Rowan’s Point of View
I watch as Pamela disappears into the rain, her drenched figure quickly melding into the darkened city streets. The corner of my lips curls into a smirk, the cigarette between my fingers flaring to life as I take a slow, deliberate drag. Something inside me stirs at the sight of her running away, desperate and hopeless—something cold, calculating, and satisfied.
She's infinitely more beautiful when she's angry, I think, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the crisp night air. It’s almost funny how fast she can be driven to that fire-filled side, the one that makes her defiant even in the face of her own despair. And this is only just the beginning.
I flick the cigarette to the ground, mash it with my heel, and stride toward my car. My driver opens the door, and as I slide into the back seat, I pull out my phone. My finger hovers over Tristan Jones's number before I press dial. The call connects in a ring or two, and I can hear the desperation in his voice before he even speaks.
"Mr. Hamilton, please, I—"
"I will accept your proposal, Mr. Jones," I cut him short. My voice is ice-cold, like the rain now beating against the car windows. "But with one condition."
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and for a second, I can almost hear the wheels in his head turning, the desperation clawing at him, making him weak.
“What…what condition?” he finally asks, his voice shaking with fear mixed with a sliver of hope.
“Not just one condition,” I correct, kicking back in the seat as satisfaction blooms in my chest. “I'll add more to our agreement. You see, I’m not just buying your daughter’s hand in marriage. I’m buying her loyalty, her obedience, and her complete submission. You’ll make sure she understands that.”
Silence. The kind that stretches across the line, thick with tension. Then, Tristan’s voice returns, weaker now, almost breaking. “Anything. Just…please, Mister Hamilton, help me. Help my company. I’ll make sure that my daughter will end up to you.”
“Consider it done,” I say, my tone smooth, almost pleasant. “I’ll have the papers drawn up tomorrow. You can expect them on your desk by the afternoon.”
I hang up before he can respond, the satisfaction in his pitiful compliance warming me more than the heat in the car. This game is just beginning, and I’m the one holding all the cards.
When I enter my estate, the grand house standing tall and imposing against the night sky, the familiar scent of jasmine greets me—the flowers my grandmother insists on keeping near the entrance. The moment I step inside, she approaches, her cane tapping lightly against the marble floors.
“Rowan, dear,” she begins, her voice warm but laced with exasperation. “When will you ever propose to Lyka Stone? She’s a fine girl, and I’m not getting any younger. I want to see my great-grandchildren before I leave this world.”
I bite back a sigh and give her a calm, unruffled smile instead. “I’ve told you before, Grandma, I’m not interested in Lyka.”
“But she’s perfect for you!” she protests, her concern deepening with each word. “She’s from a good family, well-educated, beautiful—”
“I’m bringing my fiancée this weekend,” I say, cutting her off with the same cool tone from earlier.
The room falls into stunned silence. My grandmother’s eyes widen, her mouth opening and closing like she’s trying to find the words. My mom and sister, who had been chatting quietly on the other side of the room, stop mid-conversation, their heads snapping towards me.
“Your…fiancée?” my sister Rebecca is the first to speak, her voice full of incredulity. “Rowan, how—when—”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” my mother chimes in, her brow furrowing with concern. “How could you keep something like this from your own family?”
I walk past them all, my steps measured, deliberate. “Once we’re married,” I say over my shoulder, my voice carrying through the silence, “you’ll treat her with the respect she deserves. Better, even.”
I take the first, second, and third steps of the grand staircase, not waiting for their reactions. Each echo carries the weight of the decision I’ve just made. This weekend will change everything—for Pamela, for my family, and most importantly, for me.
And as I reach the top of the stairs, I can’t help but think about the expression that will be on Pamela’s face when she realizes just how deeply she’s entangled in this web I’ve spun. That’s when the real game will begin.
I stride into my office, this grand space that comes alive with the soft glow of my desk lamp. The heavy oak door closes behind me with a muted thud. I sink into my leather chair. My gaze falls upon the framed photograph sitting on the corner of my desk.
The photo shows a boy and a girl embracing, faces contorted in pure, unbridled joy. One of those moments of carefree happiness that diametrically opposes what I am doing right now. I stare at the photograph for a moment, my expression unreadable, before setting it down and reaching for my phone.
Drawing it out of my pocket, a new message blinks on the screen. It is from Lyka Stone. I unlock the phone and read her message. Her words spill out in the message, full of anticipation.
[Rowan, I’ll be back in the USA next month. Can’t wait to see you!]
Pamela's Point of ViewThe sterile smell of disinfectant fills my nostrils, and I sit here in the dimly lit corridor of the hospital, staring off at the beige walls. Quiet beeping of medical machinery and the minimum shuffling of feet move into a rhythmic background to my tattered nerves. My sister Joana is lying unconscious in one of those rooms, her condition critical from the accident. I can't process the fear and worry wanting to strangle me.My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling me from my reverie. I glance down at the screen to find a message from my father, Tristan Jones.[I can help with the hospital bills. I’m in the hospital.]I stare for a long time at the message.I've had a pretty complicated relationship with my father, ever since his new life with his new wife and two new daughters made it clear my sister and I were no longer priorities in his life. That sense of betrayal still burns.I see him walking down the hall toward me, his face a mask of resolution and relucta
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
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 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 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 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 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 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
The force of the vortex was unlike anything I had ever felt. It gripped me with an intensity that seemed to tear at my very soul, pulling me deeper and deeper into the unknown. My body twisted and spun, the world around me becoming a blur of colors and shapes. The weight of the power was crushing, suffocating, as if I were being sucked into the very heart of a storm.I tried to scream, to call out to Rowan, but the vortex swallowed my voice. The air was thick with a hum that reverberated through my bones, and the pressure in my chest increased, as though I were being squeezed into something too small. My eyes fought against the oncoming darkness, but no matter how hard I strained, I couldn’t focus on anything.It felt like hours passed, though I knew it had only been mere seconds. I was trapped in this swirling chaos, unsure of whether I was still in the
The chaos was deafening, an explosive clash of forces that vibrated through the very air. I could feel the heat of the energy swirling around me, my pulse racing as I stood frozen in the center of it all. Rowan’s voice cut through the noise, desperate and urgent.“Pamela, now! You have to leave—this is your chance!”But something held me in place. I wasn’t sure if it was fear, or if it was the crushing weight of the truth finally settling in. This was no longer just about survival. This was about discovering what I was truly up against—what I had unknowingly been dragged into.Victor’s power crackled through the room in sharp bursts, each one threatening to tear the walls down. It was terrifying—impossible even—but I knew deep down that we were running out of tim
I awoke with a start, my body frozen in place, heart pounding in my chest as though it were trying to escape. The world was still dark, but this time, it wasn’t the suffocating blackness of the arena. The air smelled different—cleaner, lighter—almost like I was in a different place altogether. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.My hands trembled as I slowly lifted them, feeling the cool stone beneath me. I tried to move, but my body was too heavy, too lethargic. What had just happened? The creature—Rowan’s voice—everything was a blur.“Pamela,” a voice said softly from the shadows.I froze.It was Kiera. But she didn’t sound like herself. She didn’t sound cold or distant. T
I jolted awake, gasping for air. The air around me was thick with tension, my senses heightened as though I had just been pulled from the depths of a nightmare. My heart raced, but there was no sense of relief. No peace. Something had shifted—something dark and irrevocable.I sat up, the world around me blurry. A dim light flickered above, casting shadows across the cold stone walls. I blinked, struggling to make sense of where I was. The room was unfamiliar—no, this wasn’t the palace. It wasn’t the void either. This place was… different.I rose slowly, the weight of my limbs feeling heavier than usual. As my eyes adjusted to the low light, I saw an old wooden table in the corner of the room, covered with strange artifacts. The air was damp, like a forgotten underground hideaway, with the faint smell of earth and decay.A door creaked open, and I froze.“Pamela,” a voice called out softly. It was familiar, but not quite. A tinge of something I couldn't place lingered in the tone.I tu
The darkness enveloped me like a suffocating blanket, drowning out all sound, all movement. I felt weightless, as if I were floating in an endless void. My pulse thudded in my ears, but there was nothing else. No danger. No Rowan, no Zara, no Erin—just silence.I tried to move, but my limbs were heavy, as if shackled by invisible chains. My mouth opened to scream, but no sound escaped. Panic clawed at my chest, my breath coming in sharp gasps. What had happened? Why was I here?A sharp, cool breeze cut through the emptiness, and I realized that I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t in the void anymore. I was standing on solid ground—though it didn’t feel like the earth beneath my feet. It felt… wrong. An unnatural chill seeped into my bones, the air thick with the scent of decay.“Pamela.”I froze at the sound of the voice, so familiar yet so distant. It was Victor’s voice, smooth and mocking, like he was watching from the shadows.“You really didn’t think you could escape, did you?” His voice ech
The forest grew eerily quiet as we moved forward, every step dragging like lead. The earlier chaos had given way to a suffocating stillness, and even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Rowan walked ahead, his movements cautious, the tension in his shoulders visible. Zara stuck close to Erin, both of them exchanging wary glances. I trailed behind, my mind a storm of questions, fears, and Victor’s haunting words.“What does he mean, ‘I’m the key’?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.Rowan glanced over his shoulder but didn’t stop walking. “We’ll figure it out, but not here.”“That’s not an answer,” I pressed, my voice sharper than I intended. “If I’m putting all of you at risk, I need to know why.”
The roar reverberated through the air again, a primal sound that sent chills down my spine. It was neither human nor animal—something otherworldly that didn’t belong in the forest. Rowan’s grip on my arm tightened, his body tense as he scanned the surrounding shadows.“We need to move,” he said, his voice low but urgent.Zara, for once, looked rattled. “Move where? That thing doesn’t sound like it’s interested in taking prisoners.”“It’s driving them off,” Erin said, her rifle still trained on the darkness. “But for how long?”Victor and his men were retreating, their movements hurried and disorganized. Whatever was out there, even they didn’t want to face it. My heart raced as I re
The forest’s darkness was relentless, its towering trees and dense undergrowth threatening to swallow us whole. My lungs burned, my legs screamed in protest, but Zara’s iron grip on my arm gave me no choice but to keep moving. Behind us, the sounds of pursuit grew louder—Victor’s men crashing through the woods like a pack of wolves.“Don’t look back!” Zara barked, her voice sharp.But I couldn’t help myself. A quick glance over my shoulder revealed flickering beams of flashlights weaving through the trees. My heart clenched. They were gaining on us.Rowan ran ahead, his shoulders tense as he carved a path through the undergrowth. Erin was close behind him, her rifle clutched tightly in her hands.“We’re not losi
The forest was eerily silent now, the echoes of gunfire swallowed by the oppressive darkness. My breath came in shallow gasps as I clung to a tree for support, my legs trembling with exhaustion. Rowan appeared beside me moments later, his face a mixture of relief and fury.“Are you okay?” he asked, his hands gripping my shoulders tightly.I nodded, unable to speak. My mind was spinning from the encounter with Victor, his cold sneer still burned into my memory.Erin and Zara emerged from the shadows next, both bloodied but alive. Erin’s sharp gaze scanned the perimeter while Zara held her arm, blood seeping through her makeshift bandage.“We can’t stay here,” Zara said, her voice taut with urgency. “Victor won’t stop. He&rsq