Wolf At The Altar

chapter 3

Everything she had built fell apart in the morning.

Before she had even taken a seat, Marlowe hailed the first taxi she came across and gave the driver the address for LexCorp.

For once, Marlowe did not mind that there was a woman up front with a crying infant. She had something to hide behind, a loud little curtain to block out the sound of her own labored breathing, thanks to the screaming.

Throughout the voyage, she had considered calling in ill multiple times. However, today was too important to skip, and a stubborn part of her continued to hope that she would finally enter that office and receive some positive news to counterbalance the awful one.

Holding onto what little remaining composure she had, she bit her bottom lip till it nearly ached. She made an effort to focus on anything other than how good it would be to punch Ronan in the chest for the entire drive.

Before the taxi had completely stopped, Marlowe yanked open the door and got out when it finally arrived outside the tall glass structure. Without pausing for anyone, she pushed through the rotating doors.

She didn't even look at the receptionist, who she typically greeted with a grin every morning, as she passed every familiar face in the lobby without saying anything. This morning wasn't like any other.

Marlowe headed straight for the restroom on the ground level, where she placed both hands on the side of the sink and gazed at her reflection. She refused to enter the meeting with mascara halfway down her cheeks, even though she was already forty-five minutes late.

She grabbed a handful of tissues from the dispenser and used them to thoroughly clean her face.

The only words that seemed to adequately capture her feelings as she stood there were bare and numb.

She ran back out through the lobby and slid into the first available elevator once she was enough presentable to pass for fine. Her knees continued to tremble.

She forced herself to continue moving even though her head was spinning and the hollow space inside her chest was getting smaller by the second."Consider the promotion," she said to herself, breathing slowly and deliberately as she had learned to do in stressful situations.

The meeting hall was waiting for her on the twenty-seventh floor when the elevator doors opened in three minutes. She rushed out, navigating the labyrinth of office doors until she found the correct one while holding her bag in the same manner as anguish had gripped her heart.

It was broken open. Marlowe took a deep breath and assured herself that she could endure this for thirty minutes, regardless of what happened next.

Silently, she entered the room by slipping through the opening in the door.

At immediately, every face at the long table turned to see her.

Alexander, her CEO, was sat at the head of it. She slid herself into the closest vacant chair by the door and forced a smile onto her face.

With a profound scowl on his face, the older man continued to stare at her.Just an hour late, Miss Grant, very kind of you to join us."

Her stomach fell. How could she respond to that?I apologize, sir. I was.He interrupted her, taking a deep, weary breath. "There's no need to explain." "We were just finishing up. The specifics can then be discussed with your coworkers. Alternatively, your old coworkers.

Certain that she had misheard him, Marlowe blinked twice. Long after he had moved on, the word "former colleagues" continued to ring in her ears.

By "former colleagues," what did he mean? She firmly shook her head, half believing that if she put in enough effort, she could awaken from this terrible dream.Given the current slump, the company has forced to fire several employees. One of them is you. Marlowe Grant, you're being fired."

Sitting motionless between her coworkers, she struggled to put a phrase together in her head.

She looked around the table incredulously. being released. How on earth was that possible?

This must have been an error. It must have been.

She was up and smacking both palms hard against the table before she really realized what she was doing.Please pardon me.

Not right now. Not in addition to everything else. Her whole existence couldn't be collapsing in a single morning.

Lifting his gaze from the paperwork in front of him, Alexander, the man in charge of the business she had dedicated seven years of her life to, urged her to return to her seat in a flat voice.

Marlowe did not move. She had a great deal of respect for the man, but this needed to be fixed immediately.Respectfully, Mister Alexander, there must be a miscommunication here.""Are you implying that Mister Hardy evaluated your performance inaccurately?" he retorted, obviously growing impatient.

She glanced at the man who was standing directly behind Alexander's chair. With his well-known smug smile on his face, Thomas Hardy stood there staring at her as if he had already won something.

For longer than she wanted to acknowledge, Thomas Hardy had been her personal nightmare.

He had spent years as LexCorp's head of human resources trying to get her alone, whether it was at his office or somewhere far less formal. He had tried four times, and each time she had flatly rejected him.

None of those rejections had been warmly received by him. He had finally warned her directly that her time at the company was running out after burying her under one article after another.

Your time here is running out if you continue like this. His voice continued to reverberate in her mind like a nightmare.

She bit back the words before they came out loud, thinking, "You absolute bastard."

With a hint of desperation in her voice, she turned back to face Alexander.I have given this company everything, sir, please. You must comprehend that.

that the only thing keeping me together at the moment is this work. that this was all I had left after losing my fiancé and my entire family in one breath. Thomas Hardy interrupted her before she could finish speaking.After this meeting, Miss Grant, feel free to voice any grievances to me. Please take a seat for the time being.

Marlowe, defeated, slid back into her chair and struggled to control her quivering mouth and trembling hands.

She could hardly keep up with the remainder of the meeting as it went by. For the past ten minutes, all she could think of was how she might make Ronan and Thomas regret their birthdays.

Marlowe leaped from her seat and ran after Alexander when he eventually got up to go.Just give me a chance, sir.Mister Hardy, you heard. Alexander responded, "Take it up with him," without turning to face her.

Marlowe skidded to a halt, certain that she had to fight her way out of this awful dream.

Her visage hardened into something icy as she slowly turned back to face Thomas.With a low, menacing voice, she whispered, "You have some nerve."

He scoffed briefly as his gaze slowly swept over her face.Don't seem so surprised. He said, looking over her shoulder rather than into her eyes, "You knew this was coming eventually."Is this all a result of my refusal to have s*x with you?

She suppressed the impulse to cry as the words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. She declined to give him the pleasure of seeing her disintegrate.

He laughed loudly and reached out to give her a shoulder pat as if to reassure her.

For a moment, she fiercely imagined what it would be like to shatter all of his fingers. She didn't move her hands since an assault charge wouldn't help her case today.Miss Grant, don't brag about yourself. There's plenty of company elsewhere.

His voice dropped to a whisper close to her ear as he leaned in.This is just a reminder that you are just like every other woman in the world. And now you're just like every other jobless lady out there." Her shoulders instinctively curled inward at the way he stretched out the word unemployed.

He had every edge in this exchange, no matter how she saw it.

She could only see his back through the fuzz forming in her vision as he straightened, shook his head, and turned to leave.Miss Grant, you have ten minutes to leave this building. Without looking back, he called back, "Use them wisely."

As he vanished down the corridor, Marlowe remained motionless. Her knees were on the verge of giving out completely, her eyes were burning, and tears were on the verge of spilling.

The smug grin of Thomas Hardy had just left the room after seven years of loyalty.

Sweat beads accumulated along her hairline. She didn't understand any of this. How could a business undo seven years of hard work in one afternoon? Did no one value the sacrifices she made?

her relatives. Ronan. And now this.

She had given this place everything she had for seven years, and in just one meeting, it had come to an end.

Ronan as well. His name caused her throat to constrict once more, and she imagined his unwelcome face.

She had been in love with him for nearly half of her life, and over time, she saw their relationship gradually develop into something more. And yet he had broken her heart without even pausing for a second.

She was suddenly reminded of what her best buddy had said that morning.

To be honest, Marlowe, your modesty is offensive. Your name is all over that promotion. They would be insane not to grant it to you after everything you've done for that organization. Emily had sounded so sure of it.

Right now, Emily was just the person she needed. The only person who could talk her down from the precipice she was standing on was her roommate and best friend. That notion gave her a sense of stability, and Marlowe picked up her purse and what little dignity she still had before leaving the building without turning around.

She could hardly keep track of the next thirty days as they blended together. Time had become meaningless because she was spending most of her waking hours at her sister's bakery and checking job boards late at night.

Throughout it all, Isabelle, her eldest sister, had been a quiet, dependable kind of great. She was the one person Marlowe knew she could always turn up without warning, along with Emily, whether she needed a helping hand or simply someone to listen. Nobody knew what it was like to be taken by surprise by your own family more than Isabelle.

The rest of the family have discreetly devised methods to marginalize Isabelle ever since she came out to their parents.

For her part, Isabelle seems almost relieved by the separation. It had allowed her to wed Carrie without having anyone's approval jeopardize her happiness.

Marlowe's sister had persuaded her to attend the wedding at all during one of her visits to Isabelle's small bakery.

Marlowe hardly recognized Isabelle as the sister their mother had previously attempted to completely shove out the door because she insisted on putting family first.

However, Marlowe found a peculiar kind of optimism in Isabelle's own fortitude. Maybe Marlowe could make it through one wedding if Isabelle could sit across from their parents without crumbling after everything.

Naturally, Isabelle was not asked to witness her ex-fiance's marriage to her own twin sister.

However, Isabelle insisted on going anyhow, and it was never simple to refuse a sister like that.

Ronan had made several attempts to get in touch with her. Every message ended up unopened in her inbox's trash bin, and every call went directly to voicemail. Emily had mustered all her self-control to refrain from decking him on the spot the one night he unexpectedly showed up outside her apartment.

Emily and Isabelle had assembled their own glam squad for the wedding, which was just a few hours away.

Finding a date was the only thing left to do.

While Marlowe was numbly scrolling through a dating app on her phone, Emily had stated, arms crossed, that there is absolutely no version of tomorrow where you walk into that church without a man on your arm.

Her profile didn't pique the interest of any of the ostensibly respectable men on her screen. Emily blamed the picture, but Marlowe was truly unable to identify the issue, thus the image remained in its original location. Marlowe sighed and closed her laptop as the final hopeful match refused to even meet.Men are useless, "she muttered, and across the room Emily, halfway through knitting a scarf in front of the television, allowed herself a small smile."Tomorrow is the wedding. "Are you sure you don't want to try it again?"Ignore it. I'm heading to bed. Tomorrow, I'll take care of myself."

Marlowe gave up entirely and walked slowly and wearily up the stairs.

There was a tiny part of her that wished those words were real.

Perhaps if she told them to herself enough times before going to sleep, she might begin to believe them.

Perhaps she could make it through tomorrow without doing anything that she would later regret for Ronan or Rayla.

Or even to both of them simultaneously.