MatthiasIgnoring things was always easier than facing them.That was something I had learned early on. Some doors were better left unopened. Some truths were better left buried. Because once you started digging, you never knew how deep the hole went—or if you'd ever claw your way back out.But sometimes, curiosity didn’t give you a choice. Sometimes, the past refused to stay where it belonged.It started as nothing.Another late night in my home office, sifting through financial records, cross-referencing documents, scanning for discrepancies. Routine. The kind of work that kept my family’s empire untouchable. I had done this a thousand times before—checking for irregularities, ensuring there were no cracks in the foundation of our business.Until I found one.It was small. Almost invisible. A name, tucked away in my father’s private archives, buried beneath layers of encrypted files. The security on it was old but still intact—meaning someone had locked it away deliberately.I bypas
AltheaIt had been a long time since I last stepped into this room. Granny’s home.There was nothing special about it. It wasn’t grandiose by any means—it was only a small space that was enough to live in, with a small kitchen, an old wall cabinet, two bedrooms, and one small bathroom.Small space, but a lot of stories happened here. At least for me. Before I went to uni and lived in the dorm, I lived here. I spent all my days watching Granny do whatever she wanted—watching TV, knitting, grunting about some nosy neighbor that bothered her morning walk, and so on.But now, the house felt different. Quieter. The warmth it once held was still there, but there was something else underneath it—something heavier, like the air carried unspoken words I had never noticed before.I wasn’t sure what I was looking for when I started going through her things. Maybe it was just an excuse to be here, to sit in the familiar scent of old wood and Granny’s faded perfume. But then I found the box.It wa
AltheaWhen you were sad or felt overwhelmed, a distraction would be nice.I was sad. I was crying. My head was full with the revelation of my father, Granny, and any other secrets that still needed to be searched. It was too much to handle at the same time.And Matthias knew it.He stood in front of me, his gaze steady, unwavering. I had never seen him like this before—silent, patient, waiting for me to tell him what to do. There was no judgment in his eyes, no expectation. Just quiet understanding."What do you need?" His voice was low, careful.I swallowed, my throat tight. I didn’t know what I needed. Comfort? Reassurance? An escape from the weight pressing down on my chest? Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it."Anything," I whispered, my voice shaking.For a moment, he just looked at me. Then, without another word, he moved closer. His fingers lifted to my chin, tilting my face upward, and before I could think—before I could second-guess the mess of emotions swirling inside me—his
AltheaAt some times in my childhood, I had imagined how I would be if I were a detective. From the TV, it seemed like a fun and interesting job—full of adventure, action, and mysteries. But that was fiction—it portrayed only the thrilling part of reality, while the truth was often far more sinister.By any means, I wasn’t a detective. Yet, as I began to dig into the files left behind by my father, Jessen-Keith Lewis, I felt like I had stepped into a labyrinth of secrets. It started innocently enough: a curious glance at old financial reports and company memos. But then, hidden in the darker corners of our archives, I found something that turned my world upside down.My father had once been locked in a bitter rivalry with a company called Beaucare. They had been fierce competitors in the pharmaceutical industry—innovative, aggressive, and, as I soon discovered, corrupt.I read through the documents that detailed how Beaucare’s meteoric rise had ended in utter collapse. It wasn’t due t
AltheaThe event for Art Palette Collaboration with K Artist Foundation was everything it was meant to be—artistic, fresh, bustling with excitement, filled with journalists and influencers eager to witness the launch of the new eyeshadow palette series.The collaboration between my publication and Tristan’s foundation had been months in the making, meant to showcase the work of underrepresented artists through a cosmetic line inspired by their paintings. It was beautiful, truly. I knew that. But as I stood amidst the flashing cameras and murmuring conversations, I felt detached, as if I were only a spectator in my own life.“You got it. I know how hard you’ve worked on this.” That’s what Matthias said. He accompanied me this morning, but since he had a schedule to Paris, he couldn’t come. It would be good if he were here. Or maybe not, I wasn’t really sure. I knew it wasn’t my place to wish for what he should and should not do.I should be happy. This was everything I had worked for.
AltheaThe world was an echo of distant voices and blurred movements when I opened my eyes. The brightness above me was sharp, unnatural, making me squint against the sterile white glow of fluorescent lights. The steady beeping of a machine filled the silence between my shallow breaths, and beneath the synthetic scent of antiseptic, I could faintly pick up Tristan’s cologne—woodsy and clean.A hospital.The word echoed in my mind, sluggish and detached, as I blinked against the sterile brightness. The fluorescent lights overhead were too sharp, too unforgiving, making the room feel like a void of white. The steady beeping of a monitor filled the silence, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to sync with the dull throbbing in my head. My body felt foreign, heavy, as if I were wading through water. Even lifting my hand took more effort than it should.The thin prick of an IV in my arm caught my attention, and I followed the clear tube upward to the saline bag hanging beside me. The slow drip mi
AltheaI shifted in the hospital bed, the crisp sheets cool against my skin as I struggled against the restless frustration rising inside me. The walls felt too white, the air too sterile, thick with the scent of antiseptic that did nothing to mask the underlying discomfort clawing at my chest. A dull ache lingered in my limbs, a reminder of my body’s betrayal the night before, but I refused to let it pin me here any longer.Across the room, Tristan stood with his arms crossed, his posture deceptively relaxed, though I knew better. His eyes, sharp with observation, tracked my every move. He had been here since last night, a quiet, unwavering presence at my side, ensuring the media didn’t turn my collapse into a headline. He had kept everything under control—shielding me, protecting me. And yet, despite my gratitude, I hated this.I hated the feeling of being fragile.“I want to leave,” I murmured, my voice breaking the silence.Tristan’s brow furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin li
MatthiasI didn’t let go of her hand.Not as we walked to the car, not as she slid into the passenger seat, not even as I shut the door behind her. Her fingers were cold, her grip light but present, as if she wasn’t sure whether she was holding on or letting go. I didn’t give her the choice.She was too pale. Too quiet.I didn’t like it.I rounded the car and got in, the soft click of the door cutting off the noise of the city. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us felt thick with things left unsaid, things I wasn’t ready to address. Not yet.I reached over, adjusting the seat belt across her lap, making sure it wasn’t pressing too tightly against her. She let me, her eyes following my movements, though she didn’t say anything. And neither did I, even when I wanted to.I wanted to ask her what exactly had happened while I was gone. There had been no media coverage of her situation, and I probably wouldn’t have even known she was in the hospital if Rebecca hadn’t called
MatthiasThe first thing I noticed when I walked into K Company headquarters was how quiet it was.Not the kind of silence that brought peace, but the kind that made your skin itch because it was way too clean, too tidy, too neat. The kind of silence that made you feel like a camera was always watching. The hallways were spotless. The receptionist didn't smile. Even the elevator music was muted, clinical. Every surface gleamed. It was all... too perfect.I hated it.The elevator stopped at the thirty-second floor. I stepped out and was immediately greeted by a young woman in a navy blue pantsuit. She moved like she'd been trained by the Secret Service-efficient, silent, expression unreadable, and smiled enough to tell everyone she met that she was doing her job.It was oddly perfect, and I couldn't help but feel disturbed."Mr. Kennedy will be with you shortly," she said. No eye contact."Of course," I replied nonchalantly, nodding.She led me to a small lounge just outside his office
MatthiasSomething was definitely off. I couldn’t explain it, couldn’t point to a single detail to prove it—but the feeling was there, crawling under my skin. Fucking hell.Forget the plan. Forget the whole strategy of slowly trying to find a way to collaborate with K Company, Tristan’s company. I hadn’t even prepared a proper approach, hadn’t even opened a conversation with anyone from their team. And yet—somehow, the offer came first. From the very people I was planning to approach.Too fast. Too convenient. Was this what people called a miracle? I doubted that.Maybe I wanted to believe it. Maybe, in some twisted corner of my mind, I wanted this to be easy. A lucky break. But luck? It had never been that kind to me. Things like this didn’t just happen—not without a reason.Ren was standing by my desk, scanning the screen of his tablet before his eyes met mine. “It says they need top-tier network protection,” he said flatly. “Apparently, some sensitive data was anonymously access
[94]Althea“You want to work together with Tristan?”Matthias just casually nodded, while I was looking at him with questions—a lot of questions, to be exact.The setting sun painted warm streaks across our living room wall, casting a soft glow around him. But there was nothing soft in the way I stared at him.“Why so suddenly?” I asked again, my voice rising just a little. “Is this your way of digging deeper into Tristan and his company?”Matthias nodded once more. “The closer I get to that man, the better. Everything I’ve found so far hasn’t helped much.”His tone was flat—calm, even. But even I could tell there was something simmering beneath it. Something he wasn’t saying.I didn’t want to push it further, despite my curiosity was itching inside me. It wasn’t the matter of I wanted to know or not, it was him. Something was different from him since he got back from Milan.We were fine, don’t get me wrong. It’s just … you knew the feel when the usual coffee you enjoy tasted a bit d
MatthiasPersonal matters shouldn’t be brought into the workplace. That used to be my rule of thumb.Before everything started to blur. Before the probability of what my old man did started threatening everything I’d built.Tristan’s words kept ringing in my mind like a riddle I didn’t expect. To be fair, I didn’t expect to talk to him or have anything to do with him after all.“I like business, Mr. Cox. But I also like to take what’s originally mine.” And the way he said it—casual yet remarking something hidden underneath, offhanded but with eyes that gleamed like he already knew what cards he held.It wasn’t just about business. Not anymore.I wasn’t a man who gave in to paranoia. But this felt different. A threat, and also a warning. But what for? He was a stranger, or someone I didn’t like to talk about with Althea.That night in Milan, I stayed up later than I should’ve, watching the city lights from the balcony of my hotel suite. I let the sounds of the city drift past me like
Osman Cox didn’t really believe in love.It had always been like that for a long time. Maybe forever, he thought.But that was before he met Janice Chase.She was a different woman. A different kind. Maybe it was because of the way she smiled, or how she didn’t really look at him as one of the Coxes. For her, he was Osman. Just Osman.And that was one of many reasons why he fell for her.They met when they were sixteen. She was the girl who always spoke her mind, the one who cut her own bangs and wore sneakers with holes in them because she refused to throw them out. Janice was … different in her own way. She didn’t care about money, status, or even legacies. She cared about poetry and justice, or weird movies from the seventies. She used to write quotes in the margins of her notebooks and once told him, “Love isn’t a big show, Osman. It’s in the little things. It’s in remembering how someone takes their tea.”He hadn’t known how to respond to that. But he remembered how she took hers
AltheaPeople always say first impressions are important, because that’s the foundation for how others judge you. Granny said it was pretentious—which was true—but what people said actually made sense. Because it was true—your first impression was the base of everyone’s judgment. Some people are smart enough to create a good first impression, making us believe the best in them. Tristan Kennedy was one of those people.The impression he gave was good—almost perfect, even. He made me believe he was trustworthy from just one meeting. He was the first person who told me about my mother, when no one else could tell me anything.I trusted him. So trying to see him from a different angle now was… a little weird, to say the least.It was also a little ironic that I once trusted him more than I trusted Matthias.And yet, here I was, sitting through a meeting at K Company, trying to pay attention, but also watching Tristan. Trying to figure out if there was anything questionable or strange
AltheaI rarely missed people in my life.Granny was one special case, since I didn't have that many people in my life to begin with. But this time, I couldn't explain what I felt except that I missed Matthias when he appeared on my computer screen.He looked tired, but still handsome as ever—his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, the first two buttons undone. His hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times, and there was a shadow under his eyes that hadn’t been there before he left.“Hey,” I greeted softly, adjusting the webcam. “Hey,” he replied. His voice alone made my shoulders drop a little, as if it was a bit of fresh air and I could finally breathe again. “You look... relaxed. That’s good.”I smiled and leaned back just slightly, enough for him to catch the see-through slip I was wearing, the soft, sheer fabric falling off one shoulder. His eyes darkened immediately. “You’re trying to kill me,” he said.“Just trying to keep your focus on m
Business was a gamble.Like it or not, that was the fact. High risk, high return. It’s just that this gamble required more planning than just luck, and some who were invited today were all gamblers in business. Including me myself.By the time I reached the conference hall the next day, the sun had barely begun to shine and warm the cobbled streets of Milan. My name was on the program, printed in glossy ink beside the Cox & Tech logo with other invited speakers as well, and the organizers were eager to parade it. “The rising star of innovation,” one of them had said last night over dinner, like I was a brand instead of a person.I didn’t particularly care for the spotlight. But I had learned how to use it.The event was held in a grand, glass-and-stone building that overlooked one of the quieter canals. A few journalists lingered near the entrance, but not many. Most of the press would come later, for the big-name speakers. Right now, it was all murmurs and espresso, greetings between
Matthias“And … yep. You’re ready to go.”Althea nodded slowly after adjusting my tie, her lips curling into a soft smile. “You look good with that tie.”I never really cared about ties, honestly. As long as I looked neat and presentable, that was enough. But I wasn’t about to complain if someone else took notice and made me look even more “put together.” And that person was Althea.“You’re really okay on your own?” I asked her once again.She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know you like to ask one question a thousand times, Matt. I am okay. The baby too. We’ll be fine. Just … you know, tell me if anything happens over there, okay?”That was supposed to be my line.I was actually reluctant to attend this business conference. But Cox and Tech—my company—needed to be present, especially since I was one of the speakers this time. The Milan conference was a major event, one with strong potential to expand business opportunities through collaborations, investments, and various other deals.