The DeLuca’s Obsession

Just My Lucky

Eliana’s Pov

Never leave until you finish every task for the day.

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This was the rule my manager drilled into every junior legal officer at Sinclair Group: Productivity came first. Personal problems were left at the door.

If you ask me, it’s a foolish rule, modern-day s*****y, but I didn't care because I was determined to make partner before I turned 30.

But today was different, today is my boyfriend's birthday. Lyon and I have dated for 4 years, and I planned an extravagant dinner to celebrate both his birthday and our anniversary. The day had to be perfect, but perfection is elusive with a manager like Mr Wilson.

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He’s the devil personified. With him, I always felt like I was in 'The Devil Wears Prada,' but instead, it was 'The Devil Wears Downtown Thrift.'

I even begged him to let me leave early, explaining why today was special and promising extra hours tomorrow.

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As expected, Mr Wilson didn’t care. He laughed and said, "Deadlines don’t care about your personal life."

I had no choice but to sit and hurriedly finish my work, knowing I didn’t do it well. By the time I was done, the office was nearly empty. I packed up and rushed out.

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Outside, the night’s breeze hit with intensity. I took a deep breath to ground myself. Then my phone rang in my bag, and I saw Lyon’s name flash on the screen.

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I almost answered, then hesitated. What could I say? I wasn’t near the restaurant, I’d barely finished work, despite my promise.

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I silenced my phone. Fifteen missed calls, all from Lyon.

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My chest tightened. 8:23 p.m. Lyon’s party started at 7. I was embarrassingly late.

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I tried hailing a cab but failed. Before I knew it, I was running to the train station.

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Then the thought came to me. ‘’I still hadn’t gotten him a gift.’’

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Oh God, Eliana, how could you forget? I screamed internally.

What am I going to do? I'm late, and I can't go to his party without a gift.

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‘Okay, Eli, think…

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I remembered a shop on Orléan Row and ran there. Thankfully, it was still open.

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Great, you’re still open. Do you have the onyx cufflinks with the matching tie? I asked the blonde girl as I hurried in, but she just looked confused. The round ones with silver trim? I repeated, breathless.

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A light bulb flickered in her head. 'Oh, lucky day,' she said, reaching behind the counter. This is the last pair... want it wrapped?

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I nodded quickly, ‘Simple ribbon, Navy blue, if you have it.’

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She smiled, boxing the gift. I pulled out my phone, hoping Lyon had cooled off, but he hadn’t. There was a new message.

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"Eli, don’t piss me off. Are you even coming? I never wanted this. It’s been hours, my parents are asking."

Parents?

No… No… My hands shook; I gripped my phone tighter.

He never mentioned his parents would be there. Not even a hint.

Wait, is he going to propose? Sweat pricked at my neck.

Gosh, I was late for my own proposal. I paid, grabbed the gift, and rushed out, then stopped, glancing at my wrinkled blazer.

No, I can’t arrive at my proposal looking like this.

Even though the cufflinks cost more than I could afford, I couldn’t arrive looking like this. I asked the girl for a dress, something elegant, something that said I was already a wife.

She helped me quickly and even did my makeup, on the house, for the record.

When I stepped outside clutching the box, I barely recognised myself in the window’s reflection. I looked ready.

I checked my phone. 9:00 pm.

A lump built in my throat as I hurried down the street. If I made it to Cathedral Cross in 20 minutes, I could catch the last express train.

I had a shortcut: behind Orleans Row, cutting through a quiet street by a chapel. It would cut my 20 minutes to 10.

I was rushing down the alley when I heard a scream.

I stopped cold in my tracks.

‘ Come on, Eli, just move, you have a train to catch

But just as I moved, another scream came louder, followed by scuffling and the heavy thud of something hitting the ground.

Every voice screamed, "Not your business." But my curiosity won again; my feet betrayed me.

They carried me forward.

I followed the noise until I slowed when I got to a narrow space between an old liquor store and a printing press, my heart slammed violently against my ribs, and every beat hurt. I clutched Lyon’s gift tight, as it could save me.

Then I saw them: three men.

One was on his knees, pleading in a foreign language I couldn’t understand. Another stood to the side, silent. The third raised a gun toward the man on his knees.

I froze. What had I stepped into?