THIRD POVThe room fell into a deafening silence after Isabella’s question.Her wide, bewildered eyes focused on her brother Nathan for some time before they turned to face Lilian; she was still grappling with the weight of Scarlett’s decision.Her lips parted slightly, but they still could not produce; the situation was still proving too difficult for her to grasp completely.The shock left her frozen in place, her mind synchronizing the event over and over again for answers that weren’t coming.As for Lilian, she remained standing a few steps away and had her hands firmly planted on her waist. Her teary eyes misted with emotion, her breaths shallow, as if holding back a torrent of feelings too much for her tender heart. She was also watching Nathan and Isabella,.her lips trembling, and like Isabella, there were no words for her to say.Nathan, on the other hand, stared at the wall, the anger etched in his face beginning to shift. His jaw clenched tightly, then slowly they relaxed
ISABELLA'S POVI stood in the middle of my bedroom, surrounded by discarded clothes. Dresses, skirts, blouses—they were all piled up on the bed as I rifled through my closet, frantically trying to find something, anything, that would make me look perfect for the visit. These things were always so difficult for me. Perharps, that was the downside of having boys only as siblings. My fashion sense felt too masculine even to me; I would be lying if I said I trusted it enough, and in an occasion like the one I was preparing for right now, my doubt was twice the normal.I tried on a red dress first, spinning slightly in front of the mirror. Too bold. I pulled it off quickly, my nerves starting to creep in. Next, I tried a pale blue blouse with a white skirt. It looked pretty, but still didn’t feel right either.I was restless. Michael’s family wasn’t just any family. His mother, particularly I, wanted to impress her; according to him, she was the one who was at the forefront of pushi
ISABELLA'S POV Michael’s parents turned out to be nothing like the stiff, formal figures I had imagined. Instead, they were warm, lively, and welcoming. Michael's father, in the typical playful manner he had projected himself for the last few minutes, was the first to bring up the idea of games after lunch. “I bet none of you can beat me at charades,” he announced, puffing up his chest. His wife rolled her eyes but smiled fondly. “Oh, please, Richard. You can’t even act out a frying pan properly.” She teased, making all of us burst into laughter. As the game began, I found myself swept up in their playful banter, the tension I had felt earlier melting away. Michael’s dad's exaggerated gestures during his turn were so comically absurd that even Michael, usually so composed, doubled over with laughter. At one point, his father tried mimicking a bird, flapping his arms wildly while making awkward squawking noises. “That’s supposed to be a penguin?” I asked, trying and fail
ISABELLA'S POV“Are we even still friends anymore?”My voice was like an arrow, so unexpected yet so piercing, not just to her but to me; my breath trembled in my throat.For a second, she couldn't respond. She wasn’t prepared for me to say that.Her eyes widened briefly before narrowing, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Her fingers twitched at her sides, her shoulders stiffening, almost like she was bracing herself for the impact of something hard.I took a step closer, swallowing hard as I held her gaze with mine.She could feel the judgment in my eyes—the hurt that had been growing for months, finally breaking free. “Like... Did you even know I was sick, Scarlett? Or were you too busy with your so-called actor boyfriend?” I asked.“Talk to me!” I shouted.Scarlett inhaled sharply, her hands flying to her waist. Then she let out a scoff."Come off it, Bella; I knew that bitch Lilian would tell you that." She spat, shaking her head."That gi
JAME'S POVThe glass of Macallan Rare Cask in front of me remained untouched.The club lighting was a little too dim—as usual, not enough to tell the actual color of what I was drinking.I looked around casually. I had lost track of how long I have been sitting here, waiting for just one person... Gregory.A quick glance at my watch reminded me... It was about forty-five minutes since I arrived here.The noise around me was deafening, laughter and conversations blending into a single vibrant hum.I pulled out my phone despite doubting that it would help.The first call didn’t go through.I cursed under my breath and tried again. Nothing.The third attempt met the same fate, and frustration began to knot in my chest, tightening with every passing second. I rubbed a hand down my face, clenching my jaw. What the hell was going on? Why would Gregory decide to be unreachable now of all times, especially at such a crucial hour of the day? I know what I had to abandon to be here myself.O
THIRD POVDr. Robert Langston stood before the full-length mirror in his room, meticulously adjusting the knot of his tie.He straightened his suit jacket, fingers brushing over the half-grey hair at his temples as a satisfied smile showed on his face.His reflection stared back at him, sharp and confident, embodying everything he had worked toward.His plan was finally coming together far more smoothly than he had anticipated.He let out a soft chuckle, remembering the exact moment when James had fallen for his proposal last night.It had been effortless, like a house of cards collapsing with the lightest touch. "Executive board member indeed," he muttered under his breath, his lips twisting into a devious mocking grin. But in all honesty, who wouldn't have taken the bait? It was a perfect offer, tailored to perfection, and James, from his history as an opportunist, had lived up to expectation.With a nod of satisfaction, Robert swiped at an invisible stain on his jacket, his moveme
MICHEAL'S POVThe large, luxurious hall was just the perfect one of this grand moment I have been planning.Rows of chairs were perfectly arranged around beautifully adorned tables.Centerpieces gleamed under the soft lights above.Already, a number of guests had taken their seats, dressed in their finest attire, chatting amongst themselves, laughter bubbling through the hall like faint echoes.At one corner of the hall, I was standing with my hands on my waist, taking in the view.The space was enormous, far bigger than I had imagined when planning this. A few guests were already seated, chatting softly, their I spotted familiar faces in the crowd.my grandfather, with his dyed hair, sitting stoically in his favorite navy suit, and beside him.I also picked out my mother, wearing an elegant black dress matching the pearl necklace she always wore for big events like this. Across the room, Nathan and Owen leaned in towards each other, deep in conversation.Nathan, ever the gentleman,
JAMES POVI was lying slumped on the central chair in my office; exhaustion was making my bones feel like soaked foam.My breath was shallow, a reminder of the six hours that I just spent in the operating room.One thing about complicated surgeries like the one I just saw through was that same-old feeling of weariness that would settle on top of you hours after it was over. It was like paralysis.Indeed, today had been a tough one. It was actually an arterial graft surgery I handled.And in the few times I have done it, I have always managed to pull through, yet something about it always gnawed at me.I sometimes hate these surgeries, to be honest.Not because of the technical complexity, but because of what they represented as human fragility.And the bluntness of physical rigor.Nevertheless, the successes always made it worth it.I stared vacantly into space, my mind replaying the delicate moments of the procedure all over again.Then, with a heavy sigh, I leaned back further, st