PISSED

PISSED
How dare he toy with my emotions like that? Just because I have been silent all these years doesn’t mean I am stupid.

But that ends tonight. I am done condoning his nonsense. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.

I stormed into the hotel he booked yesterday, my heart pounding in my chest as I approached the front desk. “I need Mr. Cromwell’s room number,” I demanded, my voice sharp with frustration. The receptionist hesitated until I added, “It’s urgent. I have something important to tell him.”

After a brief pause, she gave me the information. Room 54. Sixth floor. I clenched my fists as I took the elevator up, my anger intensifying with each passing second.

Standing in front of his door, I inhaled deeply, trying to steady myself. But the moment my finger hovered over the doorbell, I lost all patience. I rang it once. Twice. Three times. Seconds felt like an eternity. When he didn’t answer immediately, I jabbed the button again, harder this time.

Finally, the door swung open.

"Gia?" His brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you doing here? I thought you went home."

I ignored him and shoved past him, stepping inside without hesitation.

"Sweetheart, what happened?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" My voice shook with emotion. "What kind of father are you?"

His lips parted, but I didn’t let him speak.

"All my life, you made me live with the guilt of my mother’s death. You let me believe I was a burden—an orphan—when I had a father who chose to ignore me!"

I struggled to catch my breath, my throat tightening. I wanted to stay strong, to keep my tears at bay, but they slipped past my resolve.

"Sweetie, I—"

"Don't ‘sweetie’ me!" I snapped, wiping my cheeks angrily. "All I ever wanted was a real relationship with my father. Is that too much to ask? Is it a crime to want my own father to look at me and ask how my night was?

Is it so impossible for you to pretend—for once—that you love me?"

I exhaled shakily, my chest burning. "I’ve never been happy on my birthday because it’s the same day I lost my mother. But you made it worse. You made me feel like I didn’t deserve to grieve her. Like I didn’t deserve to exist. Who do you think you are to treat me this way?"

Silence.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Do you think it’s been easy for me since your mother passed?" His voice was quiet, yet edged with something unreadable. "Do you think I wake up every day and feel nothing? That I don’t regret failing her as a husband?"

I scoffed. He looked at me as if he were the victim. It was almost laughable.

"Oh, so now you’re the one who suffered?" I let out a bitter chuckle. "And I’m just useless Gia—the daughter who killed her mother at birth. Right?" My hands curled into fists. "And now, after all these years of treating me like I’m nothing, you suddenly find a use for me."

His jaw tensed.

"I heard your company is sinking," I continued, voice laced with disgust. "And that’s why you wanted me to marry Eric. Not because you cared about me, but because you needed a solution."

His eyes darkened. "I only suggested that because it’s the only way to save the company. Your mother valued that company more than anything. She would’ve wanted me to do whatever it takes to keep it afloat."

I stared at him, a cold numbness creeping over me.

"So you’re saying," I murmured, "that my mother valued her company more than she ever valued me?"

His silence was the answer I never wanted to hear.

And in that moment, it felt like he had stabbed me straight through the heart.

"I will help you get the company back on its feet," I stated coldly, my voice devoid of warmth. "But after that, I don’t want anything to do with you. Ever."

I didn’t wait for a response. Spinning on my heels, I stormed out of the hotel room, my heart pounding with a mix of rage and agony. The moment the door slammed shut behind me, I felt the weight of his silence pressing against my back. He didn’t chase after me. He never did.

The night air was thick with the scent of rain, but I barely noticed as I walked aimlessly down the street. My chest ached like I had been hollowed out, as if some unseen force had ripped me apart from the inside. I should have felt victorious for finally standing up to him, but all I felt was emptiness.

"Waiter!" I called the moment I stepped into a dimly lit bar, my voice sharp and reckless. "A bottle of alcohol at my table."

The waiter returned swiftly, not with one, but with four bottles. A silent acknowledgment of the storm brewing inside me.

It had been a long time since I tasted alcohol, but tonight, I didn’t care. Tonight, I wanted to drown every memory, every unspoken word, and every lingering wound.

Eric’s POV

"Where did you say she is?" I asked, gripping my phone tightly.

"The bar," Dave’s voice crackled through the line. "She’s completely wasted. What the hell happened? I’ve never seen Gia like this before."

I exhaled sharply. "It’s complicated."

"But it has to do with the fact that her dad is in town, right?"

"Dave, just keep an eye on her until I get there," I instructed, shoving my car keys into my pocket as I rushed toward the exit.

"Okay, but you better hurry up. She’s really pissed off."

A sudden crash echoed through the background, followed by the faint sound of glass shattering.

"What was that?" My grip on the phone tightened.

"Gia’s breaking every single bottle she gets her hands on," Dave muttered, clearly exasperated.

"Damn it!" I ran a hand through my hair. "Keep her in one place until I arrive. I don’t want her injuring herself."

"Then you better hurry up."

I didn’t waste another second. I drove as fast as I could, my mind racing even faster. By the time I arrived at the bar, my stomach twisted at the sight before me.

Gia had passed out, her body slumped over the table, surrounded by a mess of shattered glass and spilled liquor.

I let out a heavy sigh, frustration gnawing at me. What the hell had happened to push her this far?

"Hope you know you’re paying for all these damages?" Dave asked, surveying the mess Gia had left behind.

"Check the damages and forward me your account details," I replied, not in the mood for a lecture.

Dave sighed, crossing his arms. "You do know it’s time you admit you have feelings for her, right? You can't keep this up forever."

I smirked, shaking my head. "Don’t worry, Dave. You’ll be the first to receive our wedding invitation."

His brows knitted in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"It means I’m getting married. But don’t worry—I’ll let you be my best man."

His eyes widened. "Wait… you’re getting married to Hannah?"

I let the words settle for a moment before dropping the real bombshell. "No. I’m marrying Gia."

Dave’s mouth fell open. He looked like I’d just told him the world was ending.

I turned away before he could say anything else and walked over to Gia. She was slumped over the table, completely wasted. "Gia," I called softly, shaking her shoulder, but she didn’t respond. When I tried lifting her, she groaned and shoved me off before collapsing back into her drunken slumber.

I exhaled, crouching beside her. "Gia, we need to go," I whispered in her ear.

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open in a daze. Her gaze landed on me, and a sleepy, goofy smile stretched across her lips. "Hmm… it’s Eric," she mumbled, cupping my face with both hands. "My soon-to-be husband."

I stiffened at her words, momentarily caught off guard.

"Yeah, it’s me," I murmured, trying to steady her. "Now let’s go home."

But her smile faded, and she frowned. "I’m not going anywhere. I want more drinks," she slurred, eyes glassy with unshed tears. "My dad… he told me my mother values the company more than anything." She let out a bitter laugh. "Which means he’s treated me like crap all these years because he was taking care of what she loved the most."

Pain laced her voice, and I clenched my fists. I knew what she was implying, and it made my blood boil. If her father were here, I’d demand an explanation for every ounce of suffering he’d put her through.

"Let’s go home, Gia," I said again.

"Home?" she whispered, eyes darkening. "I don’t think I have a home."

And with that, she passed out again.

With Dave’s help, I carried her to my car.

"Dude," Dave began, shaking his head. "What do you mean you two are getting married? Like… how? When?"

"I’ll update you later," I said, settling Gia into the seat. "Right now, my woman is exhausted. I need to get her home."

"Your woman? And what about Hannah?"

"We’ll talk later," I muttered before shutting the door and driving off.

I brought Gia to my house and carried her to my room. After making sure she was comfortable, I left for my study, trying to focus on work.

My phone buzzed. I didn’t need to check to know it was Brianna. I’d promised to call her after finding Gia, but it had completely slipped my mind.

"Hey, Sis," I answered.

"What happened? Is Gia okay? Is she hurt? And why weren’t you answering my calls?"

"Calm down," I sighed. "She’s with me."

"Thank God."

"We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll bring her to the hospital with me."

"Okay… just take care of her."

"I will." I ended the call and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. Tomorrow, I’d be dealing with new business intakes, but right now, all I could think about was Gia.

Gia’s POV

The bright sunlight streaming through the window forced my eyes open. A sharp pain throbbed in my head as I sat up, groaning.

My memories from last night were hazy, but I knew one thing for sure—I had way too much to drink.

As my vision adjusted, I realized I wasn’t in my room.

Panic surged through me as I threw the blanket off and looked down at myself. I was wearing a baggy t-shirt. Not mine.

My stomach twisted. What happened? Who changed my clothes?

Did Eric—

No. I shook the thought away. Then, bits and pieces of last night flashed in my mind—I had made a mess of myself. That had to be why he changed my clothes.

Still, the embarrassment burned through me. How was I supposed to face him now?

"Are you up?"

I nearly jumped at the sound of his voice. Spinning around, I saw Eric leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me.

"Y-Yeah," I mumbled, self-consciously pulling the shirt down over my legs.

"Come on," he said, nodding toward the door. "I made you hangover soup. I’m sure your head is killing you."

I hesitated before following him to the dining room. He placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of me, and I reluctantly took a spoonful. To my surprise, it actually helped.

I had only taken two bites when the doorbell rang.

"Don’t worry, I’ll get it," Eric said, walking off.

A few minutes later, the sound of raised voices made me pause. Something was off.

Curious, I stood up and peeked toward the front door. My stomach dropped when I saw her.

Hannah.

She looked furious. The moment her eyes landed on me, her face twisted in rage. Without warning, she pushed Eric aside and charged at me, grabbing my hair in a vicious grip.

"You bitch!" she screamed. "I told you to stay away from Eric!"

I didn’t fight back. I knew how bad this looked—me, wearing Eric’s shirt, in his house. She was already assuming the worst.

"Hannah, let her go!" Eric demanded.

I tried to pry her hands off, but she tightened her grip, yanking painfully.

I didn’t want to react. I didn’t want to stoop to her level.

But then, she did something that changed everything.

She slapped me. Hard.

And that… that didn’t sit right with me.