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
AltheaI woke up to warmth.For a moment, I forgot where I was. The weight of exhaustion from last night’s conversation still lingered, but there was something else—something unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. My mind stirred before my body did, registering the steady rise and fall of breath beside me.Matthias.Reality settled in slowly, like the first light of dawn creeping through heavy curtains. I was curled into his side, my head against his shoulder, and his arm—God, his arm was draped over my waist, possessive even in sleep. His scent lingered in the space between us, something clean and faintly masculine, a mix of crisp cologne and warmth that felt oddly familiar now. I wasn’t used to waking up next to someone, but for some reason, it didn’t feel unnatural.I knew I should move, but I didn’t. Instead, I allowed myself a few stolen seconds to take in the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the solid warmth of his body beside mine. It was grounding in a way I didn’t expect. Comfort
AltheaI arrived at my office to find Tristan already waiting inside. He was seated on the leather couch near the floor-to-ceiling window, his posture unusually tense. A sleek tablet rested on the table before him, but his fingers were curled around a coffee cup, gripping it like a lifeline. He looked up as I entered, his dark eyes scanning me as if searching for something.“Althea,” Tristan said, exhaling in what sounded like relief. “You made it.”I closed the door behind me, shrugging off my coat as I took in Tristan’s expression—tight, wary, edged with something I couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t the type to rattle easily, yet something in his stance told me this was different. His usual composure was strained, his shoulders coiled with tension, his fingers curled around the tablet resting on the table like he was bracing himself for a fight.“You said it was urgent,” I said slowly, my eyes narrowing. “What’s going on?”Tristan gestured for me to sit, his movements stiff, controlle
MatthiasI leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled beneath my chin, eyes fixed on the screen in front of me. The name stared back at me in bold, impersonal letters—JTB Business.A company that, on paper, was clean. Too clean. It might be good in some cases, but in this world I lived in, the cleaner the outside, the dirtier the inside was. It’s a common secret in business. And this cleanliness was something that would required a lot of work for me.Like … a lot.Ren stood beside me, arms crossed, watching as Cyan’s fingers moved swiftly across his keyboard, lines of code flashing across multiple monitors in the dimly lit room. I really wanted to turn the lamp on, because why the hell he should do this shit in the dark? Those movies that show hackers in the dark should remembered that hackers worked with their eyes too. But Cyan loved movies. “It will make my work cooler,” was his reason, which was questionable, but I just let him be.“They only appeared a year ago,” Ren muttered, ey
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.
Folded Page.Another plan has been successfully implemented.The man looked at the pile of papers on his desk, saw various contract signatures, letters of agreement, as well as some evidence of handover of asset transfers. It's just as usual sucess, nothing to be proud of. But this time, one contract caught his attention. The one who signed it made his smile grow bigger.Oh, Althea. Sweet Althea, he thought. She was definitely his favorite lamb. The one he wanted to keep at its best condition before it's used as the main course.A special main course, of course.The man then touched the edge of the contract with his fingertip, especially on the name listed. His chest was pounding with enthusiasm and anticipation, even though he already knew what was going to happen next.Oh, of course he did. He planned it. He planned everything.He would continue to take care of this name, to pay attention to it. No scratches, no wounds. At least, not yet. To keep it beautiful. To keep it the way he
AltheaThings were changing. A lot.Althea Lewis from the past didn’t like uncertain and quick changes. Well, that was me. It took time to get used to anything, so to had a drastic change all of a sudden was draining.I meant, it took me months to finally be able to get a grasp of my new world, this business thing. And I couldn’t even say that I’d masteredt it.God knew I was far from it.Yet somehow, I didn’t mind the change that happened between Matthias and I. I liked it even, if I could put it that way.It felt like he was an entire different person, yet remained the same. The same Matthias Cox, but better. He brought a kind of stillness that didn’t demand anything from me, which was something I didn’t expect from him. At least me from months ago wouldn’t.He was calm where I was tense. He knew what to do, precise, where I was scattered and needed a lot of guidance. I didn’t need to explain my silences to him—he simply understood them. Vice versa, I didn’t feel the urge to ask abo
MatthiasTristan Kennedy.One name that I didn't really care about before. One name that had lived quietly in the shadows all this time, like a ghost behind a curtain. Everyone knew who Charles Kennedy was. He wasthe filthy rich misogynist who had crazy ideas that almost tanked his own empire.Almost. Underlined that word. Because his company was also one of a kind, an evidence of miracle, some would said.Some said that Charles came to his senses before the fall, miraculously managing to steer the wheel before he succumbed to illness. Others said it was a blessing from God for bad people. The latter sounded like nonsense, if you asked me. That kind of poetic ending sounded dramatic, too clean. I never liked those versions of the story. If God was real, He didn’t run a business portfolio. And companies like K Company didn’t just bounce back from near-collapse on sheer luck.Someone had pulled the strings. And if they could do that, then they were either a genius, or a psycho. The line
MatthiasEven though people say the crime scene will be the strongest evidence, the reality is often not the case. There would be times where you found nothing but the wind, no trace of a scent.However, again, I didn't have many options.The police station was not helpful, the orphanage that Cyan visited—I didn't have time to go because of the many meetings and the money-crazy people who could only sue instead of thinking and working—didn't give much information, so my option was Staten Junior High.I had gone to Marcus before to ask about Reiley, but I went back to school to ask something else; to see things from a different perspective. Some things was worth it to be checked twice. At least, I hope this one did.I had never thought I would come here once again, and some of the teachers sure shared the same thought, but they welcomed me nevertheless.“Mr. Cox, come in,” said Mrs. Josephine, the new vice head principal. She smiled so brightly, probably because I just told her a few d
AltheaIt was weird remembering how before I felt like I can’t get used to this world, and a few months later I felt empty because I wasn’t sitting on my working desk.It was strange; how quickly the walls of my office started to feel like home again. The smell of brewed coffee lingering in the air, the faint hum of the overhead lights, the rustling sound of papers and keyboards and footsteps just outside the glass doors.It had only been a few weeks since I last stepped into this space, but it felt longer. Too long. I used to complain about deadlines and office noise, but now that I was here again… I missed it. All of it. Even the chaos.I walked into my office slowly, fingers grazing the edge of my desk like I was reacquainting myself with something lost. It was clean, perfectly arranged. Just the way I left it.“God, finally.”I turned around and found Rebecca, my assistant, standing at the doorway, arms crossed, a wide grin on her face. She looked the same, stylish as always, sharp
Althea“Is everything okay, Matt?”The question slipped out before I could stop myself. I tried to make it sound casual—nonchalant, even—but my voice betrayed me with just the faintest edge of concern.Matthias stood across the room, near the wide living room window, one hand loosely holding his phone while the other hung at his side. The morning light softened the angles of his face, casting a golden glow across the lines of his jaw, but it didn’t do much to hide the tension in his shoulders.He didn’t answer immediately. He just stared down at the screen like he was reading something important. Or pretending to.“Matt?” I called him once again.Finally, he exhaled and looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. Everything’s under control.”It was the kind of answer you gave to stop more questions. The kind meant to reassure without actually offering anything real. I set my coffee cup down on the table a little too loudly.“That’s not really what I asked,” I said, more pointedly this time.Matt
MatthiasI made sure Althea was asleep before I slipped out of the bed.She’d curled into my side like she always did lately, breathing deep, her fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric of my shirt even in sleep. Maybe I could’ve stayed. Maybe I wanted to. It had become a quiet habit—sharing the night, the bed, her warmth. I didn’t know when it started to feel natural, but it had. And I didn’t mind it.But not tonight.Tonight, there was something I needed to do. Something I’d been pushing off for too long.The doctor had said she needed rest, and I wanted her to have it—wanted her to be safe, even if it meant doing the darker parts of this alone. So I moved carefully, slipping from the bed and tugging the covers back over her shoulder before leaving the room and closing the door with a soft click.The apartment was dim, quiet. I padded through the living room barefoot, the only sound the low hum of the city outside the window. I adjusted the headphones, waiting for the familiar chi
AltheaThe more you deal with money, the more screwed it becomes.Lesson learned, but the class wasn’t over yet.If anything, it was just the start of a syllabus I never asked for.I woke up to the scent of something warm drifting from the kitchen—eggs, garlic, maybe a touch of rosemary. It was soft, comforting, something I hadn’t realized I missed until it filled the space around me. My feet padded across the floor, and I followed the smell like it was pulling me with invisible threads.And there he was.Matthias stood by the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, spatula in one hand, coffee mug in the other. A faint stream of morning light spilled in through the windows, casting a golden hue across his face. He looked… peaceful. Out of place, almost, in the soft domesticity of my kitchen.He glanced up when he noticed me. “Morning.”I blinked, definitely not expecting a greet for him. “Are you… cooking?”He turned back to the stove like it was no big deal. “What does it look like?”