LOGAN: My Demon Protector

Hazel's POV

White roses. He always loved the colour white.

I take in a deep breath, allowing myself to dwell on the dark clouds as they gather, mirroring the shadow of despair that surges through my mind, threatening to spill at any second.

"Please, Miss. You have to stop crying."

Right. Ive used Linda's words to keep myself from bawling my heart out at my father's grave. She had to remind me that showing up in public with puffy, red eyes would be bad for my image as the new CEO, even if this is a funeral. But how does anyone expect me to shake the heavy feeling in my chest.

My eyes sting again. Dammit! There are hundreds of people around me. I can't lose myself in front of all these people. I can't show any signs of weakness. I can't let them see how helpless I am. I exhale through the black, netty accessory that Linda picked out for today.

"It goes well with the dress. And it'll cover your face in case you start to get all teary again," she said, to which I smiled.

Edwin's hand tightens softly around mine. I turn to him and smile. I am not alone. And even though my father won't be alive to witness it, I will soon be married to this amazing man. He's always been there for me, and I will always be there for him. Thinking about it, just here and now, I am thankful to still have my only source of comfort.

The first time I realized how much I truly need him in my life was about a week after he moved in. He said it didn't matter to him if we both live at his place or mine, but seeing as mine was more spacious, it was a nice agreement. Now, months later, i think it is one of the best decisions we ever made as a couple.

It's cold and windy. The weather mourns with me in a way that I find quite cliché but beautiful. And deep down, I hope it rains. Not only to cut this dreadful ceremony short, also that once I'm alone, relaxing in a hot bath, it will drown out the sound of my loud, shaky sobs as I mourn for hours on end.

Because tomorrow is another business day, and I'll have to answer to the board of directors. There shouldn't be anything to worry about, of course, but that never stops me from worrying.

The priest drones on and on, and I watch from the front row in the open field as they lower his coffin into the ground. I'm glad I got to say goodbye last week at the hospital after the doctor said his time was up. Our last moment together remains as a refreshing memory in my mind, and is probably the only thing keeping me from ripping off my jewelry and demanding that they bury me with him.

And as stupid as it sounds, I can feel his presence with me. Comforting me in that sweet way that he always did when I was down. I can almost feel his arm around my shoulder. And see his smile radiate from his well defined features.

An unconscious smile creeps onto my lips. Nothing brings me more joy than knowing he will be with Mother again. He was torn when we lost her, and even after he got married to that hopeless bimbo Shannon, he would always talk about being with her again in the afterlife.

***

It is done. Benedict Ambrose is in the ground.

I had a long, miserable night after the funeral. However, it's time to put all that behind me.

"Hazel?"

I turn from the floor-to-ceiling glass window of our penthouse, neglecting the view to face Edwin.

"You alright? You haven't talked about the funeral," he says. I smile and walk over to him; my dearest lover. It's 6 a.m. I don't want to be having this conversation. I'd like to pump this cup of caffeine into my system in peace, so that I can tolerate all the obnoxious people that I work with.

"It was wonderful, Edwin. But now I'm letting other things occupy my mind," I reply, setting the mug down and pulling him into a light hug. He wraps his arms around me, and I feel warm knowing once again that I am not alone.

"Like your board meeting in a few hours. Right." I nod in response.

"Everything is going to go well, and I know you'll do great."

I appreciate his words of encouragement, but I'm too distracted by the strong smell of his cologne to say so.

I let go, taking a step back and noticing what he's wearing. "Going somewhere?" I ask. Not that it really matters, but he barely gets out of the house.

"Yes. And I want to tell you that I'm seeing an old friend today but you already sound mad," he replies.

I smile. "I'm not mad, Love. Have fun with them."

Who could he possibly be meeting up with?

I shake off the thought. I don't have the time to overthink this. Not now anyways.

So I focus on my morning routine because it keeps me calm and it allows me to feel organized, despite how scattered my thoughts are these days. I smell fresh and clean as I pick out my outfit for the day.

My midnight blue skirt with a matching fitted blazer seems appropriate. And then I'm off, repeating my mantra of affirmations and fidgeting with my phone until the time for the meeting.

I'm already seated at the head of the table when board members trudge in. One of the executives begins and I sit in silence as he goes on and on about company assets and how quickly we must sort out the partnerships that my father had been working on before anyone changes their mind. I feel a little less nervous now, because I don't believe that my transition from Chief Financial Officer to Chief Executive Officer would be too much of a hassle. I'm ready for this, and they know it. In fact, after seeing all of my hard work for the past few years, I'd say they're like proud parents seeing me grow up.

"At this point I would like to give Miss. Ambrose a chance to enlighten us on her plans for the rest of the year before we officially introduce her as our new CEO."

The room falls intensely silent. I exhale, gripping my thighs under the table.

"Thank you Mr. Jacobs," I begin with a smile. Here we go. I can do this. I expected this question and I've prepared a monologue that will make everyone happy and satisfied. I open my mouth to continue, but the words get stuck in my throat as the board room door opens wide with a chaotic bang.

All it takes is a second. And in this second, I can see my life shifting beyond my control. My eyes lock with the intruder and she smiles smugly at me.

There are nervous glances and murmurs around the room as I stand to my feet. I regret it immediately because I almost faceplate into the table and it's taking every muscle in my body to keep me steady.

Soon my shock translates to rage. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

I'm seething with anger but my tone is stern. Shannon shouldn't be here. Not after everything.

I can tell just by looking at her that she feels triumphant. She looks like she has won, and I'm dying to know what game she's playing and who she thinks she's playing with.

She pouts, and her next words have me sick to my stomach.

"Sit down, girl. That's no way to speak to your step-mother."