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 ViewI step from the cab onto rain that comes down in sheets, soaking me to the bone the instant my feet hit pavement. My hair feels plastered on my face, my clothes are soaked, and I can feel the water squeaking in my shoes. None of that matters. My sister is in the hospital, fighting for her life, and I have no one else to turn to but him-my father.I push the heavy glass doors open to my father's building. As I do, I try to suppress the shiver that threatens to run through me. The lobby is as cold and uninviting as it ever was, a perfect reflection of the man who owns it. The receptionist gives me a once-over; her eyes widen slightly at my disheveled appearance, but I don't stop. I am unable to. I need to see him.My father is in a meeting, but quite frankly, I don't give a damn. I stomp toward the conference room, not allowing all the staring and whispered conversations to be a deterrent against me. With every step that brings me closer, my heart beats more rapid
Rowan’s Point of ViewI 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 ev
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 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