CHAPTER 15
1289 Words
I should be cooling off.
That was the whole reason I came to this damn club in the first place.
To unwind.
To drink.
To forget about that scandalous Maurice Miranda and the mess she created.
But here I was—stuck with the most annoying brat in existence.
Rex Montague.
The spoiled, smug CEO of Montague Publications, who seemed to thrive off making my life miserable.
He was always belittling me, taking every opportunity to throw snide remarks my way.
And tonight?
He was worse than usual.
"You look like s**t, Fabian," Rex snickered, swirling his bourbon lazily. "Can’t handle a little public humiliation?"
I gritted my teeth.
"Shut up, Rex."
He smirked, clearly enjoying himself.
"You know, I could make this whole Maurice Miranda scandal disappear," he said smoothly, taking another sip of his drink. "For a price, of course."
I scoffed.
Of course.
The Montagues never did anything without a price.
"Partnership my ass," I muttered under my breath, ignoring him as I threw back another shot.
I wasn’t even sure how many I had at this point.
Four? Five?
Maybe ten?
Didn’t matter.
What mattered was that I was starting to feel it—the warmth of alcohol seeping into my veins, the slight dizziness creeping in.
Maybe I was already drunk.
Not ideal.
Especially with Rex still in the room.
"Well, don’t drink yourself to death," Rex laughed, patting my shoulder as he stood up. "I still need you alive to finalize that partnership deal."
I glared at him as he walked away.
Bastard.
This night was turning into one of the worst I’d had in a while.
After paying my bill, I stumbled outside, the cold air hitting my face like a slap.
Damn it.
I was definitely more drunk than I thought.
I took a deep breath, trying to shake off the buzz, and made my way to my car.
I yanked open the door, slid inside, and leaned back against the seat.
Then, reaching into the compartment, I pulled out a cigarette.
I wasn’t really a smoker.
Never had been.
But on nights like this—when stress was eating me alive—I made an exception.
I lit it up, took a slow drag, and exhaled the smoke out the window.
The nicotine hit wasn’t much, but it was enough to calm my nerves.
I stared blankly at the neon-lit street ahead, watching as people drifted in and out of the club.
Couples laughing.
Groups of friends stumbling around, too drunk to care about the world.
And then there was me.
Sitting alone in my car, smoking a cigarette, and wondering how the hell my life got to this point.
"This is all her fault."
I gritted my teeth, my grip tightening around the steering wheel.
I knew exactly who to blame for this mess.
Maurice Miranda.
That damn woman.
If that viral video escalated any further, I am doomed.
The reputation of MCC was already taking a hit.
If things got worse, I’d have to do something drastic.
I’d have to bring her back.
For compensation.
For control.
For damage control.
She owed me that much.
At the very least, I could use her as a pawn to make things right.
But the real problem?
My father.
If he caught wind of this?
If he found out about the scandal?
I’d be dead.
The Montagues and my family had always been rivals.
Our companies were in different fields—
We built skyscrapers and housing developments.
They dominated the media industry.
But despite that, they hated losing to us.
It was a silent war, an ongoing battle of influence, power, and investments.
And now?
With Montague Publications holding a scandal over my head, I was at a serious disadvantage.
They could twist the story however they wanted.
They could turn Maurice Miranda into a victim.
They could turn me into a villain.
I exhaled sharply, taking another slow drag of my cigarette.
I needed to be smart about this.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d lose more than just a business deal.
I’d lose my standing in the industry.
And more than anything—
I couldn’t afford to lose the partnership with Elwood Industries.
The richest, most influential company in the country.
A company that my father was personally working with.
If they saw me as a liability?
If they even suspected that I was involved in another scandal?
That deal would be gone.
And with it—my father’s respect.
I let out a bitter laugh, rubbing my temple.
Being at the top wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
The responsibilities.
The constant pressure.
The expectations.
It never ended.
And sometimes—on nights like this—I found myself doubting everything.
Was it even worth it?
Did I really want to spend the rest of my life playing this game?
Fighting off rivals?
Proving myself to a father who never seemed satisfied?
Drowning in work, scandals, and betrayals?
I shook my head, flicking the cigarette out the window.
Didn’t matter.
This was my life.
And I had no choice but to play the damn game.
I checked my phone.
No new notifications.
No new messages.
Just a reminder for tomorrow’s business meeting.
And a dozen missed calls from my father.
I cursed under my breath.
I was running out of time.
I had to fix this before it was too late.
Before my father found out.
Before the Montagues twisted the story beyond my control.
I gritted my teeth.
There was only one solution.
I needed Maurice Miranda back.
Whether she liked it or not.
The cigarette burned between my fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the cold night air. My head was buzzing—whether from alcohol or exhaustion, I wasn’t sure anymore.
Then, suddenly—
RING.
I flinched, staring at my phone screen as it lit up inside the car.
Leland Phineas.
Of course.
With a deep sigh, I picked up the call, already bracing myself for the inevitable scolding.
"Hello?" My voice was hoarse, a mix of fatigue and the lingering burn of whiskey.
"Fabian—what the hell?!" Leland's voice exploded through the speaker, sharp and laced with frustration.
I winced, pulling the phone slightly away from my ear. "God, Leland, can you not—"
"Are you drunk?!"
I blinked, staring at the cigarette in my hand. Well… yeah, maybe a little.
"Define 'drunk,'" I muttered, taking another slow drag.
Leland let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Jesus, Fabian. Do you even know what’s happening right now?"
I didn't answer.
I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I didn’t want to deal with it.
Not right now.
"The damn video is everywhere!" he continued. "It’s viral, Fabian! People are eating it up! Do you have any idea how much damage control we need to do?"
I closed my eyes, tilting my head back against the car seat. The world felt heavy. My body felt heavy.
I was so damn tired.
"Leland," I muttered, "just… let me rest."
"Rest?!" he nearly shouted. "Rest, Fabian?! Do you think the internet is gonna rest? Do you think our investors are gonna rest?!"
I groaned, rubbing my temple. "For the love of—just handle it, alright? I’ll deal with it later."
Silence.
Then, a sharp click of his tongue.
"Fine," Leland bit out. "I’ll handle it. But if this gets worse—and I swear to God, it will—you better be ready, Fabian."
And with that, he hung up.
The line went dead, leaving me alone with the hum of the city and the burning cigarette in my hand.
I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift into the night sky.
"Shit."
- Writer
