Elizabeth's point of view: I couldn’t imagine living under the same roof as this man. Why in God’s name was he even suggesting it? "That’s final!" I hated those words. I hated how he gave me no choice, how he acted as though his word was law. My glare burned into him as he returned to his computer, completely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just demanded the most ridiculous thing ever. "If you keep staring like that, your eyes might fall out," he chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Look at it this way," Richard continued, his tone light, almost persuasive. "I’m saving you the time and stress of taking the train all the way here every day. I’d drive you to work and back, so you wouldn’t have to stay out late, and you’d save money." I narrowed my eyes. Was he… negotiating with me? Trying to make this sound like a reasonable, even beneficial arrangement? He wasn’t wrong. It would be more convenient. But none of that mattered—I didn’t want to live with him. Who knew what insane d
Elizabeth's point of view: At first, I thought I could handle it—that I could calm Jake down and de-escalate the situation. But the moment I realized he was drunk, fear gripped me. "Get off me!" I shouted, struggling to push him away as he was now trying to force a kiss on me. "Please, stop!" My heart pounded. He was stronger than I expected, his grip like iron. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, feel his weight pressing me against the door. I frantically looked around, hoping someone would see us—hoping someone would help. But my apartment was at the far end of the block, and at this hour, the street was deserted. "Stop being difficult, Elizabeth," Jake slurred, his voice thick with liquor. "I'm not! I don’t want this!" I cried, shoving at his chest. "Just one kiss," he insisted, using his other hands to hold my face, and using his fingers to dig into my jaw, as he tilted my face toward him. I twisted and fought, but he was too strong. My body tensed, my mind ra
Richard's point of view: "She is insufferable!" I muttered, stepping into my office and switching on my computer. I had an app to design, deadlines to meet, and yet, somehow, Elizabeth had taken over every damn thought in my head. I opened my laptop, determined to work, but my mind refused to cooperate. 'What kind of person is she?" I leaned back in my chair, recalling her tantrums, her stubbornness, her ridiculous innocence. She wasn’t like anyone I had ever met—not even Laura. And that was the problem. I snapped my laptop shut and grabbed my phone, and dialed Maxwell. The second he picked up, I got straight to the point "I'm firing that guy." There was a pause before his groggy voice came through. "What guy?" I frowned, glancing at the time. Just past eleven. "Are you seriously sleeping at this hour?" Maxwell was a club guy. He didn't sleep this early. "Yes, and now I'm awake," he grumbled. "Who are you talking about?" "The nutritionist—the one you vouched for. He’s
Elizabeth's point view: Why is Richard’s house so weird? I thought as I walked into the room. It looked less like a bedroom and more like a luxury hotel suite—no, an apartment. And not just any apartment, but one that put my entire place to shame. The sheer size of it was overwhelming. There was a small living room area with couch set and a mini fridge, separated from the bedroom by a wide doorway. The bed itself was massive, a king-sized piece floating on a pure white frame. The whole room was white—walls, floors, everything—like it had been designed for someone who feared a single speck of color. A flat-screen TV hung on the wall in both the living room and the bedroom. At the far left was a walk-in closet, and at the opposite corner, a bathroom. Next to the bathroom door were four different switches, their purpose unknown. Curious, I flipped one, and the entire bathroom wall disappeared, turning the space see-through from the bedroom. I quickly flicked it off, my face heati
Elizabeth’s Point of View I found myself smiling at their little banter while eating my meal. 'Maybe this might not be so bad after all,' I thought, for the first time feeling a hint of comfort in Richard’s house. Margaret had somehow managed to make the place feel homely. “I’m done. I need to get ready for work,” Richard announced after rushing through his meal. I watched as he rose to his feet, placed his plate in the dishwasher, and walked toward the door. But just before stepping out, he paused, turning back to me. “I hope you don’t think you’re going anywhere today,” he said, his tone firm. “I’m going to work,” I countered without hesitation. “You’re not. I already spoke to your office—you’ve been given the day off,” he stated firmly. I shook my head. “I don’t need it. I’m fine to go to work.” I was finally gaining real experience at the office, and with only two months left, I wanted to make the most of it. “You’re not going. That’s final.” His voice left no room f
I noticed Margaret’s expression shift instantly. Her once-warm demeanor hardened into something unreadable as she narrowed her eyes. "I don’t know," she said, her words clipped, almost defensive. "Neither does Richard. No one knows what happened to her." Her gaze locked onto mine, searching, as if trying to decipher my intentions. "I hope you’re not asking because you believe the rumors—that Richard had anything to do with her disappearance," she added, her tone sharp, her words almost like a warning. I shook my head immediately. "No… I was just wondering what happened to her," I stammered. Margaret studied me for a second longer before her face gradually softened. "Well, like I said, no one knows. She just woke up one day and disappeared," she said, turning back toward the television. And just like that, she shut the conversation down. "Ooh! My show is starting!" She cranked up the volume—so loud that any attempt to continue our discussion would have been pointless.
Elizabeth's point of view: Inside the room was a nursery—an old, abandoned nursery with two baby cradles in the middle. The room was covered in dust, cobwebs stretched from corner to corner, making it clear no one had stepped foot in here for years. I took a step inside, and the moment I did, a sharp crack echoed through the air. I looked down to find shattered glass scattered across the floor, pieces of picture frames mixed with ripped-up notes, torn apart as if someone had wanted to erase them completely. If it wasn’t so old and dusty, the nursery would have been the most beautiful thing ever. It had promise once. Now, broken toys littered the floor—ripped bears missing their button eyes, cracked dolls with their stuffing spilling out, and pink star mobiles still hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly. But this place wasn’t just abandoned. It was ruined. Someone had deliberately trashed it. I found myself walking further, my curiosity pulling me in as I took everything in
Elizabeth's point of view: "Richard!"My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I thought he was at work. "Answer me, damn it!" he roared, eyes blazing with anger. He lifted his foot as if to step inside but stopped midair, hesitating like something invisible was holding him back. "I... I got lost trying to find my room," I stammered. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "Get out," he ordered, his voice low at first. But before I could gather myself to move, his voice rose sharply. "I said get out, Elizabeth!" I flinched, scrambling past him into the hallway. "Don't ever come in here again," Richard muttered as I rushed by. I barely had time to catch my breath before realizing—I was lost again. My room could have been anywhere. Richard must have noticed because he pointed to a door at the corner of the hallway. "There," he said, his voice quieter now, almost drained. I nodded quickly and hurried toward it. But just as I reached my door, I glanced bac
Elizabeth's Point of View: A week had passed, yet I hadn’t heard a word about the accusations against me—not even from the usual gossipmongers in the office. The silence was unsettling, but I liked it. I had considered using Mr. William’s absence as an opportunity to leave the office for good, but it turned out to be impossible. The place was in complete chaos. Mr. William had been an underestimated glue holding everything together. With him gone, the director of accounting was made acting CEO, and the man was a menace. In no time, he managed to frustrate everyone. Many employees were already considering resignation. He canceled lunch breaks, made the company restaurant start charging us for meals, and, to make things worse, refused to acknowledge my leave request, claiming I had to reapply under the new administration. What a jerk. "You know we can sue him, right?" James whispered, his eyes darting toward the security cameras as he spoke. "Sue the whole company and get a set
Elizabeth’s Point of view;"What?!" My heart pounded. All this—just because of what I said? Sylvia was truly ruthless. "Don't worry about it," Richard assured me. "I’ll handle it. We just need the CCTV footage from my father’s office and anything else before they tamper with it." I furrowed my brows. Was it really this serious? Was this what Sylvia meant when she said I’d regret it? Nodding, I followed Richard down a hallway I hadn't even known existed until we reached the security room. Inside, multiple screens displayed live footage from every part of the building—including the C.E.O’s office. "Martin, I want to see the footage from thirty minutes before my father’s incident," Richard instructed the security guard stationed at the monitors. The guard nodded, swiftly pulling up the recording. The screen flickered, showing the moment Sabrina and I entered William’s office. "No audio?" Richard asked. Martin shook his head. "Video only, sir." Richard nodded, his eyes glu
Elizabeth's point of view; "What!" We exclaimed getting to our feet and rushing to the hallway where the commotion was going on. There people gathered, whispering among themselves. I was still trying to process what was happening when I heard my name. "Elizabeth," Sabrina’s voice was hushed as she walked up to me. I swallowed hard. "Ma'am?" "You were the last person to see Mr. William in his office," she said, her voice low but firm. "What happened?" My heart pounded in my chest. "I—I don’t know," I stammered, shaking my head. "I just heard that he collapsed. Is he okay?" And Sabrina sighed running a hand through her hair, "no one knows yet" she said looking through the window where and ambulance and police van stood. Her words were followed by a eerie silence which was interrupted by the sharp ding of the elevatorAll eyes turned as the doors slid open. Beatrice stepped out, her gaze locking onto me."You!" she yelled. "You were the last person to see Mr. William al
Elizabeth’s Point of View A week had passed. Everything was quiet—strangely so. Richard had kept his word, and I was free. But I missed him. I shouldn’t, but I did. My life was finally falling back into place. Jessica was returning soon, preparing for her finals, and I had money—more than I’d ever had before. Aside from the twelve thousand Richard had paid me weekly for the past month, he had deposited a hundred thousand dollars into my account after the contract ended. I didn’t even notice until I was halfway back to Kingston. Ideally, I would have called him to ask about it. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I refused to give myself any excuse to reopen that door. Aside from the dull ache in my chest and the way my mind annoyingly refused to stop thinking about him, I was fine. Completely fine. Now, I was counting down my remaining days at S. Tech, ready to finally start my own business. Elizabeth’s Point of View "Elizabeth," Sabrina’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. I blink
Elizabeth’s Point of View "Good morning." Richard’s voice cut through, as I forced my eyes open. My whole body ached, my head pounded, and the moment I was fully awake, last night came crashing down on me. My fingers clenched the blanket, and I quickly pulled it over myself, as if that would somehow shield me from reality. "Did you sleep well?" Richard asked, sounding unusually… chirpy? Did I sleep well? I asked myself the same question. How could I, after what he had said? After he had whispered her name. My chest tightened, my heart sinking lower into the pit of my stomach. "I made you breakfast." Richard smiled as he placed a tray on the bed table, looking way too pleased with himself. I stared at the meal, my stomach twisting. Breakfast in bed—he had told me about having breakfast in bed with her. He really just wanted me to be her. I clenched the blanket tighter, my eyes shifting from the tray to him. "I’m not hungry," I muttered, struggling to keep my voice steady.
Richard’s point of view; I felt like a complete jerk. Everything I had been doing—every touch, every word—was to get Elizabeth in my bed. But I didn’t want her to give me a performance like she did with other men; I wanted her to fully give in to want it, to want me. And then I found out she was a virgin. A fucking virgin. I felt like a monster. How had I been playing with someone who was truly innocent? What did that make me? No better than Laura. I stopped immediately. I couldn’t even explain to her that it had all been a game, that it was all a play. she looked upset—hurt, even. If I didn’t know her to be so damn stubborn, I would’ve thought she was in love with me. No more games, Richard. That’s what I told myself on the ride back. But what if it wasn’t a game anymore? What if this was something real? She was amazing. Innocent. Everything I had once wanted Laura to be. I stood at her door, apologizing, realizing too late that I had embarrassed her. She probably didn’
Elizabeth’s Point of View "I'm sorry," Richard said, his gaze dropping briefly to the ground before meeting mine again. "For what?" I asked, my voice steady. "You didn’t do anything wrong" I dismissed.Richard exhaled deeply. "I had no idea you were really a virgin. I would never have wanted your first time to be in an old cottage, on the bare floor," he said, his tone heavy with regret. I let out a low sigh. Was that really it? "You could’ve at least said so," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "I know. I was just… shocked," Richard admitted. "Everything I thought about you was wrong." I rolled my eyes again. "Right. And now you’re sorry." "I am," he added, and something about the way he said it unsettled me. It felt like he wasn’t just apologizing for this—but for something else entirely. "It’s fine," I said quickly, eager to end this conversation. "I had a great time today. Goodnight." But Richard didn’t move. He stood there, watching me, hesitation written all over hi
Elizabeth's point of view:Richard pulled me closer, His lips claiming mine, like a predator who had finally found its prey, demanding, possessive and hungry. I gasped, my hands instinctively wrapping around his neck as I let him in, kissing him back. His tongue claimed my mouth.And another gasp escaped me as his hands moved down my back, tracing my body like Braille before pulling me closer. I slammed against his chest, holding him tighter, my body trembling with anticipation. Without breaking contact, he gently lowered me to the wooden floor. The moment my back touched the ground, another surge of desire coursed through me. “Richard!” I moaned, eyes fluttering shut as his hands slid toward my thighs, gently tugging at the hem of my dress. I arched my waist, making it easier for him, and before I knew it, my coat and dress were gone, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. He paused, his gaze raking over me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. “You’re perfect,” he whisp
Elizabeth's point of view: I opened my eyes to find that Richard was already off his horse, his hands stretched out to help me down as if the moment we’d almost had never happened. This was the second time he had passed on the chance to be closer, and it was getting to me. Heat rushed to my cheeks. I adjusted my hair, pretending it wasn’t awkward as I let him guide me to the ground. "Next time, try not to nearly kill yourself in the process." I rolled my eyes. "I had it under control." Richard chuckled. "You sure did," he teased, his gaze lingering on me before shifting toward the orchard. My eyes followed his, taking in the beauty before me—endless rows of apple trees, their branches heavy with ripe, red fruit. A wooden ladder stood beside one of the larger trees, inviting. "As the winner, you get the honor of picking the apples for the day," Richard announced, guiding me toward the tree. I reached up, carefully plucking the reddest apples I could find and placing them