Destroying the CEO

CECE

Moving my finger around the touchpad, I looked through Brenton’s profile and tried to glean as much as I could about him and his family.

He might’ve thrown me out of his office, but that did not mean he could throw me out of his life, not without giving me my bakery back.

Once I had what he owed me, I would happily get out of his life, but not before then.

“Hello, Cece, dear. How are you? Don’t tell me you are still searching about Brenton Maslow,” Mrs. Druid said as she entered my flat, which was in the building next to hers.

Today, she chose to wear a hot-pink dress with blue accents paired with hot-pink platform heels.

“I told you, I will not stop until he gives me what I want.” I looked up from the screen of my laptop to gaze at her.

“Mrs. Druid, even if I have to blackmail Brenton in order to get my bakery back, I will.”

“Cece, be careful, hon. I don’t want you to get hurt. And Brenton Maslow is very good at hurting people,” she cautioned.

“He already hurt me when he destroyed my bakery. I have nothing to lose now, which means I am ready to fight fire with fire,” I stated, trying to find out exactly where he lived.

“Why do you have to be stubborn, Cece? Instead of wasting time and energy on reading up about him, why don’t you start thinking of starting up a new business?” she suggested, flopping down on the couch beside me.

“I will do that, but I need justice first. If I let this go, then Brenton will not feel remorse for his actions, and he will continue to harm other people just because he is rich and spoiled. And I will not allow him to hurt other innocent people,” I countered, shutting down my laptop and standing up from the couch.

“Where are you going now?” Mrs. Druid asked. She had a semblance of a frown on her face, but it was hard to tell because of the Botox.

“To see Brenton. It’s five already and I am sure he will be free now. I have to talk to him,” I answered, walking over to the coat hanger and pulling out my trench coat.

Hopefully, he would be willing to listen to me now that he was not in a meeting. Even though the world portrayed him as cruel, maybe there was some humanity in him.

I knew it was wishful thinking, but this was my only hope right now.

“Girl, you have lost your marbles. Do you not understand that Brenton will squash you like a bug if you make him angry? Just be smart for once and stop wasting your time with him. You know he can send you to jail if he gets angry,” she warned.

I rolled my eyes and picked up my purse. “I will get my bakery back, Mrs. Druid, and Brenton will be the one to give it to me, no matter what I have to do for it.”

Leaving her on the couch, I exited my flat and got on my scooter.

God knows what I’ll do if Brenton refuses to listen to me now.

I would just have to go and bug him at his house, but the problem was I had no idea where he lived. Google only helped to give me the address of his family home, and I doubted he still lived there.

But if he refused to listen to me, then I would go to his family house if I had to.

The chilly London air did nothing to calm the fire inside me as I raced on toward my enemy.

Were all the Maslows like this, or was Brenton the special one? Were they all a bunch of shallow snobs who considered and treated the poor worse than animals?

Somebody needed to teach them to be kind and compassionate.

As soon as Maslow Enterprises came into my line of sight, I quickly parked my scooter and ran toward the entrance.

The sun was no longer out, replaced by darkness that seemed to rule over Brenton’s heart as well.

I saw him walking toward a sleek silver car, the name of which I had no clue about, nor did I care about knowing.

He was looking as professional as he had in the morning; his clothes weren’t the slightest bit wrinkled.

And even though it was dark, I could still see the sharp cut of his jaw, making him look regal and beautiful.

“Hey!” I shouted as I jogged over to him. He looked at me with a frown on his face as if I’d disrespected him by talking to him directly.

“I can’t believe you have the audacity to show me your face again. Do you really want me to throw you in jail? Will that help you understand that I am not someone to be messed with?” he said, his eyes glaring at me.

“Believe me, I get no pleasure out of seeing your ugly face either, but I have no choice. You owe me a bakery, and I’m sorry to tell you that you will have to deal with my presence until you give me back what you stole from me,” I said.

Though I’d lied about his face being ugly, I figured insulting him would make him give me back my bakery faster.

“I stole nothing from you. Your bakery was on my land, so I just had it demolished because I don’t want any unnecessary thing on my land,” he stated, opening the door of his car.

“I have the legal documents stating that my bakery was legal and that no one but I am the owner of that piece of land. You can’t say it’s your land when you don’t have any legal documents,” I told him.

If he thought I was just bugging him so he could give me some money, then he was wrong.

“Well, those documents are null and void now because I am the owner of that land now. So, stop wasting my time and get out of my face, or else I am going to get a restraining order against you. This is the last time I am telling you this, firecracker. If I ever see you again, I will not be held responsible for my actions,” he said before getting inside his car. However, I grabbed onto his arm before he could close the door and drive off.

“No! You can’t do this.” I would not let him get away like this.

“You filthy peasant, how dare you touch me?!” Brenton ripped his arm from my grip and gave me a rough push, causing me to fall hard onto the road.

I hissed as pain blazed an arch through my arms and legs. And when I saw the bleeding scrapes, I realized the cause of my pain.

I glared at the silver car and at the man driving it as Brenton quickly started his car and peeled out onto the busy London road, leaving me cold and bleeding in the chilly winter night.

I will never forgive you for this, Brenton.

Once he was out of my sight, I forced myself to stand up, ignoring the burning agony in my limbs.

Perhaps I should go to the hospital and get these checked by a professional. But I did not have time.

Anger and determination pulsed through my veins, forcing me to ignore the pain and plan a trip to Brenton’s family house.

If he refused to talk to me, then I would just have to talk to someone who was willing to listen.

The ride back to my flat was painful and cold. I was cursing Brenton in all sorts of different languages, which I knew affected him in no way.

How could a man be so stubborn? He knew he was in the wrong; why couldn’t he just admit it? I would not gloat or rub it in his face. Was his ego that important to him?

I parked my scooter once I reached home and all but ran up to my flat. I needed a serious dose of ice cream; otherwise, I would explode.

Brenton was not treating me right, and I would not stand for it. If he expected to get respect, then he had to give some as well.

“Cece, dear, are you back so soon? What happened? Did you see Mr. Maslow?” Mrs. Druid asked.

What in the world was she still doing in my flat? And why was she in my kitchen?

“He did not listen. He had the guts to say that I was wrong to have my bakery there. And then he pushed me and I fell,” I told her as I got a good look at my injuries.

Both of my knees had been scraped and were bleeding, while my arms had been scraped to my elbows.

God, what had he done to me? How could a mere shove result in so many injuries?

“I told you not to waste your time, darling. You just don’t listen to me.” I could hear her disappointment through the kitchen, but I did not care; I would not give up on my bakery.

I would not give up on justice.

“What are you doing in my kitchen, Mrs. Druid?” I inquired, wondering if I should dare to go and get the first aid kit and whether my injuries would allow me to move or not.

“I thought to bake some cookies for you,” she answered as she came out of the kitchen carrying a plate full of chocolate chip cookies.

“Why?” I hissed as my knees stung.

“Oh my!” Mrs. Druid’s eyes widened when they landed on my arms and legs. She quickly put the plate down and sat down next to me. “What happened to you?”

“I told you, Brenton pushed me and I fell on the road. Thank God there wasn’t a car around, otherwise I would’ve been crushed,” I muttered, failing to ignore my ugly injuries.

I needed to put some ointment on these before they got infected.

“And instead of going to the hospital you chose to come home? Cece, what am I going to do with you? Now stay here while I go and get the first aid kit,” she said before getting up.

“Uh, thank you but no thanks. You sit here and eat the cookies while I go and clean these up,” I told her.

“Oh no, you are not leaving this place. Sit here and I will get the first aid.” She gave me a stern look, which left me with no choice but to do as she said.

Once she was satisfied that I would not move, Mrs. Druid went to my room to get the first aid kit.

Three days later, I finally had the courage to visit Brenton’s house.

I had wanted to visit his family's house earlier, but my injuries, along with Mrs. Druid, refused to let me go anywhere.

But now, I was feeling much better and was ready to take on Brenton Maslow once again.

However, as I gazed at the gigantic castle, I began to wonder whether coming here had been a mistake because I was pretty sure Brenton would not be living here.

But if he didn’t live here, then who did? And I could see lights blazing through the windows and men guarding the perimeter, which meant there were people living here.

“Well, only one way to find out. It’s time to go in and see,” I said to myself as I tried to sneak in through the back.

I didn’t know why, but I had a feeling that Brenton must’ve alerted the guards to keep an eye out for me since I would not leave him alone.

Which was why I was dressed in black and trying to blend in with my surroundings.

The time of day was in my favor as it was night, which made it easier to hide in the shadows.

My eyes did not leave the guards patrolling the grounds. The front door wasn’t that far from where I was hiding behind a bush, but I could not allow myself to be seen.

If they saw me, they would not hesitate to throw me out and label me as a trespasser.

There were three guards standing at the front entrance of the castle. How long would it take for them to leave their posts? My bladder was screaming at me, and I needed to get home quickly.

Hopefully, I would not embarrass myself in front of Brenton while telling him to give me my bakery back.

I really needed to stop whining about my bakery so much, but I could not help it. In one day, Brenton Maslow destroyed my years’ worth of hard work. How could I not whine?

When two out of three guards left their posts, that’s when I saw hope. Now I needed the last one to get out of my way, and then I would make my move.

My bladder tried to get my attention, but I ignored it by thinking about Brenton and what a twat he was.

God knows how much I cursed him, but it wasn’t enough. Every time I thought about him, I came up with a whole new range of expletives.

Brenton Maslow surely knew how to bring out my creative side.

The funny thing about these guards was that they were all dressed in black as well, which gave me an idea.

Maybe I could pretend to be one of the guards and relieve the man of his duty. Then once the coast was clear, I could go in.

Cece, you are a genius!

Pulling my cap down to obscure my face, I squared my shoulders and walked toward the guard, making sure to walk like a man. Once I reached the guard, that’s when my acting skills kicked in.

“How long are you going to stand here?” I asked, making sure to speak in a heavy voice as if I smoked too many cigarettes.

“I am waiting for Ty to get back, then I am going on my break,” the guard replied. Was my acting so good that he couldn’t tell that I was a woman?

“Why don’t you go, and I will cover for you,” I said.

“Really? Thanks, mate. I will see you later,” he said and walked away, leaving me standing at the entrance.

“Well, that was easy,” I commented and entered through the front door.

I was finally inside the Maslow mansion.