Chapter 151 You're fired
June
And just like that, we’re in front of the Grande Estate.
The team Natalya demanded I bring practically melt the second they step out of the car.
"Oh my God, is this real?"
"It looks like a damn palace."
"Who lives like this?!"
Their voices clash in the air, bright, bubbly, excited.
I hear every word, but none of it actually reaches me, because my head is somewhere else entirely.
I’m still wondering how I’m supposed to tell Hermes that I might be pregnant.
I haven't even taken the test because I’m too scared to confirm what my body keeps whispering, and the nausea hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s getting worse.
"Miss June?"
A hand touches my arm— Freda's
She gives me a small smile. "Shouldn't we go in?"
I force one back, though it feels like it cracks my face.
"Yeah. Let’s go."
I gesture for them to follow me.
We step inside, and the difference hits me instantly. Everything is… sharper, warmer.
The house feels tense—like the whole house is holding its breath.
A line of maids greet us immediately.
"Welcome—"
But Natalya’s voice cuts through, loud and grating.
"There you are," she snaps from the top of the stairs, arms folded. "You’re late."
Her eyes rake me from head to toe like I’m something she stepped on.
I swallow the insult, my spine stiff and sore.
"I’m sorry, Miss Voss. I brought the team."
"Just get them inside," she huffs, rolling her eyes as she turns away.
I inhale deeply and usher the stylists into the common room.
But the second I step through the doorway—
My heart slams against my ribs as I see Hermes, standing by the window, shoulders rigid, profile unforgiving.
The light from outside casts a glow across him—and I feel it all over again.
The ache, the anger, and the longing I’ve been trying so hard to kill.
Memories of our fight at the elevator crash into me. I snapped at him, and he let me walk away. He'd said nothing—did nothing—while his fiancée threatened me. Just that he'll fix things.
And now I’m supposed to… talk to him?
Tell him something so life-changing? With Natalya’s claws practically wrapped around his neck?
I don’t even know how to walk toward him, let alone corner him, but then he turns his head—
just slightly—enough for our eyes to meet.
And in that split second, everything inside me stops breathing.
Hermes stares at me for a moment long enough for my heart to leap into my throat, but then his gaze hardens.
Cold, and impenetrable, like ice sealing over water.
He turns away first, jaw tightening, and mutters something low to the three stylists behind me. I can’t hear what he says because he’s already walking, hands shoved in his pockets.
But then Natalya wastes no time. She practically throws herself at him, looping her arms around his.
"Don’t leave, honey," she coos loud enough for everyone to hear, "they came for you too."
Then she spins toward the stylists, her tone slicing through the air.
"Introduce yourselves."
They do—
Freda, Livy, and Paul— with nervous smiles, polite voices, and starstruck eyes.
And me? I stay quiet.
Why would I introduce myself? Hermes knows me— They both know me.
Natalya’s brows arch with poisonous delight.
"June," she prompts sharply, "introduce yourself."
I freeze. Slowly, I look between them, between her smugness, and him…
And I see his gaze is on me. It's an expectant, and empty gaze, waiting for an intern he barely recognizes to state her name.
Is it a prank?
My stomach twists.
"I’m… June," I manage, my voice small and uneven. "June Alexander."
Natalya’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smirk.
"And she will be serving you today," she adds sweetly, gluing herself to Hermes’s side, her fingers trailing his arm as though she owns him completely.
And Hermes stands there and accepts it, because I guess it’s normal.
It's as though none of what happened between us ever did, and he has no idea who I really am.
He then exhales, and it’s that irritated kind of sigh he gives when he’s done arguing. Then—God—he lifts both his hands and cups Natalya’s face.
I stop breathing.
"Nat," he murmurs, low and gentle in a way I didn’t know he was capable of, "we talked about this. We can’t be around each other all the time. We need a little space."
Then he fixes a strand of her hair behind her ear.
My stomach drops straight through the floor. I don’t know if it’s nausea or heartbreak or the maybe-pregnancy or all three strangling me at once.
Natalya smiles like she just won a prize. "I know, honey. I just want everything to be perfect. For you."
Honey.
He lets out a soft hum—almost a smile. "It will be. I’m sure the girl will do a great job by herself."
The girl.
What the hell– He doesn't say my name now?
Am I nobody now?
My fingers curl around the suits, knuckles white. I’m scared I might actually tear the damn fabric.
I swallow, but it feels like glass going down.
"I’ll be in the other room," I snap before I can stop myself.
The words are tight and bitter and loud enough that Hermes glances at me, something flickering across his face, something I can’t read because I refuse to look at him long enough to understand it.
I can feel everything inside me trembling—anger, envy, humiliation, fear—mixing into one stupid, hot mess.
"Okay, hon," Natalya calls after him as if I’m not standing right there.
Hon.
I nearly trip on my own feet.
He said he loved me. He said he loved me.
And now he’s—God—touching her face like that? Calling me "the girl" like I’m some assistant who just wandered in off the street?
What is this? Some sick prank? Some punishment because I yelled at him at the elevator? Because I said those hurtful words to him?
My throat tightens. I force myself to keep walking, suits clutched to my chest, my head up and my shoulders stiff.
____
I’m furiously hanging suits on the rack—more aggressively than any innocent piece of fabric deserves. Every slam of a hanger is me trying not to scream.
My hands stops as I hear his footsteps.
He enters casually as though he did nothing wrong, and he didn’t stand beside Natalya and acted as if I were invisible. My jaw aches from clenching.
I grab a black suit, plaster what I hope looks like a polite smile on my face, and hand it to him.
"Let’s get you tested in this one, Mr. Grande."
Mr. Grande.
God, it now tastes like poison in my mouth.
He nods—calmly and unbothered —and turns toward the inner dressing room.
I can’t take it. Not one more second.
"Are you being serious right now?"
He stops, his back stiffening before he slowly turns around. His face is blank, even slightly confused, which somehow pisses me off even more.
"Excuse me," he says, tilting his head.
I let out a loud, frustrated sigh, pressing both hands to my waist. This is insane. We’re finally alone, and he’s still pretending I don’t exist?
"Hermes… I know I said hurtful things at the elevator yesterday, but what you’re doing right now? This whole act? It’s too much—for a payback, for anything. And I need to tell you something—"
"Do I know you?"
I freeze.
The words hit me like cold water. I stare at his face, waiting for the smirk, the teasing glint, the hint of a joke. I even let out a strained little laugh.
"Hermes, are you being ser—"
"I’d appreciate it if you addressed me formally," he cuts in again, arms crossing, a hard frown settling between his brows. "And answer my question."
My lips part. Nothing comes out. My heartbeat feels wrong—fast, uneven, like it’s tripping over itself.
I step closer.
He steps back.
"What are you doing?" he asks, tone clipped.
"You must be kidding me," I mutter, breath shaking. I move forward anyway and grab his hands, forcing him to stay still. "Hermes. It’s me. June. This is serious. I think I’m—"
"What’s going on here?"
Natalya’s voice slices the air like a blade.
My head snaps to the doorway. She’s standing there with her arms folded, eyes narrowed, watching us like she’s caught something scandalous.
Before I can even breathe, Hermes’s grip tightens around my hands.
"June?" he murmurs, voice low, confused, almost pained.
I blink up at him, startled.
Then I yank my hands away from his like they’re on fire.
I don’t wait. I don’t think. I just turn and run out of the room feeling disoriented and betrayed.
"June. Stop right there!" Natalya's voice echoes.
I freeze halfway down the stairs, my breath shaky, fists clenched. My tears keep falling, stinging my cheeks, burning hot.
"I'm done playing your game, Natalya Voss!" I yell, voice cracking. "Do what you want with that damn video. Show it to everyone. I won't be the only one going down. Hermes will go down too. I'm quitting. I do not care!"
The house falls silent.
Natalya stands at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, perfect and unbothered.
"I don't need you anymore, Intern," she says smoothly. "You're free to leave. You're fired. And don't worry about the video. It won't see the light of the day."
I blink, my heart dropping like a stone. Relief washes over me, but it tastes bitter. Free… finally free from her claws. But at what cost? My chest tightens, my hands tremble.
Should I feel relieved? Angry? Scared? Disappointed?
What about Hermes? And my possible pregnancy?