Chapter 1

I was suddenly reminded of those stupid commercials where people screw up in the most idiotic of ways and still manage to laugh. The only issue was that I didn't have an antidote for my problem and laughing seemed to be the only thing that could lessen my overgrowing fear.

I was supposed to drop off some important files that mamá had left home to the Grimaldi Industries building this morning- spoiler alert: I didn't.

Her command had been clear and straightforward over the phone, "That file is of great importance. I need it because I can't start the meeting without it. I would've sent my secretary, but he left the city for a while, and I can't trust anyone else. Get it to me by 10 o'clock, sharp; or you will face the consequences."

Snatching my shoes from the shoe rack in my closet, I quickly glanced at the time and prayed I wasn't too late: 11.37am. Crap.

When she'd called me at nine AM, I swear it! I was about to get up and get it to her but at that moment, my bed seemed to think the ten hour hug I had given it last night wasn't enough, how was my dumb brain supposed to know that it would lead to me sleeping and mamá, eventually, killing me?

I grabbed the file and my motorbike keys as I hurried my way to the elevator of our apartment, not caring about how bad my bedhead looked. I was in serious trouble and my hair should have been in the in the least of my worries.

I basically spammed the elevator button, begging for it to open and welcome me into its embrace. Ding!

Rapidly, I got in the cabin and pressed the '0' ground floor button. I checked my phone skimming through to find notifications from my mom. My eyes widened in shock when I saw the nineteen notifications on my phone screen, presumably mostly from her. My assumptions were correct: fifteen missed calls from mamá and four from Aera Park, my best friend.

Ding!

I swiftly made my way out of the hotel, incidentally ignoring the doorman nodding at me in greeting. I headed towards my motorcycle, parked right next to the hotel entrance from the day before when I felt too idle to actually park it in the garage.

I grabbed my helmet from the trunk and put it on, paying no attention to the weird looks people were giving me because of my lilac nightwear attire.

I quickly started the engine and rode as cautiously but swiftly as I could. I arrived there in under fifteen minutes- half the time it would've taken by car.

As I entered the building, my heart frantically hammered in my chest. I made my way to the receptionist's desk and took a few breaths to steady myself. "Hey Carla, where's mom?" I asked nervously.

"She's in her office, sweetie. Also, before you go, let me warn you... she's in a bad mood, apparently a meeting went wrong. Be careful." She offered me a warm smile- one I wasn't able to return as I was already climbing the stairs. The elevator was currently under use by a dozen employees and I had no time to waste.

After exactly seven minutes (yes, I counted), I arrived at the forty-third floor. Stopping for a while, I tried to catch up my panting breath.

Practicing my speech, I very slowly turned the door knob to her office. Ok deep breaths, in and out, in and out. I repeatedly inhaled and exhaled before walking into my inevitable death.

Okay you're overreacting now. The voice in my head nagged.

Oh, shut up. I retorted.

Deny it all you want, honey.

Will you be quiet?

You do realise that you're basically talking to yourself right now?

After having a little moment with myself, I stepped inside the room and found that my mom was out of sight.

"¿Mamá Dondé estas? (mom where are you?)" I asked, slowly looking around the room. I went up to her desk and sat down opposite the chief executive chair. Just as I took my phone out to call her, the large leather chair slowly span around to face me.

In that moment, I could've sworn my heart threatened to jump out of my chest and make a run for it. Quickly holding my phone like a shot put ball, I motioned to launch it at whatever lurked behind my mother's chair. When my eyes settled on what I was seeing, a heavy sigh of relief left my mouth- then I remembered who that was and my eyes widened again. Mama stared at me with a horrified expression. We both stood up from our chairs.

"¿Mama que estas haciendo? (mom what are you doing?)" I screeched, hand over heart.

"¿Qué estoy haciendo ? ¿Qué estás haciendo chica loca? (What am I doing? What are you doing crazy girl?)" She shrieked in response.

"I came to give you the file..." My voice trailed off as I handed her the file, trying my best to avoid her gaze.

Seeing her face go from startled and irritated to completely serious was spine-chilling to say the least. She cursed under her breath and threw the file across the floor.

"You're coming with me to Lawrence Harrington's welcome gala. This is your punishment." She commanded as she took a seat.

I looked up, eyes wide. "What? No! please. You know I hate galas!" I pleaded as I laced my hands together, prepared to kneel on the floor and beg.

"My decision has already been made. Of course, if you choose not to obey it, then I have other punishments in store for you." She enunciated, sitting back down.

"What do you mean?" I asked sceptically.

"I remember you telling me about this motorcycle that you really wanted, Suzuki GSX-R1000 was it?" she mentioned.

"What about it?" I asked, eyes narrowed.

"Well, I've ordered it... but now I'm reconsidering-" She said before I interrupted.

"Fine. I'll go but I'm telling you- if it's boring, I'm only going to stay for two hours, tops."

"I'll give it a thought." She replied with arms crossed and a raised brow

"So, what's this welcome gala about anyway?" I asked, taking a seat.

"Lawrence Harrington," I cringed at the name. "our business rival and enemy, is welcoming his son Zachary Harrington into the company, and for formality's sake, he invited me. After all, your father and him used to be great friends." She stated.

"And why do I have to go?" I asked, my lips curving to form a frown. As if the man hadn't done enough to our family already, I was being forced to attend his event.

"You barely ever go to these events, you need to maintain a social image. And also because I know how much you hate these things and it's the best opportunity to punish you for being disorganised." She argued.

I huffed, knowing that arguing with her was like repeatedly smacking my head on a wall. "What time is it? And any specific dress code?" I asked, getting up and walking towards the door.

"It's at six-thirty tonight and it's formal. Looking at your state I'd say you don't have much time left. Its going to take some time fixing that" She said, gesturing at my bedhead. "I'll book you an appointment at the salon and I'll send a dress over at home. My chauffer will pick you up from there and we'll go together. Now go! I have enough work today as it is."

"Adios." I said, before closing the door.