."

She pressed her fingers to her eyes. "It's all right, Mr. Roberts. Thank you for trying."

"There's something else, ma'am. Their legal counsel reached out — if the demands aren't met, it isn't only jail time on the table. They're positioning to take the company as compensation."

Miriam's breath caught somewhere in her chest.

"I've also written to the press, formally, warning them off further coverage or facing legal consequences," Roberts continued. "That should buy us some room to work without more exposure."

"That's something, at least." She swallowed hard. "Thank you."

“You're welcome, ma'am.

He said goodnight and hung up, and Miriam sat there afterward with her hands over her face, the weight of it pressing down all at once.

*I can't go to jail. I can't lose this company. Everything I built —*

A knock at the door cut through it.

"Who's there," she snapped, sharper than she meant.

"It's me, ma'am. Kylie."

“Come in. Just — leave it there and go, please.”

Kylie sets the bags down quietly and let herself back out without a word, reading the room correctly for once.

Miriam cried again after that, quieter this time, the kind of crying that comes when there's nothing left to perform for anyone. When it finally passed, she pulled herself up, removed her clothes, and stepped into the shower, letting the water run longer than it needed to.

-----

Down the hall and two floors up, Damian had already retired to his own suite. He liked this one specifically for the view — the skyline spread out floor to ceiling, the city's noise muffled to almost nothing behind the glass. It was the closest thing he had to silence, and he guarded it carefully.

He stood at the window for a long time with a glass he wasn't really drinking from, the ice slowly going soft in the whiskey, his thoughts circling back — for reasons he couldn't quite justify — to a furious blonde woman in a hallway who hadn't given him her name.

—

Miriam came out of the bathroom wrapped in a robe, hair damp at the ends, and crossed to the bag Kylie had left. Inside was a sleeveless gown, deep-cut and simple, the kind of dress that didn't need accessories to make its point.

She held it up to the mirror.

"Perfect," she said, and for the first time all day, she almost believed something might go right.

She dropped the robe and stepped into the dress, drawing it up slowly over her hips, over her chest. In the mirror, the woman looking back at her didn't look like someone whose company was hours from collapse.

She looked, for one borrowed moment, like someone about to walk into a room and take it back.

She walks to the table again, gets a comb, returns to the mirror, and adjusts her clothing.

She searches for the file, walks over to the table to pour herself a glass of whiskey, gulps it, and steps out.

----

Damian is in his suite; he's out of the shower, standing in front of the mirror drying his wet curly hair, with another towel wrapped around his waistline.

He puts on a fitted dark t-shirt, jeans, and a minimally classy watch; relaxing on his couch while going through his laptop.

Miriam heads to the dining room. She places the file and her phone on the next seat beside her. She goes through the menu placed on the table.

A waiter approaches her dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt, black trousers, and a black bow tie.

Good evening, mademoiselle.

Good evening, Monsieur. Miriam responds with a giggle.

Welcome to Louis V.'s dining room with his head slightly bowed.

Thank you. Miriam responds.

What would you like to have, ma'am?. The waiter asks while holding a pen and a small jotter.

Um. Truffle pasta with premium fish and some light fruit.

Okay, ma'am. It will be served in the next three minutes.

"With some wine, please. Miriam adds.

Of course, ma'am. The waiter responds and takes his leave.

I would have to eat to have the strength to deal with all these, right?. She says to herself.

The waiter comes back with a server assistant who is carrying Miriam's meals in a waiter's trolley. The dining table is set neatly, and the meal is properly arranged with a spoon and fork. The wine was popped open and served into a glass.

Enjoy your meal, ma'am. The waiter says and leaves with his assistant.

She takes a deep breath and picks up the fork and begins to eat her meal.

Mmm... this is nice, she said, nodding her head and reaching for the wine in front of her.

After some minutes, she is done eating.

She stands up, gets her file, and her phone and heads to her suite.

Heading to her suite, a call comes into her phone which gets her distracted.

And she bumps into Damian…