Pamela's Point of ViewRowan's hand is a firm grasp around my waist, anchoring me when the tension in this room escalates. Lyka and Rebecca exchange a look; their eyes are filled with something I couldn't quite place-calculating, or perhaps amusing, or maybe both. But the weight of their judgment, their sharp words still cuts.I look up at Rowan, his face stern yet protective, but the discomfort coils tightly within me. I just cannot get rid of this feeling that I am not meant to be here in this moment, them standing here like vultures. I breathe in deeply, push the embarrassment and awkwardness swirling inside me downwards.I slowly take Rowan's hand away from my waist. His fingers linger a second longer before falling away, and through that small touch, I can feel his confusion as I step back."I need to leave," I say softly, yet firmly. "This isn't a conversation I need to be part of.""Pamela—" Rowan starts, but I shake my head before he can continue."It’s fine," I interrupt gent
Pamela's Point of ViewI retreat into the mansion, the coolness of the lobby becomes a weight bearing down on me after my tense confrontation with Rebecca. My mind reels over her sharp words, the disdain in her eyes, and Lyka's tension expression. I shake it off, refusing to let them rattle me.As I make my way down the hall, I notice Lyka in a rush to leave Rowan's office. She is running in such haste that she is almost frantic and doesn't even try to mask the malice in her eyes as she sees me. For a second or less, we lock eyes, hers with a dark, resentful expression before she darts off again, completely disregarding me.I remain there, perplexed. What happened in that office? Why is Lyka running away? Just before I can make another step, I see Rebecca running after her."Lyka! Wait!" she calls, voice shrill. As she races past me, she shoots me a withering glare with a face tight full of fury. "We're not done yet, Pamela," she hisses venomously before vanishing after Lyka.Her word
Pamela's Point of ViewWeeks have passed since that unsettling phone call with Sinclair, and to my surprise, he hasn’t called again. Not once. Yet, his words still linger in my mind, shadowing every interaction I have with Rowan. I’ve tried to push it aside, to tell myself that maybe it was just a passing threat, a moment of malice from a man with a twisted grudge. But part of me wonders if Sinclair’s silence is only a prelude to something worse.Rowan hasn’t mentioned it either. In fact, we haven’t talked much at all since that day. It’s like an invisible wall has been built between us, a barrier that neither of us seems willing to cross. He’s busy, or at least that’s what I tell myself. Meetings, phone calls, late nights in his office. But I can’t shake the feeling that he’s deliberately avoiding me.Not that I mind. In some ways, it’s an advantage. The less we speak, the less I must put up with this confusing, awkward tension between us. It was easier, safer, when he was avoided.T
Pamela's Point of ViewThe night of the gala arrives quicker than I expect, and as I stand in front of the mirror, smoothing down the sleek black dress I chose for the occasion, I can’t shake the gnawing feeling in my stomach. I’ve been to a few events with Rowan, but none like this. The elites of the city will be there, the crème de la crème of society, all gathered under one roof. And for what? To judge, to scrutinize, and in my case, to find faults.The dress clings to me in all the right places, its elegance doing little to soothe my nerves. I force a breath, reaching for the necklace Rowan gave me for tonight—another gesture that feels more like obligation than affection. It’s a beautiful piece, diamonds glinting in the low light, but wearing it feels like wearing a chain."Ready?" Rowan's voice cuts into my thoughts.I look up to see him standing in the doorway, dressed to in a tailored fitted suit. His features are unreadable. No warmth in his eyes, only the same cold distance
Pamela’s Point of ViewRowan yanks on my arm, pulling me through the front door. It hurts, but I don't feel as bad as my breathing does. I'm matching his furious step down the hallway, tripping over my own feet a few times, matching him step for step. My breaths are shallow and my heart is racing, not because I'm afraid of him but because I am confused.Why is he so angry?As soon as we enter the house, he shoves me off of him, pushing me to the side a little. I have no choice but to push myself up against the wall, recoiling at the sharpness of his shove."Why in God's name are you pushing me?" I snap, running my arm over where his fingers left a mark on my skin.Rowan doesn't answer right away. He's pacing now, his hand running through his hair in exasperation, his eyes dark and dangerous. Gone is that cool façade, replaced by something wild and volatile.“Are you happy now?” he finally says, his voice low but trembling with barely controlled rage.I take a step closer, daring to co
Pamela's Point of ViewMy headache throbs as I wake up, eyes squinting at the soft morning light that filters through the curtains. That night's gown hangs heavy and wrinkled on my skin. I can almost envision how the party was, rewinding in my head all the scheming of Rebecca, the cold glances of the elites, Rowan's furious outburst, and Sinclair's unnerving presence.I groan inwardly and drag myself up. Every muscle in my body screams from the tension of last night, and my mind is every bit as heavy. I can’t just shake my head over his reaction.The sharp knocking at the door jerks me out of my thoughts. For a moment I consider ignoring it, but the knocking persists, firm and insistent. Reluctantly, I stand up and smooth my gown as much as possible as I begin to walk towards the door. My stomach tightens as I open it.Standing before me is Rowan's mother, crisp as ever in her fine clothes, not missing a detail of my appearance as she casts an unmistakable look of disdain upon me. I k
Pamela’s Point of ViewOne evening in a grocery store, the fluorescent lights overhead murmured softly as Joana and I slowly strolled down the aisle, our cart and us pushing it. It was one of those dull, lackluster nights where I finally began to relax a little bit. Joana, animated as ever, chattering beside me, commenting on the items we toss into the cart.“So, how's it going, that apartment near to your workplace? Do you like it?” asked Joana, reaching for a box of pasta and tossing it into the recipe, altogether.I try to force myself into a small smile. A weight is hanging round my neck: the secret.“Yeah, it's… convenient,” I say.That is what she thinks, that I live in a small apartment close to my work. Joana does not know the real story of Rowan or that we are engaged. Every time I try to tell her, I just can't do it. Maybe I fear how she'll react, or that she'll see through the cracks I have been trying to smooth over with this facade I have been maintaining.She nods, unawa
Pamela’s Point of ViewThe house is eerily quiet when I step inside. Not a single light is on, and the usual bustle of maids is gone. A sense of unease creeping through me as I shut the door behind me. Something feels wrong. Very wrong.The faint scent of alcohol wafts through the air, pungent and overpowering. I follow it through the darkened hallways, my footsteps hesitant, heart racing with every step. I can barely see where I'm going, and the silence presses in around me like a heavy weight.I reach for the light switch, flicking it on. It snaps on with blinding brightness, stinging my eyes, and I blink furiously to gain control. But it takes only a split second before I jump out of my skin again.Rowan is standing there, motionless, his eyes locked on me. His expression is blank, unnervingly so. But his eyes... they’re cold, yet burning with something intense. He's leaning casually against the wall, but I can tell he’s drunk—his posture too loose, the way he sways ever so slightl
Pamela’s heart pounded as she stood on the grand balcony of the Hamilton estate, the cold wind biting her skin. The sprawling city lights flickered below, a stark contrast to the turmoil in her heart. She felt Rowan’s presence before he even spoke, his warmth radiating as he stepped behind her."Are you going to keep running away from me, Pamela?" His voice was deep, laced with something between frustration and longing.She turned, meeting his stormy gaze. "I don’t know how to stay," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Everything is too much. Too fast."Rowan exhaled sharply. "Then let’s slow down. But don’t push me away. We’ve come too far."Pamela’s lips parted, but before she could respond, the sharp sound of a phone ringing interrupted them. Rowan frowned, pulling out his phone. His expression darkened instantly. "It’s my father."She studied his face as he answered. "Rowan, we need to talk. It’s urgent," Mr. Hamilton’s voice came through, rough and commanding."I’m l
Rowan stood at the edge of the balcony, the city lights illuminating his chiseled features as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. The weight of his past choices bore heavily on his shoulders, but for the first time in years, he wasn’t thinking about business or power. He was thinking about Pamela—the woman who had ignited something in him he thought long buried.Pamela stepped into the room, barefoot, dressed in one of Rowan’s crisp white shirts that hung loosely around her frame. Her presence alone was enough to tighten his grip around the glass. She had a way of making the coldest nights feel warm, and yet, he could sense the turmoil in her eyes.“You’ve been quiet,” she said softly, approaching him cautiously. “Is something on your mind?”Rowan exhaled, setting his glass down before turning to her. “You. Us. What comes next.”Pamela lowered her gaze, biting her lip. “I didn’t think there was a next.”He reached out, cupping her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You still thi
Pamela felt the warmth of Rowan's arms around her as they sat in his study, the flickering fireplace casting golden shadows across the room. The storm outside raged violently, mirroring the turmoil within her. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to lean into him, her head resting against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong—a stark contrast to the chaos brewing within their lives.Rowan gently ran his fingers through her hair, his voice low and firm. "Pamela, no matter what happens, you need to trust me."She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her eyes searching his for reassurance. "How can I trust you when everything around us is falling apart? Every time I think we have a moment of peace, something or someone tries to rip us apart."His jaw tensed, and his grip on her tightened. "Because I will fight for us. I will not let anyone take you away from me."Pamela closed her eyes, savoring his warmth, but deep down, she knew the battle ahead was far from over. Jus
Pamela’s breath came in uneven gasps as she gripped Rowan’s arm, the weight of the night’s battle settling heavily over her. The clearing was eerily quiet now, the last echoes of gunfire fading into the dense forest. Blood stained the ground, and the acrid scent of gunpowder lingered in the air. They had won this battle, but the war was far from over.Rowan turned to her, his face shadowed by the moonlight filtering through the trees. His piercing eyes searched hers, filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. Relief? Concern? Something deeper?“Are you hurt?” His voice was low but urgent.Pamela shook her head, even as her hands trembled from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. “I’m fine. You?”Rowan exhaled, wincing as he pressed a hand to his side. The fabric of his shirt was darkened with blood. Not fresh, but the wound from earlier had reopened. Pamela’s heart clenched.“You’re not fine,” she whispered, reaching for him instinctively. “Let me see.”He caught
Pamela’s pulse thundered in her ears as the first shot rang out, piercing the fragile quiet of the cabin. Rowan was already moving, his body positioned between her and the danger despite the lingering stiffness in his movements. His protective instinct sent a wave of warmth through her chest, but she had no time to dwell on it. "Stay low," Rowan commanded, his voice sharp but calm as he pulled her behind the overturned table. His hand was steady, though the slight tremble in his fingers betrayed the strain his injury was putting on him. Pamela’s grip tightened around her gun. Her heart was pounding, but she forced herself to focus, to push past the fear threatening to paralyze her. She had to be strong—not just for herself, but for Rowan. For both of them. “David!” Rowan barked as the sound of gunfire intensified. “How many more?” “Still three outside,” David shouted from his position near the window, his voice strained but steady. “Two inside now!” Pamela’s breath hitched a
Pamela froze, the gun trembling in her hands as she stared at the man standing in the doorway. Her brother. David. A ghost from her past that she had buried so deeply, she’d convinced herself he would never resurface. Rowan’s voice cut through the tension, low and strained. “Your brother?” David took a step forward, his hands still raised in a show of surrender. “Pamela,” he said, his voice softer now, a mixture of relief and guilt coloring his tone. “I’ve been looking for you for years.” She didn’t lower the gun. Her heart hammered in her chest, confusion and anger warring within her. “Looking for me? You left us, David. You walked away when we needed you most. And now, you just show up?” David’s face tightened, regret etched into his features. “I know. I made mistakes—ones I’ve spent every day regretting. But I’m here now because you’re in danger.” Rowan shifted, his hand brushing against Pamela’s arm as if grounding her. “Pamela,” he murmured, his voice a quiet plea. “Let
The cold night air bit at Pamela’s skin as she tightened her grip on Rowan, his weight pressing heavily against her. Each step they took through the forest felt like an eternity. The dim glow of the headlights in the distance was their only beacon, a mix of hope and uncertainty that fueled her adrenaline.Rowan’s breaths were shallow and uneven, his free hand clinging to her shoulder as they trudged forward. The blood from his wound seeped through his shirt, a dark stain against the fabric. Pamela’s mind raced, torn between fear for his life and the overwhelming desire to get him to safety.“Just a little further,” Rowan murmured, his voice weak but steady.Pamela glanced at him, her chest tightening at the sight of his pale face. “You’re losing too much blood,” she said, her voice breaking. “You need medical attention now, Rowan.”He managed a faint smirk, his lips curling despite the pain. “I’ve had worse.”“Stop trying to act tough,” she snapped, tears stinging her eyes. “You’re no
Pamela’s entire body felt like it was weighed down by the crushing realization of her father’s betrayal. His apologetic gaze pierced through her, but she couldn’t reconcile the man she had known with the one standing alongside Gabriel’s men. Rowan’s presence next to her, solid and unyielding, was the only thing keeping her from crumbling.“Your father has made some... interesting decisions,” Gabriel drawled, his smirk widening as he stepped further into the cabin. His men flanked him, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. “But even I didn’t expect him to hand you over so easily.”Pamela shook her head, her voice trembling as she forced herself to speak. “Dad, why? Why are you doing this?”Her father’s face twisted with anguish. “Pamela, you don’t understand. Gabriel... he promised me you wouldn’t be hurt. He said this was the only way to protect you.”“Protect me?” Pamela spat, her voice rising. “By handing me over to a monster?”Gabriel chuckled darkly, but Rowan cut him off with
Pamela’s heart was still racing as the SUV sped through the desolate back roads. The roaring engine drowned out her rapid breathing, but the tight grip of Rowan’s hand around hers grounded her, pulling her back from the edge of spiraling panic. She glanced at him, his face hardened into a mask of grim focus, yet his thumb brushed softly against her palm, a contradiction that sent a tingle up her arm.The operatives in the front seats murmured in hushed voices, exchanging coded phrases that Pamela couldn’t make sense of. Their leader, a broad-shouldered man with steely eyes, was barking orders into a comms device, his voice sharp and urgent. The tension in the vehicle was suffocating, but Rowan’s presence beside her kept her from crumbling.“Are you okay?” Rowan’s voice broke through the haze, low and concerned.She nodded, though her body betrayed her with a shiver. “I’m... managing. Who were those people back there? And these... operatives? Who sent them?”Rowan’s jaw tightened, his