Shame burned at the back of Melissa's skin, a slow, persistent heat that refused to fade no matter how carefully she breathed.
It followed her down the corridor, clung to her like perfume she couldn't wash off.
Every step reminded her of last night—of everything she had let herself feel.
The champagne. The blur of lights and sound.
The humiliating, aching way her body had leaned toward Antonio as if it had a will of its own.
Worst of all was not the rejection itself, but the clarity that came after.
The knowledge that she had wanted him anyway. That some traitorous part of her still did.
Today, she would pretend nothing happened.
Pretending was a skill she had perfected long ago.
She entered his office with measured calm, documents held neatly against her chest.
She placed them on his desk without lifting her eyes, careful not to let her gaze linger where it didn't belong.
The shame burned deeper than anything she had ever known.
"Melissa?" Antonio's voice cut gently through the silence. "Is everything alright?"
Her throat tightened, but her reply came smoothly, rehearsed. "Of course, sir."
Antonio studied her from behind the desk, his gaze lingering longer than professionalism required.
He noticed the way her shoulders trembled, just slightly—as if she were holding something back.
Is she disgusted? Because I saw everything? Does she think I'm a pervert?
"Melissa, about last night—"
Her phone vibrated sharply in her hand, shattering the moment.
"Oh— I'm sorry, sir," she said quickly, seizing the interruption like a lifeline. "I'm needed downstairs. The models have arrived."
She turned and left before he could respond.
"Fuck," Antonio muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.
Down the hall, Melissa exhaled shakily, silently thanking the universe for the perfectly timed call.
Sarah intercepted her the moment she reached the lobby. "Where the hell have you been?"
"I was submitting documents to Mr. Antonio," Melissa replied.
"That's not important right now," Sarah snapped.
Charles rushed toward them, his face tight with anxiety.
"We've got twenty-five minutes until she arrives."
"Until who arrives?" Melissa asked.
"The chairwoman," Sarah said grimly.
Melissa frowned. "I wasn't informed about any visit."
"It was unplanned," Charles said. "She does that sometimes. Surprise inspections," Maddie added.
Melissa swallowed. "What am I expected to do?"
"Make sure the conference room is ready before she gets here," Sarah said.
"I'll handle it," Melissa replied, already moving.
She worked quickly—aligning folders, adjusting chairs, fixing the lighting until everything looked perfect.
When she finally sat down, her legs felt weak beneath her and then everything crashed in.
The sleepless nights. The reason she had gone to the club.
The alcohol she had used to drown thoughts that refused to stay buried.
Dean's voice echoed in her head: They're looking for you. And I'm afraid they'll find you.
She had spent the night staring at the ceiling, wondering if fleeing the country again would finally buy her peace.
They weren't her parents. They were far worse.
Influential people. Dangerous people. People she had once struck a deal with. Now they wanted payment.
Dean had suggested booking her a ticket somewhere obscure—somewhere no one cared who she was.
Your friends are safe now, he'd said. They have the Castellos and the Gonzales to protect them.
That was supposed to make it easier to leave.
Melissa dragged her fingers through her hair, frustration knotting in her chest.
"You don't get it," she whispered to the empty room. "I'm sick of running. I don't even know what I'm running from anymore."
Her phone pinged again—Sarah.
"Let's go greet the chairwoman," Melissa said quietly, forcing herself to stand.
Downstairs, the entire staff stood in a rigid line.
Melissa took her place just as footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
She looked up—and froze.
Abuela walked toward her, elegant and composed, a knowing smile already forming.
"Abuela?" Melissa blurted, her voice louder than intended.
"Mal," Abuela said gently. "You look shocked."
"You're the chairwoman?" Melissa asked, disbelief flooding her.
Abuela turned to the staff. "You may all leave."
Everyone dispersed instantly, relief written all over their faces.
"Antonio never told you?" Abuela asked.
"I think I'd remember something like that," Melissa replied. "Information like this isn't easy to forget."
Abuela smiled. "Alright. Let's put that aside. Where is Antonio?"
"In his office," Melissa said.
"Good. In the meantime," Abuela added, "get me something an old lady can drink."
Melissa nodded. "Right away."
As she turned to leave, the shame still lingered—but now it was tangled with something far more dangerous.
History. Secrets and the quiet certainty that nothing in her life was accidental anymore.
Abuela did not knock.
She pushed the door to Antonio's office open with a sharp finality, her cane striking the marble floor as if announcing judgment itself.
"Melissa, about—" Antonio began, then stopped when he saw her.
"Abuela," he said carefully. "What brings you here?"
"You didn't come home last night," she replied, stepping fully into the room.
"So I decided to come to you."
"I have a house," Antonio said coolly.
"And yet you weren't in it," Abuela replied, one brow lifting. "I wonder why."
"I don't appreciate my movements being monitored."
Abuela scoffed, lowering herself into the chair opposite his desk.
"Then explain the fucking stunt you pulled last night."
Antonio exhaled slowly, forcing his temper down.
"That's the reason you're here?"
"Don't act smart with me."
"I don't know what explanation you're expecting," he said tightly. "All I did was bring my associate."
"You brought another woman," Abuela said, settling back.
"Need I remind you," she continued, "your fiancée was present. You embarrassed Chloe."
"I didn't embarrass anyone," Antonio snapped. "I brought my associate."
"Associate my ass. You brought another woman."
"She's not just another woman!"
Abuela blinked—genuinely surprised—before her face hardened.
"I am well aware you keep multiple women. I tolerated that but Melissa is where I draw the line."
She leaned forward. "I don't care if you see her as a fling or a distraction. I will not sit by and watch you disgrace this family."
Antonio laughed, low and menacing. "Are you threatening me, Abuela?"
"Of course not, mijo," she said calmly. "You know I don't threaten people. I keep my promises."
He tilted his head. "Would you hurt Sofia's papa bear?"
Her eyes went cold. "I would eliminate anyone who stands in the way of this family's success."
Antonio leaned forward, his hands pressing flat against the desk.
"I can understand if you want to toy with her," Abuela continued. "Just don't make it public. Think about your reputation."
"Melissa is not a toy," Antonio said. "She means a lot to me."
"Spare me the bullshit," Abuela snapped.
"She's no different from Penelope. No different from Isabella."
"She's different from all of them," Antonio said sharply. "Including Chloe."
"Don't be stubborn."
"I was never meant to marry Chloe," he said.
"I was supposed to marry Natasha."
"Natasha is dead."
"Then why am I being forced to marry the adopted child? The replacement?"
"That is how it's supposed to be."
"How it's supposed to be?" Antonio tasted the word but it tasted like ash.
"Why don't you understand that Melissa has become a tool your enemies would use against you?" Abuela snapped.
"She's not a tool Abuela"
Abuela gripped her cane tighter.
"No but she's a pawn" Abuela replied with gritted teeth.
"I can assure you that I would protect her with my life and she's no pawn"
Abuela scoffs. "Tell me one thing. If both Chloe and Melissa were kidnapped at the same time, who would you save?"
"You know who I'll choose" Antonio replied, his gaze never wavering.
"It sure as hell be Chloe" Abuela said her voice laced with anger.
Antonio laughs low and deadly almost like a rumble.
"There's no need for the threat Abuela."
"You never objected to the marriage before," Abuela said quietly. "What changed?"
Antonio's voice dropped. "I fell in love. I finally understood what it feels like to be terrified of losing someone."
Abuela sighed, rubbing her temple.
"Amor, I'm dealing with Alejandra's rebellion. I cannot deal with this too."
"Then prepare yourself."
She struck her cane hard against the floor. "Whatever you think you feel for her must end now."
Her jaw tightened. "Don't make me the villain, mijo."
"You know I always win," she added coldly. "And you'll only put her in more danger."
Antonio sank into his chair, silence swallowing his defiance.
"If I have to give my life just so she could be safe.." Antonio loosened his cufflinks.
"You best believe I'll do it "
"Are you willing to watch me ruin her? Are you willing to watch her crumble in your arms?"
"To watch as i burn down her entire fucking world down to ash?"
He wanted to fight—but not at her expense. He could not live with himself knowing Melissa would suffer because of him.
He never intended for things to end up like this. For her to matter an awful lot to him.
"Let this end," Abuela said. "Focus on Chloe."
Outside the door, Melissa stood frozen.
The apple juice—sweetened with honey—trembled in her hands.
She hadn't meant to listen. She hadn't meant to hear any of it but she had.
She had tried so hard to stay invisible. To be professional. To not complicate anything.
She's a toy, she's a pawn.
The words echoed until they hurt. Is that all they see?
Of course it was. The Castellos didn't see people. They saw assets.
"Melissa, can I have a word with you?" Sarah asked.
"Can it wait?" Melissa said softly. "The chairwoman asked me to bring this."
"Alright. I'll be waiting."
Melissa knocked lightly.
"Come in," Abuela said, her voice suddenly warm—velvet smooth.
"Your juice, Abuela," Melissa said, setting the cup on the table.
Antonio studied her carefully, searching her face. Calm. Composed. Unreadable.
She hadn't heard anything or so he believed.
"If that's all," Melissa said, "excuse me."
She left quickly, her heart pounding so loudly it felt like betrayal.
Antonio turned to Abuela. "I think it's best you leave."
"I've booked a restaurant," Abuela said. "You'll take Chloe to dinner."
Antonio's jaw tightened. "Fine."
Down the hallway, Melissa walked away with her dignity intact—already understanding the quiet cruelty of loving someone who belonged to a family like his.