MatthiasSometimes, the world really didn’t help when we were planning something.I wasn’t too surprised by that. The world had always been a shitty place to live in, but it was the only place to be alive. No matter how much effort I put in, how much I calculated each move, there was always a chance that things would go wrong. The world might have refused to cooperate, but I had always made sure to stay one step ahead—predicting its moves before it could ruin mine.That's what I did. Usually. But this time, I wanted to give a big fuck you to the world for messing things up when progress was right in front of me.I had known Althea was about to meet Fenny. I had known that because I had made it happen. It had taken weeks, maybe even months, of effort. I had tracked Fenny down, pouring money into the process, paying Cyan a ridiculous amount just so he could focus entirely on finding her. I wasn’t going to let her slip away. Not when she was the key to something bigger—something that had
AltheaFenny still hasn’t regained consciousness. The medical results show that the poison in her body is at an extremely high dose—just the fact that she’s still breathing is already a miracle. Every possible treatment will be attempted, but when it comes to life and death, no doctor or advanced equipment can provide any certainty.That means there’s nothing I can do but wait. And waiting, as I’ve learned, is sometimes the hardest thing to do. The helplessness, the uncertainty—it all weighs on me, making every second stretch endlessly. I didn’t know much about God, but if He truly did exist, I hoped that this time, He would help.But other than that, I basically could do nothing.The world outside the hospital room didn’t stop for anyone, no matter how much I wanted it to. Time kept moving, and so did responsibilities. So, after ensuring there was nothing else I could do for Fenny at the moment, I left for the office, hoping work would serve as a distraction.As I entered my office,
AltheaI’ve never attended a funeral before, let alone to manage one. But there would always be a first time in everything, and this was mine.When Granny died, she asked to be cremated instead. She said it was a form of her freedom, and no funeral was needed.“At least when I die, don’t make me pay for anything. I’ve paid it all with my life.”So when Granny died, it just sort of happened. No special ceremony or time to cry. A few of her friends came, but somehow they didn’t question her decision. We all just stood there, watched the cremation process, as they told me, “It’s just her, you know. All we can do now is to respect her.”I didn’t understand her decision at that time, or even now, but some part of me knew that was so Granny. She would choose something that the majority of people didn’t understand. But Fenny was different. Despite the Alden blood we’ve shared and a few conversations through Facebook, I didn;t know her as much as Granny. I didn’t even know what she looked li
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
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
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
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
[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
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