Angela's POVArmed with the evidence in hand, I stride into the company building, feeling a mix of fury and resolve. I know confronting Jay is going to be ugly, but I’m past caring. He’s done enough damage, and it’s time he sees that his games won’t go unchallenged. I walk directly to Dad’s office - or Jay’s now, I suppose - office, ignoring the curious glances of employees along the way, and open the door without knocking. Jay is seated behind his desk, barely looking up from his papers as if he doesn’t care about who’s just stormed into his office. “Angela,” he says smoothly, leaning back with a smug expression. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “You know exactly why I’m here,” I reply, my voice icy. I step forward, setting the stack of evidence on his desk with a pointed thud. “Care to explain why you’ve been sharing my father’s condition with Fiona? Don’t bother denying it; I have all the proof right here.” His eyes flicker briefly, but his composure doesn’t falter. He glan
Lyle's POVI used the pretense of discussing a business plan to visit Jay's office, but that wasn't my true intention. My real goal was to confirm whether Jay had been secretly colluding with a member of my family. A series of recent events at Angela 's father's company had been far too coincidental to ignore. I had my suspicions, but lacked concrete evidence to substantiate them.When I arrived at his office, the muffled hum of voices drifted out from within, halting my next step. I noticed the door was slightly ajar, and voices drifted out from within. Little did I know, the words I was about to hear would shake me to my core.Jay’s voice mocked, sharp and cruel.“The way you two met, the incident with those so-called ruffians? Planned, orchestrated by yours truly. Even Lyle’s heroic appearance was all part of the plan. I needed him invested, needed you to fall right into line."“You’re despicable.” I hear a voice, choked with anger, and I'm certain it belongs to Angela.The realiza
Angela's POVThe company doors feel heavier than usual as I push them open and step out into the crisp evening air. The chill nips at my cheeks, but I barely notice. My pulse still races from the confrontation with Lyle, the echo of his words following me like a shadow.Even if he knows now that he was wrong, what difference does it make?I walk briskly down the street, the sound of my heels clicking against the pavement cutting through the hum of the city. My thoughts swirl in a chaotic mess. I pause at the corner of a busy intersection, waiting for the light to change. A woman brushes past me, her laughter carrying on the breeze as she links arms with the man beside her.It was like how I once imagined Lyle and I would be.It’s too late. Too much has been broken.My phone buzzes in my coat pocket, pulling me from the spiral. I pull it out, half-expecting another email from Lyle. Instead, Michael Sterling’s name lights up the screen.I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the screen, bef
Lyle's POVThe email sits in my outbox, mocking me with its silence. For days, I’ve tried to contact Angela—texts, calls, emails—but she’s ignored every single one. My phone is always within reach, the faint hope of her reply keeping me tethered to a threadbare patience.She doesn’t even read the messages anymore.I lean back in my chair, staring out the window at the skyline. The city sprawls beneath me, bustling with life, but I feel detached from it all. My office, once a symbol of everything I’d built, feels stifling now, its walls closing in with every passing minute.Why is she still so angry?All I want is the truth. After everything, I deserve that much, don’t I?Yet, she’s moved on with no word so quickly.The thought twists in my chest, sharp and bitter. She’s barely been gone a month, and already she seems happier—more fulfilled. I don’t know what she’s been busy with, but from what I hear, she’s thriving.Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this limbo, staring at an inbox that will ne
Lyle's POVThe low hum of conversation fills the restaurant hours later, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the faint strains of soft piano music.It’s the kind of place where everything feels curated, polished. Fiona sits across from me, her face alight with excitement as she talks about her first week in the office.I guess this is because I just allowed her to choose whatever dishes she liked.I was too harsh with her in the office just now, completely forgetting about her mental illness. Whether as her boss or her older brother, I shouldn’t have treated Fiona that way.Yet, I still couldn’t bring myself to fully engage in comforting my little sister. Any news about Angela still haunts me, lingering in my mind.My fork hovers over the plate in front of me, untouched. I nod occasionally, offering half-hearted responses. I’ve mastered the art of appearing engaged while my thoughts are miles away.Out of the corner of my eye, a movement catches my attention. My gaze shifts, lan
Angela's POVThe hum of chatter and laughter from the private room fades as I step into the hallway, the muffled sounds a distant backdrop to my racing thoughts. Tonight has been a whirlwind—my first big event with my new colleagues.I dressed up to make a good impression, trading my usual understated look for a sleek black dress and subtle makeup.I smooth my dress and head toward the bathroom, my heels clicking against the polished floor. My mind is still buzzing with snippets of conversations from earlier, the smiles and warm welcomes leaving me hopeful for this fresh start.As I near the main dining area, my steps falter.Lyle.He’s here.He’s sitting at a corner table with Fiona, leaning close to her as she speaks animatedly. Her hand brushes his arm, and the sight feels like a punch to the stomach.I freeze, the world tilting for a moment. The warmth of the evening drains away, leaving a cold ache in its place.Why does this still hurt?I force myself to move, rushing past befor
Angela's POVLyle’s face is tight with anger, his jaw set in a way I know too well. His gaze pierces through me, sharp and accusatory. I straighten my posture, determined not to cower, but his expression leaves me puzzled.Why does he look so furious?Then it hits me. He thinks I did something to Fiona. Of course, he’d jump to her defense. The thought stings more than I want to admit.“Really,” I say, my voice cold. “You think I’d bully her?”His eyes flicker for a moment, like he might be reconsidering, but he doesn’t say anything.“She’s the one who started it,” I continue, gesturing toward Fiona, who’s standing just behind him. “Do you even care what she said, or are you too busy rushing to her rescue to find out the truth? She said--”Before I can say more, Fiona gasps softly, interrupting the words that are about to come out of my mouth.“Lyle,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “I don’t feel well…”Her hand clutches her forehead dramatically, and before I can process what’s happ
Lyle's POVSince the meeting with Angela, my mind hasn’t been at peace. The conversation between her and Fiona keeps playing in my head, unraveling every certainty I once held about my sister.Fiona has always been obedient, thoughtful, and—at least in my eyes—incapable of malice. But the accusations Angela made, especially about colluding with her uncle and causing her father’s illness…It’s unthinkable.Yet, I can’t ignore the nagging doubt that’s taken root. Fiona’s behavior lately has been erratic, even by her standards. If there’s any truth to Angela’s claims, I have to know.I pull into the driveway of my mother’s house, the familiar sight of the place doing little to ease the tension in my chest. As I step inside, the faint sound of the television drifts from the living room, accompanied by Fiona’s soft voice humming along to the music playing in the background.When I enter, she looks up from the couch, her pale face breaking into a tentative smile.“Lyle,” she says warmly, he
Angela’s POVThe notification pops up on my phone just as I finish packing the last of my things. I hesitate for a moment before swiping to unlock the screen, my fingers tightening slightly around the device.Grayson Industries Shake-Up: Fiona Grayson Committed to Mental Institution, Margaret Grayson Resigns From Company Affairs.I let out a slow breath, my eyes scanning the article despite knowing I shouldn’t. The news spread faster than I expected. The public is eating up the scandal, debating whether Fiona deserves sympathy or punishment, whether Margaret stepping down means Grayson Industries will shift in a new direction. What catches my attention most is one single line buried at the end of the article.CEO Lyle Grayson refused to comment.I stare at those words longer than I should.A part of me wonders what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling now that he’s severed himself from them—from the family he once prioritized over everything.I exit the app before I can spiral further.A
Lyle POVFiona looks smaller than I remember.She’s curled up in the sterile hospital bed, her arms wrapped around her frail frame, her hair slightly disheveled, her eyes wide and rimmed with red. But as soon as she sees my mother, her entire face crumbles.“Mother,” she whispers, voice hoarse and trembling, then louder, more desperate, “Mother!”My mother rushes forward, gathering Fiona into her arms as if she’s still a child in need of comfort. Fiona clings to her, sobbing against her shoulder, her fingers twisting into the expensive silk of my mother’s blouse like she’s afraid she’ll be torn away.“Shh, sweetheart, I’m here,” my mother soothes, stroking Fiona’s hair as tears slip down her own face. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”“Please,” Fiona chokes out, her voice raw, shaking. “Don’t let them keep me here. Don’t let them treat me like I’m some kind of criminal.”My mother tightens her hold. “You’re not, darling. You’re not. You’re just sick, that’s all. And we’ll get you
Lyle POVThe silence in the car stretches long and heavy, thick with things left unsaid. My mother sits beside me, her posture elegant and composed as always, but I know her too well to be fooled by the calm exterior. She’s waiting. Waiting for me to speak first, waiting for me to say something that makes this entire situation more bearable.I don’t. The only reason I’m here, the only reason I agreed to this visit at all, is because Fiona is my sister. No matter what she’s done, no matter how much she’s broken, no matter how much I want to walk away and never look back—she is still my responsibility.My mother shifts slightly, her fingers tapping lightly against her knee before she finally breaks the silence. “I know you’re still upset.”I let out a sharp, humorless breath. Upset doesn’t even begin to cover it.“She’s still your sister, Lyle,” she says carefully.I keep my eyes on the road, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles ache. “I know.”She exhales, turning to fully face
Angela's POVLyle turns and walks toward his car, his shoulders tense, his pace steady. He doesn’t look back, doesn’t say another word. I tell myself I should do the same—step inside, close the door, and leave him behind, just like I’ve been trying to do for months.I don’t.Instead, I watch him.My arms stay crossed, my fingers gripping my sleeves a little too tightly as I track every movement he makes. The way his hand tightens around the bouquet, the way he exhales deeply before finally tossing the flowers onto the passenger seat of his car. He hesitates for a fraction of a second before getting in, and then, with the smooth precision I know so well, he starts the engine and pulls away from the curb.I stand in the doorway, eyes fixed on the taillights as they fade into the night.“You’re still watching,” a voice deadpans behind me.I flinch slightly, tearing my gaze away and turning toward Jodelle, who is leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, looking far too please
Angela's POVSeeing Lyle standing there with flowers in his hands, I feel my breath catch, my mind torn between emotions I don’t have the energy to sort through.I don’t want to deal with him. Not tonight.I tighten my grip on my bag, willing my feet to move, to walk past him, to pretend I don’t see him. But before I can decide what to do, a sharp voice cuts through the air.“Oh, hell no. What do you think you’re doing here?”I snap my head to the side and see Jodelle storming toward us, her eyes blazing with protective fury. She stops in front of Lyle, arms crossed, planting herself like a human barricade between us.“Get lost, Grayson,” she snaps. “You’ve done enough damage.”Lyle doesn’t flinch. He shifts his gaze from her to me, his expression unreadable. “Angela,” he says, his voice quieter, steadier than I expect. “Can we talk?”“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jodelle answers before I can. “Whatever you have to say, she doesn’t need to hear it.”I can feel my pulse in my throat
Angela's POVThe day stretches on, steady and unrelenting. I bury myself in work, pushing aside every stray thought that tries to surface. Although I had Richard's approval, apparently, it wasn't enough.I move from one task to the next, flipping through contracts, revising policies, drafting documents that need my approval. It’s methodical, logical, something I can control. Every keystroke, every note scribbled in the margins, reminds me that I’m here because I earned it, because I fought for it.Even as I work, I can feel the attention. The quiet stares when I walk down the hallway, the way conversations shift the moment I step into a room. Some people don’t bother hiding their curiosity, their confusion. Others are more discreet, exchanging glances behind their monitors, whispering as I pass.It’s not surprising, really. To them, I was Lyle Grayson’s secretary, the woman who sat outside his office, managing his schedule and answering his calls. Now, I walk these halls in an entir
Angela's POVReturning to Grayson Enterprises feels strange.The glass doors slide open with a soft hiss, and I step into the familiar lobby, my heels clicking against the polished marble floor. Everything looks the same—the sleek, modern interior, the meticulously arranged floral centerpiece, the front desk where I used to check Lyle’s schedule a hundred times a day.I’m different now.I’m no longer Lyle Grayson’s secretary. I’m here as a lawyer, an independent professional, not someone who runs after his coffee or clears his calendar. Still, as I walk toward the elevator, I feel the weight of curious gazes on me.People recognize me. I can hear the whispers, feel their eyes tracking my every move."Is that Angela?""Didn’t she used to be the CEO’s secretary?""She’s a lawyer now, seriously?"I keep my face neutral, my back straight. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing any hesitation in my steps. I earned this.As I enter the elevator, a voice calls out behind me.“Angela?”
Angela's POVThe air in the restaurant shifts the moment Michael reaches into his pocket.I watch him carefully, my breath catching slightly, my fingers tightening around the base of my wine glass. A part of me already knows what’s coming, but I don’t want to acknowledge it—not yet.He looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment, before his lips part and the words come out, steady and sure.“I love you, Angela.”The sound of it, so simple yet so heavy, knocks the wind out of me.My fingers go slack against the glass, and I nearly forget to breathe. “What?”Michael leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table as he watches me with unwavering intensity. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he says again, more certain this time. “Even back in college. Even when you didn’t notice me that way.”I blink, trying to process, but my mind is stuck. College?“I always admired you, Angela,” he continues, his voice softer now, as if confessing something long buried. “Not just for how smar
Angela's POVToday was too much. Too many emotions, too many memories, and too many things I never wanted to think about again forcing their way to the surface. I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders in an attempt to release the tension.“What’s wrong?” Michael asks immediately, his voice low but firm.I sigh and shake my head, forcing a small, tired smile. “Nothing. Just a long day.”Michael doesn’t look convinced. His eyes flick over me, studying every detail—my slightly slumped shoulders, the tightness in my jaw, the way my fingers are gripping the strap of my bag just a little too hard. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but I know him well enough to know that he probably has found something.I slide into the passenger seat, the scent of his cologne familiar, grounding. The door closes with a soft click, sealing us inside. He pulls away from the curb, he glances at me again.“Angela.” His tone is gentle but insistent. “Talk to me.”I stare straight ahead, my fingers tightening i