~Becklan's POV~
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. I started explaining, going back two months ago, determined to get the full, toxic narrative off my chest.
"It all started two months ago…"
"It was the model recruitment day," I began. "Everyone knew the rules. Thirty minutes early was ideal. Fifteen minutes early was the bare minimum. Leon Haute Couture wasn't just a brand, it was a military base with prettier outfits. And Mr. President? He wasn't someone who requested respect. He demanded it."
I swallowed.
"I came in two minutes late."
I could still hear it—his voice. Ice disguised as a man.
'You're… late.'
"I tried to explain," I told Frank, "but he didn't even fully look at me. Just dismissed me. Like I was an inconvenience standing in his air."
I shook my head slowly, feeling the sting all over again.
"He threw me out. On the spot. No second chance. No evaluation. 'Leave.' And I did."
My voice tightened.
"I walked out feeling like everything I worked for had been a joke. Like I was a joke."
I drew a slow breath.
"But I didn't give up. Recently, I got another chance at Maizux DeLoux. A rival company. One of the best."
I let out a small, bitter laugh.
"That's when I spilled coffee on Evan DeLoux's shirt. Completely by accident. And guess who walked in that moment?"
I didn't have to say his name.
"Leon stood there at the door with that stupid, arrogant smirk and he ruined it again. Told Evan I was incompetent. That he shouldn't hire me. And Evan listened."
I saw Frank's expression soften, but I pushed on. I needed to finish the story.
"I walked out of that building humiliated. Angry. So angry I couldn't breathe. I decided I wanted revenge, even if it was small. Even if it was just petty."
My hands curled slightly in my lap as I remembered.
"So I waited near the lobby, hiding so Leon wouldn't see me. I wanted to embarrass him. Just a little. Just enough to feel like I didn't lose everything."
My lips lifted humorlessly.
"He walked toward the elevator with his assistants, and I slipped in before the doors closed. He didn't even look at me."
I inhaled sharply.
"And then the elevator shook. Hard. He lost his balance. His hand brushed my thigh, higher than my thigh. And I snapped."
Frank listened silently, his gaze fixed on me.
"I made a scene," I admitted. "I said he touched me. That he grabbed my cock. I yelled it loud enough that even the assistant panicked."
My cheeks heated with remembered shame.
"And then, God, this is embarrassing, I said he grabbed my cock."
I buried my face briefly in my palms.
"Yes. I said that. In front of his assistants. In an elevator. It was supposed to be revenge, okay. Just something to hurt his perfect reputation a little."
My voice dropped to a near whisper.
"Then I cried. Actual tears. I don't even know why. Maybe the stress, maybe the shame of losing everything."
I drew in a breath.
"But that's how it happened. That's how the stupid elevator drama started. And that's why Leon hates me."
"I won't lie to you, Frank," I continued. "After all that shouting in the elevator… after I said he grabbed me… I pushed it even further. I told him he took my virginity just by touching me."
I rubbed my forehead, mortified. "Yes. I said that. I told his assistant that because Mr. President's hand brushed me, I wasn't a virgin anymore."
Frank blinked slowly, and I lifted a hand in defeat. "I know. It was stupid. It was dramatic. But I was desperate, humiliated, angry, and I wanted him to feel even a fraction of what he made me feel."
I exhaled shakily.
"The drama got so big that the whole hallway was staring. His assistant didn't know what to do. Leon looked like he wanted to throw me off the building."
I swallowed.
"But here's the truth… I told him I didn't have a job. No home. No money. Nowhere to go. That I need a job."
A humorless smile tugged at my lips.
"Do you know what he said?"
I didn't wait for Frank to answer.
"He said the only job he could ever offer someone like me… is a maid."
I let the words sit heavy in the air.
"He told me he would never hire me as a model. That I was a blackmailer, a troublemaker, and the only reason he wasn't throwing me out again was that he didn't want the media to see us fighting."
I shook my head.
"So yeah… that's how it happened. The lie, the 'virginity' nonsense, the humiliation, and how I ended up in his house as a maid instead of walking the runway."
Frank blinked once, then let out a low whistle. "That's a big drama."
"It's bigger than how I even explained it," I sighed. "Much worse."
He leaned back, studying me with that calm, thoughtful expression. "I understand your pain, Beck. I get that Leon was wrong, he handled everything terribly. But you shouldn't have created that whole scene either."
I lowered my gaze, ashamed but too tired to argue.
Frank continued gently, "You have everything it takes to be a model. Everything. But now that you're under Leon… It's difficult for anyone to work with you. I think you should try to get closer to him. Ask for his sincere forgiveness. At least then, you can use your body, your height, your perfect figure… for something profitable. Instead of wasting more years as his maid."
His words stung because they were true.
But before I could respond, his assistant arrived with our food, right at the same moment my phone began to vibrate.
Leon.
My stomach dropped.
I picked up immediately. "Yes, sir?"
His voice was cold, sharp, and unimpressed. 'I need you to do something for me.'
I swallowed hard. "I'll be there right away."
I turned to Frank. "I'm sorry. I need to go. Leon needs me."
Frank nodded quietly. "Alright. Take care."
I hurried out of the office and went straight to Leon's office.
The moment I stepped inside, he was alone, leaning back in his chair, tapping a pen against his desk.
"Good. You're here," he said without looking up. Then he lifted his eyes, expression unreadable. "Come and massage my back."
I just stared at him for a second. Inside, I was laughing bitterly, massage you? As if following you everywhere wasn't enough, now I'm your personal masseur too?
"Why are you just standing there?" he snapped lightly. "Do what I asked."
I stepped forward, keeping my face carefully neutral, though inside I was laughing at how ridiculous this all was.
Right in front of me, he began unbuttoning his shirt, slow and deliberate, the question slipping out casually between each motion. "What were you and Frank doing in the VIP boardroom?"
I froze, realizing immediately, this wasn't about the massage. Someone had already told him I'd been with Frank.
He didn't look at me as he spoke, but the command in the question was enough. "Answer me."