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