Chapter 7: The Public Face

Pamela's Point of View

The 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 the world to play your perfect fiancée? Or is this all just business to you?"

There is silence between us, heavy and oppressive. I wouldn't really expect the answer from him, yet I need to hear it from his mouth.

"Everything is business," he says finally, his tone just as even. "Feelings complicate things."

I turn back to him, my eyes boring into his, searching for something real, something human. But there is nothing. "And your family?" I ask. "Your mother, your sister, don't you care what they think of me?"

His jaw clenches just a fraction; still, it's enough that I catch it. "They'll fall in line," he says coolly. "As long as we appear united, they'll have no choice."

It's all about appearances, it seems. A pawn for him to shift wherever it fits with his plans. Sending a chill down my spine, that thought does, but I won't show him exactly how much this bothers me.

"Fine," I murmur, stepping away from him and him leaving. "Let's get this over with."

Just then, my phone rings, vibrating in my pocket. I glance at the screen; the number from the hospital flashes across, and my heart stops. Joana.

Without a second thought, I answer it, my voice shaking with hope. "Hello?"

"Miss Jones?" The voice on the other end sounds urgent yet calm. "This is Nurse Claire from the hospital. I just wanted to let you know… your sister, Joana, just woke up."

The world around me disappears in a nanosecond. The estate, the news conference, Rowan, all gone. There is only Joana. She's awake. Finally, she's awake.

"I-I'll be there straight away," I stutter, already hanging up, without waiting to hear another word from the nurse. Spinning around, without looking at Rowan, I run, my heart racing with excitement. Joana needs me. I need to see her.

I enter the hospital in a blur of frenetic energy, my emotions barely contained. I enter Joana's room; she's sitting up in bed, her eyes open and alert. She almost brings me to tears.

"Pam?" Her voice is weak, but it's full of warmth. "What's happening? Where am I?"

I run to her side, my heart bursting with relief. "You're in the hospital. You've been in a coma, but you're okay now." I take her hand in mine, gently squeezing. "I'm so glad you're awake."

Her brow furrows in confusion and her gaze drifts around the sterile room. "How long.?

"Almost three days now," I say softly, delicately brushing one of her tresses from her face. "But it does not matter right now. You are awake, and that's what counts."

Joana smiles weakly, though clearly tired. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," I whisper, my eyes welling with tears. "More than you can ever know."

I sit beside her for the next couple of minutes, talking to her, filling her in on everything that has taken place, or at least fill her in as much as I can. I don't tell her about Rowan, about the deal with our father, or this nightmare I'm living. She doesn't need that right now.

But as much as this, being with her, is where I want to stay, I know I cannot. There's the press conference, Rowan, the life I've been pulled into. My time with Joana is cut short.

"I'll be back soon," I promise, and press a kiss to her forehead. "Just rest, okay?"

"Okay," Joana says, her eyes already closing as exhaustion takes over. "I love you, Pam."

"I love you too," I whisper, before slipping out of the room and on my way back to the villa.

It's late by the time I arrive at Rowan's villa. The moment I step inside, his icy glare greets me; his tightly clenched jaw, the entire line of his body rigid with anger.

"Where the hell have you been?" he growls, his voice low but dangerous.

I don't even have time to explain before he steps closer, eyes dark with fury. "Are you trying to run away, Pamela? Is that it? You think you can just disappear without telling me where you're going?"

"Run away?" I snap back, my own anger flaring. "I went to see my sister. She woke up. I'm sorry if I didn't check in with you, but this was important."

He narrows his eyes and for a moment, we are standing in tense silence, his anger simmering below the surface; but he says nothing. Instead, he turns away and runs a hand through his hair.

"You can't just go off like that," he says quietly behind me with an edge in his voice. "Not without telling me. You know how this looks."

“I don't care how it looks,” I say, my voice firm. “This isn't about appearances. My sister woke up. What was I supposed to do? Ask your permission?”

He stiffens at my words, but doesn't turn around. The silence between us stretches thick with unspoken tension.

"I'm not your prisoner, Rowan," I say, my voice shaking with the frustration of all that's been pent up. "You might control my circumstance, but you don't control me."

For a moment, I think he's going to speak, maybe argue, maybe threaten. Nonetheless, instead, he just breathes out, his shoulders relaxing just the tiniest fraction.

"Just… don't do that again," he says finally, his voice softer now, though steel still underlies the tone. "We must keep up appearances. When you disappear, it doesn't look good. Got it?"

I nod, my anger boiling still beneath the surface. I am living in this gilded cage, going through the motions of a set role in his sick game. But one thing is clear—I'm not going to let him destroy me. Not today. Not ever.