Chapter 3
Gunnar never fired Harlow.
Not only did he refuse, but he also bought her a two-bedroom apartment.
Harlow posted a photo of the deed on her social media and captioned: [Big thanks to Mr. Lawrence for being so supportive. I just started my career and already met such a generous boss. I love my job.]
She also added two sparkly-eyed emojis at the end.
I screenshotted it and sent it straight to Gunnar. [What's that supposed to mean?]
Gunnar texted back almost instantly. [Harlow's a young woman fighting for herself in Silverport. It's hard. Having her own apartment gives her some real peace of mind.]
I couldn't believe what he said.
When the company finally turned a profit, I wanted to buy an apartment close to the office for myself.
Gunnar stopped me. "Bria, aren't you happy living with me?"
"It's nicer having my own place, and it's not like I can't afford it," I insisted on buying.
We'd spent years hopping from place to place.
I'd lived in basements, slept on park benches. In the old tiny office, I shoved two chairs together to sleep.
Getting a place of my own became an obsession.
Once the company did well, Gunnar bought a big, fancy apartment as soon as he could. "Bria, I bought a penthouse. Way more comfortable than a tiny apartment.
"We've shared so much together. Don't you get any sense of security living with me?"
I stayed silent.
Gunnar's face fell, clearly hurt.
I felt myself melt a little, watching him.
I really believed, heart and soul, that we would last forever.
In the end, I gave up on buying a place for myself.
But he gave the security he promised me to Harlow instead.
He claimed she needed a place of her own to feel safe.
So, he actually understood what owning a home meant for someone fighting alone.
I slowly typed a message on my phone. [So, why did you stop me from buying when I wanted one?]
[We were planning to get married.] Gunnar replied. [No need for another place. Plus, I brought my parents to live here. Makes it easier for everyone to take care of each other.]
Yeah, Gunnar bought the penthouse and instantly moved his parents in.
His dad, Forest Lawrence, had mobility problems and needed massages daily to manage pain. He couldn't work at all.
Back home, his mom, Hana Lawrence, took care of his dad and worked hard to survive.
After moving to Silverport, Gunnar hired a part-time cook for them.
Hana Lawrence complained about sore wrists and aching knees from years of hard work.
And I, the almost-daughter-in-law, naturally took over massaging Forest's legs every night before he slept.
I pressed. [Did you buy Harlow's apartment under your own name or under the company?]
We did have those housing perks for top talent at work.
But Harlow? She totally didn't qualify.
Gunnar replied, not missing a beat. [Under my name. [Harlow went to a prestigious school. Talented employees get housing eventually anyway.
[When the time comes, we can log it on the company books. I'm doing it a little early.]
I couldn't decide if I should be relieved that Gunnar still kept business and personal things apart or feel purely sad.
He'd started breaking down, inside and out.
He blatantly favored Harlow at work. After I told him to fire Harlow, he went and bought her an apartment, loud and clear.
It was so abnormal and wasn't rational at all.
Almost thirty now, Gunnar, raised in hardship, had always acted maturely.
But this kind of impulsive drama wasn't actually new for him.
Back then, Gunnar's university was way out in the suburbs.
I worked at a late-night eatery, washing dishes right in the heart of the old downtown.
Gunnar used to walk four hours through the freezing winter night, battling the wind and darkness to see me, never once complaining about how tired he was.
And almost at dawn, he'd turn around and walk those four hours back to campus.
Looking at the way Gunnar acts at present, I felt like I already knew the answer.
The next day, I showed up at work like nothing had happened.
The marketing team was prepping the new quarterly revenue report. Two employees, heads down, were murmuring.
"Should we report this directly to Brianna?"
"We used to hand things to Mr. Lawrence."
"But lately, all the big clients have been handled by Brianna."
"So now, everything goes straight to her."
I spoke up, "Send everything to me. I'll deliver it to Mr. Lawrence."
Nearly all this quarter's orders came from my old clients anyway. Getting them first meant I could check the numbers right away.
I turned to head back to my office, and suddenly noticed Gunnar standing nearby.
His expression gave nothing away.
No one had any idea how long he'd been standing there.
"Send it straight to me. Brianna, you're joining the meeting," Gunnar said, face blank.
He tossed out the words and walked off to the conference room, not looking at me.
The two employees had gotten two opposite instructions from two leaders in under a minute.
They looked at each other and turned their confused eyes toward me.
I stood there, stunned for a moment.
Gunnar's cold, distant expression kept replaying in my mind.
My heart suddenly sank. A thought hit me like lightning.
He hired Harlow from a fancy university.
She kept messing things up, and yet he always shielded her.
I asked him to fire her, but he went ahead and bought her an apartment.
He kept subtly knocking my degree while talking.
Was Gunnar really interested in Harlow's so-called potential? Or was this about her?
No, absolutely not.
Suddenly, a wave of icy cold swept over me, smothering me completely.