CHAPTER 3: Resolve

I stand beneath the imposing glass facade of the monolith, which boasts Braxton’s pack’s name - Shadow Mystic Enterprise. My heart pounds like a frightened creature as my hand reaches out to push open the polished doors that loom before me. Then my fingers, pale and delicate, tremble against the cold surface, reflecting my trepidation.

The atrium, adorned with shimmering chandeliers that cast a warm glow on the marble floors. As I tread across the pristine expanse, my rugged shoes emit a rhythmic soft thump, resonating through the hallowed space and amplifying the symphony of voices and the occasional shrill ring of phones. 

I continue to tread my way in until I find myself standing before a gleaming floor-to-ceiling mirror. My reflection is a source of inner turmoil. I tug self-consciously at the hem of my charcoal-gray skirt, my fingers tracing the insecurities that’s nibbling my confidence. My hair has some loose strands falling from my messy bun, so I gather them between my fingers and tuck them behind my ears. And my eyes, though bright with determination, have a flicker of embarrassment since everyone here holds some poise and elegance while I do not.

A sigh leaves me as I remind myself that I’m not here to look for a job, I’m here to speak to this company’s CEO. Therefore, my appearance shouldn’t be a big deal, right? 

I walk towards the receptionist behind the polished counter. Her voice is impatient as she looks up briefly. "Good morning. What can I help you with?"

“I came here to speak to Mr. Braxton Guttierrez," I reply.

The receptionist's eyes flick over my form, taking in my anxiety-laden demeanor. Her wolf in her droopy eyes smirks at me with pure mockery. 

Oh yeah, to these werewolves, my unfashionable, cheap-looking clothes may not be as big of a deal than me being a human. Well, who’s to blame when they act and think superior to us? That’s how our society has labeled humans to be - we are the least significant being, way lesser than the ones they called Omegas.

After some time of silently scrutinizing me with her stare,  the receptionist asks with an air of indifference, “Do you have a scheduled meeting with Mr. Guttierrez today?”

Oh s.hit! I didn’t know that that’s even a thing!

My gaze darts nervously from side to side, thinking that I have no choice but to spin a web of deception. Summoning my courage, I straighten my back and smoothen the fabric of my skirt, an armor of confidence that conceals the fluttering unease within.

“Yes. I have an appointment with him now, Saturday, 2 in the afternoon. It’s about the Children in Need Foundation’s tenth year anniversary," I say.

The receptionist jerks her crooked eyebrow at me, as if not buying my lie. Shen then looks at her computer screen and asks, “Your name?”

I swallow. I don’t know if this will work, but I hope once Braxton hears my name, he won’t deny me and won't ask his guards to toss me out of his building.

“Eloise Garcia. He hired me as his event coordinator.”

The receptionist examines me again from my quite wrinkled blouse to my quite messy hair. This time, her expression makes it obvious that she’s not trusting me. Luckily, instead of directly spitting out her thoughts, she moves her attention back to the computer screen. 

The click-clacks of the keyboard as she searches for my name on their records are reciprocated by my thudding chest. I know she won’t find my name there. That’s why I’m already constructing another lie in my head.

“Your name isn’t here and there’s no scheduled appointment for Mr. Guttierrez at this time,” she says with a tinge of irritation.

“Uhm… maybe it wasn’t recorded properly by Mr. Guttierrez’s secretary or whoever is responsible for his schedules. Can you call him instead and let him know that Eloise Garcia is here?”

The creases in her brow deepen. Before she can say her apparent refusal, I quickly add,

“You see, the success of the tenth year anniversary of his foundation is very important to him and to me. I don’t wanna lose this chance to make my name become known for organizing it. And I’m sure you also don’t wanna get scolded or, worse, lose your…”

My word is cut off when the receptionist sharpens her stare at me while putting the telephone on her ear.

Seconds of silence unfurl, then her voice echoes again. “Good afternoon. I have here the Children in Need Foundation’s event coordinator, Eloise Garcia. She said she has a scheduled meeting with Mr. Guttierrez, but our records show none of that. Can you check, please?”

Another seconds of silence falls, which makes my heart thrum with both hope and agitation.

I have to get to Braxton no matter what! My Maddox’s illness won’t wait! He needs to be saved as soon as possible!

“That’s also what I said to her, but she’s insisting that there is.” The receptionist pulls the telephone slightly away from her ear and mouth, then looks at me with eyes brimming with a lucid suspicion. She says, “Mr. Guttierrez’s secretary said that they haven’t hired an event organizer yet.”

The temptation to weave another lie plus my desperation to succeed my mission as a mother overpower me once again. 

“That’s the reason why Mr. Guttierrez’s secretary didn’t record my meeting with her boss today. It’s not that she forgot, it’s just that she didn’t know about me,” I say.

“But Miss…”

“Let me talk to Mr. Guttierrez himself so I can prove to you what I’m talking about. I have other clients aside from him. If I can’t meet him today, the earliest he could meet me next will be in a week, which will delay all the planning for the event. Therefore, I won’t leave unless it’s him who tells me to,” I interrupt, folding my arms over my chest.

The receptionist blows out a sigh, then rolls her eyes at me. If only I’m not insisting for a favor, I’ll do the same to her. 

She places the telephone back to her ear, then says, “She’s very persistent.”

Afterwards, her shoulders and her facial lines suddenly relax a bit as she hands over the telephone to me.

I excitedly take the telephone from her and breathily say, “Hello?”

-[“Miss Garcia, right?”]-

A woman’s voice echoes. Her tone is soft compared to the receptionist. 

“That’s right,” I say.

-[“I understand how important your job is to you, but please be advised that…”]-

Knowing that it’s rejection I’ll get, I also reject to allow myself to listen to her.

“If you won’t let me talk to Mr. Guttierrez now, I’ll void our contract. You can tell him to find another event organizer for his precious foundation.”

Tears of desperation start blurring my eyes. The once suspecting stare of the receptionist turns confused as she strains to make sense of the words echoing in her ears and the scene flashing before her eyes. 

-[“Alright, stay on the line. I’ll try to connect him to you.”]-

Finally! The secretary’s response plucks out a huge thorn out my chest that I’m able to breathe properly again. 

A moment later, as if the heavens themselves conspired to test my resolve, Braxton’s voice echoes through the telephone, a haunting melody of memories and emotions I’ve always wanted to bury deep within the recesses of my heart.

-[“Eloise, is that really you?”]-

He murmurs, his voice like a caress and a torment all at once. It’s a voice I had once adored, filled with laughter, tenderness, and promises of forever. But when he spoke my name, it felt like shards of broken glass piercing my soul, tearing at the fragile walls I had constructed to shield myself from the harsh reality that I’m not for him and he’s not for me.

I fight to steady my voice, to push back the flood of emotions threatening to consume me. Still, my voice cracks when I answer, “Yes, it’s me. Thank you for picking up this call.”