Chapter 13
I left Jonathan’s office dazed, reeling from the shock of the $100 million compensation package. He had an international meeting and asked me to wait in the break room. Unwilling to do so, I had Bob send me home. Despite my amnesia—my inability to recall details of our life together these past few years—our recent interactions revealed him to be a domineering man. Perhaps it was his accustomed power, but he consistently projected a condescending air. This was evident in his interactions with me; he brooked no objections or alterations to his plans.
Still stunned by the compensation, I walked the corridor unawares when a slender figure bumped into me. Snapping back to reality, I was about to apologize when a cold snort pierced the air. “Serves you right,” a familiar female voice declared. Looking up, I saw a recognizable face. “Gabrielle?” I froze, staring at the woman whose hostility was palpable.
Hearing my casual mention of her name, her expression shifted dramatically. The hostility vanished, as if extinguished. “So, you do remember my name,” she muttered, her tone still tart, but devoid of antagonism. I was surprised. “You work at Millenia too?”
Gabrielle Harrison, my college roommate, hailed from a wealthy family. Tall and aloof, she possessed an underlying loyalty and approachability that only emerged upon acquaintance. Previously ostracized, she projected a formidable demeanor, alienating many. I, too, discovered her true kindness only after getting to know her.
Feeling insecure and disoriented after losing my memories, I was thrilled to see a familiar face. Gabrielle, however, regarded me strangely. “I’ve worked here five years. Why the surprise?”
Taking a deep breath, I glanced at Bob, composing myself. “Sorry, I’ve been emotionally erratic lately…” I explained, dismissing it. This seemed to surprise her further; she gave me a thorough look-over. Fearing Bob’s suspicions, I asked, “Can we talk?”
Bob frowned instantly. “Ms. Sawyer, Mr. Ford asked me to send you home.”
Gabrielle’s annoyance resurfaced. I retorted, “Jonathan isn’t my father. Do I need his permission to speak to someone?”
Gabrielle stared, as if looking at a stranger. “Elise, you…” She seemed poised to speak, but after several attempts, she turned to Bob. “Mr. Bilber, I’ll chat with her briefly.”
Bob frowned, neither refusing nor agreeing. After a long pause, he muttered, “Mr. Ford doesn’t like you meeting Ms. Sawyer.”
This shocked me. Gabrielle was my best friend. Who gave Jonathan the right to prevent our meeting?
Unexpectedly, Gabrielle gave me a cold glance before addressing Bob. “You heard her. She wants to talk to me.”
After considerable hesitation, Bob relented. Entering Gabrielle’s office, I exclaimed, “You have your own office now?”
Her expression, momentarily softened, darkened. “That’s right. I earned this myself, not by riding your coattails. Surprised?” she asked aggressively.