3 Years later

Taylor

GRAND HOTEL

I had been there for eleven months. Eleven long months of being invisible.

People said internships were meant to be stepping stones, but for me, it felt more like quicksand. I fetched coffee, I rewrote press drafts a dozen times, and I smiled through meetings where no one remembered my name, just "the intern."

No one talked to me unless they needed something. And even then, it was clipped, transactional. I didn't mind. Friends were a luxury I couldn't afford, not anymore. Not after losing almost everything , my marriage, my home... and nearly myself.

Everyone thought getting yourself back after a divorce was quick and sudden, but that shit only happened in TV shows and not in reality. It was hard taking yourself back up when your whole life had been controlled by your husband's money. Everything was taken away from me and even if he hadn't asked, I wouldn't keep any of his things in my life.

My shift started at 7:30, but I always came in earlier. I had to. My daughter's daycare opened by six, and if I didn't leave by five on the dot, I missed her pickup and faced judgmental stares from strangers who thought they knew what kind of mother I was.

That day was no different. I was tired, running on nerves and cheap coffee. My inbox was overflowing, my legs ached, and my name hadn't been said once all morning.

The elevator dinged open, but no one stepped out. Typical. They were all too busy pretending not to notice me carrying three iced coffees, a rolled-up media banner, and a tablet buzzing non-stop in my bag.

My heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as I hurried toward the conference room, five minutes late, sweat already dampening my blouse.

"Intern," my supervisor barked before she even got the door fully open, "where's the revised pitch deck?"

It was still in my inbox. Untouched. Because I had spent the last hour fixing a typo on the CEO's statement that wasn't even my damn job.

Fakely, I offered an apologetic bow, swallowing the urge to scream. "You should do your job and not me."

"Don't offer me an apology and return these coffees. They don't drink coffee!" she said casually, like I hadn't climbed heaps of mountains to get here.

I gave her a bow and started walking away. This was a regular day for me...the harassment and the disrespect. I knew all this was for my daughter, Ashley. Our lives would be perfect in a few months. I believed in hard work; that's why I worked as an intern in the day and, at night, as a restaurant worker.

Then, of course, someone bumped into me. I stumbled. The paper cup in my hand splashed all over my blouse. Gasps, then snickers.

"Oops," the girl said with a laugh, "that's not sorry at all. You should really watch where you're going."

Laughter trailed behind her, followed by whispers that weren't even subtle. I stood there, soaked and silent.

This was a regular thing for me.

Minutes later, my phone lit up. A message. Eyes shifted toward me. A few girls glanced over, then suddenly one walked up, all smiles.

"Hey! Congrats," she said too sweetly. "You're finally moving up, huh?"

I flinched when she touched my arm. She noticed. Her smile faded.

"Ugh. Never mind. No wonder no one likes you. Get a promotion and suddenly you're too proud to say thanks."

Before I could respond, my boss stepped out of his glass office.

"Can I have your attention?" he said.

"You all know we've had an intern for a long time now. Um...um...what's your name again?"

"Taylor," I replied weakly.

"So...effective immediately, Tayli has been promoted to a full-time PR Assistant."

Silence, then awkward applause. I lowered my head.

It should have felt like a win. But it didn't feel like that. I could feel the piercing gazes of people dug into me.

Nevertheless, I rubbed the feeling off and tried to live my moment.

-

Henry, my boss, decided to throw a dinner in my honor. He said it was to "officially welcome me to the team." But we all knew it was more about PR than appreciation.

Still, I smiled, nodded, and said thank you. I'd been an intern for a year, and now, finally, I had a permanent spot, maybe a seat at the table, but not necessarily a voice yet.

The night came quickly. I wore the only black dress I owned that still fit. Nothing flashy. Just simple. My friend, Lara, promised to watch my daughter. It was the only reason I even showed up. I hated leaving her, but I told myself this was for us. For a better life.

The hotel's private dining space was grand: glass chandeliers, velvet seats, the scent of red wine and expensive cologne hanging in the air. People turned when I walked in. Compliments floated by, but they slid off me like oil. I was thinking about whether Lara had managed to get her to sleep yet... if she'd asked for me.

If I could have wished for anything, it was for this dinner to go as smoothly as planned.

Then, the air shifted.

I saw him.

Devon. He walked in like he owned the room. He probably did. I froze at first, my heart thudding so loud I could barely hear the background jazz. I ducked slightly behind the menu, but then straightened myself. No. I wasn't that woman anymore. He didn't deserve that power over me.

But what the hell was he doing there? I had heard he had gone to the Philippines for the past three years and now the minute he came back, he had to flaunt his face.

Suddenly, a toast was raised for me.

"Here's to Taylor!"

"Cheers."

Glasses clinked. Laughter echoed.

And that's when they noticed him.

I didn't need to look. I could feel him. His eyes, watching me.

I turned slowly, and sure enough, our eyes locked across the table.

Time didn't slow. It stopped.

Every damn memory hit like a slap. The mornings I waited for him to come home. The nights I cried in a cold bed. The moment I saw him, half-dressed, in Ivy's apartment. The betrayal. The pregnancy. The divorce papers I signed with shaking hands.

Beads of sweat were forming on my head but I wiped them off. And as predicted, I became more uncomfortable than ever. Rage boiled over me. I didn't want to see his phony face or even feel his presence.

It hadn't reached up to twenty minutes when, in typical Devon fashion, he sent over a million-dollar gesture, a rare tuna delicacy, flown in, fresh.

"A gift from Mr. Devon for the lucky intern!"

Everyone gasped and started to ask questions that were disgusting to answer.

"Wow!"

"Do you know each other?"

"Is he your sugar daddy? I knew he was cheating!"

A gift. For me. How dare he? Did he think I was someone he could buy off?

I stood, my blood boiling.

I walked straight to him, ignoring everyone's stares. "Don't ever pull that stunt again," I said through gritted teeth, my voice low, steady, dangerous. "Not now. Not ever."

"I don't need your fucking pity... what type of games are you playing with me, find another player!" I snapped.

He didn't respond, just looked at me like he wanted to say everything and nothing at once.

I turned to walk away, and that's when Ivy entered.

Slowly, I shifted my gaze to them and saw her clinging to his arm, laughing like she was the only woman in the world, and looking at me like I was the dirt beneath her heels. She blinked at me and slowly kissed him on his neck.

"Hey... congrats loser!" she mouthed and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Out of everything odd, the thing I found most off was that Ivy was dressed like me , my favorite dress, favorite hairstyle and purse. Why does she have to pretend to me?

People started whispering at the table... speculating, pitying, mocking.

"Oh my God! She looks so beautiful with him."

"They are the perfect couple!"

"God knows why that little wuss came to his table! She's not even in his league!"

I slammed my hand on the table. "Enough. Just stop."

The room went quiet. Ivy smirked, probably thinking she'd won. She kept leaning into Devon, acting like a scene from a soap opera. But he wasn't looking at her.

His eyes were on me.

All night.

My palms were sweating. My chest was tight. Henry kept refilling my glass, maybe trying to calm me or distract me. I didn't know. All I knew was I felt dizzy. Too hot. Too exposed. Why was Devon there? Why then?

People started to leave. One by one. Until it was just Henry and me.

I couldn't walk straight. I was stumbling.

"I'll help you," Henry said, slipping his arm around me. "Just rest in the lounge."

We walked into a quiet hallway. My head was spinning. Every step made my legs shake. My breaths came fast, shallow. This isn't right. Something's wrong.

But something felt... off.

He led me to a small room. Dim lights and a couch.

I turned to thank him...and he kissed me.

No. No. I pushed back, but my limbs were heavy. I couldn't think clearly but...I couldn't believe the promotion was a ploy.

Then, he pushed me on the couch. His hands were on me now. I tried to speak, but everything was blurring. My pulse thundered in my ears. Adrenaline screamed through my veins. I pushed back, stumbled, nearly fell.

"Just stay quiet. We'll be done in a few minutes!" He said kissing me on my lips as he unbuttoned his trousers.

I'm not... I'm not scared of you!" I spat, voice cracking. "Don't touch me!"

He smirked. "You don't have a choice."

Then everything paused.

The door burst open with a crash. Devon's voice roared. "Get your hands off her!"

Then suddenly...I saw someone's fist on Henry's face.

Immediately, Henry stumbled back.

My eyes were blurry but I could see Devon, shaking his fist and biting his lip.

Henry lunged again, but Devon met him with a swing that sent him stumbling back into the wall. The thud made my ears ring. My hands trembled, gripping Devon's shirt. Heat, fear, and adrenaline twisted through me like a storm.

"Are you okay?" Devon's eyes searched mine, burning with concern and something else, anger, relief, something I couldn't name.

"I... I'm fine," I whispered, barely audible. My legs buckled, and Devon caught me, holding me tight. The world tipped, spinning, flashing in fragments of sound and light.

"Focus on me. Only me," Devon said, voice cutting through the haze. "You're safe now... just hold on."

Groggily, I said, "Let me... let me go!"

"Don't pass out," he whispered, my eyes barely open. "Not now..."

He held me tighter.

My body went heavy. Darkness curled at the edges of my vision. Every sound, every movement, felt distant. I tried to speak, tried to fight, but the energy drained from me, like I was sinking into a black sea.

"The devil... he'll rot me in hell... I don't trust him! He will do something to me! "

Then everything went black.

.

.

Taylor

I woke up to silk sheets and city lights pouring in from a glass wall.

This wasn't my apartment. It wasn't even close.

I sat up quickly, heart pounding, clutching my chest. But then I realized... my clothes were still on. Nothing was out of place.

Wiping my dry eyes, I released a sigh and tried to piece together what had happened after Devon came. But my memories were in disarray. I couldn't remember anything.

What had really happened to me?

Then I saw it.

A note on the bedside table, placed next to a white envelope and a gold-trimmed business card.

"You passed out before I could explain. I didn't touch you. I never would. Where the hell have you been for the past four years?"

Beside it was a check for $100,000 and a number scribbled on the back.

Collateral damage, huh? Rage boiled over me. What did he think I was again? Was he too stupid to see I was satisfied with my life? For years I had lived peacefully without seeing his face, and now that he had come back, my peace had been disrupted in just a day.

I grabbed my phone and dialed the number.

He picked up on the second ring.

"You arrogant piece of trash," I spat before he could say a word. "What gives you the right to walk back into my life, throw money around like you're buying forgiveness? You're not my savior... you're the reason I had to be saved in the first place."

"Try this again with me and I will fucking kill you, piece of shit!"

He was silent. Not even a breath.

I didn't care. I hung up.

I would make him realize that coming back into my life was a dreadful mistake.

--

Work felt like walking through fire. I avoided Henry like he was contagious. I could still see the bruise Devon had left on his jaw. I wanted to scream it to the world, but instead, I kept my head down and pretended nothing had happened.

I stood outside the office, the cool air doing little to calm the storm inside me. Henry's voice called me in.

"Taylor, a word."

I followed him into the corridor. His black eye was still swollen, proof of what had happened.

"You've been avoiding me," he said, his voice low, accusing. "And now you're making noise in the office?"

I clenched my fists. "You tried to take advantage of me."

He chuckled darkly. "Is that what you're telling people now? You begged me to stay after the dinner, Taylor. You were drunk and all over me. If anything, I was the one trying to walk away."

My heart slammed. "That's a lie."

He stepped closer, his voice cold. "You think they'll believe you over me? One word, and your little promotion's gone. In fact... consider it suspended. Indefinitely. You're clearly not ready for the responsibility."

A few murmurs rippled from the hallway. People were listening and watching.

"You know I worked hard for this. Why are you taking it away from me? I deserve this!" I yelled at the top of my voice.

"Raise your tone at me again and I will throw you out of here!" he replied coldly.

I wanted to speak out more, degrade him, and make him regret ever trying to assault me, but I couldn't. I needed this money to pay him back. He had given me the ultimatum of two weeks to repay him. I needed to protect my family.

So, I stared at him, the rage in my chest bubbling up. "You coward."

The rest of the day was a blur. Everyone's eyes were on me, asking about what had happened yesterday between me, Henry, and Devon. I prayed that the day would move faster so I could get out of this shithole to my daughter, the only person giving my life purpose.

I was back to running around to get coffee for my boss.

Until I heard the tiny voice behind me.

"Mommy?"

I turned. My daughter stood by the door, clutching Lara's hand. Her hair was still wet from the rushed bath. Her shoes were mismatched. But she smiled like nothing else mattered.

Lara was my friend who worked in the same restaurant as me but during the daytime. Because of what had happened to me, she had decided to watch over her. She is a friend to die for. After the divorce, she had helped me rebuild my life. I loved her.

I knelt down. "What are you doing here?"

"I got worried," she whispered. "You didn't come home."

Lara apologized. "I'm sorry. She wouldn't listen to change her shoes or dry her hair. She wanted to see you so bad!"

A smile played on my lips, and I said, "I'm sorry, Ashley. I promise I'll get home early to read you more bedtime stories!"

"Yay!"

"My coffee, intern!" one of my bosses commanded.

I stood up, facing Lara. "Thank you for bringing her, but I'm quite busy..."

Then the screen in the lounge lit up.

It was the midday news, a segment on powerful CEOs returning to America.

My breath caught when I saw his name flash across the screen.

"Devon West!"

The man they called 'The Shark in the Philippines' was back in the U.S.

And my daughter... she stared at the screen in awe.

"Mommy," she said, tugging at my sleeve, "why can't I have a daddy like him?"

My heart cracked clean in two.

Then the final blow hit: the host announced a major collaboration between our company and Devon's.

And right on cue... he walked in.

Sleek suit. Dark gaze. And a smirk that saw right through me.

I could barely breathe.

People stood, whispering, clapping.

Suddenly, Ashleyran towards the screen again, smiling. " That's the man! He is the man! "

I turned to Lara. "Take her. Take her home. Now."

"But Tay..."

"Now."

She saw my face and didn't argue.

As the doors closed behind them, Devon looked at me like he already knew.

Hell had only just begun.

Devon's POV

I walked into the building like I owned it, because, technically, I could. The cold air, the glinting glass, the hush of money being made... it should've felt impressive.

But all I felt was her.

Taylor.

There she stood near the reception, arms crossed, every inch of her professional and poised. Her black suit hugged her frame like armor, and her hair was pulled back so tightly I couldn't tell if she was angry, anxious, or simply surviving.

I stopped for just a second. One second too long.

It hit me in the chest, how little she'd changed, and how much it still messed with me. I felt the lingering gaze of her blue eyes send shivers down my spine.

I replayed what had happened last night over and over in my mind, the way her hand jerked away the moment I reached for it. That cold, sharp recoil, like I'd touched a live wire.

It wasn't just a refusal. It was a message.

She didn't want me. Not anymore.

And no matter how much I tried to convince myself I'd get back on track, it just kept reopening old wounds. The truth hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

I'd broken something between us. Maybe more than once.

I remembered the way her eyes flickered, not surprise, not anger, but something colder, like disappointment. Like she was seeing the man I'd become and not liking the view.

It stung. God, it fucking stung.

Because beneath all this bravado, all the games and smirks, I felt a gnawing emptiness-a crack in the armor I'd spent years building.

I wasn't just facing the woman I loved and lost. I was facing myself and the wreckage I'd left behind.

And I didn't know how to fix any of it.

Then our gaze met. Immediately, she averted her gaze and looked back at me.

No reaction, no gasp. Just a brief flicker in her eyes like a shutter opening and slamming closed again. She was numb of emotions, and I could see her dead eyes trying to kill me right on the spot.

"Mr. West," one of the executives said, breaking the tension. "Welcome. We're so excited to have you on board."

I nodded, forcing a smile. "Looking forward to seeing how this place runs."

Taylor hadn't moved.

"As discussed," another executive said, "our PR team will handle your onboarding."

PR?

I glanced toward her again. Would I be working with her? What could go wrong?

I smiled anyway and walked toward her. Cameras clicked in the background. They were eating this up.

"Ms. Taylor," I said smoothly, offering my hand. "Congratulations. Looks like we'll be working together again."

She blinked. Just once.

Then her hand touched mine,brief, reluctant, cold.

Before she could respond, one of the bosses chuckled nervously. "Actually, uh, she's not the one assigned..."

I didn't look away from her. "I'm sure that'll change."

She stared up at me, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something real... but didn't.

Everyone muttered under their breath. What connection do we have together? Who is she? But let them wonder-she'd be known as mine soon.

–

Later - Conference Room

I walked into the room with everyone seated. I'd barely sat down when my phone buzzed.

It was Ivy.

I stepped out and answered. "What is it?"

Her voice shook. "I couldn't come today."

"Figured."

"I just... Devon, I don't know what this is. What are you doing?"

"Business," I shot back, emotionless.

"Don't give me that. Is this about her?"

My stomach turned.

"Did you plan this?" she asked, her voice rising. "All of this? Just to get close to Taylor again?"

"Mind your business," I snapped. "You're not even supposed to be part of this."

She laughed bitterly. "Right. Because you cut me out. The moment she came back into your world..."

"Enough." I hung up.

Back in the room, all eyes turned to me.

Taylor stood up as one of the seniors gestured to her. What the hell? Is she a damn puppet?

I spoke before she could. "Sit."

She hesitated. The room froze.

I said it again, firmer. "Sit down, Taylor."

She obeyed. Her boss looked like he'd swallowed something sharp.

"I'd like to say you guys got lucky. I could have been busy, but since..." I paused when I felt someone watching me. I took a glance at Taylor and continued, "...since the former collaborator dropped out at the last minute and I was scheduled to come next week, but look at where we are!"

I smiled, and everyone burst into laughter. Fake. They were all fake.

I looked directly at her. Let the moment drag.

"Unfortunate timing."

A few eyes darted between us. The tension was delicious...I would surely need a bin.

"Um... Mr. West, I'm Henry, the PR head, and I..."

"My father's West, not me. Try again," I said, adjusting my suit.

The PR head, Henry, cleared his throat. "We've assigned Ms. Rivera, one of our best employees, to assist..."

"No," I said flatly.

"What?"

"I want Taylor to be in charge," I replied, and her eyes widened.

"Who? Who's Taylor?" he asked nervously.

Creasing my brows, I glared. "The name you'll remember if you like keeping your job."

Our eyes locked again. She knew what I was doing. She also knew she couldn't stop it.

One of the executives exhaled like he'd been holding it in for minutes, like he'd had enough of my shit. "Actually... your mother... She asked us to give this project full support."

My jaw clenched. "Did she?"

"You're testing her company, right?" another exec said carefully. "And next week... your father's hotel."

I didn't respond.

They thought I was just choosing between companies. But this was never about business. It was about getting revenge.

My mother always said I had her instincts, cold, strategic, forward-thinking. She built her empire with glass smiles and sealed doors. Growing up, I watched her control entire rooms with a single look... and silence me with even less.

My father, on the other hand, ruled with charm. Hotels, hospitality, handshakes that smelled like cologne and old money. He smiled too much, talked too loud, and loved too little. But he knew how to win people..how to make them need him.

They both thought they'd raised a successor. What they didn't realize was they'd raised a revengeful son.

So now, I tested them, company by company. And the company I chose would win over the stock market. My billionaire friends and collaborators would be rampaging over the winning company.

My mother thought she'd already won. And my father... he was waiting, watching. Ready to welcome me with open arms when I rejected her. As if he hadn't walked out on everything years ago. As if love was something you could rebrand.

"I just want to confirm," the man continued. "Whoever you choose between them will get your backing, your network, your investors."

"Yes," I said. "That's correct." You could hear the scramble starting behind everyone's eyes.

Taylor glanced at me, something flickering across her face. Fear? Anger?

I didn't care. Not now.

Henry forced a smile. "Well then, Taylor, would you mind getting Mr. Devon some coffee?"

I didn't miss the insult hidden in that.

So I shot back, "No. I'd like you to get it for me."

Everyone gasped in the room.

Taylor blinked like she'd been slapped.

I looked around, mocking. "What? Did I stutter?"

"Everyone, get out! Henry, get my coffee, and you..." I stopped, and she also stopped in her tracks like she knew I'd called her.

After everyone had left, she turned around and forced a smile.

"Shall we start?" I said, standing up.

She didn't speak. Just turned to the window, arms crossed.

But I've had enough silence for one day.

"Are you going to pretend that never happened?" I said.

She didn't look at me. "You're a child."

"No," I said, stepping closer. "I'm a man who remembers exactly how this ended."

She turned sharply. "You mean how you ended it."

"You signed the divorce papers. You left. What's left?" she continued.

"Do you know what I hate? When you jump to conclusions so quickly! You didn't give me a chance to explain!"

She scoffed and replied, "A chance? When I left, what stopped you from coming to explain? Not one year, not two, but three years, Devon."

"I had no... choice!" I stuttered, trying to touch her shoulders, but she flinched.

"You had a choice. You always had a choice. And you chose silence."

"But you're getting revenge on me by staying away?"

Her eyes were wet, but her voice was steel. "You think this is revenge?"

I smiled. "Not yet."

"You walk in here with your camera-ready charm and your billionaire family name, and what? You think you can just shake everything, and I'll collapse?"

"No," I said. "I think you're already crumbling."

She stared at me like she hated me. Like she wanted to run. But then she'd had enough of my shit and started to walk away.

"Six months!" I said, my voice cracking.

I pulled a folder from my bag and dropped it on the table.

"You have to sign this. Just six months."

Slowly, she turned around and walked to the table, looking at the papers like they were poison.

"Why are you showing me this?" she asked.

I stepped closer. My voice dropped.

"I want you back. I need you in my life. Agree to this marriage contract, Taylor."

Biting her lip, she glared at me. "And why the fuck would you think I would accept this stupid agreement?"

"Because I know you're pregnant. And I know exactly why you will accept this? But first, who's the father? "

The blood drained from her face.

And for the first time that day-she didn't have a comeback.