Rising to the top with my three hybrid mates

Eleanor's POV

Dickson's finger jabbed toward me, his voice dripping with fake concern. "This woman is causing trouble for everyone!"

Mira stepped forward, her body shielding mine. "That's a lie!"

The host's frown deepened, his eyes flickering between us. The three men behind him remained still, their presence like a gathering storm. The crowd held its breath, hungry for drama.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

The host's gaze sharpened. "How do you intend to pay for the damages?"

Mira's grip on my arm tightened. "She was pushed by that woman!" She pointed at Priscilla, who immediately sagged against Dickson like a wilting flower.

"Look at her! Do you really think someone so fragile could push anyone?" He pulled Priscilla closer, his voice oozing false righteousness. "I'm just protecting my fiancée. This woman wanted to hurt her."

The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, their judgmental eyes burning into me.

Then, a hand rose.

One of the three men lifted a single finger.

Silence swallowed the room whole.

No one dared to breathe.

The host's voice was clipped as he turned to me. "You'll cover the damages. And I suggest you leave now."

I nodded numbly. Of course. No one was going to listen to me.

Mira's arm wrapped around my waist as she guided me out, her grip tight with fury. "Rich jerks," she muttered under her breath, glaring at the retreating backs of the CEOs. "Acting all high and mighty when they didn't even bother to hear the truth."

I leaned against her, exhaustion dragging at my limbs. "They didn't know what really happened. You can't blame them."

Mira scoffed as she flagged down a cab. "I can blame them for making you pay for something she caused."

The cab door slammed shut behind us. "I'm the one paying for it," I said quietly. "Not you."

Mira shot me a look before turning to the driver. "Hospital. Now."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off with a sharp wave of her hand. "Not negotiable."

**

The fluorescent lights of the hospital had long since faded behind us by the time we reached Mira's apartment. My cuts had been cleaned and bandaged, the sting of antiseptic still lingering on my skin.

Mira set a steaming bowl of soup in front of me, the rich aroma filling the small kitchen. "Eat."

"Thank you," I murmured, picking up the spoon. "But I should go home."

"Absolutely not." Mira crossed her arms. "If you're going to wallow in misery, you're doing it here. Where I can force-feed you and remind you how amazing you are."

A weak laugh escaped me. "You're relentless."

"Damn right." She nudged the bowl closer. "Now eat. Depression tastes better on a full stomach."

I took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through me. For the first time all night, the weight in my chest felt a little lighter.

Mira's fingers drummed angrily against the table, her jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching. "That bastard," she muttered. "He wasn't just a red flag - he was a whole damn red parade."

The spoon clinked against the empty bowl as I set it down. My hands still trembled slightly, but the hot soup had steadied me.

Mira dropped onto the seat beside me, and leaned forward. "We can't let him get away with this. Those ideas he stole from you? The projects that got him promoted?" Her eyes burned with determination. "We expose everything. Show the whole company who really deserves that position."

I picked at the edge of the bandage on my wrist. "And when he denies it? When he turns it around like I'm just some jealous ex?" My voice came out quieter than I intended. "His reputation is-"

"Built on your work!" Mira's hand slammed down on the coffee table, making me jump. "Don't you see? He's nothing without you. Let the world know that, and watch how fast he comes crawling back."

The image flashed in my mind - Dickson begging, desperate. It just left a hollow feeling in my chest.

"I don't want to cause trouble in the company" I said softly.

Mira studied me for a long moment before sighing. "Fine. But when you're ready to make him pay?" She squeezed my hand. "I'll be right here with the matches to burn his perfect life to the ground."

I squeezed Mira's hand back, my throat tight. "Thank you," I whispered.

We talked about other things before she nudged me toward the guest room. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's a new day."

And it was—just not in the way I expected.

***

Sunlight streamed through the curtains as I blinked awake, the remnants of a strange dream clinging to me—three pairs of piercing eyes watching me from the shadows. The weekend air felt heavy with silence, and Mira's side of the bed was empty. 

I reached for my phone, still groggy, and nearly dropped it when the screen lit up with a notification.

Dickson.

My heart lurched.

"What you did yesterday was embarrassing. But I know it was just to get my attention. Fine, you have it. Happy now?"

A pause. Then—

"We will meet on Monday at work. We'll talk. Don't miss me too much. "

And there, at the end: heart and kiss emoji.

The breath left my lungs.

He never sent those emojis. Only ever after fights, when he wanted to smooth things over. Only when he wanted me to melt back into his arms like nothing happened.

And the worst part?

It worked.

A traitorous warmth spread through my chest. Does he regret it? Does he want me back?

Then reality crashed down.

He humiliated you. He chose your sister.

But my stupid, stubborn heart still raced at his message.

Why?

Why did the thought of him wanting me again make my fingers tremble? Why did I still crave his approval, even after everything?

The bedroom door creaked open. "Oh! You're awake already—" Mira's cheerful greeting died as she took in my expression. Her eyes dropped to the phone clutched in my trembling hands. "What's wrong?"

I swallowed hard. "Dickson."

Mira snatched the phone, her face darkening as she read. "Hell nah. This man really has the audacity!" She threw the phone onto the bed like it burned her. "After everything? Those disgusting little heart emojis like nothing happened?"

"I...I can't avoid him at work," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded.

Mira's hands landed on her hips. "Which is why our aim today is to not think about him."

She grabbed my shoulders, her grip firm. "I booked us reservations at a newly opened strip club."

I blinked. "A strip club?"

"Damn right." Her grin was sharp. "You need a distraction, Eleanor. Not just any distraction—the kind that reminds you how fucking gorgeous you are when you're not shrinking yourself for some mediocre man."