Pamela'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 ViewRowan yanks on my arm, pulling me through the front door. It hurts, but I don't feel as bad as my breathing does. I'm matching his furious step down the hallway, tripping over my own feet a few times, matching him step for step. My breaths are shallow and my heart is racing, not because I'm afraid of him but because I am confused.Why is he so angry?As soon as we enter the house, he shoves me off of him, pushing me to the side a little. I have no choice but to push myself up against the wall, recoiling at the sharpness of his shove."Why in God's name are you pushing me?" I snap, running my arm over where his fingers left a mark on my skin.Rowan doesn't answer right away. He's pacing now, his hand running through his hair in exasperation, his eyes dark and dangerous. Gone is that cool façade, replaced by something wild and volatile.“Are you happy now?” he finally says, his voice low but trembling with barely controlled rage.I take a step closer, daring to co
Pamela's Point of ViewMy headache throbs as I wake up, eyes squinting at the soft morning light that filters through the curtains. That night's gown hangs heavy and wrinkled on my skin. I can almost envision how the party was, rewinding in my head all the scheming of Rebecca, the cold glances of the elites, Rowan's furious outburst, and Sinclair's unnerving presence.I groan inwardly and drag myself up. Every muscle in my body screams from the tension of last night, and my mind is every bit as heavy. I can’t just shake my head over his reaction.The sharp knocking at the door jerks me out of my thoughts. For a moment I consider ignoring it, but the knocking persists, firm and insistent. Reluctantly, I stand up and smooth my gown as much as possible as I begin to walk towards the door. My stomach tightens as I open it.Standing before me is Rowan's mother, crisp as ever in her fine clothes, not missing a detail of my appearance as she casts an unmistakable look of disdain upon me. I k
Pamela’s Point of ViewOne evening in a grocery store, the fluorescent lights overhead murmured softly as Joana and I slowly strolled down the aisle, our cart and us pushing it. It was one of those dull, lackluster nights where I finally began to relax a little bit. Joana, animated as ever, chattering beside me, commenting on the items we toss into the cart.“So, how's it going, that apartment near to your workplace? Do you like it?” asked Joana, reaching for a box of pasta and tossing it into the recipe, altogether.I try to force myself into a small smile. A weight is hanging round my neck: the secret.“Yeah, it's… convenient,” I say.That is what she thinks, that I live in a small apartment close to my work. Joana does not know the real story of Rowan or that we are engaged. Every time I try to tell her, I just can't do it. Maybe I fear how she'll react, or that she'll see through the cracks I have been trying to smooth over with this facade I have been maintaining.She nods, unawa
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe house is eerily quiet when I step inside. Not a single light is on, and the usual bustle of maids is gone. A sense of unease creeping through me as I shut the door behind me. Something feels wrong. Very wrong.The faint scent of alcohol wafts through the air, pungent and overpowering. I follow it through the darkened hallways, my footsteps hesitant, heart racing with every step. I can barely see where I'm going, and the silence presses in around me like a heavy weight.I reach for the light switch, flicking it on. It snaps on with blinding brightness, stinging my eyes, and I blink furiously to gain control. But it takes only a split second before I jump out of my skin again.Rowan is standing there, motionless, his eyes locked on me. His expression is blank, unnervingly so. But his eyes... they’re cold, yet burning with something intense. He's leaning casually against the wall, but I can tell he’s drunk—his posture too loose, the way he sways ever so slightl
Pamela’s Point of ViewI wake the next morning feeling as though I've been hit by a truck. My mind is slow, body aching, and I can feel the echo of Rowan's touch from last night. I can almost feel him pushing me against the wall, heat on my skin from his breathing, the rough hands on my body—it's just all too vivid. I don't know what to make of it. It was too raw, too intemperate. Did it really happen? Or was it some sort of fever dream?As I sit up in bed, the reality of the situation hits me hard. No, it wasn’t a dream. Rowan kissed me. He claimed me. But then he walked away as if it was nothing.I glance at the clock. It’s early, earlier than I’d like to be awake, but sleep isn’t going to come easily now. The weight of what happened last night sits heavy on my chest, and I wonder how Rowan will act today. Will he pretend it never happened? Or worse, will he be angry?I drag myself out of bed and head downstairs, half expecting to find the house just as cold and silent as it was las
I sit on Joana’s couch, shifting uncomfortably, trying to focus on the TV show playing in the background. It’s some kind of crime drama, but I can’t follow the plot. My attention keeps flickering back to the phone in my lap, my thumb hovering just above the screen. I glance at it again, checking for a message I know isn’t there. Nothing.I bite my lip and set the phone down, only to pick it up again moments later. My heart skips a beat as I unlock the screen, staring at the empty notification bar. What am I even expecting?It’s not like Rowan has a habit of messaging me. In fact, he rarely does. But after last night... my stomach flutters at the thought of him. There’s this strange sensation, a mix of excitement and confusion, something I can’t quite explain. I feel... nervous? Restless? Maybe it’s both. I don't know why I even care this much.I glance at the phone again.Still nothing.Joana’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “Pamela, are you even watching?” Her tone is
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe credits roll on the screen, but I’m not really paying attention. My mind has been elsewhere the whole time—on my phone, on Rowan, on what happened last night. The buzzing energy in my stomach won’t go away, that strange mixture of nerves and anticipation building up, twisting tighter with every passing minute.Finally, I can’t take it anymore. With shaky hands, I unlock my phone and see it—Rowan’s message.[I’m waiting outside your sister’s apartment.]My breath catches in my throat. He’s here?I stare at the message for a moment, trying to process it, my pulse quickening with both excitement and nervousness. Without thinking, I jump up from the couch, almost knocking over the popcorn bowl in my haste.“I’ll be right back!” I stammer, barely registering Joana’s confused expression as I rush toward the door.“Wait, where are you going?” Joana calls after me, but I’m already out the door, my heart racing as I sprint down the stairs of her apartment building. W
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe room is quiet now. I lie next to Rowan, my body still tingling from the closeness we just shared. His arm rests over my waist, and I can feel his steady breathing, comforting yet heavy, like there’s something weighing on both of us. I should feel at ease, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is off.I glance over at him. Rowan’s asleep, his face relaxed, looking softer than usual. It’s strange seeing him like this—vulnerable. Normally, he’s so in control, so distant. Now, though, lying here next to me, he seems almost… human.But my mind won’t settle. It keeps racing, going over everything we’ve been through. Part of me wants to believe this is real—that whatever we have is true—but the other part, the cautious part, is whispering something isn’t right.My eyes drift to his phone, sitting on the nightstand. The screen lights up with a notification. I shouldn’t look. I know it’s wrong. But I can’t help it. I reach for the phone, carefully sliding it t
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe room is dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls as the tension between us crackles like an electric current. I can feel the heat radiating from Rowan’s body, his presence enveloping me, igniting a fire deep within that I have never known before.His gaze, dark and intense, locks onto mine as I press myself closer, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. The air is thick with unspoken words, with the weight of the emotions we have kept buried, and now they surge to the surface like a tide we can’t hold back.Rowan’s hands find their way to my waist, his touch both firm and gentle, sending shivers cascading down my spine. I feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of my shirt, the way his fingers splay across my back, drawing me nearer until there is no space left between us.As he leans in, the world around us fades away, leaving only the two of us in this moment, this electric connection that pulses with each heartbeat. His breath mingles with mine
Pamela’s Point of ViewI scroll through my phone, the dim light from the screen illuminating the interior of the cab as I head home. My fingers pause over an article, and with an unsettled heart, I open it.[Rowan Hamilton introduced a fiancée three months ago… and it’s not Lyka Stones.]The words blur in front of my eyes. My breath catches as I read on.[Rumors suggest that the woman Rowan introduced was simply a way to provoke Lyka, who had been estranged from him at the time. Lyka herself recently addressed these claims, saying: ‘Rowan was just angry. He used someone to make me jealous, but that woman is nobody. He paid her to act like she mattered.’]Nobody. I feel the word like a punch to the gut. Nobody. My chest tightens, and the more I read, the more my insides churn with a mix of disbelief and fury. The article continues to speculate, throwing in rumors and speculation, each one more damaging than the last. Each one stabbing at me with more precision than the one before.I can
Pamela’s Point of View"I think I like someone."Joana blinks, her wide eyes meeting mine as if I’ve just dropped the most absurd news of the year. She slowly lowers the magazine she’s been flipping through and stares at me in stunned silence. I can practically hear her thoughts as she tries to piece together what I’ve just said. Finally, she speaks.“What? You?” She leans forward, her brows furrowing. “Who?”I shift uncomfortably on the couch, my fingers nervously picking at a loose thread on my shirt. I hadn’t planned to confess this—not even to myself. But here we are."Yeah… I think so," I mutter, avoiding her eyes. “I mean, it’s unexpected. Really unexpected.”Joana cocks her head, her curiosity piqued. “And who is this mystery man? Give me details.”I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to form the words. How do I explain this? How do I describe Rowan without actually admitting it’s him? My throat feels tight, but I force myself to speak.“Well... He’s frustrating,”
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe morning sun filters through the kitchen window as I stir the pot of soup on the stove. The aroma of the broth fills the air, a simple comfort on an otherwise heavy day. I glance at the clock—early enough for Rowan to still be sleeping off his hangover, but I’m too restless to stay in bed. Last night still lingers in my mind, his unconscious grip pulling me into the bed, his drunken whispers of my name. But none of that means anything now. It never does in the daylight.I finish cooking, setting the table with a quiet efficiency. Soup, eggs, toast—nothing fancy, just something to help with the hangover I’m sure he’ll wake up with. As I arrange the dishes, I hear footsteps descending the stairs, slow and heavy. I don’t turn around, but I know it’s Rowan.I feel his presence before I see him. He walks into the kitchen, his movements sluggish, clearly feeling the aftermath of the alcohol from the night before. His hair is disheveled, his eyes half-lidded with ex
Pamela’s Point of ViewI can’t just stand here like some helpless spectator. Not tonight. Not anymore.The sight of Rowan, drunk and leaning on Lyka, stirs something deep inside me—a fire that refuses to be extinguished by all the confusion and hurt. I’m not going to be a martyr, sitting on the sidelines while someone else plays the part of the devoted fiancée. No. If he says we’re entering a real marriage, then I’ll act like it.My heart pounds as I follow them upstairs, my footsteps steady and determined. This is my responsibility. Rowan is supposed to be my future husband, and that means I have every right to decide who he’s associating with.Without hesitation, I push open Rowan’s bedroom door. Lyka is already inside, hovering over him as he lies sprawled on the bed, half-unconscious. She’s unbuttoning his shirt, her hands moving with a confidence that makes my blood boil.No. This is not happening.“Step away from him,” I say, my voice firm and unyielding.Lyka turns to face me,
Pamela’s Point of ViewTossing and turning in bed, I can’t find any solace in sleep. My mind keeps replaying that moment at Elysian Threads, where Rowan looked at me with an intensity I hadn’t before. The warmth of his gaze feels like a memory just out of reach, slipping through my fingers like sand. Why can’t I shake it? Did it mean anything? I keep wondering if that moment was real or if I’d imagined it in a desperate attempt to find something genuine in this engagement.I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. Shadows from the streetlights flicker through my window, but they provide little comfort. The night feels endless, and I wish it would just take me somewhere far away from this tangled web of emotions. As I flip again, my phone beeps, jolting me from my thoughts.I sit up, heart racing, and grab my phone from the bedside table. The glow of the screen illuminates my face, and I see two notifications. The first one twists my stomach. It’s from my father.[We need to talk. I
Pamela’s Point of ViewWe walk into Elysian Threads, the most renowned bridal shop in the city. The shop is famous for its elegant, handcrafted wedding dresses, each one made with precision and care. I’ve heard the waiting list here is months long, but of course, Rowan’s connections made sure we didn’t have to wait a single day.It’s a beautiful place, adorned with delicate chandeliers and racks of stunning gowns that catch the light as we move past them. The scent of fresh flowers drifts through the air, making everything feel even more surreal. My heart should be racing with excitement, but instead, there’s a strange heaviness weighing it down.Rowan walks in beside me, as calm and composed as ever. His hand rests on the small of my back, a gesture that might seem affectionate to anyone watching, but I know better. It’s just part of the performance. We’re engaged, after all. People are watching.As we are greeted by a woman who introduces herself as Marie, the assistant for today, I
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe credits roll on the screen, but I’m not really paying attention. My mind has been elsewhere the whole time—on my phone, on Rowan, on what happened last night. The buzzing energy in my stomach won’t go away, that strange mixture of nerves and anticipation building up, twisting tighter with every passing minute.Finally, I can’t take it anymore. With shaky hands, I unlock my phone and see it—Rowan’s message.[I’m waiting outside your sister’s apartment.]My breath catches in my throat. He’s here?I stare at the message for a moment, trying to process it, my pulse quickening with both excitement and nervousness. Without thinking, I jump up from the couch, almost knocking over the popcorn bowl in my haste.“I’ll be right back!” I stammer, barely registering Joana’s confused expression as I rush toward the door.“Wait, where are you going?” Joana calls after me, but I’m already out the door, my heart racing as I sprint down the stairs of her apartment building. W