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
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
The night was cold and raining, but he stood still in front of his house, ignoring the wetness of his clothes. He stared ahead, into the dark, as those sentences from his uncle echoed in his mind."Your father is dead.""As his only son, you know the rule, Matt.""Our family will help to manage his burial, but you know the time is short. You need to do it as soon as you can. Being single won't help you, so please choose wisely.""We can talk about this tomorrow. Come to my place at lunch."He didn't need time to grieve. For God's sake, sadness was the last thing he could ever feel for his father. But that old man was the only reason he had a peaceful life like this. Yet it would be taken from him, sooner or later.He hated marriage. He truly did. And he knew it would only give those bastards more power to control him.He exhaled deeply as he ran his fingers through his hair. His uncle was right. The time was short, and he had better start soon. But for fuck sake, where should he star
AltheaLife has given me lots of surprises since I was born, and I thought it could not surprise me anymore. I’ve already gotten used to it. The first surprise life gave me was the fact that my parents might be a couple of bears, penguins, owls, or I was a failed product of a science research. I never knew who my parents were, or even if I ever had one. Granny always told me that it didn't matter. And it did not.Growing up, I had times when I believed Granny was a fairy godmother, minus the dresses and magic stick. She did not fly, but she held my hand every time I needed her to. Even when she chose to leave me all alone.“Guess what, Thea. I’m dying.” She said that after the doctor diagnosed her with the final stage of cancer. “I guess I’m winning the race.”It was not the first time she kept joking about her dying. I was only 10 back then, and I could barely tell the difference between cancer and a bad cold. Nobody taught me it could take the only person I had in my life.But that
MatthiasIt wasn’t easy to deal with a fool, but it was harder to hear an idiotic conversation happen in front of you.I’ve tried, okay. I tried to keep my mouth shut and let those two bastards spit all the bullshit they could. It wasn’t that surprising to hear how they complimented Jessen while they might be behind his death and my old man’s. But there was a limit of stupid things for me to hear and look at, and the way that girl didn’t even say anything that made sense really agitated me. How long should I watch her stupidity?“Will you say anything, or should I call the security?”I stopped and turned my back, and her gaze already met mine as her head tilted up a bit. “Why does it seem like you’re angrier than me?” she asked once more. “It should’ve been me, right? I’m the one that pulled all of a sudden but someone that I don’t even know.”“So you prefer to sit there all stupid and sound?” I shot back at her. “Do you really like hearing all of that bullshit?”“I don’t like to be
AltheaThere was a time when I wished I could live in a big mansion, with some maids ready to serve whatever I want, a dress you would notice from miles away, and an expensive wine to accompany me in a luxury bathtub.In my imagination, I could get anything I couldn’t in real life. “If I were born rich, I hope I get an endless supply of wine.” That was what Granny said when I asked her how if we had the chance to become rich. Due to her health, she never had alcohol–at least not on my watch. But that’s what imagination was all about, right? To want things you couldn’t have, to be able to do things you never did. It all came true now, yet I wasn’t sure what to feel. The bathtub was nice, and the wine from my kitchen cabinet was indeed the nicest wine I’ve ever had in my entire life. To be honest, that was my first wine. All of these were nice, but I still felt restless. I hated to admit it, but the last conversation I had with that annoying man kept bothering me.Leonardo and Josh to
AltheaI had my notes about a few stores to visit, and a list of things I need to buy to support my looks tonight. I went out and told Deborah, the one that worked for me, to wait. I knew it would be good if I had an extra hand for help, but I might only embarrass myself today, so I preferred to have no one as a witness.“You can manage the house while I’m going out. I have Mr. Lorell with me, so it will be fine,” I said, mentioning my driver. That was another life upgrade of my new life.“Where are we going, Miss Lewis?” Mr. Lorell asked when I got into the car and sat awkwardly in the back.“I want to go to Fifth Avenue,” I answered back. “Is there any fashion outlet that …,” I scratched the back of my head, “maybe the one that my father often visited?”“Mr. Lewis had a private tailor, Miss,” he said. “But if you’re looking for a dress, I might know a place. It’s also on Fifth Avenue.”“Oh, that’s nice. Can you take me there, Mr. Lorell?”He smiled once again while turning his hea
AltheaThe amount of experience I’ve had with men was just as much as my experience with business. It was basically nonexistent. Sure, I went on a few dates with some guys, thanks to your nosy dorm mate who was also your best friend. But I didn’t necessarily date them. To have a date wasn’t really in my checklist, considering you need some cash to enjoy it. I skipped my high school promp and my graduation night too. Dancing? I was as good as a statue. So, if I had to describe this night, it must be a night for me to do everything I had never and couldn’t do. Business, socialize, dance. You named it. The only thing I was capable of was holding the hand of someone I didn’t expect to hold.Matthias Cox.Despite I was the one who agreed upon this, it still took me by surprise. As I walked out from his limousine, grabbed his hand so we could walk side by side to the party, I kept wondering if this really was a good idea.Back at Forema Reflections, as much as I hated to admit, he really
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
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