When Pamela Jones sister gets badly injured in a car accident, her life changes drastically because the bills turn out to be more than she can afford. Desperate to save her sister, Pamela is forced to make a deal she never could have imagined, being sold as a wife to the cold billionaire, Rowan Hamilton. Although worst for starters, Pamela acts out the role of being Rowan's wife, and then, against all expectations, she grew to love him. Just as she does open herself up to him, she finds out about a painful betrayal on his part. Devastated, Pamela runs off while pregant, not wanting anything more to do with Rowan and her past. Years later, she returns stronger and more determined than ever, with unresolved feelings and a child who has no idea about his father. Will Rowan fight to win her back, or will Pamela finally break free from the man who once had shattered her heart?
View MorePamela's Point of ViewThe night of the gala arrives quicker than I expect, and as I stand in front of the mirror, smoothing down the sleek black dress I chose for the occasion, I can’t shake the gnawing feeling in my stomach. I’ve been to a few events with Rowan, but none like this. The elites of the city will be there, the crème de la crème of society, all gathered under one roof. And for what? To judge, to scrutinize, and in my case, to find faults.The dress clings to me in all the right places, its elegance doing little to soothe my nerves. I force a breath, reaching for the necklace Rowan gave me for tonight—another gesture that feels more like obligation than affection. It’s a beautiful piece, diamonds glinting in the low light, but wearing it feels like wearing a chain."Ready?" Rowan's voice cuts into my thoughts.I look up to see him standing in the doorway, dressed to in a tailored fitted suit. His features are unreadable. No warmth in his eyes, only the same cold distance
Pamela's Point of ViewWeeks have passed since that unsettling phone call with Sinclair, and to my surprise, he hasn’t called again. Not once. Yet, his words still linger in my mind, shadowing every interaction I have with Rowan. I’ve tried to push it aside, to tell myself that maybe it was just a passing threat, a moment of malice from a man with a twisted grudge. But part of me wonders if Sinclair’s silence is only a prelude to something worse.Rowan hasn’t mentioned it either. In fact, we haven’t talked much at all since that day. It’s like an invisible wall has been built between us, a barrier that neither of us seems willing to cross. He’s busy, or at least that’s what I tell myself. Meetings, phone calls, late nights in his office. But I can’t shake the feeling that he’s deliberately avoiding me.Not that I mind. In some ways, it’s an advantage. The less we speak, the less I must put up with this confusing, awkward tension between us. It was easier, safer, when he was avoided.T
Pamela's Point of ViewI retreat into the mansion, the coolness of the lobby becomes a weight bearing down on me after my tense confrontation with Rebecca. My mind reels over her sharp words, the disdain in her eyes, and Lyka's tension expression. I shake it off, refusing to let them rattle me.As I make my way down the hall, I notice Lyka in a rush to leave Rowan's office. She is running in such haste that she is almost frantic and doesn't even try to mask the malice in her eyes as she sees me. For a second or less, we lock eyes, hers with a dark, resentful expression before she darts off again, completely disregarding me.I remain there, perplexed. What happened in that office? Why is Lyka running away? Just before I can make another step, I see Rebecca running after her."Lyka! Wait!" she calls, voice shrill. As she races past me, she shoots me a withering glare with a face tight full of fury. "We're not done yet, Pamela," she hisses venomously before vanishing after Lyka.Her word
Pamela's Point of ViewRowan's hand is a firm grasp around my waist, anchoring me when the tension in this room escalates. Lyka and Rebecca exchange a look; their eyes are filled with something I couldn't quite place-calculating, or perhaps amusing, or maybe both. But the weight of their judgment, their sharp words still cuts.I look up at Rowan, his face stern yet protective, but the discomfort coils tightly within me. I just cannot get rid of this feeling that I am not meant to be here in this moment, them standing here like vultures. I breathe in deeply, push the embarrassment and awkwardness swirling inside me downwards.I slowly take Rowan's hand away from my waist. His fingers linger a second longer before falling away, and through that small touch, I can feel his confusion as I step back."I need to leave," I say softly, yet firmly. "This isn't a conversation I need to be part of.""Pamela—" Rowan starts, but I shake my head before he can continue."It’s fine," I interrupt gent
Pamela's Point of ViewI wake up to this gnawing feeling in my chest. Joana, is still in the hospital, fragile and in need of care. She doesn't even know half of what has been going on. I need to be there for her. Every minute that passes, stuck in this house, I feel its weight pressing down on me. This news conference, this farce-everything that Rowan expects from me feels like a cage I'm barely holding together.Taking a deep breath, I push the tension building inside me aside and make the conscious decision that today, I'll talk with Rowan. I know he's going to have his opinions, but this isn't up for negotiation: Joana is my sister, and she needs me.I find Rowan in his study, as is most often the case, buried in paper work and on the phone. His expression is as stern as it ever was, calculated, every decision part of some grander scheme. I stand in the doorway for a minute, trying to gather the nerve. And when he finally looks up and sees me standing there, he waves me in."Can w
Pamela's Point of ViewThe morning sun is too bright, almost jeering, as I stand on the balcony, staring out at the sprawling estate that feels more like a prison. Reporters are gathering below, cameras already in place, their lenses glinting in the light. This is Rowan's world, a perfectly curated display where everything has its place and purpose.Today, I'm that purpose.I hear Rowan's approach before he speaks. "They're waiting."I don't turn around. I keep my eyes on the horizon, the weight of the day pressing down on me like a heavy cloak. "I know."He doesn't say anything right away, but I can feel him weighing me, as he always does. Everything about Rowan is calculated, premeditated. Even this press conference, it's not about us, it's about the image he wants to portray. I dig my fingers into the railing of the balcony, my knuckles white."I want to know something," I say, my voice low but level. "Do you feel anything at all when you do this? When you drag me out in front of t
Pamela's Point of ViewThe dinner feels endless, a never-ending barrage of thinly veiled insults, passive-aggressive comments, and forced smiles. By the time dessert is served, the tension is so thick I’m afraid I’ll snap. The only thing remotely comforting is Rowan's hand firmly on mine beneath the table, reminding me of where I stand in this twisted arrangement. Every look Lillian gives me feels like a scalpel cutting into me, and Rebecca's smirking only makes it worse.Finally, when we rise from the table, Rowan stands and offers me his arm. I take it, feeling like a player in a play I never auditioned for. We walk in silence down the great corridors of the mansion until we reach Rowan's quarters. The door clicks shut behind us, and for the first time all evening, I allow myself to exhale.I turn to him, watching as Rowan loosens his tie with an air of nonchalance that makes my skin crawl."So," I say, bitterness seeping into my voice, "is this how it's going to be? A lifetime of p
Pamela's Point of ViewThe weekend arrives faster than I expected. My nerves twist and tighten as Rowan’s sleek black car pulls into the driveway of a grand estate—larger than even his own mansion. The looming facade is more than intimidating; it’s overwhelming. It feels like I’m about to step into the lion’s den.My hands are clenched tightly in my lap, knuckles white against the soft fabric of the pale blue dress that had been laid out for me this morning. The dress is beautiful, perfectly tailored, but it feels like armor for a battle to which I am ill prepared.Sitting beside me, Rowan is impeccably attired in a fitted charcoal suit that accentuates sharp angles and exudes an aura of quiet command. He hasn't uttered a word so far during the ride; his gaze is out the window, lost in thought or perhaps he is just pointedly ignoring me. The tension between us is palpable, a silent war waged with stony glares and curt exchanges since I signed that damned contract.The car smoothes to
Pamela's Point of ViewI freeze outside of this mansion; the façade is grand and imposing, a fortress that could not be breached. The man, so tall and imposing, so arrogant, draws me inside by a cool detachedness, his fingers firm on my arm yet not hurting me. The warmth and richness in the interior of the mansion did little to thaw the coldness deeply in my bones.Long corridors are passed, tapestries of the richest kind, floors shining bright, and walls adorned with expensive art catch my eye. Everything about this place screams of wealth and power, but to me, it's no different from a prison. My mind begins to juggle various thoughts. My father had sold me to this man-literally. It's a burning betrayal, but there's no time for that either. Somehow, I have to get out of this nightmare.We eventually stop before a heavy oak door. The man turns into me, his eyes gleaming with mirth in the dark and a glimmer of superiority.“You should know with whom you're dealing,” he says, his tone o
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