The sun was already unapologetically high in the sky when Denisse's phone began to ring.
Not vibrate. Not gently chime.
Ring.
The sound sliced through the quiet hotel room like an accusation.
Denisse groaned into the pillow, face half-buried, hair a complete disaster. She fumbled blindly toward the bedside table, knocking over nothing by sheer miracle, and grabbed her phone.
One eye opened. Barely.
Gigi.
She squinted at the brightness of the screen like it had personally offended her.
"Hello," she croaked, voice thick with sleep. "Why are you calling this early?"
There was a dramatic pause on the other end.
"What early?" Gigi said. "It is already ten in the morning, my dear."
Denisse's remaining eye snapped open.
"What?"
She bolted upright so fast the sheets tangled around her legs. Her heart began pounding as she looked wildly to her side of the bed.
Empty.
The other pillow was cold.
The blanket was folded back neatly.
Too neatly.
"Shit."
"Hey," Gigi continued, oblivious, "are you going to Mariah's birthday party tonight or—"
"I—I'll call you later, okay? I need to go." Denisse didn't wait for a response. She dropped the call and swung her legs off the bed.
"Ms. Ashford?" she called, trying for calm and landing somewhere near panic.
No answer.
She walked to the balcony and pushed the curtains aside. The morning light flooded her vision. The balcony was empty.
Her stomach dropped.
She hurried to the bathroom door and knocked. "Ms. Ashford, are you there?"
Silence.
She tried the handle.
Unlocked.
She pushed it open.
Empty.
Denisse stepped back slowly, scanning the room. The suitcase that had been near the dresser last night was gone. The shoes by the door were gone. The faint trace of expensive perfume lingering in the air was the only proof Lesley had ever been there.
Denisse grabbed her phone and called her boss.
Straight to voicemail.
She stared at the screen in disbelief.
"Maybe she's just downstairs," she muttered, trying to sound reasonable to herself. "Maybe she went to get coffee."
Yes. Coffee. That made sense.
She rushed through a shower, nearly slipping twice, shampooing at record speed. By the time she finished dressing, she was moving on pure adrenaline.
In the lobby, she approached the receptionist they had spoken to the night before.
"Hi," Denisse said, forcing a polite smile. "Have you seen the woman I was with last night?"
The receptionist's face lit up in recognition. "Oh, the beautiful woman with long light brown hair?"
Denisse's eye twitched.
"Yes. That one."
"I believe I saw her heading toward the parking lot earlier this morning."
Denisse blinked.
The parking lot.
Her smile froze in place. "Thank you."
Of course.
Of course Lesley left her.
Of course she didn't wake her up. Didn't call. Didn't even send a message. Just got in her expensive car and drove off into the sunrise like the dramatic villain in a corporate rom-com.
Denisse inhaled slowly, keeping her expression pleasant as she stepped away from the desk.
Professional. Calm. Mature.
Inside, however?
War.
She walked toward the exit with dignity.
The moment the hotel doors closed behind her—
"Lesley Nicole Ashford! You will not get away with this!"
A couple near the entrance turned to stare. Denisse pretended she had not just publicly threatened her CEO.
She pulled out her phone and opened a ride-hailing app.
Loading.
Searching.
Searching.
Still searching.
The hotel was, apparently, located in the middle of nowhere.
"Of course it is," she muttered.
After nearly thirty minutes of waiting in the growing heat, a car was finally booked. When it arrived, she got in with a heavy sigh and sank into the seat.
As the car pulled away, she stared out the window, trying very hard to be mature about this.
Maybe Lesley had an emergency.
Maybe she had an early meeting.
Maybe—
No.
This was revenge.
A slow, petty, CEO-level revenge.
Denisse crossed her arms.
She was still fuming when—
BANG.
The car jolted violently before rolling to a stop.
Her head snapped forward. "What happened?"
The driver blinked at the steering wheel. "I think the tire exploded."
"You think?"
They stepped out of the car. The tire had surrendered to gravity in spectacular fashion.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Denisse whispered to the sky.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the driver said apologetically. "You may need to book another car."
"Don't you have a spare tire?"
"This is the spare tire."
She stared at him.
Then at the tire.
Then back at him.
"Oh my God."
Resigned, she pulled out her phone again.
Five percent battery.
The universe laughed.
She tried to book another ride.
One percent.
The screen went black.
Her soul left her body.
"Perfect," she said flatly.
The driver scratched his head. "There's a bus stop not too far from here. You can walk."
"Not too far?" she repeated weakly.
"Yes, ma'am."
He went back to fixing the wheel.
Denisse stood there for a full ten seconds, weighing her life choices.
Then she started walking.
The road stretched endlessly ahead, shimmering under the late-morning heat like a mirage that refused to get closer. The air felt thick. Oppressive. Her blouse clung to her back within minutes, fabric sticking to skin in the most undignified way possible. Strands of hair glued themselves to her neck.
The sun hovered high above her like it had a personal grudge.
Minutes passed.
No bus stop.
Not even a sign suggesting civilization existed.
"I thought it was not too far," she muttered, squinting down the empty road. "Define 'not too far.' In kilometers. With honesty."
A truck sped past her without slowing down, wind whipping her hair into her face.
More walking.
More sweat.
More regret.
Her shoes scraped against the pavement in slow, offended steps.
This was Lesley's fault.
Every blister forming on her heel. Every bead of sweat sliding down her spine.
Lesley Nicole Ashford.
CEO. Menace. Revenge mastermind.
She took a slow, wet breath. "I hate you, Lesley Nicole Ashford," she whispered. "And if the universe is listening, this is all on you."
She kept walking.
One step.
Two.
Three.
A breeze passed by.
She paused.
It was cool.
Suspiciously cool.
Denisse slowly looked up.
The bright, merciless sky from five minutes ago was now… darker. A cloud had slid over the sun like someone drawing curtains before a dramatic reveal.
"No," she said quietly.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Her eye twitched.
"You wouldn't."
Another rumble. Louder this time.
"Oh, don't you dare."
A single drop of water landed squarely on her forehead.
She froze.
Another drop hit her nose.
A third splashed against her cheek.
Denisse closed her eyes slowly, inhaling with forced patience. "I am warning you," she said to the sky.
The sky did not listen.
"I said," she began, pointing upward now, "I hate you, Lesley Nicole Ashford. Not summon-a-storm hate you."
Lightning flashed somewhere beyond the hills.
She blinked. "Oh, so now you're dramatic?"
And then—
The rain came down all at once.
No polite drizzle. No gentle transition. Just immediate, aggressive, cinematic downpour. Within seconds, she was soaked. Tragic. Ridiculous. Entirely her life right now.
"SERIOUSLY?!" she shouted, spinning in place as if she could locate the director of this disaster.
Denisse hugged herself uselessly, trying to keep the water off, but it was hopeless. Her heels clicked wetly against the pavement, each step sending tiny splashes around her as she trudged forward, squinting through the curtain of rain.
Her foot slipped on the slick pavement. Arms windmilled wildly as she tried to regain balance. "I refuse to fall too!" she yelled, as if the ground itself were conspiring.
Rain plastered her hair to her face. Water streamed down her forehead and into her eyes. Her blouse clung to her in the most inconvenient, humiliating way possible. Her bag, once structured and professional, now sagged pathetically against her hip.
"This is personal!" she yelled at the sky. "This is targeted harassment!"
Thunder cracked again, louder this time. Sharp. Unapologetic.
"Oh don't you side with her!" Denisse shouted, pointing upward. "You don't even know what she did!"
A car sped past her, sending a dramatic splash of water toward her ankles.
She gasped. "Unbelievable!"
Her pace quickened. Feet splashing through shallow puddles, she broke into a run. Her bag bounced uselessly at her side; her hair stuck to her lips every time she tried to breathe.
Up ahead, through the downpour, she finally spotted it: the bus stop. Small. Slightly crooked. Questionably protective. It might as well have been a palace.
Spotting it, she pushed herself harder and sprinted toward the shelter. Each step produced an undignified squelch.
"This is revenge!" she muttered as she ran. "Corporate revenge!"
By the time she reached the tiny shelter, she looked like she had just confessed her love and been rejected in the most dramatic way possible.
She collapsed onto the bench, dripping. Water pooled beneath her shoes. Mascara? Somewhere near her chin. Perfect.
She wiped rain from her face and stared out at the storm.
"You know what?" she said, breathing heavily. "Fine. Fine."
"Is this part of your master plan too, Ms. Ashford? Did you schedule the rain?"
Lightning flashed.
Denisse pointed accusingly at the sky.
"I will survive this," she declared dramatically. "And when I do, I will make you regret everything."
Thunder rolled again.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Stop being supportive."
A bus finally pulled up with a loud hiss.
She climbed aboard, dripping.
Every passenger turned to stare.
She stared right back.
Dare them.
She took a seat, crossing her arms, rainwater pooling beneath her shoes.
Fury simmered in her chest.
"I will make you regret this," she whispered to herself. "You pulled revenge on the wrong person, Ms. Ashford."
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
And somewhere far ahead on the road, a certain CEO was probably driving under clear skies, windows down, hair perfect.
Smiling.