Angela's POVThe tapping of my pen against the desk is rhythmic, almost hypnotic, as I stare at the document in front of me. The words blur together, the details slipping through my mind like water through my fingers. No matter how hard I try to focus, my thoughts keep drifting back to the folder with Grayson Enterprises stamped on the cover.It’s been days since Michael decided we’d move forward with the collaboration, and though the meeting hasn’t been scheduled yet, the anticipation hangs over me like a storm cloud. Lyle feels closer now, even though I haven’t seen or spoken to him since that night.I shake my head, trying to dispel the growing tightness in my chest, but it doesn’t help. I need to focus.A soft knock at the door pulls me from my spiral.“Come in,” I say, grateful for the distraction.Michael steps inside, his usual calm demeanor in place, though his eyes are watchful. He’s always quick to notice when something’s off, and I can tell by the slight tilt of his head
Angela's POVWednesday morning starts like any other. The office is already buzzing by the time I settle into my desk. A half-empty cup of coffee sits precariously close to my laptop as I navigate my inbox, skimming through a mountain of emails that demand my attention. Case files are piled neatly on one side of my desk, each one begging to be reviewed, dissected, and resolved.The hum of conversations and the occasional ring of a phone create a familiar rhythm in the background. It’s nothing I haven’t handled before, and I take comfort in the structure of it all.I’m midway through drafting an email, trying to word a response delicately enough to satisfy a difficult client, when a soft knock on my door catches my attention.I glance up to see Michael standing in the doorway, a thick folder tucked under his arm. His expression is unreadable, but there’s a tightness around his mouth that immediately puts me on edge. Michael doesn’t usually hesitate—he’s decisive, clear, and steady.
Angela's POVThe sunlight feels too cheerful for my mood as I step outside, where Michael is waiting by his car. His tie is slightly loosened, and his sleeves are rolled up just enough to give him that effortless, approachable look that seems to come so naturally to him. He waves when he sees me, a small smile tugging at his lips.“Ready?” he asks as I approach.“I could’ve taken the bus,” I say, though there’s no real conviction in my voice.“I could’ve let you,” he replies with a smirk. “We both know I wouldn’t feel good about that. After you were jumped the other day, this isn’t up for debate. Get in.”I sigh, giving him a look, but I climb into the passenger seat anyway. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”“Just looking out for a friend,” he says lightly as he pulls into traffic.The drive is quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. I fiddle with the strap of my bag, trying not to think too much about where I’m headed.“First day nerves?” Michael a
Angela's POV“Looks like you’re doing well. Found yourself a new sugar daddy?”The words stop me in my tracks. Malice drips from every syllable, sharp and cutting, as if they’ve been honed specifically to wound. I don’t need to turn to know who it is.I do. Slowly.Fiona stands a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, her posture all smug confidence. Her tailored dress clings perfectly to her, her carefully styled hair gleaming under the overhead lights. She looks flawless, as always, but the gleam in her eyes is sharper than ever, practically daring me to react.“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice steady despite the way my pulse quickens. “Shouldn’t you be… recuperating?”Her smirk falters, just for a split second, before she tilts her head, recovering quickly. “There’s nothing wrong with me.,” she replies,her tone laced with mockery. “Besides the fact I’m forced to see your face again. Why are you here, anyway?”“I’m here for work,” I answer curtly, gripping the str
Angela's POVThe air feels heavy, as though the room itself is holding its breath. Lyle’s sharp gaze moves between me and Fiona, and I brace myself for what’s coming.He’s going to blame me. He always blames me. The thought lodges in my chest, making it hard to breathe.I start to speak, desperate to defend myself before he draws his own conclusions. “Lyle, I didn’t—”He moves, cutting me off—not toward Fiona, but toward me. His expression is unreadable, and my stomach churns as I try to decipher it.“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice steady but laced with concern.For a moment, I’m too stunned to respond. I search his face for a hint of sarcasm, some edge that suggests this is a trick, but all I see is sincerity.“What?” I manage to say, blinking up at him.“Are you okay?” he repeats, his brow furrowing slightly. His gaze is fixed on mine, and I realize he’s genuinely asking. The knot in my chest loosens slightly, but confusion replaces it.“I—yes,” I reply cautiously, the word hesit
Angela's POVFiona’s lunge is so sudden, so full of raw fury, that it takes me a moment to process what’s happening. My instincts kick in too late, and I stumble back, only to feel the unyielding surface of the wall against my shoulders. There’s nowhere to go, and for a heartbeat, I’m frozen.“Fiona, stop!” Lyle’s sharp voice cuts through the chaos, but it doesn’t slow her down.Before she can reach me, Lyle moves like a force of nature, placing himself between us. His broad frame blocks her path completely, and I’m left staring at the back of his suit, my heart pounding in my chest.“Enough!” he snaps, his voice filled with authority.Fiona barely registers his words, her rage blinding her as she struggles against the security guards who step in and grab her arms. She twists and writhes in their grasp, her cries echoing through the room.“Let me go!” she shrieks, her voice wild and frantic. Her carefully composed facade has completely shattered, replaced by something raw and unhinge
Lyle's POVThe weight of Angela in my arms feels both grounding and surreal, her unconscious state a constant reminder of how close I came to losing her. The scene from moments ago replays in my mind like a haunting loop—Fiona’s wild eyes, her unrestrained fury, and the way Angela stumbled back against the wall, cornered and vulnerable.For the first time in years, I felt something foreign and overwhelming: panic.I’ve faced high-stakes negotiations, volatile boardroom power plays, even moments when the future of my company teetered on the edge. None of that compares to the sheer terror that gripped me as Fiona lunged toward Angela. The thought of her being hurt—of her slipping away—was unbearable.I glance down at her pale face, her lashes resting delicately against her cheeks. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. It strikes me just how fragile she looks, yet I know she’s anything but. Angela has always been strong—stronger than I ever gave her credit for.The moment I saw her her
Angela's POVI sit up straighter on the couch, my hands folded tightly in my lap as I brace myself for whatever he’s about to say.“I’m sorry about Fiona,” he begins, his voice low. “I didn’t expect her to show up like that.”I shrug, doing my best to sound unaffected. “It’s not my concern, Lyle. I’m just here for work.”The corner of his mouth twitches, as if my words sting. “I’ll handle it,” he promises.I nod curtly and stand, smoothing the fabric of my blouse. “I’m rested now. I’d like to leave and get back to work.”For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that makes me pause. Then he speaks again, his voice quieter this time. “Angela… there’s something I need to say. About… what happened. About the miscarriage.”The words hit me like a slap, and I freeze, my heart skipping a beat.“What?” I say, my voice sharp.Lyle’s expression is unreadable, but there’s a heaviness in his eyes I’ve never seen before. “I misunderstood you,” he says, each word del
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