AltheaI wasn’t sure if anyone would have the same opinion about this, but for me the bathroom was the ideal place to craft my ideas.Weird? Yeah, maybe. Other people might have had better places, more sophisticated spaces perhaps—offices stacked with all the right tools, rows upon rows of books lined up like soldiers, and artificial intelligence systems ready to spit out concepts or brilliant ideas at the push of a button. But me? I didn’t need any of that.For some reason, my best ideas came when I was standing under the shower, the hot water cascading down my back, creating a rhythm that seemed to sync perfectly with the gears turning in my head. There, with nothing but the sound of water hitting tile, my mind would spin, reevaluating my plans, picking apart every little detail to see what could be improved and what should be completely removed from the plan.And I needed that clarity now more than ever. Just two days left. Forty-eight hours before The Art Palette would be ready to
AltheaIt was finally the day.The day of the launch had finally arrived. Today, we booked a venue that was a blend of elegance of vintage room design with a touch of modern flair–perfectly mirroring the concept of The Art Palette. The room buzzed with excitement as beauty influencers, industry professionals, and loyal customers gathered to witness the unveiling. The soft hum of conversation was punctuated by flashes of cameras and the subtle scent of fresh flowers that adorned the space. I didn’t know what the beauty event was like before. I never attended one in my life. But this time, I was the one who created it. “You got this, Ma’am.” Rebecca nudged me with a big smile. “You make this happen.”This was real. This was my work. I smiled back at her. “We did this.”The presentation began as I stood backstage. My heart was pounding in sync with the upbeat music. The large screen behind the stage displayed a mesmerizing slideshow of the palette collections, each named after a ren
MatthiasWas it normal to feel like you were everywhere and nowhere at the same time?I wasn’t sure where I was now. The more I tried to piece together the fragments of memories in my head, the stabbing sensation and the vice-like grip around my skull made it feel like my head was about to shatter.Or maybe it already had? I couldn’t say. I didn’t quite remember. I was certain I had just gotten into the car after leaving the hotel. The business meeting had wrapped up, and Ren and I were discussing what time we could catch a flight back to New York. I hadn’t been paying much attention to the road, my focus entirely on my phone, reading through some articles that had just been released about the launch of The Art Palette from Erbeauty—the latest work from Althea.I had felt like I was about to do something earlier. I couldn’t remember exactly what, though. But before I could do anything, the car entered a tunnel, and that was the last time I saw light.Was I still inside that tunnel now
AltheaWhat is the worst nightmare you’ve ever had?For me, it was when you heard some bad news from someone, then later when you closed your eyes, it turned to be worse.Matthias. Car crash. Two things that I’ve never imagined would be something that I’d hear someday. But it did. And to see it myself made it even worse.There are countless versions of Matthias that play out in my mind. The annoying Matthias who always has something to say? That's nothing new. The Matthias with a stoic, almost unreadable expression? I’ve seen it many times. But Matthias, lying motionless in a hospital bed, with deep wounds disfiguring his face and covering his entire body? That’s something I’ve never encountered before. And honestly, I wish I never had to. Unfortunately, reality doesn't allow me to escape from it—it’s right in front of me, whether I want to face it or not.In addition to Matthias, Ren is also being treated at the hospital. His condition is serious as well, though not as critical as Ma
AltheaMatthias had been hospitalized for three days (I counted it since the day he finally woke up), and I could see the small signs of improvement each day. His movements were becoming less stiff, his voice less hoarse, though his face still held the shadow of pain. It wasn’t the worst injury he could have suffered, but I knew it was enough to put him in a place where he couldn’t escape. He was used to being strong, independent—things had been so different for him just days ago, and now here he was, relying on me in ways that I hadn’t expected. To be honest, I’ve never taken care of anybody in the hospital for this long. Even Granny. She would always tell the nurse to tell me to go home, and she never stayed in the hospital for more than two nights.“I’ll die anyway. I rather pay for a fancy funeral than donate to the hospital.”On the first day after he was conscious, Matthias told me to go to a hotel nearby, which I declined whole heartedly. I’d stay with him, even if that meant
MatthiasThere were times when I had to go to the hospital. It wasn’t like this was my first time being hospitalized for more than a day. I have had my rough days since I was a kid.I remember those visits all too well. I wasn’t a stranger to pain, to the sterile smell of antiseptic and the bright, cold lights of emergency rooms. As a kid, I was constantly getting hurt—scrapes from falling off my bike, cuts from climbing trees, sprains from running too fast. Each time, my body would bear the marks of my recklessness, but it wasn’t just the physical wounds that left scars. It was the absence of anyone by my side.There was never anyone to sit with me in those hospital rooms. My father was too busy with his business. That was always his excuse. Always on calls, always in meetings, always away. He didn’t have time for the little things—like showing up when his son needed him most. I learned early on to rely on myself, to toughen up. The doctors and nurses would come and go, but I’d be le
MatthiasI never felt—or claimed—to be a workaholic.There was nothing enjoyable about working, yet I did it anyway because I had to. It was an obligation, something I went through to survive while also trying to feel alive.Because when it came to work, emotions were the least of my concerns. Numbers and facts always took priority, and those two things came easily to me. At work, people treated me based on what I had to offer. Transactions. Deals. Everything revolved around that. Even that old bastard who refused to acknowledge my existence couldn’t deny that he needed me—at least in business matters.A week of feeling powerless in the hospital made me restless, and it seemed that the people who thought I owed them something felt the same way. A mountain of work was already waiting for me. Even Ren eventually decided to forgo any more rest and return to work."After this, you better find me a kind and sexy woman. That’ll make all this hard work worth it."Ren clearly assumed I had so
Althea "How close are you and that Kennedy boy?"No hi, no hello, no good morning, no how are you, no let’s eat—not even a grunt of acknowledgement before he threw the question at me out of nowhere, mentioning someone I didn’t expect as part of our first morning conversation.Not that I expected anything different from Matthias. If he ever did greet me properly, I’d be more inclined to believe I was still dreaming, that I had accidentally overdosed on my medication, or that Matthias had been abducted and replaced by an alien struggling to impersonate him.But that didn’t mean I was used to hearing him drop random, out-of-nowhere questions while I was still in that disoriented space between sleep and wakefulness. My brain was still sluggish, my limbs heavy, and my awareness fragmented into every corner of this room–or anywhere, I didn’t know.I blinked, trying to process his words through the lingering fog in my head. Kennedy boy? Who the hell was he talking about?Did he mean Tristan
MatthiasIt was always better to say nothing than to say something unnecessary. That was what I believed.Before this shit started to happen.There were things that were better left unsaid. I lived my life long enough, learned my lesson well enough to know that speaking things might bring trouble. And I hated trouble–even when the reality was trouble liked me quite a lot to come on my way.Gwen was nothing. At least for a few years now. I didn’t like to talk about her, nor did I feel the need to do so. She was something I chose to leave in the dark, to keep in a box and throw it away as far as possible.Yet she walked in, once again, with reasons I couldn’t explain. I ignored all her messages, mails, even calls. I made sure she didn’t get any access to reach me. Some people were better to be treated that way.So how could Althea meet her? And what the fuck with that “Matthias’s dearest”? Hearing it almost made me throw up.And now, Althea wouldn’t even look at me.For three days, she
AltheaWas it normal to feel like you were hurt by something, but also felt guilty because you feel hurt? I didn’t know what kind of paradox this was called, or if it was only something that I made up to feel less insane–and failed anyway. I went back to the office, eating nothing, drinking nothing, speaking nothing.I stared at my laptop screen for what felt like hours, but the words blurred together into incomprehensible lines of text. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, useless, frozen. No matter how much I tried to push past it, Gwen’s words replayed in my head, over and over, an unrelenting echo.Matthias’s dearest.The way she said it, the way she looked at me—like I was an outsider in my own marriage. And wasn’t I? Wasn’t that exactly what I was? A placeholder. A name on a contract. A woman with no right to feel anything.And yet, the sting in my chest refused to fade. It pressed deeper, sharper, until it felt like I was suffocating under the weight of something I shouldn’t e
AltheaThe words lingered between us, thick and suffocating. Matthias’s dearest.I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. My grip on the coffee cup was painfully tight, my knuckles white from the pressure.Gwen’s smile remained perfectly poised, as if she were savoring the reaction she’d just pulled from me. Her hazel eyes gleamed with something unreadable—amusement, curiosity, maybe even satisfaction. She wasn’t just saying it to inform me. She was testing me.I forced myself to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Oh,” I said, my voice thin. “I see.”That was the best I could come up with? I see?Gwen hummed lightly, tilting her head as she studied me. “I thought Matthias would have mentioned me. We go way back.”Go way back.Each word chipped away at the weak wall I had built around my heart. It was stupid, wasn’t it? To feel anything at all? I was nothing but Matthias’s fake wife. A legal obligation. A name on a contract. But that didn’t stop the unease slithering beneath my skin, wrappin
AltheaIt seemed like I needed a tutorial about how to not overthink things.Days had passed, and by this time, I should have stopped thinking about that name: Gwen. And yet, I couldn’t.Every time I looked at Matthias—when we had breakfast together, when he returned home late at night with that same unreadable expression—her name echoed in my mind like a whisper I couldn’t silence. Who was she? Why hadn’t he said anything about her? Was it because she was just another person in his long list of acquaintances, or was it because she was someone I was never supposed to know about?The worst part was, I knew I had no right to ask. I was his fake wife. Nothing more. We had a contract, an agreement built on necessity, not love. If there was another woman in his life—someone he truly cared about—what place did I have to question it? And yet, knowing all this didn’t make it any easier to ignore the gnawing unease that clawed at my chest.Matthias, on the other hand, remained as composed as e
[Folded page, extra POV]The dim glow of multiple screens illuminated the darkened room, casting jagged shadows against the walls. The only sound was the faint hum of machines, a steady pulse in the silence. Rows of code scrolled down the largest monitor, lines of encrypted data shifting in real time. Another screen displayed a series of documents—emails, phone records, confidential case files. Each one meticulously compiled, each one tied to a single name: Matthias.The blackmailer leaned back in their chair, fingers tapping idly against the desk as they scanned the information. Matthias had taken the bait. He was cautious, but that was expected. He was a man who thrived on control, on understanding the rules of the game better than anyone else. Which made it all the more satisfying to shift those rules beneath his feet. The misdirection had worked, at least for now. New York had been too easy, too obvious. But it served its purpose—it forced Matthias to react. And a man in motion wa
MatthiasThere’s a reason why dealing with idiots is exhausting.Sure, expecting too much often leads to disappointment rather than satisfaction, but I’m fairly certain every person is at least given a brain to think. Some just choose not to use it, letting it rot into nothing more than dead weight in their skulls. And the worst part? They don’t even realize it. They move through life making the same mistakes, refusing to take responsibility, blaming everything and everyone except their own incompetence. It’s almost impressive—the mental gymnastics they go through just to avoid admitting they’re the problem.I tended to stay far from those types. I’d rather deal with nobody than waste my time getting mad over someone’s stupid and questionable behavior. But unfortunately, in business, avoiding them entirely wasn’t always an option. Some of them were clients. Some of them were investors. Some of them were people who, for whatever reason, had power they didn’t deserve.And people like me
AltheaThe morning light seeped through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow over the table. The scent of coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the faint crispness of toast and the subtle warmth of eggs fresh off the pan. It was quiet, save for the occasional clink of silverware against plates and the low hum of the coffee machine.Matthias sat across from me, his fingers wrapped around a steaming mug, eyes still heavy with the remnants of sleep. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his hair still damp from a shower, a few strands falling over his forehead. He wasn’t reading the newspaper or looking at his phone like he usually did. Instead, he was watching me.I didn’t know if he was waiting for me to say or do something, but I didn’t feel like doing anything at all.Maybe it was because of the lack of sleep. Last night was tiring, sure. I had barely had enough sleep or food since my aunt’s funeral. My body was tired, I couldn’t lie. Yet as I lay in bed, I couldn’t get myself to slee
MatthiasThe drive home was steeped in silence, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the rhythmic pattern of rain against the windshield. The darkness outside stretched endlessly, mirroring the weight pressing against my chest. My mind was a battlefield, tangled in the web of revelations Cyan had unearthed—threats that had never truly disappeared, ghosts from a past I had fought to bury.Fenny’s death wasn’t random. It wasn’t some tragic accident or an unfortunate coincidence. It was deliberate. A warning. A message.And somehow, all of it led back to the past—the one I had tried so damn hard to leave behind.By the time I pulled into the driveway, exhaustion was gnawing at the edges of my mind, but the tension in my body didn’t ease. The house stood still, bathed in shadows, save for the faint glow bleeding from the living room window. I lingered outside for a moment, breathing in the crisp night air, letting the rain soak into my skin. The cold did little to ground me.Insid
MatthiasI drove through the quiet streets, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. The rhythmic tapping of rain against the windshield did little to drown out the thoughts hammering in my skull. The blackmail letters sat on the passenger seat beside the laptop I had retrieved from Fenny’s apartment, a silent accusation in the dim glow of the dashboard. The weight of them pressed against me, heavier than paper had any right to be. My mind churned through possibilities, each one darker than the last. Every turn of the tires felt like it was carrying me deeper into something I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.Fenny was dead. And now, staring at the threats she had received, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just about her. This was bigger. A tangled web I had somehow been caught in long before I even realized it.I pulled up to a nondescript building in an industrial district, killing the engine and stepping out. The air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked pavement and