This Crazy Rich Boy

"Conference room, five minutes," Gabriel mutters to the phone. On the other end, Mrs. Gomez, Gabriel's trusty old receptionist and the de-facto executive ȧssistant (because Claire wouldn't handle this, he knows), trembles—she knows something bad is up.

Mrs. Gomez is grace under pressure—she calls up the entire Legal Department and Finance Department of TXCI Holdings, which occupy offices on the lower floors of the building. Gabriel is pissed; she has never seen him this angry, not since the breakup with Michelle. It seems rage is, well, all the rage right now, with Gabriel.

Meanwhile, in his office, Gabriel is solemnly putting on his suit. His eye catches the coffee-stained wall, the first casualty of his anger, and realizes it looks like a world, a galaxy that exploded. Well, if what Michelle had the liver to tell him here, his world is indeed exploding.

What stews in his brain is shock. Disbelief. The merger was supposedly routine; this wasn't the first time he sought it as a means for his business' growth. There were set protocols. People knew what had to be done. So what went wrong? Who fuċkėd up? And perhaps most importantly, who betrayed him?

He steps out of the office and sees Claire slumped at her desk. For a small moment, he feels sorry for her. There are a lot of things he wants to explain to her, but there's no time. Not yet. Not now. And maybe, if Michelle is really setting up office in this building, right here on this floor just to rub salt on his wound, then he needs to revisit his arrangement with Claire. Keep her out of harm's way. It won't do her good to be so near this fire.

Claire sees him and immediately she stands up. "Gabriel," she says. "Do you need me?"

He gazes at her. Of course, he needs her. He needs her in his mess of a life. He is consumed with this deep longing to spend every moment of his life with her. But it stays on the tip of his tongue; always on the tip of his tongue. He's still not in a good place as far as his heart is concerned. And with what's happening right now, Gabriel realizes this might not be a good time to fall in love. Maybe he should keep things professional. Kill this love, as the popular song goes.

So he says, "I'm fine, Bella. You can take the rest of the day off."

That's it. He turns his back on her like she means nothing. Like she's nothing more than an employee. As if the past few days never happened. But the look on her face when he said that—it will haunt him.

But an interloper has slipped past his defenses and infiltrated his empire. This problem needs all his attention, his energy. This is the worst time for gentleness.

Meanwhile, Claire doesn't know what to feel. How could Gabriel suddenly turn cold and distant? Doesn't he need her at a time like this? Why are men such ȧssholes when it comes to their true feelings? Or maybe Claire's insecurity and self-doubt actually had a basis—that she'd been deluded into thinking that her boss actually cared about her. So when Gabriel told her she can actually go home, even if it's still mid-day, Claire suddenly finds her entire afternoon empty. She watches Gabriel walk away. Everything suddenly feels different. As though the world has just turned upside-down.

Everyone who matters is already in the conference room when Gabriel arrives. It's a room full of suits, Gabriel thinks, but no brains. His rage burbles underneath his cool exterior. These are the people who should have helped him avoid the huge fuċk-up that is Michelle Alcantara's Relentless Holdings getting a foothold in his own empire. Imagine the audacity of that coup d'état. Imagine that.

He takes his usual place at the head of the conference table. No one's speaking. No one even dares to clear their throat or fake-coughs or makes the slightest noise with whatever paper they're holding. Perhaps everyone's holding their breath.

"I want to know what in hell happened," Gabriel begins. He turns to his chief finance officer, a silver-haired man with an unlikely smooth face. "Who vetted for Relentless Holdings?"

"I-uhh," the man mutters, but words seem to have lodged in his throat.

"Is there a problem with them?" a younger lawyer at the other end of the table says. "The merger has been finalized weeks ago. You've signed the documents."

There's something about that tone that makes Gabriel snap. "I know I signed the documents," he says. "But who in hell checked every nook and cranny of that company's business? Its decision makers? Its goddamn provenance?"

"I-uhh," the CFO tries again. "We all checked it, Gabriel. It's a good company. Stable. Has been in business for decades. Boasts of a well-diversified portfolio. Everything checks out."

"Really?" Gabriel snickers, but it drips with menace. ""Really, Ferdinand? Everything checks out? Then why in hell Michelle walked into my office this morning, claiming ownership of Relentless Holdings?"

"Michelle who?" one of them has the balls to ask.

"Michelle Alcantara," Gabriel says. "THAT Michelle."

The room vibrates with surprised murmurs. "Oh, my God," a voice from the other side of the room is heard. "How could that happen?"

"Holy fuċk," Ferdinand, the CFO, says.

Gabriel turns to him. "No, no, no, no, no, no. This is not a 'holy fuċk' moment. This is a run-for-your-life scenario."

"Maybe there's a loophole in the merger contract we can exploit," someone from Legal says. "If they'd hidden Michelle's ownership of the holdings company, then maybe we can declare the merger null and void."

Gabriel says nothing. He scans everyone's faces. These are supposedly the best talents, the finest minds money can buy. And yet here they are, a bunch of idiots, outsmarted by the same woman who had also outsmarted him. And that's the very thing he couldn't accept, the thing that drives him so mad.

Gabriel stands up. "I want to know how Relentless Holdings has ended up in Michelle Alcantara's hands. I want to know every little detail. Everything by Friday. Or else, you are all fired. Every single one of you."

He turns and leaves; he doesn't even have to slam the door shut. The silence he has left in the conference room is deafening. The company's top legal minds, the vice presidents, all look at one another with a big question mark in their faces. They're all clueless. And that's what only makes it worse: they're supposed to be on top of everything.

Outside, it has begun raining, and he could see the city getting soaked up as he walks along the glass-walled hallway. He gazes at the dark clouds still churning over the city, and somehow, he feels these clouds are there to mourn him, to commiserate with his failure,to mirror the storm in his heart.

While in the elevator, he's thinking of one thing: Maybe it's time he stopped this charade with Claire Monteverde. Clearly, it's not working. Yes, that's it. He will tell her tomorrow. Find the right moment to tell her he's ending his fake engagement with her, all so he could meet Michelle's challenge head-on.

But when the elevator doors ding open, and he steps out into the lobby, he sees Claire standing there, by the entrance door, watching the rain. Even from this distance, Gabriel could see Claire's face, so sad and beautiful. For some reason, the sight of her tugged at his heartstrings. Could he really… But no. He cannot pursue this. This must end, he thinks. Then he walks away, taking a different route to avoid Claire. He doesn't know Claire has seen him. He never saw how teary-eyed she is, and how she's trying to walk in the rain, so that no one sees that she has been crying.