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 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 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 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 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 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 View Joana’s living room is as cramped and cluttered as I remember, the walls covered in old photos of our family and shelves overflowing with books and trinkets. She sits on the couch, clutching a mug of tea I made her earlier, her brows furrowed in thought. “I don’t understand, Pamela,” she says, breaking the silence. “Why would you ask me how Mom got sick? You know as well as I do—she just did.” I perch on the edge of the chair across from her, gripping my knees tightly. “I know that’s what we were told, Joana. But I think there’s more to it. I need you to think back. Was there anything strange leading up to it? Anything Mom said or did that seemed… off?” She sighs, leaning back against the couch. “Pam, that was years ago. I don’t remember every little thing. You were a teenager, and I was even younger. What could I possibly know that you don’t?” I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to explain without making her panic. “I found something tonight. Some
Pamela’s Point of ViewI step through the villa’s front door, the soft click of the latch louder than usual in the silence of the house. The warm light from the chandelier in the foyer feels too bright, too revealing. I steady myself, drawing in a deep breath before I turn to see Rowan standing by the living room, his arms crossed. His sharp gaze locks onto me immediately.“Where have you been?” he asks, his voice calm but firm.I slip off my coat and avoid his eyes, hoping to keep my nerves from showing. “Joana wasn’t feeling well. She had a stomach ache, so I rushed over to check on her.”He studies me for a moment, his expression
The sun was just beginning to rise when I left the confines of my room. The villa was silent, as if holding its breath in anticipation of the storm brewing within its walls. My mind was a chaotic whirlpool of thoughts—Rowan’s revelations, my mother’s death, my father’s betrayal, and the tangled web of deceit that had ensnared my life.The dining room was empty when I entered, save for a pot of steaming coffee on the sideboard. I poured myself a cup and sat at the table, staring into the dark liquid as if it held the answers I so desperately sought."Up early?" Rowan’s voice broke the silence, startling me.I glanced up to see him leaning against the doorway, his shirt slightly wrinkled, his hair disheveled as though he hadn’t slept."C
The following morning, the villa felt quieter than usual. The air was thick with tension, and even the usual hum of the house staff seemed muted, as if they, too, were aware of the storm brewing on the horizon. Joana had gone to her room, exhausted from the night’s events, and Rowan had disappeared somewhere into the villa, no doubt strategizing for the next phase of his plan.I found myself standing by the window, staring out at the sprawling grounds that surrounded the villa. The gardens were peaceful, a sharp contrast to the chaos that seemed to lurk just beyond our doorstep. The events of the previous night felt like a fever dream, a blur of voices, threats, and unsettling revelations. I still wasn’t sure who was behind the men who had tried to break into the safe room, but one thing was clear—Victor wasn’t the only threat we had to worry about.&n
Rowan’s warning to stay in the safe room echoed in my ears as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours. The silence in the villa was oppressive, broken only by Joana’s quiet sniffles. I kept my eyes glued to the remaining live camera feeds, desperate for any sign of Rowan or Victor’s men.Joana sat beside me on the small bench by the monitor, her knee bouncing nervously. "Pamela, what if Rowan can’t stop them? What if—""Don’t think like that," I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. I took a deep breath to steady myself and softened my tone. "Rowan has dealt with Victor before. He knows what he’s doing."Joana’s lips quivered, and she nodded reluctantly, but the
The tension was suffocating. Rowan’s warning about Victor’s men coming for the files reverberated in my mind like a drumbeat. Joana looked pale, her lips parted in disbelief as if she were waiting for someone to say it was all a misunderstanding. But no one spoke.I was the first to break the silence. "What do you mean they’re coming tonight? Are they attacking the villa?"Rowan exhaled sharply and crossed his arms. "Not an attack in the traditional sense. Victor doesn’t want a scene. He’ll send his people to try and sneak in—probably to ransack my study, grab the files, and leave. But if they can’t find what they want, they won’t hesitate to escalate."Joana gripped the armrest of her chair,
The weight of Rowan’s revelation crushed down on me like a boulder. Victor didn’t just orchestrate my mother’s death—he used my father to do it. The room swayed for a moment, but I forced myself to stay upright. I couldn’t let the storm of emotions consume me now. Not with Joana here, her wide, innocent eyes begging me for answers I didn’t have."What do you mean?" I asked Rowan, my voice strained but firm. "What did my father do?"Rowan slammed the file onto the desk, the pages fluttering like restless ghosts. "This document outlines a significant financial transaction from Victor’s company to your father. It was made two days before your mother’s condition took a sudden turn. Victor doesn’t hand out money for no reason, Pamela. He’s manipulative, calculated. Whatever this
Pamela's Point of View Rowan pulled me behind him, his shoulders squared as he stood between me and the approaching men. The air around us felt heavy, charged with tension, and every step they took closer set my nerves on edge. There were five of them, each dressed in dark clothing, their faces half-hidden in shadows. The one leading them had a cocky smirk that made my stomach churn."Hand it over, Hamilton," the man said, his voice calm but dripping with menace. "You’ve got something that doesn’t belong to you."Rowan didn’t flinch. "If Victor wanted it so badly, maybe he shouldn’t leave his secrets lying around."The man’s smirk faded, replaced by a sharp glare. "You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Give us the files, and maybe we’ll let you walk out of here."My heart raced as I clutched Rowan’s arm. I couldn’t tell if I was trembling because of fear or anger. The thought of Victor always being one step ahead, always pulling strings, made me want to scream. Rowan reached
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe tension in the room was suffocating as Rowan ended the call with Lyka. His face was unreadable, a mask of calm that I knew he wore to keep his emotions in check. But his knuckles, white from gripping his phone, betrayed his inner turmoil.“What did she say?” I asked, my voice low but steady.Rowan inhaled sharply, placing the phone on the table. “Victor knows we’re digging into him. Lyka says he’s preparing to make his move.”“What does that mean? Is he coming after you? After us?” Panic crept into my voice despite my effort to stay composed.“I don’t know yet,&rdqu
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe minutes ticked by in heavy silence after Rowan’s phone buzzed. His jaw tightened as he stared at the screen, his fingers hovering over the reply button.“What are you going to say to her?” I asked, breaking the tension.Rowan glanced up at me, his eyes clouded with a mix of frustration and resolve. “I don’t have a choice. If she’s involved in this mess, I need to know.”I crossed my arms. “So you’re meeting her tonight?”He nodded, sliding the phone back onto the desk. “It’s the only way to fi
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe silence in the room was deafening after Lillian left. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might break through my chest. Rowan stood there, his hands gripping the edge of the desk, his knuckles white.“She’s lying,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.I didn’t know if I believed him. “Lying about what, Rowan? Because so far, nothing about your family has given me a reason to think they’re honest.”Rowan turned to face me, his expression a mix of anger and desperation. “I had no idea about that letter or any of her threats. You have to believe me, Pamela. I’ve been try