After I left, they begged for Forgiveness

Chapter 5- Her life falling apart

Why was the gate not opening?

Valeria Langston pressed a manicured finger to the intercom button, eyes flicking up at the sleek digital sign that still—still—read “Executive Reserved.”

The gate in front of her didn’t budge.

A tinny voice buzzed through.

“Apologies, ma’am. This space is currently restricted.”

Her brows lifted, lips twitching into a polite, puzzled smile. “There must be a mistake. This is my space. Valeria Langston. CEO of—”

“Orders from the top,” the guard cut in, firm. “This space is to remain vacant until further notice.”

Top? She was the top.

Valeria’s jaw tightened. “Is there maintenance?”

“I’m not aware of any, ma’am. You’ll need to park elsewhere.”

She paused, processing.

Fine. It had to be a glitch. Someone overstepping. She’d have her assistant handle it later. With a quick spin of her wheel, she reversed out and parked two floors below. Not ideal, not convenient, but she wasn’t about to argue over a common space.

She’s above that.

Her heels clicked crisply as she stepped out, designer bag in hand, sunglasses reflecting the sun. She scanned the front entrance.

Her PA should have been waiting there. As always.

But no familiar face.

Valeria frowned. Late again?

She can’t waste her time. She walked into the building nodding back at a few employees who offered stiff smiles and mumbled greetings.

There was something off about their energy. Eyes flicked to her, then darted away.

One woman even gave a tight, awkward smile before nearly stumbling into a wall as she tried to avoid eye contact.

Weird.

Still, Valeria stepped into the executive elevator like she owned the building—because she did.

She tapped her keycard against the scanner before reaching her floor.

Red light.

Huh?

She tilted the card, swiping again. And again.

ACCESS DENIED. UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY.

Valeria’s brows furrowed. “That’s not right.”

She flipped the card, tried again. Same rejection. The screen didn’t even hesitate.

She stared at it, blinking once, twice. Had she brought the wrong one? No—this was her personal access card. She used it every day. There was no reason it shouldn't work.

A shadow passed beside her. A security guard in a navy uniform.

“Excuse me,” she said, turning to him. “There’s something wrong with the reader. Can you check?”

The man nodded, polite but neutral. He pulled out his own badge and scanned it.

Green. Door unlocked.

Valeria’s stomach dropped.

What…?

She stepped inside,. The office suite was quiet. No scent of fresh coffee waiting. No soft shuffle of staff preparing her files.

Then she saw it.

The wall outside her office—the one that once held , her photograph with heads of state, her “Top Ten Most Powerful Women in Tech” cover—was bare.

One frame lay on the floor. Cracked.

Her breath caught.

She walked faster.

Her door was open.

And inside—.

Her desk was gone.. Her orchid vase? Missing. The shelves stripped bare. Someone had thrown her office into transition.

Or worse—transitioned her out.

“What the hell is going on?” she muttered under her breath, moving forward.

This wasn’t maintenance.

No one had called her. No one had emailed. She checked her phone—nothing.

“Someone better come here right now!” Valeria’s voice snapped through the hallway like a whip, echoing off the glass panels and stone floors.

For a moment, nothing.

Then—soft footsteps approached. Hesitant.

A young woman rounded the corner, tablet in hand, her expression calm but rehearsed. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, sharp bob haircut and a tailored blazer.

Valeria’s eyes narrowed. “You. Who are you?”

The girl blinked. “I’m Sera, ma’am. Executive assistant to—”

“Assistant?” Valeria cut her off, stepping forward, heels clicking like gunshots. “To who? Where’s Anna? She’s been my PA for ten years.”

Sera glanced at her tablet. “Miss Anna’s contract was terminated two days ago. I’ve replaced her.”

Valeria froze.

Terminated?

Her voice dropped, low and cutting. “Who said I needed a new PA?”

Sera’s expression didn’t change. “You didn’t.”

There was a pause. Sharp. Tense.

Valeria raised her phone, hand shaking slightly, and dialed one of the board members.

Straight to voicemail.

She tried another. Rejected.

And another. Nothing.

Her pulse quickened. Sweat prickled behind her neck.

Sera stepped forward, voice cool but matter-of-fact. “I think there’s a misunderstanding. I’m not your PA, Ms. Langston.”

Valeria turned slowly.

“What did you just say?”

“I’m personal assistant to the new CEO.”

Valeria blinked, the words not computing.

“The what?”

Sera’s gaze didn’t waver. “The new Chief Executive Officer.”

Valeria’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Her heart slammed against her ribs like a caged animal.

She whispered, almost to herself, “They’re getting a new CEO?”

Sera tilted her head slightly. “Not getting. He’s already been installed.”

Her vision spun for a second. Like the floor dropped beneath her heels.

Who could’ve replaced her? Who had the leverage? Who had the balls?

She turned to leave, breathing shallow, stumbling out of the office.

Then—she heard the hum of voices.

TV screens mounted in the corridor flashed bright with live news.

One by one, staff paused in front of them. Watching.

She followed the angle of their eyes.

And there he was.

Elijah Quinn.

Stepping off a private jet. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit ,his hand loosely clasped in the gloved hand of a woman wrapped in royal sapphire silk. The Princess of Saudi Arabia—

They were waving to a crowd. Cameras. Reporters screaming questions.

Flashes of headlines streamed across the screen:

“ELIJAH QUINN JOINS ROYAL FORCES – New Power Couple?”

“TRIDENT COMPLEX CEO REVEALED – Elijah Quinn Back in Play.”

“VALERIA LANGSTON SILENT AS EX-ALLY Takes the Throne.”

Valeria’s stomach turned.

She couldn’t breathe.

The man she once dismissed. The one she cast aside like a broken tool. He was the one the world was watching now. Admiring. Revering.

He looked good. Powerful.

She backed away from the screen, turning quickly, shielding her face from the staff as tears threatened behind her designer shades.

She reached for her phone with shaking fingers.

He wouldn't answer. She knew that.

But she had no choice.

She tapped his name.

CALLING: Elijah Quinn.

It rang. Once. Twice. Straight to voicemail.

She hung up and tried again.

Nothing.

She opened her message app. Her thumbs hovered.

What could she say?

“I’m sorry.”

“We need to talk.”

“I was wrong.”

Each one sounded pathetic. Hollow. Not enough.

She settled on:

> Elijah. I know you're busy. But we need to speak. Please. Just one call.

Sent.

No read receipt.

She sat down on the cold marble bench outside the elevator, staring at the screen. Waiting. Dreading.

This was her punishment. The moment she always thought she was too smart, too powerful, too important to ever face.

She didn’t know how long she sat there.

She stared down at her heels—

And then—

A chime.

Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a soft notification ping.

Her eyes snapped to the screen.

One new message.

From: Elijah Quinn.