Chapter 1: Echoes of Regret.

Lie Blu Apartment.

Matilda’s POV.

Regret has always been inevitable. At some point in our lives, we all face it. Right now, I'm drowning in a heavy tide of it. 

I press my hands against my head, letting out a raspy cry as my veins throb painfully. It feels as if my skull might shatter, while my conscience angrily scolds me for putting myself through this torment.

This is exactly why I didn't want to go out last night.

Sunlight streams through the curtains, but it offers no solace—only harsh reminders of my misery. My stomach churns with a burning sensation, and my throat feels drier than the Sahara, begging desperately for water. I moan in agony, curling into a ball as pain radiates from my waist up to my neck.

What happened last night? Why can’t I remember anything? Did I black out? How on earth did I even get home?

My mind buzzes with a thousand questions, each one amplifying my discomfort. Something must possess me to drink so much; I only ever black out when I overindulge. After what feels like hours of tossing and turning—though it’s likely only minutes—I force myself out of bed. The aching of my body confirms that I have gone way overboard with Aly.

Wincing against the brightness of my painfully pink room, I drag myself to the bathroom. With an irritated grunt, I splash cold water on my face, hoping for even a moment of relief. I scrub my teeth furiously, trying to erase the rancid taste in my mouth, but no matter how hard I brush, it lingers.

“I am never drinking again,” I swear at my hideous reflection in the mirror.

Dark circles, accompanied by its sidekick, ‘eyebags’, nest beneath my brown eyes. My lips crack from dehydration, and my once-lustrous brown hair—a sight to behold the night before—now lies in a tangled mess.

Repulsed by my reflection, I quickly undress and step into the cold shower, desperate to wash away the remnants of the night. As the water cascades over me, my tensed muscles begin to relax, each drop washing away the weight of regret, if only for a moment.

* * *

“You can’t recall anything?!” Aaliyah’s voice pierces through the receiver, sharp and incredulous.

I grimace, pulling the phone away. “For the umpteenth time, Aly… stop yelling! My head is pounding,” I whine.

“I can’t believe you possibly hooked up with the hottest man on earth and can’t remember a single detail!” she laments.

“That’s because we didn’t hook up, Aly.” I roll my eyes, irritated by her disappointment.

“How would you know if you don’t remember?” she shoots back, her tone teasing.

“I really don’t see what the big deal is.”

“Um, hello? All that pent-up frustration you’ve been stacking for years? A hunk like that would leave you satisfied and bedridden for days!” She sounds downright excited.

I squeeze my eyes shut, heat flooding my cheeks as his face flashes through my mind. The last thing I remember is him leaning in for a kiss, but I’m not about to share that detail.

“What about you? Weren’t you with his friend?” I attempt to shift the conversation.

She snickers. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just ignore my question. I bailed on him—he just wasn’t doing it for me, I guess.”

Poor guy. He seems genuinely interested, but then again, every man seems to fall for Aaliyah. She is drop-dead gorgeous and knows it.

“Ah, that’s why you’re so curious about my night, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily, but it would be nice if the night wasn't a total flop. And it seems like it is,” she sighs dramatically. “This must be what they mean by ‘you can lead a horse to water but can’t make it drink.’”

“It wasn’t a total flop. I had fun drinking and dancing with you, but now I’m swamped with work because of it.” I groan, glancing at my MacBook.

“Looks like that’s my cue to leave. Goodbye, my love.”

“Byeee.” The line beeps as the call ends.

I pull up my boss’s schedule to see what the week has in store. My boss is the Chairman and founder of Willow Incorporated, a company that has become a powerhouse in various sectors.

Willow Goods is the largest subsidiary, dominating retail markets and boasting a robust online presence. Willow Natural specialises in herbal products, supplying numerous healthcare clinics, while Willow Tech provides cutting-edge technology to support both of the other branches. Despite being only twenty, the company has secured a spot among the top five largest by revenue.

You might expect someone so wealthy to be arrogant or snobbish, but my boss is the complete opposite. He has a charming, affable personality that makes working with him a pleasure.

I genuinely love my job—especially considering the perks that come with being the Chairman’s secretary. I live in one of the best apartments in the City of Angels, have no student loans to worry about, and enjoy a life filled with sunshine.

Or at least, that’s what I think until a gossip article catches my eye.

Bringing the hottest news to your screens, an anonymous source claims that Mr. X, Chairman of X Inc., is terminally ill. Tap for more info. — Gossip MilV.

The blurred photo looks vaguely like Chairman Willow, but surely they can’t be talking about him. I scroll down to the comments, heart sinking as I see people speculating about Willow Incorporated.

Where did this news even come from?

To make matters worse, I noticed a drop in our stock prices already. It’s incredible how a seemingly insignificant rumour can have such a massive impact on the company. I should be there to curb the media the moment the gossip starts, but instead, I chose a night out.

“All I did was miss one night of work!” I cry out, frustration bubbling as more articles pop up. I think the worst I’ll face after a crazy night is a hangover, but I am so, so wrong.

This is bad.

* * *

Alaric’s Residence.

Alaric’s POV.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Javier’s cheerful voice breaks the morning stillness as he yanks open the curtains, flooding the room with light.

“I’m never setting foot in Inferno again,” I groan, propping myself up against the headboard. “Last night was easily the worst night of my life.” I shudder, the memory of my encounter with that woman sending chills down my spine.

“Was it really that bad?” His copper-brown eyes sparkle with mischief as he hands me a cup of water, his boyish grin infectious. Dressed in a snug white t-shirt and baggy black parachute pants, his tousled blonde hair adds to his carefree charm.

I meet his gaze, nodding vigorously. “Yes.”

“Bad” is putting it lightly.

I’d rather endure a hangover than relive the events of last night in my mind.

“What happened?” He leans closer, genuine curiosity replacing the amusement in his eyes.

“You happened!” I shoot him a glare.

He raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence as he points to himself. “Me? What did I do?”

If only I hadn’t listened to his ridiculous advice… No! If I came home without going to the club then none of this would have happened. How did I let him convince me that was a good idea?

“W-what?” He chuckles, the playful glint in his eyes growing brighter. “You took my advice?!”

I can’t help but scowl at his laughter. “I’d rather not talk about it,” I mutter, gulping down the water.

“Matter of fact, I’d prefer if yesterday just... didn’t happen.” I set the cup down with a thud on the bedside table. “I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you when you suggested that club.”

He shrugs, unbothered. “Then you should have won the game. You agreed to do whatever I want, whenever I want.” His cocky grin is infuriating but I can’t blame him for this one. I walked into it all because I wanted to spite my father. A foolish decision on my part.

“And your brilliant idea was the club?” I glare at him, if looks could kill he’d be six feet under.

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I was just trying to do you a favour. Whatever happened between you two? That’s all on you.” He shakes his head dramatically, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

Regardless of how last night played out, I can at least take solace in the fact that I’ll never see her again. If our paths cross, I’m not sure what I’d do.

“It didn’t go well for me either, but I have no regrets about meeting Aaliyah,” he says, grinning like a fool.

Javier falls in love faster than most people blink. He gets his heart broken and then dives right back into the cycle. Sometimes I worry for him—he’s so gullible, like a child lured by candy.

“I’m sure you don’t. But for me, last night is the last time,” I declare firmly.

He looks away, defeated. “Alright, you’re too sophisticated for Inferno anyway.” Clearing his throat, he passes me his iPad. “You should see this.”

I glance at the device and then back at him. The playful light in his eyes dims, replaced by something darker—worry. No one cares about the articles concerning me more than this idiot. No matter how often I try to discourage him, he never listens.

“If it’s another article, I’m not interested,” I say, getting out of bed. “You should stop paying attention to them too,” I add pointedly.

He sighs, exasperated. “I’m your best friend and personal assistant. It’s kind of my job to handle these things.”

“You should ignore the articles, Javier,” I reply flatly. “...they’re all lies,” I add quietly.

“I know they are, which is why I try to get them taken down. But they won’t listen.” His fingers tap the iPad in frustration.

He might be an idiot, but he’s the most caring one I know. “It’s fine, Javier. It doesn’t bother me.” I offer him a reassuring smile. The truth is all that matters to me.

“You’re an amazing person, Alaric.” He relaxes for a moment before growing serious again. “But you really need to see this. It’s… different.”

“I’m not interested in whatever new way they’ve come up with to criticise me.” I try to walk past him, but he blocks my path, arm outstretched. “You have to look at it,” he insists, concern etched on his face.

With a resigned sigh, I took the iPad from him. Did I mention how stubborn he can be when worried? “What’s it about this time?” I ask, unlocking the screen.

“Your father.”

I freeze, my heart sinking. My fingers hover above the glass as a chill runs down my spine. “Is it important?” I ask, my voice cold.

He inhales deeply. “It is.”

I waver, torn between reading the article and handing the iPad back to him. Last night, my father made it painfully clear he’ll always side with the media and now he’s the headline.

How ironic.

I think sarcastically as I return the iPad to him. “I’m not interested.” His worried eyes bore into me as I look anywhere but at his face.

“Are you sure? It’s more important than you think.”

“I don’t care what it is,” I brush past him. “And you’re forbidden from mentioning whatever that article entails to me, understood?”

“Understood.”