Chapter 4 The Corporate Hangover
Her Monday started with a ping.
Then another.
Then ten in a row.
Maritza groaned, face buried in a pillow that still smelled like tequila and bad decisions. Her phone buzzed across the nightstand like it was trying to escape the scandal.
The first text lit her screen like divine judgment.
FREYA: Tell me you didn’t sleep with Cole Harrison.
MARITZA: I did.
FREYA: Girl.
FREYA: I'm leaving for Shanghai for three days, and you turn your life into a telenovela.
MARITZA: Technically, it happened at your beach house.
FREYA: Even better. So… revenge hookup? After your slimeball ex-fiancé got caught red-handed with that Barbie?
MARITZA: Yeah.
FREYA: I hate being right.
Maritza dropped her phone and groaned into the sheets.
It hadn’t been sweet. It had been chaos—her rage, his restraint, two storms colliding until there was nothing left but heat and silence.
Now it was paying her back in headlines, push notifications, and a hangover that could smite gods.
She stared at the ceiling. “Congratulations, Ritz. You’re officially trending for the worst possible reason.”
Ping.
FREYA: You used protection, right?
MARITZA: I’m on the pill. Chill.
FREYA: Oh, I’m chilled. Ricardo’s not.
MARITZA: What?
FREYA: He called me. Twice. He’s threatening to sue TMZ. I told him to fk off, but he probably emailed my boss. Did you even talk to him after dumping him at brunch?
Maritza pressed both palms to her face.
“Perfect. My ex is lawyering up, my family’s planning an exorcism, and I still smell like him.”
Cole had been silent since brunch. No texts. No smug “you’re welcome.” Nothing.
And somehow that quite terrified her more than any apology.
Ricardo’s silence, though? That was worse. When Ricardo Montoya went quiet, it meant war.
She pulled on her robe. “Fk. Something bad’s coming.”
Buzz.
Not Freya this time.
SOLEDAD DE LEÓN: Board meeting. 10 A.M.
SOLEDAD DE LEÓN: Bring lipstick. And humility.
Maritza groaned. “I’ll need tequila for this.”
She stumbled to the window—and froze.
Outside the De León gates, a fleet of black SUVs and news vans gleamed in the sun. Reporters. Cameras. Boom mics.
“Sh*t. It’s a full-blown media circus.”
MARITZA: FREYA, WHY ARE THERE VANS OUTSIDE MY HOUSE?!
FREYA: Because you trended for twelve hours straight. America’s new scandal princess.
MARITZA: I hate you.
FREYA: You love me. Now go—your Nana’s assembling her war council.
Maritza caught her reflection in the glass: hair wild, mascara wrecked, dignity somewhere under the sheets.
“War council it is.”
She squared her shoulders. “Let the De León damage control begin.”
Later — The Boardroom
The De León boardroom was built for intimidation—dark glass, older money, colder people. And right now, every one of them was staring at her like she’d personally tanked the stock market.
Ricardo leaned forward, voice soft and sharp.
“You know what your problem is, Maritza? You crave attention because you’re not good at anything. Not business, not strategy, not love. You coast on your last name and call it charm.”
H smirked cruelly, “You really thought I wanted you? I wanted access to your family’s empire, to your father’s boardroom, to the press. You were just... the prettiest unlocked door.”
Her stomach dropped.
Rafael De León half-rose from his chair. “That’s enough.”
Ricardo didn’t stop. “Don’t act surprised. I never promised love—you just heard it because you needed to.”
Her voice shook once, then steadied.
“So that’s all I ever was to you? A fool with a famous last name?”
He smiled. “Exactly.”
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on.
Soledad De León—Nana, CEO, legend—set down her teacup.
“Are you finished, Señor Montoya?”
“Just clearing the air,” he said, smugly.
“Good,” Soledad replied sweetly. “Because it’s starting to smell like mediocrity.”
Freya muttered, “God, I love her.”
Maritza straightened. “Thanks for the honesty, Ricardo. Next time you need to feel powerful, try achieving something without destroying a woman first.”
Soledad’s smirk was pure pride. “That’s my granddaughter.”
Then—knock, knock.
The door opened.
Cole Harrison walked in. Perfect suit. Calm eyes. That smirk had already ruined her weekend and half her sanity.
“Apologies for the interruption,” he said, voice like expensive whiskey. “I was told to report to the board.”
Rafael frowned. “Report? Who—”
“I did,” Soledad said.
Every head turned.
Ricardo slammed his chair back. “You’re hiring him? A bartender?!”
Freya groaned. “Oh, for f**k’s sake. You sound like a telenovela villain.”
Ricardo sneered at Cole. “We don’t recruit opportunists who sneak into parties to flirt with heiresses.”
Maritza’s jaw tightened. “Excuse me?”
“Please,” Ricardo scoffed. “You think he’s here for you? He saw a scandal and smelled opportunity.”
Cole’s voice cut through the air—low, steady. “Actually, I’m here because I felt bad.”
Silence.
He met Ricardo’s eyes. “Maritza didn’t deserve to be humiliated on her birthday. She reminded me what decency looks like in a room full of people pretending to have it.”
Freya whispered, “He did not just say that.”
Soledad’s smile sharpened. “I like you, Mr. Harrison. You’ve got spine and manners. Rare in this room.”
Ricardo sputtered. “You can’t—he’s—”
“—someone I vetted,” Soledad interrupted. “Yale Law. Former ADA. Clean record. The only reason he was bartending was because he didn’t need to prove himself to anyone.”
Cole inclined his head. “Thank you, Señora De León.”
Maritza’s pulse hammered. “You’re actually taking the job?”
He looked at her—cool, deliberate. “Figured it was the least I could do. This mess started because of me.”
Ricardo’s fists clenched. Soledad’s voice dropped to velvet steel. “And Ricardo? If you ever humiliate my granddaughter again, I’ll buy your father’s company, rename it De León Junior, and have you fetch my coffee.”
Freya clapped once. “Iconic.”
Maritza pretended to straighten a stack of contracts that were already perfect.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured, low enough for her alone.
“But you probably should.” She didn’t look up. “Thank you? For what—making my life more complicated?”
He grinned. “Complicated tends to orbit you, Miss de León. I’m just here to keep you out of jail.”
She glanced up, sharp. “You think you’re funny?”
“I think I’m right.”
