I could feel my throat burn as I downed the entire glass of vodka, the sting doing little to ease the frustration simmering inside me. The bass-heavy music pounded through the club, matching the erratic rhythm of my thoughts. Across the table, Rafael lounged comfortably, a smug grin on his face as two women clung to his arms, giggling at whatever nonsense he was whispering in their ears. “Rough night, Eli?” Rafael called out over the music, smirking like the asshole he was. “You’re drinking like you just lost the lottery.” I ignored him, signaling the bartender for another drink. My mind was elsewhere—on a certain stubborn woman who always managed to push me to the edge and leave me hanging there. Eloise. My grip on the glass tightened as I remembered my conversation with Edmund earlier. I stared at Eloise's face. She might have an angelic face, but when she wakes up, she’s colder than Elsa from Frozen (thanks to Venice’s little sister for introducing me to that movie). Her
Uncle Sandro gently dabbed the side of my lip with a cotton ball soaked in antiseptic, his brows furrowed in concentration. I winced at the sting but didn’t pull away."You're always so stubborn," he muttered, his voice tinged with both frustration and concern. "Why do you always let things escalate to this point?"I rolled my eyes, ignoring the question. "It’s not like I asked for this, Uncle. Besides, it’s just a bruise.”His hand froze mid-air, and he gave me a look that could rival a storm. "Just a bruise? Eloise, this isn’t normal. Edmund crossed the line, and you’re acting like it’s just another Tuesday!” I just shrugged in response. Then I saw the pity in his eyes. "Fine. Fine. Fine. We’re not doing this if you’re just going to pity me," I said irritably, snatching the cotton ball from his hands. He wouldn’t have even known about this if we hadn’t bumped into each other on the stairs earlier!Uncle Sandro’s expression turned serious, his usual warmth replaced by somethi
I leaned back in my chair, the papers trembling slightly in my hand as I read the report. A raid on an illegal gambling operation—and my mother’s name tangled in it. Of course. Another day, another scandal tied to the Dawson name. I tossed the folder onto my desk, rubbing my temples. She never learns. Her business might be legitimate on the surface, but it’s always what lurks beneath that drags everything into chaos. And now, it’s my problem to clean up. Again. My jaw clenched as I flipped through the detailed accounts from the private investigator. Names, locations, bribes—it was all there. Everything the authorities would need to bury her, if they weren’t already in her pocket. "How does she always manage to pull me into her mess?" I muttered under my breath. I leaned forward, running a hand down my face. This wasn’t just about her reputation; it was about mine. If this blows up, the fallout won’t just hit her—it’ll hit me, my business, and everyone under the Dawson umbrella
The car was quiet, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of paper as I handed over the pills. I glanced at the man beside me—tall, stoic, and expressionless as always. My private investigator. I hadn’t contacted him in years, but if there was anyone I trusted with this, it was him. “These,” I said simply, placing the small bag of pills in his gloved hand. “I need you to find out what they are and why he’s taking them.” He nodded once, his movements precise and mechanical, before slipping the bag into his coat pocket. Not a single word, not a single unnecessary gesture. That was what I liked about him—obedience without question. “And don’t let anyone trace this back to me. I want answers, but I don’t want complications.” Another nod. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror for a moment before returning to me. “Good,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “You’ll report back to me in person. No emails, no calls. You know the drill.” As the car pu
I glared at him sharply, pulling my dress back into place, my movements deliberate and precise. Before I could say anything, I heard him mutter a crisp curse under his breath. "You kissed me..." he said, his voice low, almost incredulous. I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms. "So?" His jaw clenched as he pointed at me. "You kissed me with tongue, Eloise! What the hell was that?" I smirked, tilting my head. "Oh, relax. It was just a little experiment. I was proving a point—you're drunk." "I'm not drunk!" he barked, running a hand through his hair. "You—you can’t just do that!" "Why not?" I challenged, my tone calm but defiant. His eyes widened, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration, as if I’d just cursed him to his core. "Why not?! You don’t know the hell I went through this whole day, Eloise—" "So what?" I snapped, cutting him off. "Does kissing you make it worse? Does it add to your so-called hell, Elijah?" He stared at me, his lips pressed into a t
ELIJAH I couldn’t move. I stood there, frozen, exactly where Eloise had left me. The rain poured down, soaking me to the bone, but I didn’t care. It was as if the heavens were trying to comfort me—or mock me—I couldn’t tell anymore. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. The cold didn’t bother me, but the ache in my chest did. Her words replayed in my head over and over again, stabbing me deeper every time. "You can never afford me in this lifetime, billionaire." I let out a bitter laugh, my voice cracking. “Afford you? Hell, I’ve already lost everything trying to have you.” The rain kept coming, but I didn’t move. I didn’t even try to shield myself. What was the point? For the first time in years, I felt completely empty. Eloise didn’t just leave me; she took every ounce of hope I had left.Confessing to her wasn’t part of my plan tonight—hell, it was never in my plans at all. I swore I’d take this secret to my grave. But the frustration, the anger, and the overwhelming
ELOISE I woke up to the loud, relentless banging on my door. The noise echoed through the room, and all I could do was groan in frustration. I pulled the pillow over my ears, hoping to drown it out, but it was no use. Edmund's booming, angry voice cut through like a knife. "Eloise! Open this door right now!" I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could just disappear. "Not today, old man," I muttered under my breath, pulling the pillow tighter over my head as if it could shield me from his booming voice. From outside, I heard one of the maids speak up, her voice soft but firm. "Sir, Ms. Eloise is still unwell. Perhaps it would be best to let her rest for now." My father’s response came sharp and impatient. "Unwell? She’s just making excuses! Tell her I won’t tolerate this laziness anymore! She needs to work for my company!" Their voices began to blur, fading into muffled echoes as I pressed the pillow harder against my ears. But it wasn’t enough to drown out the pounding in my
ELIJAHI couldn’t help but whistle, a triumphant smirk playing on my lips as one of the interns I bribed texted me: She ate it.“See? Told you it would work,” I muttered to myself, leaning back in my chair. My mind instantly pictured Eloise’s annoyed expression as she begrudgingly ate the food I sent her.I knew it wasn’t about the food itself—no, it was never that simple with Eloise. It was about getting under her skin, reminding her that I’m still here, no matter how hard she tries to push me away.“Mr. Dawson, your 2 PM meeting is about to start,” my assistant reminded me, poking her head through the door.I nodded, grabbing my tablet, but my thoughts lingered on Eloise. I couldn’t deny that I was petty sometimes, but damn, the satisfaction I felt knowing she couldn’t completely ignore me was worth it.As I walked to the conference room, I checked my phone again, half-hoping for a text from her—maybe a complaint, maybe a sarcastic thank-you, anything. But my screen remained blank.
I sat across from Matthew in the private room of the restaurant, my fingers curled around the warm cup of tea the waiter had just placed in front of me. The man sitting across from me—my first husband—felt like a stranger. His aura was different now. Darker. He wasn’t the Matthew I used to know—the one who made me laugh, the one who always had a teasing smirk on his face. This Matthew was cold, unreadable. But still, I remained patient. I owed him that much. He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the table. “You’re different,” he muttered, eyes scanning my face. “You’re calmer than I expected.” I offered him a small, tight-lipped smile. “I didn’t come here to fight, Matthew.” He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Then why did you come?” "To talk to you—”“About what?” Matthew cut me off, leaning forward with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “About how happy you are with him? About how you moved on so easily while I spent years in hell?” I exhaled s
I grew up with Matthew. Deep inside, I always had a feeling about his true identity, but I pushed it away. Because no matter what, he was still my brother.Maybe I was too focused on Eloise back then that I failed to notice even the slightest thing between Matthew and Noel.When Matthew came out of the closet to Dad, he was furious—disappointed. I couldn't even name all the emotions he showed that day. But one thing was clear: from that moment on, Dad's treatment of Matthew started to change.He put more effort into me, teaching me how to handle business, how to be the perfect heir—the son he could proudly present to the world. But with Matthew… it was different. Dad distanced himself, his disappointment manifesting in subtle ways at first—longer business trips, missed birthdays, colder stares.Matthew was always the type to seek approval, to crave validation—especially from our father. So when Dad started pulling away, treating him like a mere afterthought, Matthew did what he though
I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my jaw locked as I trailed behind Eloise’s car. She was chasing after Matthew, and like a damn fool, I was chasing after her. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. The roads blurred past me, headlights flashing in the dark as we weaved through the streets. I kept my distance, watching as Eloise’s car sped up, refusing to lose sight of Matthew’s vehicle ahead. Where the hell was he going? Then, I recognized the familiar road leading to Uncle Sandro’s house. Damn it. Matthew’s car skidded to a stop in the driveway, and before his engine even fully died, he was out, slamming the door shut. Eloise parked next, practically throwing her car door open. I pulled up right after, stepping out and slamming my own door shut as my eyes locked onto them. “Matthew!” Eloise called, her voice cracking with urgency as she hurried after him. He didn’t stop. He pushed the door open and stepped inside Uncle Sandro’s house, his movements stiff
Without wasting another second, I scrolled through my contacts and called Rafael. “Eloise?” He answered almost immediately. “I need to see you,” I said, my voice firm. “Now.” There was a brief pause on the other end before he sighed. “Come to my office.” I didn’t even bother responding. I turned on my heel and headed straight for my car, my mind running a hundred miles per hour. I walked into the towering building bearing Rafael’s family name, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. His family didn’t just run a security firm—it was the most trusted in Asia, handling the biggest names in business and politics. Ignoring the glances thrown my way, I headed straight for the top floor. The receptionist barely had time to greet me before I pushed the door open and stepped inside.Rafael was at his desk, flipping through some documents, but the moment he saw me, he leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. “That was fast,” he said, his usual smirk missing. “You sound
The moment I stepped inside Uncle Sandro’s house, I felt the weight of everything crash down on me. My chest was tight, my hands were still shaking, and my head wouldn’t stop replaying what I had just seen. Elijah. That woman. The baby bump. I swallowed hard and set my bag down by the door, forcing myself to take deep breaths. Farah peeked from the living room, her brows furrowing the second she saw my face. “El?” “I don’t want to talk about it,” I muttered, walking past her. She didn’t push. She never did. I made my way to the guest room, closing the door behind me before I finally let the tears fall. I pressed a hand against my mouth, muffling the sobs as my knees gave out. I should have been used to this by now—the disappointment, the heartbreak, the constant cycle of expecting too much. But damn it, it still hurts.What the fuck? I want to give him the benefit of the doubt—I really do. But the look on his face says something. Like it says everything. Guilt. Hes
“Elijah.” I didn’t look up. I kept my gaze fixed on the papers in front of me, my fingers tapping restlessly against the desk. Rafael sighed. “Are you seriously okay with this?” Silence. “You’re just going to let Eloise go like that?” he pressed, his voice laced with frustration. I flipped a page, ignoring the tightness in my chest. “Did you get the report I asked for?” Rafael exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed at my deflection, but he didn’t push. Instead, he placed a thick folder on my desk. “Yeah. I did.” Finally, I looked up. My jaw tightened as I reached for the folder, my grip firm. “Good,” I muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”Because after all of this, I will make sure to get my family back and live the life we had before this messed-up situation happened.I leaned back against my chair, rubbing my temples as I scanned the report Rafael handed me. Every detail lined up with what Ellise had told me.“She’s telling the truth,” I muttered, tossing the papers onto
I cursed under my breath the moment I saw the look on Eloise’s face. She was furious. Hurt. And I knew exactly what she was thinking. “It’s not what you think,” I said quickly, stepping toward her. But she backed away like I was a disease. Her eyes burned with betrayal, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Not what I think?” she spat, voice trembling. “Are you seriously going to say that while she’s right there—while she’s literally pregnant, Elijah?” I exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Eloise, just listen—” “Oh, I am listening. And you know what I hear? Lies. Bullshit. The same excuses cheaters always make.” Cheater. The word hit me like a slap. My jaw tightened. “Don’t do this. Don’t twist it into something it’s not.” She let out a bitter laugh, crossing her arms. “Oh? Then why don’t you tell me what the hell it is, Elijah? Because from where I’m standing, it looks pretty damn clear.” I glanced at the woman beside me, who shifted unco
A dull throbbing pulsed through my skull as I slowly blinked my eyes open. The hospital room's fluorescent lights were dimmed, but even then, the brightness made me wince. I shifted slightly, my body feeling sluggish and heavy. Then I saw him. Matthew. Sitting by my bedside in his wheelchair, watching me with quiet concern. I swallowed the lump in my throat, disappointment creeping into my chest before I could stop it. I didn’t even know why. Maybe I had expected—hoped—to see someone else when I woke up. Like Elijah. But it was Matthew. And as much as I knew I should be relieved to see him safe but all I felt was exhaustion. “You’re awake,” he said softly, a small, almost relieved smile on his lips. I nodded weakly. “Yeah.” His eyes scanned my face, his brows drawing together in worry. “How are you feeling?” I hesitated, debating whether to tell him the truth. That I felt like my world was crumbling. That I was stretched so thin I could barely breathe. But instea
I paced back and forth in the hospital hallway, my heart hammering in my chest. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, my mind replaying the sound of Eloise’s body hitting the floor over and over again.Damn it.One second, she was running after me, desperate to explain herself. The next, she was falling—crashing down like everything between us.I clenched my fists. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.I just wanted her to choose us. To choose me.I ran a frustrated hand down my face, forcing myself to stay calm. The doctor had yet to come out, and the waiting was eating me alive. My stomach twisted painfully as the image of her limp body flashed in my mind again. I should’ve caught her. I should’ve—The door finally opened, and the doctor stepped out. I straightened immediately, my pulse quickening."Doctor," I breathed out, my voice tight. "How is she? Is she okay?"The doctor gave me a reassuring nod. "She’s stable. She hit her head, but it’s just a minor injury. No signs of a conc