I want to die!
Some days, Jean woke up feeling like she was suffocating. Today was one of those days.
The ticking clock on the wall felt louder than usual, a rhythmic reminder that time never stopped… not even when she wanted it to.
Jean sat at the breakfast table, the same place she had for the last twenty-five years, but today, the weight of the room pressed against her chest. Darla Adams, her mother, barely glanced up from her perfectly buttered toast. Her mother's gaze was cold as it flicked from the toaster to Jean's face, as if inspecting a product under a harsh light.
"You look tired." She asked, not looking up. Her voice was smooth, detached, as if making an observation about the weather. She set her knife down with a quiet clink. "Did you even check the mirror before coming down?"
Jean swallowed, gripping the cool glass of orange juice. "I didn't think it was necessary."
But that wasn't even a question, it was more like a demand. "If some paparazzi takes that picture of your face, it would create unnecessary controversy."
Her father, Derek Adams, sitting at the head of the table, cleared his throat. "Your mother has a point. People notice things like that." He took a slow sip of his coffee. "Are you sure you're eating healthy? Maybe consider cutting back on the bread."
Jean's stomach twisted, she put her lip suppressing the words that bubbled to the surface but she forced a small, pleasant smile. "I'm fine." Hoping they'd let her eat in peace, even for a moment.
Her elder brother, Alex, barely acknowledged the conversation, too absorbed in his phone. But even his silence carried weight. The quiet judgement in his presence was always present, like a ghost lingering in the background. He was the golden child, the one who never faltered, never disappointed. Jean, on the other hand, was the family obligation.
Darla finally set down her toast and looked directly at her, her voice cutting through the silence. "We've arranged another date for you. You need to go, Jean. It's time." Her mother's words didn't feel like a suggestion, more like a rule.
There it was. The inevitable demand.
Jean's grip tightened on her fork, but her expression remained neutral. "I'll think about it."
"You will." Her mother's gaze sharpened. "This is important for your future."
No, this is important for your reputation, Jean wanted to say. Instead, she merely nodded and let the conversation die.
And with that, Jean's day had already begun, before the sun had fully risen.
The soft hum of her car engine was the only sound as she drove through the early morning streets. The city looked different at this hour, bathed in golden light, almost peaceful. Away from the cold walls of her family's estate, she could breathe. Away from the cold eyes of her family and the crushing weight of their expectations.
By the time she reached downtown, the sight of the gleaming glass building ahead made her shoulders relax. Divine Beauty.
Her company. Her escape.
Every floor of that building held years of relentless work… long nights, failures, victories. When she started her organic skincare brand, no one believed she could make it. Not her father, not Alex, and certainly not her mother. But now?
Now, Divine Beauty was everywhere.
Billboards displayed her products in vibrant colors, storefronts carried her name, and social media buzzed with praise for her all-natural skincare line. This was more than just a business. It was proof that she wasn't a failure.
She parked in her reserved spot, the small sign next to the luxury sedan reading Jean Adams – CEO. It wasn't much, just a humble little sign next to a luxury sedan, but it still felt like her personal triumph.
A title she had earned, no thanks to her family.
She locked her car and walked towards the entrance, the glass doors opening with a soft whoosh. As she stepped inside, the familiar scent of rose and jasmine greeted her. This place wasn't just an office. It was her sanctuary.
Inside, the atmosphere was different. Here, there was no judgement, no expectations.
This is mine and mine alone.
"Good morning, Jean!" Emma, her assistant and the only cousin she trusted, called from across the open-plan office.
Jean offered a small smile. "Morning, Emma. How's everything looking today?"
"All systems are good to go. The new line's ready for launch, and the marketing campaign starts next week. I'll have the final details on your desk by noon."
Jean nodded, already thinking ahead. "Perfect. Also... what would you say if we started a clothing line?"
Emma's eyes widened, then a knowing smile spread across her face. "I think you already have it all planned out in your head."
Jean smirked. "Maybe." Her mind is already drifting to the next steps. She had a thousand things to do, but at this moment, surrounded by the products she'd created, the weight of the world didn't feel so heavy.
Her company is her freedom.
"Tell me my schedule please, Emma."
Emma handed her a folder but hesitated before speaking. "There's something you need to know."
"What?" Jean asked.
"Your mother called this morning."
Jean's smile vanished. "Of course she did. What does she want?"
Emma winced. "She asked me to clear your schedule for tonight. You have a blind date. She also booked you a spa and a designer fitting before the dinner."
Jean's fingers curled into a fist on the desk. "I can't believe this. She really is desperate for me to get to this blind dinner date."
Emma sighed. "I'm sorry. I couldn't say no. You know why."
Jean exhaled slowly. "I know. It's not your fault. Can't blame you, when it should be me who should say it on her face but could never."
Still, the thought of wasting her evening on another pointless date with some entitled man made her blood boil.
The evening arrived too quickly.
Jean stepped into the warm, candle-lit restaurant, already dreading the night. She braced herself for an awkward conversation, fake smiles, and yet another man who thought he was doing her a favor by showing up.
But as she scanned the room, her breath caught.
Sitting at her table wasn't her blind date.
It was him.
Her blood turned to fire as her gaze locked onto the man she despised most.
"Logan Kingsley."
As if he sensed her presence, he turned… slowly, deliberately. And then, that damn smirk spread across his face.
Jean's feet moved on their own, taking her straight to his table. "What the hell are you doing here, Logan?"
He leaned back in his chair, a picture of arrogance. "Waiting for you, princess." He winked.
Jean's jaw clenched.
Why the hell did he say that?