Filed to story: Watch Out, I’m The Lady Boss (Eleanor & Sebastian) Book PDF Free
“Mr Sebastian is not home yet,” Carmen said, answering my unspoken question. She set down the teacups, and her eyes softened.
“I heard what happened, but I refuse to believe it. You and Mr Sebastian, you two are meant to be together.”I smiled bitterly. I wished I felt as confident as she sounded.
She sat opposite me.
“I kept your room the same. He never allowed me to move anything. He didn’t want me to touch it.”My throat tightened.
“Carmen…”
“He still cares,” she said, as if she could will me to believe it.
“But he will never say it. You know how he is.”Before I could answer, my phone buzzed.
I pulled it from my bag.
A news alert glared up at me.
Breaking: (Sebastian Laurent Spotted with Lea Lopez. Rumours of Engagement)
A photograph filled the screen. Sebastian in a dark suit, Lea by his side, her hand brushing his sleeve as though she had every right.
The standfirst glared at me, mocking: “Sebastian Laurent and Lea Lopez at Business Dinner. Romance Confirmed?”My phone screen glittered with the photo, Sebastian seated at a long table, Lea leaning close, a smile curved just so, her hand grazing the stem of her glass as if she were starring in some perfectly staged advert for power couples.
The article went on to describe them as a natural match, old friends with a shared history, equals in ambition and ruthlessness.
A note at the bottom added, almost casually, that Sebastian’s ex-girlfriend, a jewellery designer based partly in Paris, had been absent from public view, “perhaps laying down roots abroad”.
That last line twisted like a knife.
I forced myself to breathe. This was not the first time I had seen Sebastian in the news with another woman. Rowan Hale had once plastered her smile across the tabloids beside his. That story had been nothing but a manipulation on Rowan’s part, designed to drag him into her spotlight.
I had sworn I would not be fooled again.
But rationale did nothing to stop the hollow ache spreading in my chest.
My hand shook as I set the phone down.
I had broken up with Sebastian. I was the one who had looked him in the eye and told him I could not stay. I had no right to feel this way now, not jealous, not mad, not anything. He was free to dine with anyone he pleased. I had handed him that freedom myself.
And yet, the thought of him with her made me feel as if someone had reached inside and torn something loose.
“What happened?” Carmen’s voice broke into my spiralling thoughts.
“Nothing,” I said.
She leaned over the coffee table and glimpsed my screen. Her gaze flicked to the headline, then back to me.
“Ah,” she murmured, her expression darkening. This rubbish again.”
“I shouldn’t even care,” I said quickly.
“I ended things with him. It is not my business.”That may be what you tell yourself, but I know better. You love him. That is why it hurts.”I looked away.
Carmen reached for my hand. Her grip was firm, almost fierce.
“Don’t let a photograph make you run. This is still your home. You belong here as much as he does. He would want you to stay.”
I shook my head.
“I can’t.” Not like this. Not when he could walk through that door at any moment and see me falling apart. I couldn’t let him see me like this.
Carmen’s voice dropped to a plea.
“Please. Stay. I will make you tea. I will keep you company. Just don’t leave like a thief in the night.”I forced a smile, though it wavered.
“I have something I need to take care of. I will come back. Thank you for everything.”She looked as though she wanted to argue, but she only sighed and kissed my cheek before letting me go. The air outside was sharp and cold, as if the city had grown teeth. I walked quickly, head down, not trusting myself to glance back at the house.
By the time I reached Oakwood Apartments, the sky had already darkened. The building loomed, familiar yet strange at the same time. Sebastian had bought the entire place once, simply to be near me. He had even taken the flat opposite mine.
I stood in the hallway, my key heavy in my hand. My eyes flicked across the corridor, to the door opposite.
I could still picture him leaning against that doorframe, cool and self-assured, as if he had known from the very beginning how to unravel me.
Just behind that door was the living room where he had first suggested the contract marriage, spoken with the calm certainty of a man who always got what he wanted.
Had it really only been months ago? It felt like another lifetime.
Now the flat would be empty. He would not be here. He had no reason to stay. The thought left me hollow.
I slipped into my apartment and shut the door, but the silence pressed too heavily. I sank onto the sofa, staring at the opposite wall as if I could see straight through it, past plaster and paint and locked doors, into the ghost of what had been.
My phone buzzed. Another notification. People were reacting fast. Some dismissed the story, but plenty were already offering their congratulations.
My chest ached, yet I could not stop. I scrolled on, punishing myself with every swipe of my thumb. Hoping.
Hoping for what? For Sebastian to release a statement denying it all? To declare that there was nothing between him and Lea?
The photo might have been staged, or it could have been nothing more than a business dinner, but I had seen them together on that cruise ship with my own eyes. No headline could erase that.
And yet he had come after me when I went on that reckless diving trip. He had risked his life. On that island, when everything else had failed, he had been my anchor.
That had to mean something, didn’t it?
I flung my phone aside and buried my face in a pillow with a groan.
Endless analysis would drive me mad. There was only one way to silence the questions clawing through me.
I had to see him, to talk to him. Even if it was the last time, I needed to know.
To know if there was still a chance for us.
The boardroom was silent except for the faint hum of the air-conditioning. Twelve pairs of eyes were fixed on me, each one calculating, suspicious, or quietly resentful.
The long mahogany table gleamed under the overhead lights. I sat at the head, as I always did, my right hand resting casually on the arm of the chair, though the bandages beneath my sleeve still itched and ached with every pulse.
One of the older men cleared his throat. His name was Laurent too, though barely anyone outside the family remembered his exact connection. Second cousin once removed, perhaps. He was nearing seventy, with a heavy jaw and an air of self-importance.
“Sebastian,” he began, his tone deliberately paternal.
“No one here doubts your capabilities, but you’ve been through an ordeal. Stranded on an island, injured, feverish. Surely you must admit you need rest. Perhaps it would be wise to step back for a time. Let others shoulder the burden until you recover.”Several others nodded. Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table.
They thought they were subtle, but I had seen the look in their eyes the moment I entered the room. They had scented blood.
I steepled my fingers and regarded them without requires someone else at the helm?”
“You believe Laurent Global Holdings “Only temporarily,” another chimed in, a distant uncle whose claim to the Laurent name was as thin as his hair.
“Your health is paramount. And with these rumours about a Titanova takeover, the market is jittery. A steady hand, someone with more… experience, might reassure investors.”Experience. In their language, that meant age. And in their minds, my age was still an affront, a reminder that my grandfather had chosen me over all of them.
I let them talk. I had no intention of stopping them.
Lea’s name surfaced more than once. They circled it like vultures, speculating on whether she had already made her move, wondering aloud how much their shares might fetch if the rumours proved true.
I had deliberately let the whispers spread. Rumour was a useful weapon. It revealed loyalties faster than any audit.
Half the men around this table owed their positions not to competence but to bloodlines, favours, or sheer inertia. They had been gifted titles by Edouard Laurent, or by Reginald, who had treated the company like a private estate to be carved up amongst friends. They were the weak links I intended to expose.
“If Titanova is truly interested,” someone ventured, “perhaps it would be prudent to at least hear them out. A merger, a partnership-“
“Titanova does not dictate terms to LGH,” I said.
The words dropped into the silence like stone. For a moment, no one dared speak.
“Still,” a cousin pressed, “Lea Lopez is a formidable businesswoman. And you were partners once, were you not? The market knows this. Investors see sense in such an alignment.”I thought of Lea, of the confrontation on the cruise ship.
I had believed that would be the last time I saw her. I was wrong, in more ways than one.
In a way, we were the same. When we wanted something, we would stop at nothing to get it.
Maybe we had been partners once. But now she was intent on recasting us as predator and prey.
She had already leveraged Titanova’s connections to disrupt my supply chains, to lure away potential clients.
Those were irritations, nothing more, the sort of problems that came with running a corporation as vast as LGH.
Now she had gone for the jugular.
“If we don’t sell, what if she makes good on her threat?” someone asked at last, voicing what they were all thinking.
The rumour had already spread. A sudden ordinance from City Hall, an emergency moratorium on all new land development and construction permits. If passed, LGH would be the prime target.
“Our projects would freeze overnight,” another said, anxious.
“Future plans locked down. No chance to prepare, no way to challenge it before it passed,” someone else added.
And they were right.
Unless Lea intervened.
It was no secret she had influence over the Deputy Commissioner of Urban Development, the only man with the power to push such an ordinance through.
What leverage she held over him-money, blackmail, something darker-was still unclear. My people were working on it.
If the moratorium went through, it would be almost impossible to strike down in court. LGH would bleed millions lobbying against the law, all while operations ground to a halt.
Unless I gave Lea what she wanted.
I leaned back in my chair, betraying nothing. The ache in my right hand pulsed steadily, but I welcomed it. The pain reminded me of the island, of Elean’s face lit by firelight, of the way she had trusted me with her life.
But she had not trusted me with her love, not yet.
That was my mistake. I had pressed too hard, too fast. I had been the one to suggest the contract marriage, the one to buy her building, the one to manipulate her into living in my house. Always the strategist, always the one in control.
But people, unlike companies, did not bend to pressure. She had felt cornered, and when the real wedding loomed, she had fled.