Revenge Of The Spiteful CEO

Revenge Of The Spiteful CEO

Julencia Slamet · Ongoing · 92.2k Words

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Introduction

Sapphire.

I despise him, truly despise him. Yet, there was a time, in what feels like another era, when I loved him so intensely that life without him seemed unimaginable. He was my oxygen; I craved him. I believed I would wither away without him.

Why wouldn't I? He swore eternal love, comparing it to the enduring stones of the pyramids. Massive, resilient, standing for centuries against rain, shine, or sandstorms. I constructed my dreams on those stones, envisioning children playing and a Christmas table surrounded by laughing grandchildren.

But he lied.

In one cruel move, he betrayed me, shattering my beautiful dreams into a million pieces. Now, the spiteful man has returned with an indecent proposal. I won't accept it. Never, even if my body yearns for his lips, mouth, hands, skin...

No, Zade.

You might be the most attractive man I've ever seen, but I won't give you a second chance to destroy me.

Chapter 1

Sapphire

The air in the crowded bookstore was thick with the scent of aged paper and anticipation. I browsed through the shelves, my fingers trailing along the spines of novels. As a literature enthusiast, the bookstore was my sanctuary, a place where time seemed to slow down.

Lost in the world of words, I stumbled upon a section featuring classic poetry. With a copy of T.S. Eliot’s “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” in my hands, I found a quiet nook to dive into its verses. Little did I know, this simple act would change the course of my life.

As I immersed myself in the lines, a voice interrupted my solitude. “Eliot fan, huh?”

I looked up, startled, to find a guy with disheveled hair and an easy smile. His eyes, a shade of ocean blue, held a mischievous glint. I smiled back, appreciating the interruption. “Yeah, ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’ is a masterpiece.”

He chuckled, “I couldn’t agree more. Mind if I join you?”

I gestured to the empty seat beside me. “Not at all. I’m Sapphire.”

He extended his hand, “Zade. Nice to meet you, Sapphire.”

Zade settled into the chair, his eyes scanning the poem I held. “Prufrock is like a symphony of words, don’t you think?”

I nodded, intrigued by his perspective. “Absolutely. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about his exploration of self-awareness and societal expectations.”

Our conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from literature to life. Zade shared stories of his travels and passion for photography, while I opened up about my love for writing. Time slipped away, and the bookstore’s closing announcement jolted us back to reality.

As we reluctantly gathered our belongings, Zade grinned. “Well, Sapphire, it’s been a pleasure discussing Eliot and more with you. How about we continue this conversation over coffee?”

I hesitated for a moment, a mixture of caution and curiosity. “Sure, why not?”

And just like that, we found ourselves in a nearby coffee shop, surrounded by the comforting aroma of freshly brewed beans. Zade and I delved into deeper conversations, exploring shared interests and discovering the intricacies of each other’s dreams.

Over lattes and laughter, our connection deepened. Zade spoke about his aspiration to capture the essence of emotions through his photography, while I shared snippets of the novel I had been crafting for years. It was a meeting of minds, a collision of artistic souls drawn together by a chance encounter in a bookstore.

As the hours passed, Zade’s gaze became more intent, and he confessed, “Sapphire, I must admit, meeting you feels like stumbling upon a rare, uncharted story.”

I blushed, flattered by his words. “Likewise, Zade. It’s not every day you meet someone who appreciates Eliot as much as I do.”

Our connection grew stronger with each passing moment, and before we knew it, the coffee shop transformed into the backdrop of our budding friendship. Zade’s humor complemented my introspective nature, creating a dynamic that felt surprisingly natural.

Before parting ways, Zade suggested we exchange numbers. “Who knows, Sapphire, maybe our stories will continue beyond these pages.”

--

A few months later

It wasn't me.

The French doors leading to the pier stood open, revealing the lights of yachts on the dark water. The night air, salty and mixed with food aromas, surrounded other diners enjoying their meals. Despite the growling hunger in my stomach, I focused on the multi-colored lanterns outside, sipping the soda water the bartender had provided.

For the past forty-five minutes, I avoided checking my watch, wondering where on earth Zade was.

Crushing disappointment slithered over me like a snake. This wasn't the first time he stood me up. Later, he'd arrive with flowers and a convincing excuse, always tied to work—an impending project that promised to change our lives. His charm and sincerity disarmed me every time.

Allowing him to make amends, I couldn't shake the worry that work would perpetually dominate his life, leaving me in the background. It hadn't always been like this.

The initial six months of our dating felt like bliss, but then work suddenly consumed him, making him a regular no-show for our dates. Exhaling, the sting of feeling ignored lingered. Tonight, my twenty-first birthday, amplified my expectations, programmed into his calendar and reminded days ago. Yet, he was nowhere to be found.

Smoothing my dress, carefully chosen for the occasion, I sighed. Anticipation had turned into disappointment. I found myself deeply in love with a man who failed to show up for my birthday dinner.

Surveying the restaurant at happy couples, my eyes landed on the gift box on the table—a present for Zade. What a fool I was. I slipped it into my purse, preparing to face the subtle looks as I left.

Suddenly, a tall figure approached, and my heart leaped until I saw Randy instead of Zade. Leaning back, I waited. Randy greeted me, mentioning the flowers he sent. Disappointment grew as Zade hadn't sent anything for my birthday. I frowned at Randy's strange expression.

Immediately, he veiled his thoughts behind a practiced smile. "Allow me to clarify. He used to be quite the ladies' man, not since he met you, though."

I tightened my grip on my purse, maintaining a nonchalant tone. "Speaking of Zade, did you perchance spot him at the office? He was supposed to join me here, but I assume work is keeping him occupied, as usual."

"Engrossed in work?" He scratched his chin. "I doubt it. I was the last to exit the office just now, and he was nowhere to be found."

"Oh," I exclaimed, taken aback.

"Ummm… I don't wish to bore you with work intricacies, but we've encountered some challenges recently. I had to convene an emergency meeting, and Zade left abruptly halfway through. That was hours ago, though."

"What?" Confusion enveloped me. Hours ago? "But if he left so early, why isn't he here?"

"He lacks the insight to appreciate what he has," Randy spoke gently, his genuine sentiments concealed behind a composed demeanor.

I swallowed, an abrupt unease settling under his probing, enigmatic gaze. Stay focused, Sapphire. Uncover the truth. "What triggered the emergency meeting? Is it related to the software again?"

"Hmm, not precisely."

"Then what is it? It must be significant for Zade to completely forget my birthday." There was a heated edge to my words, and tears of frustration stung my eyes.

He averted his gaze, a fleeting hint of pity crossing his features before he looked away. "It might be better to hear it from Zade himself."

"I'd willingly do that if I could reach him. I've sent texts and made calls with no response. Now, hearing he left the office hours ago and hasn't shown up, for what?" I stopped abruptly, my anger evaporating into horror. "Oh, Randy! What if something's happened to him? What if he's had an accident or been attacked? What if he's injured somewhere, and here I am scolding him for being late?" My voice rose in hysteria, a lack of control evident.

The fear of losing Zade overwhelmed me. He was my first love, and I believed he would be my last. Placing my hand on Randy's arm, I pleaded, "Randy, please help me find him. I feel foolish and childish for reacting this way when he needs my help. Yes, he's stood me up before, but he always called and explained. Always. He hasn't called tonight, and worse, I haven't been able to reach him. Something must be terribly wrong. Please, Randy!"

"Sapphire, calm down." Randy soothed me, patting my hand. Even in my anxious state, I sensed his fingers lingering on the bare skin of my forearm.

"But what if he's not okay? You have to help me find him. Please, Randy. I have this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something is wrong. I just know it."

And that wasn't a lie either. When I woke up this morning, a sense of unease lingered, but I dismissed it. As e-cards and birthday wishes flooded my phone from friends, the discomfort lessened. Now, I realized it was my intuition, a premonition warning me of impending trouble.

I locked eyes with Randy, revealing the tears and fear in mine. I saw a softening in his expression.

"Okay. Let me see what I can do. Let me call Lillian. She might have some idea where he might be." He took out his phone, dialed, and put the call on speaker.

I waited anxiously for Zade's secretary to answer.

"Hello?" Her voice was clear but distant.

"Lillian, I've got Sapphire with me. We're trying to find Zade. Have you seen him or know where he might be?"

"I haven't seen him since he left the meeting, Mr. Channing. Maybe he went back to the office after I left."

"Well, he wasn't there when I left fifteen minutes ago. But you may be onto something there. Thanks, Lillian."

"Sure." His secretary ended the call abruptly, an unusual departure from her typically warm and talkative demeanor.

Randy looked at me, offering an apologetic smile. "Everyone's a bit on edge with this latest issue we're having, but she made a good point. What do you say we swing by the office to see if he's gone back? And even if he didn't, we can check his desk for any clues about what's going on with him. He's been acting strange for weeks. Have you noticed anything… um… unusual?"

I furrowed my brow, puzzled. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. What do you mean by 'strange'?"

"Oh, just not his usual self, you know. Initially, I thought it was the new software he was working on. You know how intense he gets with his projects. But even after completing that job, he's been on edge all the time..."

His words faded, and an overwhelming surge of panic engulfed me. Zade's situation seemed more dire than I had initially thought. How did I overlook any signs? My mind raced back to our time together two days ago in my apartment. Everything appeared normal. We shared a tub of ice cream, watched four episodes of "Billions," and played a video game. It ended playfully when he carried me to bed after something triggered him. His actions were typical, leaving after breakfast with a smile at my birthday dinner reminder.

Suddenly standing, I insisted, "Let's go."

Randy left money on the table and guided me out. Countless thoughts raced through my mind on the way to the Stein-Bart Innovative Software office. The dashboard read a little past nine. While skeptical that Zade would be at the office at this hour, ruling that out was still worth a try. If not there, his apartment would be my next stop. I was determined to find him, driven by the idea that he might be in trouble and kept it hidden. Our relationship's foundation in openness made the discovery that he was hiding something deeply unsettling.

Before Randy could offer assistance, I hurriedly left the car, reaching the entrance and anxiously waiting for him to input the security code. He acknowledged the night watchman with a nod, and we entered the elevator. My gaze remained fixed on the panel during the ascent. As the doors opened on the fourth floor, Randy proceeded to Zade's office down the corridor. The room was dim, but he switched on the light, revealing an empty chair. Disappointment struck; he wasn't there.

"Damn. He's not here. Let's check his desk for any clues—names, numbers, anything."

Anxiety and dread consumed me as I stood by his side. Randy began rifling through drawers and papers, yet everything was neatly arranged, in Zade's usual style. Except—

Randy reached for a hastily concealed blue folder beneath a pile of papers in the bottom drawer. As he opened it, my knees weakened, and I sought a chair as spots danced before my eyes. I blinked repeatedly; it had to be a dream. Randy closed the file, attempting to return it to the drawer, but I snatched it away.

"Don't, Sapphire," Randy implored.

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