Angela's POVThe morning sun streams through the window as I adjust my blazer in the mirror, taking a deep breath. Today is the day—a new chapter, a fresh start.My father is finally home, recovering from weeks of illness. It’s a relief to see him smile again, to watch him slowly regain his strength. Leaving his company wasn’t an easy decision, but we both agreed it was time for me to forge my own path.Michael’s firm is the perfect place to do that.Still, as I step into the sleek office building, my nerves buzz like static electricity. I smooth my hair again, clutching the strap of my bag tighter. The lobby is alive with the hum of phones ringing, conversations overlapping, and the steady rhythm of heels clicking against polished floors.I remind myself why I’m here. I’ve spent years sacrificing my ambitions for other people—for Lyle, for my family. This time, it’s for me.A woman in a tailored navy suit approaches, her posture straight and her gaze sharp. She looks like someone who
Angela's POVThe aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted garlic wafts through the air as I glance around the cozy Italian restaurant. I smooth the napkin across my lap, feeling a mix of excitement and nervous energy. Michael arrives exactly on time, his familiar, easy smile lighting up his face as he spots me at the corner table.“Angela,” he says warmly, pulling out a chair. “This place is great. Did you pick it?”“I did,” I reply, unable to suppress a smile. “It’s one of my favorites. Thank you for coming.”“I wouldn’t miss it,” he says, settling into his seat.As we place our orders, I feel a flutter of anticipation. Tonight is about gratitude—for everything Michael has done for me over the past few weeks, and for helping me find my footing at the firm.Once the waiter leaves, I turn to him, unable to hide my excitement. “I just wanted to say thank you—for everything. These past few days have been incredible. I’ve learned so much already.”Michael raises an eyebrow, his curiosity
Angela's POVThe ballroom is bathed in a soft, golden glow, chandeliers casting warm light over the crowd of elegantly dressed guests. The sound of clinking glasses and polite laughter fills the air as I move through the sea of people, offering practiced smiles and handshakes.Tonight is a big night. It’s my father’s first public appearance since his recovery, and all eyes are on him. After everything our company has endured recently, his presence is a signal to the world that we’re still standing. As his daughter, I know I’m being watched too.I adjust the hem of my dress, a sleek navy gown that fits perfectly, and lift my chin higher. Every detail tonight matters, from my confident smile to the grace in my movements. This is my chance to support my father and show that the Hartman family is stronger than ever.“Angela, you look radiant tonight,” a familiar voice says as an old associate approaches, his hand extended.“Thank you,” I reply warmly, shaking his hand. “It’s wonderful to
Angela's POVI don’t want to hear anything he has to say.I make it three steps back toward the ballroom before Lyle catches my arm again. His grip is firm but not forceful, his expression a mix of frustration and something that looks uncomfortably close to desperation.“Angela,” he says, his voice low but intense. “Please, just listen to me.”I turn to face him, yanking my arm free. “What could you possibly have to say, Lyle? You’ve said enough already.”His jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly, as if trying to steady himself. “I was wrong,” he begins. “I misunderstood you.”I freeze, my chest tightening as I wait for him to continue.“I know I accused you of being… someone you’re not,” he admits, his gaze fixed on me. “I let my assumptions cloud my judgment. I thought you were after my money, that you only stayed because of what I could give you.”I frown, unsure of what to make of it all.“I found out about what my mother did,” he continues, his voice quieter now. “The pressure she
Lyle's POVHer words hit me like a punch to the gut.The crowd around us faded, the hum of the gala becoming distant and inconsequential. I stood there, unable to move, my mind reeling from what Angela had just said.I don’t understand why I can’t let this go. Why can’t I stop trying to fix something that’s clearly broken beyond repair?The truth in her voice, the raw honesty of her accusations—it wasn’t just painful. It was shattering.She’s right.I’ve spent so much of my life focused on building my company, climbing higher, and chasing success. All the while, I’d neglected the most important person in my life.Angela had stood by me through everything. She had loved me, supported me, and asked for so little in return. I’d given her even less. I hadn’t seen her, really seen her, until now—when it’s too late.The realization cuts deep.I didn’t value her the way I should have, and now I’m paying the price.Even tonight, I’d tried to help her. She’s living who knows where, and I thoug
Michael's POVAngela moves through the crowd with a grace that turns heads wherever she goes. The navy gown she’s wearing fits her perfectly, the shimmer of the fabric catching the light with every step.It’s not just the dress. It’s the way she carries herself—poised, confident, and warm. Her voice, calm but engaging, floats over the hum of conversation as she speaks with the guests.“She’s incredible, isn’t she?”I glance to my left to see one of the clients I’d been speaking with earlier nodding toward Angela. “A perfect blend of beauty and brains. Hartman’s daughter knows how to make an impression.”“She does,” I agree, a touch of pride in my voice. “She’s one of the most remarkable people I know.”The client raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like you know her well.”“We went to college together,” I explain, keeping my tone neutral. “Angela’s always been impressive. It’s no surprise to me that she’s handling herself so well tonight.”The client chuckles softly before excusing himself, le
Angela's POVIt’s taken almost three weeks, but I’m finally starting to feel like I belong at the firm.The initial chaos of adjusting to the fast-paced environment has settled into something manageable. Victoria, my supervisor, is no less demanding, but I’ve come to appreciate her relentless push for excellence. She’s fair, and when she says good job, I know it means something.My colleagues have been welcoming too. Susan often shares tips on drafting airtight contracts, and James, though intimidating at first, has warmed up enough to crack the occasional joke during late-night meetings.I’ve even found myself laughing more—something I hadn’t realized I missed.Work keeps me busy, and I thrive in the busyness. Every day brings a new challenge, a new opportunity to learn and grow. The weight of the past feels lighter, almost like it’s finally behind me.Even better, Lyle hasn’t bothered me. No sudden calls, no unexpected appearances.For the first time in years, I feel… free.Most eve
Angela's POVThe warm glow of the desk lamp casts a soft light over my workspace as I finish reviewing the last of the case notes. The quiet hum of the office at this hour feels oddly comforting, the usual buzz of phones and footsteps replaced by the faint rustle of papers and the distant ticking of the wall clock.I glance at the stack of files in front of me, each one meticulously organized thanks to Michael’s help. I wouldn’t have been able to sort through this chaos without him.Just as I’m about to dive back into one particularly thorny section, I hear a light knock at my door.“Come in,” I call, expecting one of my colleagues, but it’s Michael who steps inside.“Still at it, I see,” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips as he closes the door behind him.“I could say the same to you,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. “Don’t tell me you’re here to check on me.”“Maybe a little,” he admits, his tone light. He holds up a coffee cup, steam curling from the lid. “Thought you co
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