After parting ways with Gwendolyn Morris, Marco Griffin's life returned to its usual drab and monotonous pace. He punched in at 8 a.m. and clocked out by 9 p.m., finding his only pleasure in occasionally annoying his father and brother. But even that had lost its charm.
He felt a reckless urge to blow everything up, taking everyone down with him, yet he knew it wasn't the right time. Reclining in his executive chair, he rubbed his temples, trying to steady his impulses: Don’t be rash, he reminded himself. If he planned to topple them, they shouldn’t have any chance to recover.
Boone Williams entered the room with Chandler Hunter trailing closely behind, though Chandler reached Marco first. He was casual and informal, especially around Marco, perching on Marco’s desk and flipping his laptop closed with a flick of his hand.
“Marco, you’ve been cooped up here for days. Nursing a broken heart? That Morris girl hasn't even fallen for you yet, and here you are, already hung up on her. That's not like you at all.”
Marco glanced up lazily, “You think I’m just sitting around doing nothing?”
Boone finally caught up and stood with his legs apart, arms crossed, adding, “Mr. Hunter, the Griffin Group has been in crisis lately; sir is quite busy.”
Chandler, being the youngest of three brothers, had been raised with the care and attention for a daughter his parents never had. Naturally adventurous and always seeking thrills, Chandler had little interest in business matters and was oblivious to the recent chaos within the Griffin Group.
Unfazed, Chandler shrugged, “You don’t have to depend on the Griffin family. Let them handle their own chaos; we’ll have our drinks.” He checked his wristwatch, “Three hours left. Let's get going.”
He tried to pull Marco out of his seat, but Marco didn’t budge.
Marco allowed Chandler to hold his wrist, his gaze steady. “Three hours until what?”
Chandler let go, frustrated. “You forgot? You actually forgot! It’s your birthday, man. Three hours until your birthday. I’ve booked a room at The Monarch for us. Just the old crew, time to catch up.”
The mention of “The Monarch” made Marco’s eyes narrow instinctively. It was where Joey Davis, Gwendolyn’s boyfriend, worked. It had been two months since Marco last saw Gwendolyn.
Strangely, he once dreamed about her, but over time, she only crossed his mind during idle moments. Occasionally, he felt a strong urge, but each time he opened WhatsApp and saw the glaring red exclamation mark, he would suppress those thoughts.
He figured that, being no saint himself, he shouldn’t disrupt an angel, for every demon has its own place. Still, when Chandler reached out now, Marco stood up, saying, “Let’s go. To The Monarch.”
In the bustling streets, they passed cozy cafes filled with the inviting aroma of fresh brew. Marco mused about the casual elegance of his Victorian-style suit, perfectly blending with the crowd. It was the eve of Thanksgiving, a time for family and gratitude, but Marco wrestled with his inner conflict, torn between desires and responsibilities.
Upon arriving at The Monarch, they were greeted by the comforting scent of spiced honey cakes and pulled pork, along with the cheerful chatter of familiar faces. Marco spotted Joey across the room, chatting animatedly with guests over steaming mugs of coffee. The ambiance was warm, yet Marco’s thoughts drifted back to Gwendolyn.
As he settled into the evening’s rhythm, Marco felt the weight of decisions yet to be made. Amid the laughter and shared memories, he realized he needed to find his place within this complex web of relationships and choices.
