Pamela's Point of View
The 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 playing your perfect fiancée while your family tears me apart with their judgment?"
He raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed by my outburst. "You did well tonight," he says, entirely disregarding my question. "Better than I expected."
"Is that supposed to be some kind of compliment?" I snap, frustration bubbling over. "Your mother despises me, your sister is trying to tear me down, and I'm stuck in this nightmare because you and my father made some disgusting deal behind my back!"
At my words, his eyes darken. "Watch your tone, Pamela," he warns, his voice cold as a blade and sharp with authority. "You agreed to this. You signed the contract. You're in this situation because your father was desperate, and now, so are you. Don't act like there was no choice for you."
"A choice?" I echo, outrage boiling inside me. "You call this a choice? You blackmailed me with my sister's life!"
He steps closer, and with every centimeter he approaches, the space between us seems to shrink. "I offered you a solution," he says softly, his voice laced with subtle menace. "And you accepted it. You could have walked away, but you didn’t."
I clench my fists, battling the rage swelling inside me like a storm. "I didn’t have a choice," I whisper, my voice trembling. "You know that."
Rowan's face relaxes just slightly, and for a fleeting second, I think I see something human in him—something almost like regret. But it's gone as quickly as it appears. He steps back, widening the distance between us.
"Get some rest," he says, turning his back on me. "We have more events this weekend, and I expect you to play your part."
I stare at the back of his head, trying to find the words for everything I want to scream. My body is screaming at me to fight, to refuse to play along with his game, but the memory of Joana lying in that hospital bed—so fragile, so helpless—keeps me silent.
He walks to the door, his hand on the handle. "We'll publicly declare our engagement tomorrow," he says, still not turning around. "You should be prepared for what comes next."
And with that, he's gone.
I stand there, the weight of everything pressing down on me. The luxurious surroundings, the expensive clothes, the life being forced upon me—it all feels suffocating. I walk to the window and push the heavy curtains open, revealing the sprawling grounds bathed in the moon’s milky light. Beautiful, yes, but a gilded cage nonetheless.
I have no idea what Rowan really wants from me, but one thing is certain: I won’t let him break me. I might be stuck in this arrangement, but I’m not helpless. I’ll find a way to reclaim my life, one way or another.
---
Rowan's Point of View
I close the door behind me, my head spinning with everything that’s happened tonight. Pamela is good—much better than I expected. She knows how to hold her own against my mother’s cold behavior and Rebecca’s provocations. Still, she clearly detests me, and part of me doesn’t blame her.
I slump against the wall, my mind drifting back to the deal I made with Tristan Jones. It was a simple buy-and-sell affair—he needed money.
But Pamela—she has fire, a strength that draws me in. Unlike the women who’ve vied for my favor over the years, she isn’t trying to ingratiate herself with me. She doesn’t want to be here, and she makes no effort to hide it. Her anger aside, she’s a fighter—for her sister, her family, and herself.
I hadn’t anticipated that.
I walk down the hall, and my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the name on the screen, irritation bubbling up inside me. I answer, my voice flat. "What is it?"
A smooth, familiar voice greets me. "Just checking in, Rowan. I heard you made quite the announcement tonight."
I scowl, already regretting answering the call. "What do you want, Sinclair?"
He chuckles on the other end. "I'm just curious, that's all. Engaged? You? Never thought I'd see the day."
"It's business," I reply curtly. "Nothing more."
"Business," Sinclair repeats, his voice dripping with amusement. "Well, you’ve certainly chosen an interesting business partner. Pamela Jones, wasn’t it? I've heard things about her family. Not the type you usually associate with."
My grip tightens on the phone. "Stay out of it."
Sinclair laughs again, the sound grating on my nerves. "Oh, don’t worry, Rowan. I’m just watching from the sidelines. But let me remind you—if you're going to play games, you'd better know all the rules."
And with that, the line goes dead.
I swallow hard, my jaw clenched in frustration. Sinclair is always circling, waiting for any crack to exploit. I won’t give him one. Sinclair is my half-brother. And because of that, I hate him.
---
Pamela's Point of View
The next morning, I wake with a sense of dread hanging over me like a storm cloud. Rowan's words from last night replay in my head:
"We'll announce the engagement publicly tomorrow."
Today.
I know what that means: it's no longer about acting a part for his family. Now, it’s about putting on a show for the whole world. The press, the public, anyone who has ever doubted my place in Rowan's life—they’ll all be watching, waiting for me to slip up.
But I won’t give them the satisfaction.
As I get dressed, I steel myself for the day. Rowan might control my circumstances, but he doesn’t control me. I’ve already been through so much—Mom’s passing, Dad’s betrayal, Joana’s accident—and I survived. I can get through this too.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, feeling like a stranger in the pale blue dress I’ve put on. It’s sophisticated and subtle—the kind of thing a wealthy man's fiancée is supposed to wear. But under it all, I’m still me. And that’s not going to change.
I’ll play Rowan's game, but I’ll do it my way.
The cool evening air wrapped around Pamela as she stood on the balcony of Rowan’s penthouse, her fingers gripping the cold steel railing. Below, the city buzzed with life, neon lights reflecting off the rain-slicked streets. It had been days since the chaos had unfolded, but the tension in the air showed no signs of dissipating. She could still feel the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on her chest. A chill crept in, and it wasn’t just from the night breeze.Rowan stepped behind her, his presence powerful yet comforting. His arms slid around her waist, pulling her against him as he pressed a soft kiss against the side of her neck. Pamela closed her eyes, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his body chase away the cold that seeped into her bones.“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice laced with concern.“I’m just thinking,” she replied, tilting her head back to rest on his shoulder. “About everything.”He tightened his grip around her as if afraid she’d slip aw
Rowan’s grip on Pamela tightened as he led her through the grand halls of his estate. The storm outside rattled the windows, the howling wind mirroring the chaos swirling inside his chest. He had spent years shielding himself from attachments, believing that power and control were the only currencies that mattered. Yet, with Pamela beside him, trembling but unwavering, he knew there was no escape from the emotions unraveling between them.The marble floors reflected the flickering candlelight that lined the walls, casting ethereal shadows in the dimly lit corridor. Rowan had built the estate to display his dominance, each room a testament to his success. But as they hurried toward his private study, the grandeur that had once impressed him faded into the background. The only thing that mattered now was the woman by his side, the pulse of her heartbeat synchronizing with his own.Pamela’s heart pounded as she matched his hurried steps. She had spent months trying to push him away, conv
The dim glow of the chandelier cast long, shifting shadows across the luxurious room as Pamela paced back and forth. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders. The night outside was eerily quiet, yet inside, a storm raged between her thoughts and emotions.Rowan sat on the edge of the bed, watching her with an intensity that made her shiver. He was a man who had conquered boardrooms and adversaries alike, but now, faced with Pamela’s turmoil, he seemed almost vulnerable.“Pamela, please sit down,” he said softly, reaching out a hand.She halted, turning to face him, her expression a mixture of hesitation and longing. “I can’t,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. “I keep thinking about everything. About us. About Joana. About what’s coming next.”Rowan exhaled, standing up and walking toward her. His presence was warm, comforting, but Pamela still felt the lingering ghost of the past between them. He gently cupped her face
Rowan’s grip on Pamela tightened as they stood at the edge of the estate’s grand balcony, the city lights shimmering below like fallen stars. The weight of everything that had happened pressed heavily against them, but for once, in this moment, it felt like the world had stopped just for them.“I don’t want to lose you, Pamela,” Rowan murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “Not now, not ever.”Pamela inhaled sharply, the sincerity in his words making her heart clench. Her hands instinctively reached up to cup his face, her thumb tracing the faint scar above his eyebrow. “Then don’t let go,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. “I’m still here.”A shadow passed across Rowan’s face, his jaw tightening. “For how long?” His voice wavered, betraying the confidence he usually carried.Pamela frowned. “What are you talking about?”“Things aren’t as simple as we want them to be.” Rowan exhaled heavily, pulling away slightly. “I found something. Something about your father’s deal w
Pamela stood in the dimly lit corridor of the Hamilton estate, her heart hammering against her ribs as she tried to steady her breath. The soft glow of the chandelier above cast elongated shadows along the walls, mirroring the turbulence within her. She had spent so long running, so long trying to escape the chains that bound her to Rowan Hamilton, yet here she was—trapped once more in his world, but this time, not by force.Rowan’s voice was a low murmur behind her. “You’re trembling.”She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. “No, I’m not.”He let out a quiet chuckle, stepping closer. The warmth of his presence was magnetic, drawing her in despite herself. She should resist—should put as much distance between them as possible—but she found herself standing still, waiting.“Pamela,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against her arm. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity down her spine.She turned sharply, facing him. “What do you want, Rowan?” Her voice c
The tension between Rowan and Pamela crackled like a live wire, charged with unspoken words and undeniable longing. The moon hung high above them, casting silver light across the vast estate, making everything look surreal, as if time itself had slowed down just for them.Pamela stood by the grand window of Rowan’s study, her arms crossed over her chest as she tried to suppress the storm of emotions raging inside her. Rowan, seated in his chair, watched her with piercing eyes, the weight of unspoken confessions heavy between them.“Say something,” she finally broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.Rowan ran a hand through his tousled hair, sighing. “What do you want me to say, Pamela? That I regret everything? That I should have fought harder for you?” His voice held a sharp edge, laced with frustration and something deeper—pain.Pamela turned, her gaze fierce. “I never asked you to fight for me, Rowan. But you walked away like I meant nothing. Like what we had was just