GINA'S POV
I walked out of the gala with my heart in pieces, my cheeks burning, and the sting of humiliation crawling under my skin like something alive.
The whispers followed me, sharp, vicious, hungry.
I could still hear Valerie's voice, see the phones held up, recording every second of her tantrum and my slap.
Every step I took out of that hall felt heavier, like the ground wanted to swallow me whole.
Just when I thought the night couldn't get any worse, Mr. Calder appeared out of nowhere.
His face shifted the moment he saw me—sympathy mixed with frustration, like he wished he could rewind the entire evening for my sake.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
I didn't trust myself to speak, but the story spilled out anyway—Valerie shoving me, the insults, the way Alexander lifted her like a fragile doll while leaving me standing alone in the spotlight of every camera in the room.
Calder's expression hardened with each sentence.
"Oh, Gina…" he muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Come. You're going home. Now."
He didn't ask for more details.
He didn't lecture me.
He simply placed a hand on my back and guided me toward a private exit.
His presence shielded me from the people who were still watching, still whispering, still feeding on the spectacle Valerie had created.
A black car waited outside, arranged in seconds by Calder's urgency to get me out of sight.
I sank into the leather seat, shaking.
By the time I got home, Gia was asleep, and I didn't have the strength to pretend I was okay.
I crawled into bed without removing my dress.
Sleep came late, and morning came too fast.
I woke up determined to breathe again and stand straight.
I would not let one night, no matter how humiliating it was, to define me.
I dressed carefully, tied my hair back, and told myself today was a clean slate.
But the moment I stepped out of the cab in front of Harrington & Cross headquarters, reality slapped me again.
THE. PAPARAZZI. WERE. EVERYWHERE.
Bright flashes exploded in my face, voices shouted my name, how they knew my name is something I didn't bother thinking.
Microphones were pushed toward me from every direction.
"Are you the girl who slapped Valerie Cross?"
"Is it true you and Alexander Harrington are involved?"
"Do you belong to a humble background? Is that why Valerie mocked you?"
"Is it true you damaged his car earlier yesterday?"
I froze, breath stuck somewhere between my ribs and my throat.
This wasn't attention.
This was an ambush and I lowered my head and kept walking, pushing carefully but firmly through the sea of people surrounding me.
My palms were sweating, my heart thundering.
Every step forward felt like wading through mud.
Security finally intervened, opening a path for me.
I rushed through the revolving doors and didn't breathe again until the building swallowed me.
Inside, the whispers returned—softer, but sharper.
Coworkers glanced discreetly, turning their eyes away the second mine met theirs.
No one asked what happened.
They didn't need to.
The whole city had probably seen it by now.
I took the elevator to the top floor and knocked on Alexander's office door before I lost my courage.
"Come in," he called.
He was already seated, posture straight, focused on his computer as if nothing from last night touched him.
He didn't even look up when I stepped in. My throat tightened, but I spoke anyway.
"Good morning, sir." I said, my head with my head bowed.
He finally raised his head. His eyes rose to meet mine, calm and unreadable.
"I saw the news," he said.
My stomach dropped. "Sir, I—"
He lifted a hand and silenced me effortlessly. "Not here. And not necessary. What happened last night will not interfere with your responsibilities."
I swallowed the rest of my explanation.
Something inside me ached at how easily he dismissed it.
I reminded myself I wasn't expecting comfort, but the sting was still fresh.
"Yes, sir," I murmured.
He returned to his computer.
The conversation was over.
I stepped out of his office trying to convince myself that professionalism was more important than pride. That focusing on work was the best way to erase last night.
The whispers followed me again when I reached my desk, but I ignored them. I sank into tasks—emails, schedules, document sorting—anything that made the world around me feel normal again.
By lunchtime, I was exhausted.
I went to the break area to grab a coffee, hoping caffeine would ground me.
But the moment I turned, someone collided into me and coffee splashed across both our shirts.
"Oh God—sorry, I'm so sorry—" I blurted, grabbing napkins.
"It's fine," a familiar voice said.
I froze.
The world seemed to stop.
Because standing in front of me, wiping his shirt with a napkin, was Noah.
My Noah.
Or rather… the sweet, gentle boy I ghosted when life became too much.
He gave me a small smile—soft, surprised, warm. "Gina Moretti in the flesh. Wow."
I felt my heart stumble. "Noah. Hi. I didn't… I didn't know you worked here."
He shrugged. "I just transferred departments last month. I didn't expect to run into you like this."
We both laughed—awkward but sincere.
For a moment, the chaos of the last twenty-four hours faded.
"You look… different," he said quietly.
"I hope that's a good different," I replied with a fragile smile.
"It is. It definitely is."
Something in me softened. Noah always had that effect on me—a kind of gentle safety that didn't expect anything from me. And for a second, I almost let myself breathe.
But then I felt a presence... more of a stare.
My eyes drifted instinctively toward the glass wall of Alexander's office.
The blinds weren't closed, and he stood there, hands in his pockets, watching me.
No expression. No reaction. Just watching.
My stomach tightened. I excused myself immediately.
"Noah, I have to get back to work—"
"Wait," he said. "Can we… talk later? After work, maybe? It's been a long time."
I hesitated.
"Yes," I whispered. "I'd like that."
His smile was almost boyish. "Good. I'll wait."
I tried not to think about Alexander still watching when I walked back to my desk.
But the moment I sat down, my phone buzzed.
Mr. Harrington wants to see you.
Right. Of course he did.
I walked to his office, knocked once, and stepped inside.
He didn't sit this time. He stood behind his desk, arms folded.
"Who was that?" he asked.
I blinked. "My friend."
His jaw tightened slightly. "It didn't look like a simple friend."
I crossed my arms too, refusing to shrink. "With respect, sir, my personal life is not under your authority."
His eyes narrowed, studying me like I was a puzzle he didn't quite understand—or didn't like understanding.
"Everything you do reflects on this company. And on me," he said calmly. "As long as you work under me, your life will be intertwined with my schedule, my standards, and my expectations. That includes the people you interact with."
The nerve of him.
"So because I work for you," I said quietly, "I'm not allowed to talk to anyone without your approval?"
He didn't blink. "You should be mindful of whom you talk to."
I clenched my jaw, but I didn't argue further. There was no point. I simply nodded.
"Is that all?" I asked.
"No," he replied, voice low. "Your meeting with him… doesn't interfere with your duties today?"
"It won't," I answered.
His gaze held mine for a long moment—too long.
Something flickered there, but I ignored it.
"Good," he finally said. "You may go."
I turned to leave, heart steady in a way it hadn't been all morning.
Because no matter what Alexander Harrington thought he controlled…
I would still meet Noah after work.
I would choose that small rebellion for myself.
I reached the door, but before I could touch it, his voice cut through the room again—sharp, unexpected, and laced with something I couldn't name.
"Gina."
I froze.
"Be careful," he said quietly.
I turned slowly, heartbeat rising.
His eyes were unreadable.
And for the first time since meeting him…
I had no idea if he was warning me about the work—or warning me about him.
"Yes sir."
I said and softly closed the door behind me.