I stared at the cheque, my fingers tightening around the envelope as my pulse pounded in my ears. Five hundred thousand dollars. The amount was staggering, enough to pull Ryan out of the mess he was in. But coming from Callum? It felt like a slap in the face.Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his. He was watching me, his expression unreadable, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. He thought this was an easy win. That dangling this money in front of me would be enough to keep me leashed.“You think this changes anything?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight behind it was undeniable.Callum leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s not about changing anything, Athena. It’s about helping you.”I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Helping me? You don’t get to say that. Not after what you did.”His smirk faltered, but he recovered quickly. “I made a mistake.”“A mistake?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You left me, Callum. You proposed to me,
I rushed toward him, jaw clenched in frustration. “What are you doing here?” I hissed, keeping my voice low to avoid a scene.Callum didn’t flinch. He stood his ground, hands tucked into his dark coat pockets, gaze steady. “I came to check on Ryan.”I let out a humorless laugh. “You expect me to believe that?”He tilted his head, infuriatingly calm. “Believe whatever you want, Athena. But I deposited the check, and the hospital confirmed the payment.”My breath hitched, anger bubbling up. “You had no right,” I spat. “I told you I didn’t want your money!”His eyes hardened. “And I told you this isn’t about you. It’s about Ryan.”I clenched my fists. “You think throwing money around makes you a hero?”He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible. You’d rather let pride dictate your actions than accept help when you clearly need it.”His words stung like a slap, but I refused to back down. “You don’t get to question my love for my brother.”Callum stepped closer, presenc
Callum's lips twitched slightly, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. “The catch is just do what I say and just do the job well without being stubborn.”I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms as I studied him. “That’s it?”“Yes,” he said simply. “Take the time off, be with Ryan, and when you come back, you do your job without pushing back on every damn thing I tell you to do.”I huffed, turning my attention back to Ryan, who was finally resting peacefully. The anger that had flared earlier still simmered inside me, but exhaustion dulled its edges. Maybe Callum was right. Maybe I did need this time off. But I hated that he had taken control of the situation without my input.Ryan stirred slightly, his fingers twitching against my hand. His face was still pale, but the tension in his expression had eased. I exhaled slowly, brushing his hair back before looking at Callum again. “Fine.”A flicker of relief crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant. “Good.”The room fell into a t
I walked out of the hospital room, my breath catching as the weight of my mother’s words pressed on me. Ryan is more important than your pride, Athena.I knew that. I’d always known. But knowing didn’t make accepting it easier.The cold air outside stung my skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth I left behind in Ryan’s room. I wrapped my arms around myself, vision blurring as tears spilled over. I hated this. Hated how Callum still had the power to shake me, to make me question everything I had rebuilt.“Athena?”I startled, quickly wiping my tears as Lia approached. Her brows knitted in concern, hands tucked into her coat pockets.“Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”I forced a smile. “Yeah. Just... fresh air.”Lia gave me a look that said she didn’t buy it. “Athena, you’re a terrible liar.”I let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping. “It’s just... a lot.”She nodded, tilting her head toward the small café across the street. “Come on. Let’s get coffee. You look like you could use it.”
I placed the bags on the small hospital table, my hands unsteady as I unpacked the contents. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the room—warm soup, soft bread, and a variety of dishes carefully packaged. It wasn’t just any meal. It was thoughtful. Comforting. Exactly the kind of food someone would send if they knew we hadn’t eaten properly all day.I hated how that realization made my chest tighten.My mother sat beside Ryan’s bed, watching me carefully. She didn’t say anything, but I could feel the unspoken words hanging in the air.I sighed, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. “Do you want some?”She hesitated before nodding. “You should eat too, Athena.”I wasn’t sure I had much of an appetite, but I pulled out a container of soup. As I lifted a spoonful to my lips, the warmth spread through me, comforting in a way I hadn’t expected.We ate in silence, the only sounds the occasional beeping of the monitors and the hum of the hospital outside. Ryan remained asleep, his
CALLUM’S POVI never expected Athena to forgive me.Not after what I did.I once imagined a future with her—warmth, love, unshakable promises. I gave her a ring, a vow, a dream of something lasting. But I destroyed it.One day, I was hers. The next, I walked away.For Emilia.For a woman with weeks left to live.For a promise rooted in duty, not love.I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to stay present, but the past had its claws deep in me. Ryan’s steady breathing filled the silence, yet all I heard was my own regrets. The way I tore Athena’s world apart for something I thought was bigger than us.Emilia was dying. Fragile. Terrified of facing the end alone. She pleaded with me, begged me to stay. And then there was Richard Rhodes—her father, a man who shaped futures. Marrying into the Rhodes family meant securing a position of power few could dream of.I told myself it was right. That Emilia deserved to spend her last days without fear, that I couldn’t abandon her.But that was a lie.
CALLUM’S POV 2I arrived at Rhodes Enterprises exactly one hour later, my suit pressed, expression neutral. The weight of Richard’s expectations sat heavy on my shoulders, but I refused to show any cracks.As I stepped into the boardroom, a dozen pairs of eyes flicked toward me—some wary, some calculating, all waiting for me to falter. Richard sat at the head of the table, his gaze impassive.“Callum,” he said smoothly, motioning for me to take my seat. “Let’s begin.”I forced a nod, suppressing the lingering headache from last night’s whiskey. This was my battlefield now. To survive, I had to play the game.The meeting was brutal. The board questioned everything—my competence, leadership, and ability to carry the Rhodes name forward. Richard stayed silent, letting them tear into me like vultures. I answered each challenge with precision, refusing to be rattled.By the time the meeting ended, I’d made one thing clear: I wasn’t just Emilia’s grieving husband. I was the man who would le
ATHENA'S POVDays passed, and Callum remained the same—dominant, assertive, always in control. I did everything to fulfill my role as his secretary, ensuring his schedule ran smoothly. Yet, despite my efforts to keep things professional, he continued his daily lunch invitations, making it impossible to refuse.Today was no different. As soon as the clock struck noon, his deep voice called out from his office."Let's go."It wasn’t a request—it never was.I swallowed hard, grabbed my bag, and followed. The moment I stepped into his sleek black car, silence filled the space, thick with an unspoken tension I couldn’t define.Our lunches weren’t romantic. They were businesslike—discussions about reports, future projects, and his impossible expectations. But no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn’t ignore the way his gaze lingered sometimes, the way his fingers brushed against mine when he handed me the menu.It was dangerous.Back at the office, the stares were
They say closure is a myth. That healing doesn’t come in clean arcs, but in spirals—circles that loop back on themselves when you least expect it. I used to believe healing was about moving forward, about choosing growth. But what they don’t tell you is sometimes healing means looking backward, straight into the eyes of what broke you, and asking if maybe… just maybe… you still want it.Callum was standing in my kitchen.He moved like a man walking through a dream, unsure of what was real and what he’d only imagined during the countless sleepless nights I suspected we both had. The air between us was thick—heavy with memories, words left unsaid, and the quiet pull of things unresolved.He hadn’t shaved. A small thing, but for Callum Hastings, that was a kind of confession.“You look tired,” I said quietly, unsure of what else to say.“I am,” he admitted, his voice rough. “But I’ll sleep better if you hear me out.”I nodded and poured him a cup of coffee, not because I had to, but beca
Days passed and with each one, the silence between Callum and me became thicker. At work, we fell back into our roles—him, the cold and polished CEO; me, the efficient assistant with unreadable eyes. The moments we’d shared—too fragile, too private—seemed to shrink beneath the weight of routine.But something had shifted. Not just between us, but in the air around us.It started small.A hushed conversation in the hallway that cut off the moment I walked past. A paused laugh when I entered the breakroom. Stares that lingered just a little too long.Rumors.They crept in like cracks in glass—subtle, invisible at first. But they were growing.“He’s been different lately.”“She’s always in his office late.”“Have you seen how close they stand?”One morning, I found a printed photo carelessly left near the printer tray. Callum and me—taken from a distance, probably through the office windows. We were walking through the small park near the firm. He was looking at me, not smiling, but seei
Days passed.Ryan remained in recovery, and the doctors said it was a miracle he survived the trauma. Callum never left his side during the first 48 hours, and I stayed as long as I could—until reality knocked again, cold and sharp.Work.Deadlines. Reports. Meetings. Schedules. The world outside the hospital didn’t care about the wounds we were nursing or the chaos we had survived.So I returned to the company.Back to polished shoes and pressed blouses, empty coffee mugs, and overly enthusiastic greetings from coworkers who didn’t know, or pretended not to know, what had happened.I was just “the secretary” again. The assistant with quiet eyes and a composed smile, sitting outside Callum’s office and managing his appointments like I hadn’t once held his hand beside a hospital bed. Like we hadn’t once whispered words we couldn’t take back.The company buzzed with energy that felt foreign to me. Laughter in the pantry. Flirtations over email. The sound of heels against the marble floo
The question hung in the air like frost, suspended and sharp. I didn’t answer immediately. I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t know—but because the truth was complicated, layered, messy. I wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders, the cold biting through even that small comfort. Callum didn’t press me. He never did. That was one of the reasons I had come to rely on him so completely. But right now, I wished he would say something. Anything. “Yes,” I said finally, barely above a whisper. “But not the way I love you.” His eyes flickered to mine. “What does that mean?” I looked at him, really looked at him. The man who had stepped in when everything was falling apart. Who stayed, even when the weight of my grief and guilt threatened to drown us both. Who loved Ryan like his own. “It means I loved the idea of Daniel. The life we had before everything broke. Before the sickness. Before the loss. I loved the certainty he offered.” “But you don’t trust him,” Callum said, more a st
The next morning came too quickly. The sunrise spilled soft orange light through the curtains, painting the room in a warmth that felt too gentle for the weight pressing on my chest. Callum had already gotten up. I could hear him downstairs in the kitchen—muffled sounds of a kettle boiling, the low hum of the radio, the quiet patter of his footsteps moving in familiar rhythm.I pulled myself from bed slowly, each movement a reminder of the exhaustion lodged deep in my bones. Ryan had another appointment today. A new specialist. One Callum had found after days of phone calls and medical forums. He never gave up—not on Ryan, not on me. And I hated how part of me still felt tempted by Daniel’s offer, even after everything.I met Callum downstairs, where he stood with two mugs of coffee in hand. He passed one to me without a word, offering a tired smile. There were faint lines at the corners of his eyes—worry etched into every part of him now."Big day," he said, breaking the silence."Ye
The days that followed my decision were anything but easy. Even though I had chosen to stay with Callum, to lean on the bond we had built over the years, the weight of my choice pressed down on me like an iron vice. I had rejected Daniel’s offer, but in some quiet, hidden corner of my heart, I still questioned whether I had made the right decision. I hadn’t fully embraced the idea of the future without his help, his promise of an escape from the suffocating reality I had been living in.But as I spent more time with Callum, as I saw the way he fought for us, fought for Ryan, I began to feel that flicker of hope grow a little brighter. Maybe we didn’t need Daniel. Maybe we just needed each other.Ryan’s condition was still precarious. Some days, he seemed like he was doing better, his color returning to his cheeks, his voice stronger when he spoke. But those moments were fleeting, like sunshine breaking through a storm, only to be swallowed by clouds once more.We had a good day here a
The days that followed my meeting with Daniel were some of the hardest I had ever faced. I couldn’t shake the weight of the decision that loomed over me, pressing down with increasing force. The tension between Callum and me was palpable, thicker than ever. He hadn’t asked about the meeting, not directly, but I knew he could tell something had changed. My silence was heavy, my distraction obvious. And still, I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth.Ryan’s condition was worsening. Every day, there were moments when I thought the fight would be over, when I would watch him sleep and wonder if I was seeing him for the last time. And yet, in the same breath, I clung to the hope that we could make it through, that things could get better. But the uncertainty was suffocating. Every medication administered, every round of treatment, felt like a reminder that we were running out of time.I wasn’t sure what I was searching for. Maybe I was looking for a sign, something that would make th
The days that followed my conversation with Callum were a blur, but they weren’t a peaceful blur. Every moment felt like it was suspended in the tension of what could be, what might come, and the relentless weight of the choice that was looming over me. I could feel Daniel’s presence pressing in from the outside, waiting for me to make a decision, but I was trapped in this space between past and future, between trust and doubt.Ryan’s treatment continued, a rhythm I had grown all too familiar with. The sterile smell of the hospital, the beeping of monitors, the soft hum of nurses moving through the halls—it had become a part of my life, an unchanging backdrop to the turbulence of my emotions. I tried my best to be strong, to hold it all together for Callum, for Ryan, for myself, but there was a crack in my resolve, and it seemed like it was getting wider with each passing day.Callum’s worry was evident in his eyes every time he looked at me. His attempts to shield me from the weight
The days that followed Daniel’s unexpected call were a blur of conflicting emotions. Ryan’s treatment continued, and the routine of hospital visits, medication schedules, and sleepless nights persisted. But now, between the sterile walls of the hospital and the sterile walls of my mind, I couldn’t shake the unease that Daniel’s presence had stirred. His offer had been made in a seemingly harmless tone, yet something about it unsettled me.Callum and I fell into a strained silence, our once easy conversations now punctuated with awkward pauses and unspoken tension. He noticed my withdrawn demeanor, my distracted gaze, the way I’d stare off into space when he wasn’t looking. He could tell I was carrying something, a secret or a weight, but he didn’t press. It was as if he was giving me space to figure it out on my own, but I knew he was growing more and more concerned. The strain was evident in the way he would look at me, the edge in his voice when he spoke, but I didn’t know how to ex