Chapter 6 - Rebuilding
Six months passed, and the air had finally cleared. The storm of the viral video had died down, replaced by the quiet, steady rhythm of a life I was finally in control of.
The Vales had faded into obscurity. After signing the agreements, they were forced to downsize drastically. They sold their sprawling estate and moved into a modest townhouse in a neighborhood Cynthia used to mock. Preston, I heard through the grapevine, had been forced to take a mid-level sales job at a logistics company just to help pay off the mountain of debt they still owed. They were learning, the hard way, what it meant to actually work for a living.
My software company, on the other hand, had flourished. The viral video had inadvertently become the greatest PR campaign in history. Clients loved a CEO who didn't take nonsense and stood up for her family. We expanded our offices, hired fifty new employees, and doubled our revenue.
But the most significant change wasn't financial. It was personal.
I had spent the last half-year focusing entirely on the people who mattered. I bought my parents first-class tickets for a three-week tour of Italy—a trip they had dreamed of since they were in their twenties but could never afford while raising me and running the hardware store.
During that time, I also began spending more time with someone unexpected.
Julian, the events manager at the Grand Ellison Ballroom.
The day after the disastrous wedding, he had personally come to my office to return the deposit for the damages I hadn't caused, and to apologize for his staff blindly following Cynthia's seating instructions. He was charming, genuinely apologetic, and shockingly handsome. We ended up talking over coffee for three hours.
Unlike Preston, Julian didn't care about society standings. He had built his career from the ground up, working night shifts at hotels to pay for his hospitality degree. He understood the value of hard work, and more importantly, he treated everyone—from the janitor to the CEO—with exactly the same level of respect.
Over the months, coffee turned into dinners, and dinners turned into quiet weekends spent escaping the city. He didn't try to shrink me to make himself feel bigger. When I succeeded, he cheered the loudest. When I was stressed, he brought me takeout and listened without trying to "fix" me.
"You're smiling at your laptop again," a voice called out.
I looked up from my desk. Julian was leaning against the doorframe of my home office, holding two mugs of steaming tea. He was wearing an old, faded college t-shirt and sweatpants, his dark hair delightfully messy.
"I was just reviewing the quarterly reports," I lied smoothly, closing the laptop.
"Sure you were," he laughed, walking over and handing me a mug. He kissed the top of my head. "Your parents land in three hours. Are we still picking them up at the airport?"
"Absolutely," I said, leaning back against him. "My dad has been texting me photos of pasta for twenty-one days straight. I need to see him in person to make it stop."
Julian chuckled, his arms wrapping warmly around my shoulders. "They're going to love what we planned for tomorrow."
May you like
"I hope so," I whispered, looking at the city skyline outside my window. For the first time in a very long time, the future didn't feel like a heavy expectation I had to carry. It felt like an open road.
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