AUDREY POVI woke up to the sound of soft knocking on my door. For a second, I forgot where I was. The room was dim, the early morning light filtering through the heavy curtains. The mattress beneath me was too firm, the sheets too smooth. Then, it hit me. Today was moving day. A wave of nerves washed over me. I wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if I was leaving the estate—just relocating to a different part of it. But something about this change felt… significant. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes just as the door opened slightly. A housekeeper peeked in. “Ms. Taylor,” she said politely. “Mr. Garcia has asked for you to have breakfast before we move your things.” Right. Of course he did. Because of course Mr. Garcia Garcia would think of something like that. I nodded. “I’ll be down soon.” The housekeeper disappeared, and I took a deep breath before swinging my legs over the side of the bed. As soon as my foot touched the floor, a dull ache ran up my injured le
AUDREY POVThe new room was bigger than I expected. Spacious. Modern. Luxurious, but not in an overwhelming way. It was definitely closer to the surgery quarters, just like Mr. Garcia had said. A long hallway connected this side of the estate to the medical wing, making it clear that this space had been designed for convenience. I sat on the edge of the plush bed, letting my fingers sink into the silk duvet. The entire estate had been impressive from the start, but now that I was actually staying in a different part of it, I couldn't help but wonder—just how rich was Mr. Garcia? A personal hospital? A private swimming pool? A gym that was probably better equipped than most professional ones? A literal movie theater inside the house? I hadn’t even seen everything yet, and I was already convinced that his wealth was on another level. And yet, despite all of this, there was something strange about the estate. Something… missing. There were no signs of a woman in Mr. Garci
MICHELL POVI flipped through the contract in front of me, scanning the details with sharp precision. The numbers were solid. The projections were favorable. But there was something—one thing—that felt off. I tapped my fingers against my desk, my other hand holding the contract open. “Page seventeen,” I said flatly. Across from me, Ethan, my head of acquisitions, looked up from his own copy. “What about it?” I exhaled sharply, irritated. “The clause about equity distribution. It’s not aligned with our standard agreements.” Ethan blinked, flipping to the page. He skimmed it, then frowned. “Huh. I didn’t catch that.” Of course, he didn’t. I didn’t respond, just leaned back in my chair, tapping my pen against the desk. The moment stretched long and silent before Ethan finally sighed. “I’ll have them revise it,” he muttered. I nodded once. “Make it fast.” He stood, gathering his papers. “Anything else?” “Yes. The Merado shipment. Have we received confirmation on the
AUDREY POVPain. It came in waves, sharp and pulsing, radiating from my leg like a cruel reminder of my own recklessness. I should have known better. Should have stopped when I first felt the strain. But I hadn’t. Now, standing with Mr. Garcia’s hand still gripping mine, the pain wasn’t the only thing I felt. There was something else. Something heavier. Something I didn’t want to name. His face had been cold, sharp as a blade when he stormed into the ballroom. His voice—deep, commanding—had cut through the space like a whip. But beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, I had caught something else. Something like… worry. Why? Why had he looked at me like that? Why had he sounded like that? I tried to brush it off as simple annoyance—of course, he’d be mad. I was Amelia’s nanny, not her dance instructor. I was supposed to be recovering, not pushing my limits. I had no right to be reckless, especially under his roof. And yet… His anger had felt too raw. Too p
MICHELL POVI closed the door behind me, inhaling slowly as I guided Amelia down the hall. The tension in my chest hadn’t eased. Not even a little. I had expected to be angry. Furious, even. Ms. Taylor had been reckless, ignoring the fact that her leg still wasn’t healed. She had put herself at risk, knowing full well she had surgery coming up. And yet— The moment I saw her stumble, the moment I saw pain flash across her face, all of that anger had burned away, replaced by something else. Something I didn’t want to name. Something I couldn’t name. “Dad?” Amelia’s voice was quiet, hesitant. I glanced down at her. “What?” She was staring up at me, her small fingers still wrapped around my hand. “Are you mad at Ms. Taylor?” I exhaled sharply. “She should’ve been more careful.” “That’s not what I asked.” I pressed my lips together. She was too observant for her own good. “Go eat something,” I said instead, leading her toward the dining area. She groaned. “I d
AUDREY POVThe cold seeps into my skin as they wheel me down the hallway, the thin hospital gown doing nothing to stop the chill. The lights above are too bright, glaring down like watchful eyes, making my vision blur at the edges. My body feels heavy, weighed down by something I can’t quite place—fear, exhaustion, maybe both.I hear footsteps beside me. Slow. Measured.Even without turning my head, I know it’s Michell.I tried to focus on him, to ground myself, but I couldn't.I open my mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but my tongue is too heavy, the anesthesia starting to drag me under.The last thing I see before the darkness takes me is Michell’s looking at me with those sexy weird eyes. MICHELL POVThe tension in my chest hadn’t eased. Not even a little. I stood by the operating room doors, watching as the nurses prepared Audrey. She looked… small. Fragile in a way I had never seen before. Her face was pale, eyes clouded with exhaustion and something else—something
MICHELL POVThe room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. I hadn’t moved from the chair beside her bed. I should have been working. Checking reports. Making calls. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat there, watching her breathe. Her face was pale—too pale. The stark white of the hospital sheets only made it worse. A thin tube supplied her with oxygen, and the IV in her arm fed her body the fluids she needed to recover. I didn’t like seeing her like this. Vulnerable. Weak. She had been fighting since the moment I met her—pushing, refusing to bend, standing her ground even when it was foolish. And yet, here she was. Unmoving. Silent. She should be awake by now. The doctors had assured me she was stable, that she just needed rest. But I didn’t trust assurances—not when I had watched her die on that table. Not when I had stood in that goddamn operating room, powerless, as the machines flatlined and the medical team scrambled to bring her back. I exhal
AUDREY POVPain. That was the first thing I felt, again that day after briefly waking up. Deep, heavy, like someone had poured molten lead into my bones. It clung to my leg, wrapped around my spine, spread into my ribs like fire licking up dry wood. I wanted to move, to shift even a little, but the second I tried, the pain sharpened, cutting through the fog in my head. My breath hitched. The effort alone made my body scream. The steady beep of a machine filled the silence. A sound I didn’t recognize at first. My mind felt sluggish, thick with something I couldn’t name. My eyelids fluttered, too heavy to lift, but I fought through it. I tried to swallow. My throat was raw, dry like sandpaper. I opened my mouth, but no words came out—just a weak rasp. Then, a shadow moved beside me. I blinked slowly, forcing my eyes to focus. The world was a blur, edges too bright, colors bleeding into each other. But as my vision cleared, I saw him. Mr. Garcia. He sat beside my bed, ar
AUDREY POVThe room was quiet again. The nurses had left, and for the first time in a while, I wasn’t entirely helpless. Before now, I would have pressed the emergency bell, waiting for them to help me with something as simple as a bath. But today… today, I felt like I could manage. It was just a bath. I reached for the hem of my nightgown, peeling it off slowly. My fingers trailed down my sides as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I still had my curves, the hourglass shape I had always taken care of, but something about me looked… smaller. Had I really lost so much weight in just a few weeks? I ran a hand down my stomach, feeling the slight hollowness there. My ribs weren’t visible, but I could see the difference. My collarbones were a little more pronounced, my arms not as full as they used to be. Maybe it was just the surgery. Maybe it was the stress. I sighed, shaking the thoughts away. I wasn’t weak. I wouldn’t let myself be weak. I turned, reach
AUDREY POVMorning crept in slowly, spilling soft light through the curtains and casting long shadows on the walls. The world outside was waking up, but I felt stuck in place—trapped between recovery and restlessness, between pain and the gnawing sense of isolation that had settled in my chest. I adjusted the pillows behind me, wincing as a sharp ache flared in my leg. It wasn’t as bad as before, but it was still there, a dull reminder that I wasn’t back to normal. Normal. I scoffed to myself. What even was normal anymore? I reached for the water glass on my bedside table, taking a slow sip before glancing toward the door. The nurses would be in soon. Then the doctor. Then another round of careful movements and quiet reminders that healing took time.I hated that phrase. But as I sat there, shifting uncomfortably, I realized something else was missing. Or rather, someone.Mr. Garcia hadn’t come last night. I swallowed, setting the glass down more forcefully than necess
MICHELL POVAnother week passed. The estate had settled into a routine—work, meetings, updates from the medical team. My schedule remained the same, yet there was an undercurrent of restlessness I refused to acknowledge. Every morning, the physician sent a report. Ms. Taylor’s recovery was progressing—slowly, but without complications. The nurses detailed her physical therapy sessions, the small improvements, the days she was frustrated, the times she refused to take painkillers until they insisted. She was impatient. She pushed herself too hard. She was, as expected, stubborn. I kept my distance. I wasn’t hovering. She was Amelia’s nanny—that was the only reason I checked on her. Amelia needed her to recover. That was all. I saw her occasionally, mostly at night, when the estate was quiet. It wasn’t deliberate. I simply worked late, and if I happened to stop by after, it was practical. A few minutes, nothing more. I visited her in the evening, she was propped up in bed,
Audrey povA week has passed.Recovery was humiliating. The morning light streamed through the window, golden and warm, but the brightness only sharpened the ache in my leg. I shifted on the bed, trying to sit up straighter, but a dull, relentless pain pulsed deep in my bones, like a bruise that refused to fade. “Slowly, Miss Taylor,” the nurse said gently, her hands firm as she adjusted the pillows behind my back. “I’m fine,” I replied, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. “You’re pushing too much,” the nurse chided, but her tone was soft. “The swelling has gone down, but you’re still healing. Give it time.” I hated that word—time. It felt like punishment. From across the room, Mr. Garcia stood with his arms crossed, his gaze sharp as it tracked every clumsy movement I made. He never interrupted the physical therapists, never spoke over the medical team, but he was always watching. “Do you have to stand there like a bouncer?” I snapped, biting down on the anger tha
MICHELL POVVictor hadn’t arrived yet. He was supposed to be here by now. I checked my watch, then the door, as if expecting him to suddenly appear. But there was nothing. No call. No message. No unwanted presence at my doorstep. Maybe he had changed his mind. I wished he would. Wished he would stay away from my estate, from my life, from Amelia’s life. But Victor never abandoned what he set out to do. And if he hadn’t come yet, it was only because he was taking his time. I exhaled, pushing away the thought. There were more immediate concerns. Like the woman lying in the hospital bed in front of me. Like Audrey Taylor and her relentless, infuriating stubbornness. “I can still train her,” she said. Her voice was quiet but resolute. I turned to face her, my brows furrowing. “You can’t even stand.” “I don’t need to.” She gestured weakly toward the tablet resting on the bedside table. “There are videos, I can also talk to her through the movements.” Her fingers
MICHELL POVAudrey wasn’t good at staying still. Even half-conscious, pain slowing her down, she still fought against it. I saw it in the way her fingers curled into the blanket, in the stubborn set of her jaw when she thought no one was looking. And now, as she tried—and failed—to shift into a better position, I watched her frustration tighten her features, her breath coming out in sharp, measured exhales. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. But watching her struggle, seeing the way she hated every second of her own helplessness, was more irritating than I expected. “Stop trying to move,” I muttered. Her head turned toward me, sluggish but deliberate. “I’m not.”I raised a brow. She sighed through her nose, gaze flickering toward the ceiling. “Fine. Maybe I was.”I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. “You don’t learn, do you?”She closed her eyes briefly. “You sound like my mother.”That threw me off for half a second. Then she added, “That wasn’t a compliment.”A short
AUDREY POVPain. That was the first thing I felt, again that day after briefly waking up. Deep, heavy, like someone had poured molten lead into my bones. It clung to my leg, wrapped around my spine, spread into my ribs like fire licking up dry wood. I wanted to move, to shift even a little, but the second I tried, the pain sharpened, cutting through the fog in my head. My breath hitched. The effort alone made my body scream. The steady beep of a machine filled the silence. A sound I didn’t recognize at first. My mind felt sluggish, thick with something I couldn’t name. My eyelids fluttered, too heavy to lift, but I fought through it. I tried to swallow. My throat was raw, dry like sandpaper. I opened my mouth, but no words came out—just a weak rasp. Then, a shadow moved beside me. I blinked slowly, forcing my eyes to focus. The world was a blur, edges too bright, colors bleeding into each other. But as my vision cleared, I saw him. Mr. Garcia. He sat beside my bed, ar
MICHELL POVThe room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. I hadn’t moved from the chair beside her bed. I should have been working. Checking reports. Making calls. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat there, watching her breathe. Her face was pale—too pale. The stark white of the hospital sheets only made it worse. A thin tube supplied her with oxygen, and the IV in her arm fed her body the fluids she needed to recover. I didn’t like seeing her like this. Vulnerable. Weak. She had been fighting since the moment I met her—pushing, refusing to bend, standing her ground even when it was foolish. And yet, here she was. Unmoving. Silent. She should be awake by now. The doctors had assured me she was stable, that she just needed rest. But I didn’t trust assurances—not when I had watched her die on that table. Not when I had stood in that goddamn operating room, powerless, as the machines flatlined and the medical team scrambled to bring her back. I exhal
AUDREY POVThe cold seeps into my skin as they wheel me down the hallway, the thin hospital gown doing nothing to stop the chill. The lights above are too bright, glaring down like watchful eyes, making my vision blur at the edges. My body feels heavy, weighed down by something I can’t quite place—fear, exhaustion, maybe both.I hear footsteps beside me. Slow. Measured.Even without turning my head, I know it’s Michell.I tried to focus on him, to ground myself, but I couldn't.I open my mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but my tongue is too heavy, the anesthesia starting to drag me under.The last thing I see before the darkness takes me is Michell’s looking at me with those sexy weird eyes. MICHELL POVThe tension in my chest hadn’t eased. Not even a little. I stood by the operating room doors, watching as the nurses prepared Audrey. She looked… small. Fragile in a way I had never seen before. Her face was pale, eyes clouded with exhaustion and something else—something