Chapter 113 - The Big-ass Surprise on the Fifty-ninth Floor

All the worrying is making Claire lose her poise. People on the sidewalk use their phones as flashlight, and the light from the vehicles is some help. But she keeps stumbling and bumping into unseen things, but she holds on, focusing on what matters: over there, just more than a block away, is Gabriel's residential tower, perhaps the tallest building in the city. If she could just reach that in time, before anything worse happens to him, she'd give him anything—ANYTHING—he'd want.

She looks back; Dean is still stuck in that spot, the cars unmoving. Jesus, talk about wrong timing for a blackout to happen! Her heart is pounding in her ċhėst. Going against the rush-hour mob, Claire remembers how, just a few weeks ago, on her first day working for Gabriel, she walked these same streets looking for that darned Laundromat. She walked four blocks under the scorching heat of the sun, and yet, she managed to keep her composure—even when she bought the "wrong" coffee for Gab that made him throw it at her.

She wonders now whatever happened to the Gabriel she initially encountered? Where's that monstrosity now? It's not only her that has noticed the seemingly huge change in the man's behavior. He used to be so grumpy, often quick to snap at people. Didn't Mrs. Gomez herself warn her of Gabriel's eccentricities?

Gabriel seemed to have begun changing ever since they had that talk in one of the bedrooms of his mansion. That morning before that unforgettable pool party, where she fought it out with Michelle in the pool like drunken high-school girls fighting over their "great catch" of a boyfriend.

And what happened the other day, in the rain when Gabriel confessed his feelings, she would not have expected that, not in a million years!

Gabriel has changed, and he has changed so fast. It didn't even take the full thirty days in her contract. Gabriel began showing his true colors just a few days after working with her. Maybe he wasn't so crazy after all? Maybe he was just misunderstood. Maybe people didn't understand that Gabriel is only guarding his most treasured feelings, that he's really emotionally vulnerable, that he's just trying to hide it with putting on a show of ferocity. You know, like the apex predator that he is. Claire read in college that lions, for example, would hide their pain because showing weakness makes you an easy target for the other lions. So even if you're wounded and hurting inside, you'd roar like nothing's wrong in your world. Maybe Gabriel was such a lion—the leader of his pride, just trying to hide his deepest pain.

But that temper, though—Claire must admit that's natural, Gabriel's short temper. Sometimes, when he really loses it, he acts like a petulant child, like what he did just this morning.

She wouldn't have realized she's already standing by the entrance to Gabriel's tower if a passing (more like crawling) vehicle did not shine its headlights on the building's gilded signage. And it's dark, the lobby lit only by the installed emergency lights.

"What happened here?" she asks the security guard at the lobby's reception.

The man shrugs. "Power just went out without warning. We got no word from the power company."

Claire glances at the elevator up ahead. "So how do I reach the top?"

"How do you mean 'the top'?"

"The top. The penthouse suite. It's an emergency. I'm Gabriel Tan's fiancée."

All right, readers, that last word mentioned by Claire, that's significant. This is the first time she's saying this as a real thing. Sure, she says this to the security officer just to emphasize the legitimacy of the reason why she must reach Gabriel, even in this situation. But this is also her first admission, to a stranger nonetheless, of her own acceptance, blurring out some gray areas in their so-called relationship in her own way.

But that seems to fly by the security officer's head. "You can take the stairs," he says matter-of-factly.

"What? How many floors does this building have?"

"Uhhh," the security officer checks and reads from a brochure. "Fifty-nine floors of incredible avant-garde architecture, Peak One luxury residential tower is a glittering jewel right in the heart of the city." He smiles.

Claire gazes at him as though a ċȯċkroach has just crawled out of his mouth. "You mean, I'm supposed to take the stairs all the way up to the fifty-ninth floor? Are you serious?"

The man shrugs. "There's no power, Ma'am. Elevators are not working. I would carry you on my back all the way up there, but I can't leave this spot." He grins, as if to emphasize that he's merely kidding.

"Alright," Claire says, reading his name on the ċhėst patch. "Security officer Edgardo Santos, once I reach the fifty-ninth floor, I will let Gabriel Tan know of your help..."

He says nothing, pretending to be looking at his logbook.

"I can ȧssure you," she continues, "that tomorrow morning, you won't have this job, anymore. You can't have a job in any of Gabriel Tan's businesses or affiliate companies. You'd be lucky if you get a new job at all." She glares at him before turning away. "Have a good evening."

"H-hey," the guard stammers, trying to run after her. "Hey, Ma'am! Wait!"

But Claire walks away quickly toward the stairwell beside the elevators. The security guard, out of breath, reaches her just before she opens the door to the stairs.

"Wait, Ma'am," he breathes, "Wait, I didn't mean…I think I know how to help you."

Claire waits with that "make sure that's actually good" facial expression. She waits until the security officer, who is overweight by countless pounds and now looks miserable, catches his breath. He's red in the face so much that Claire regrets what she said. She didn't really mean it, threatening this poor guy, who probably receives bȧrėly enough pay to support his family and what-not. But in the heat of the moment, she said that out of frustration. Maybe even after she climbed the staircase all the way to the fifty-ninth floor, she won't even remember this officer, much less that she ever threatened him.

"The service elevator actually works. It always works, even in emergencies such as this."

"Really?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"How does it work when everything else doesn't?"

"It runs on stored power, Ma'am. The outer walls of this building are covered with solar panels. The residents, especially Mr. Tan, don't want the inconvenience of losing the lights even for a few minutes."

Jesus, thank goodness, she thinks, but she doesn't let him know how relieved she is. "Then let's go!"

"This way, Ma'am," he says, opening a side door that leads to a short walking space, wide enough to accommodate laundry trolleys. The service elevator is on the other side of the space. It's already open when they arrive. "It seems to be expecting you, Ma'am," he says, trying to get on her good side.

"Can you believe how wonderful this whole place is? Elevators that 'expect' passengers!" she says, but the guard seems to not realize the sarcasm.

It takes only a minute for the high-speed elevator to ascend all the way up to the top floor. When it opens to a dark hallway, the guard helpfully turns on his flashlight. "Is Mr. Tan really expecting you, Ma'am?"

"He's..." she stops—how does she describe what happened to Gabriel? She only realizes now that she doesn't really know. "I think he's in some kind of medical emergency. Can you open the door to his suite?"

The guard must have shaken his head in the dark, as the only thing Claire could see is the jerky circle of brightness on the floor, thanks to his flashlight. "The building administrator's the only one who carries all the duplicate keys, Ma'am. Sorry. Shall we go back down and get him?"

She sighs. So much time has been wasted. They're standing now in front of Gabriel's door. "Can we just kick this door open? I think you can do it."

"Destroy building property, Ma'am?" the guard's voice quakes. "I can't do it. I can't…"

He never finishes what he's saying because Claire tries to turn the doorknob, and miraculously, the door creaks open.

"Is he even here?" The guard whispers, tiptoeing beside Claire, pointing the flashlight as if it's a gun.

The suite is empty and dark. They check the bedroom, but no one's there. They check everywhere. Nothing. Finally, the security guard says, "Isn't this the penthouse suite? Doesn't this have an open area, like a garden, right?"

"I don't know. You're the one who should know."

"Yeah, sorry. Maybe he's there."

Her heart pounds in her ċhėst. Maybe he's there. Maybe he was there when he called her up. That's where it must have happened. The image of Gabriel sprawled on the garden floor, amid whatever plants he has, flashes in her mind. Jesus, please, I hope I'm wrong. She tiptoes behind the guard, but before opening the door, he turns to her. "Perhaps you should open it, Ma'am."

"Why me?"

He shrugs. "You're his fiancée."

She wants to respond to that, but she keeps it inside. They're here. She's tired of arguing. She grabs the door, and slides it open.

She promptly gets the shock of her life, as a hundred lights turn on and a familiar voice, one that she's both relieved and hates to hear, says something that puts tears in her eyes. Claire stands there like a wilting flower, crying like a baby.