Camille POV:The silence in our bedroom pressed against me like a physical weight. Nathan sat at his desk, hunched over a mountain of paperwork, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. The lamplight cast long, harsh shadows across his face, making him look years older than he was.My hand rested on my swollen belly, a wave of nausea washing over me. It wasn’t just morning sickness this time. It was a deeper unease, a growing knot of anxiety that tightened with every silent hour we spent under the same roof.Ever since the Xing Enterprises mess, since his grand gesture of "sacrifice" as the news had dubbed it, a chasm had opened between us. He was a ghost haunting our own home, his thoughts a million miles away, always circling back to Agatha.He doesn't love me. He never really did. The thought, sharp and painful, pricked at the fragile bubble of denial I'd been clinging to.He had chosen me, hadn't he? He’d asked me to marry him
Charles POV:The low hum of the jazz music, the clinking of ice in crystal glasses, the hushed murmur of conversation—it all faded into background noise as I watched Camille Dubois enter the dimly lit bar. She was late, and my impatience simmered, a low burn fueled by a potent mix of whiskey and ambition.Playing hard to get, is she? I thought, my lips curling into a cynical smile.Camille was a pawn in my game, a useful tool to eliminate Nathan. But her usefulness extended beyond her connection to my rival. She was pregnant with his child, a vulnerable woman desperate for love and security, the perfect target for my manipulations.She spotted me at the corner table, her gaze hesitant for a moment before she walked over, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly.“Mr. Campbell,” she said, her voice softer than I remembered, a hint of nervousness clinging to her words.“Mrs. Dubois,” I greeted, standing up, offering her a chair with a flourish. “Thank you for coming. I trus
Nathan POV:The slam of our room door echoed the thunder booming inside my chest. I spun around, facing Camille, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, my heart a frantic drum solo in my chest.“What the hell was that, Camille?” My voice, rough with anger and hurt, bounced off the bare walls of our entryway.She flinched, her hand instinctively going to her swollen belly, her eyes wide and panicked.“Nathan, I… I can explain.” Her voice was a shaky whisper, barely audible above the city noise filtering in through the open window.“Explain what?” I stepped closer, my anger a living thing, pulsing in my veins. “Explain why you were meeting with Charles Campbell? Alone? In a bar? At this hour?”The scene replayed in my mind, a cruel, unending loop - the dimly lit bar, the intimate corner table, their hands clasped, their heads bent close together, whispering secrets. And Camille, my Camille, looking at him with an expression I couldn’t decipher – a mix of fear, desperation, and…
Agatha POV:The city lights blurred into streaks of color as I sped through the empty streets, the engine of my car a roaring echo of the turmoil in my heart. My phone lay on the passenger seat, its screen illuminated with Charles’s name, his unanswered calls a steady, persistent rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my own pulse.I ignored them. All of them. Charles, his charm, his promises, his suffocating possessiveness… it all felt overwhelming, a gilded cage I desperately needed to escape.The encounter with Nathan at the gala, his raw vulnerability, the plea in his eyes, the echo of our shared past… it had shaken me, awakened a longing I’d tried so hard to bury. And Charles’s reaction, the barely veiled jealousy, the possessive grip on my arm, the simmering anger in his gaze… it had confirmed my growing suspicions.He was playing a dangerous game, a game of control and manipulation, and I was caught in the crosshairs.But something else had shifted, a subtle but profound c
Agatha POV:James’s words echoed in my head, a sinister lullaby that chased away any hope of sleep. “Nathan Richards is not the man you think he is… his past is full of secrets. Secrets that could destroy you.”Destroy me? What did that even mean? What secrets could be so terrible? The questions gnawed at me, twisting my stomach into knots.I’d tried to dismiss James’s words as the bitter ramblings of a scorned man, a desperate attempt to manipulate me, to drive a wedge between Nathan and me. But doubt, like a persistent weed, had taken root, its tendrils wrapping around my heart, choking the fragile hope I’d allowed myself to feel.I thought about calling Nathan, demanding answers, confronting him with James’s accusations. But what good would it do? He’d already proven himself to be a master of deception. His words, his promises… how could I believe anything he said?Work offered a temporary distraction. I buried myself in spreadsheets and presentations, trying to focus on the f
Charles POV:The news report practically screamed from my phone screen: “Camille Dubois Calls Off Engagement with Nathan Richards!” A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face. That foolish girl had done exactly what I’d planned, right on schedule.She never stood a chance.Camille was a pawn, a simple tool to remove Nathan from the equation. A few whispers, a carefully orchestrated meeting, and her fragile world imploded. It was a brutal game, yes, but one I played with precision and purpose. All is fair in love and war, especially when the prize was Agatha De Rossi.My fingers itched to call Agatha, to be her rock, her confidante in this moment of turmoil. I imagined her, shaken and vulnerable, needing my strength, my comfort. The thought sent a wave of warmth through me, a possessiveness that bordered on obsession.I dialed her number, my heart pounding with anticipation. But it went straight to voicemail. Again.“Agatha, pick up.” I willed her, my smile fading, a knot of fr
Agatha POV:The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the chirping of birds, a serene backdrop to the storm raging inside me. I stood on the grand steps of the De Rossi mansion, staring at the wrought-iron gates, my heart a lead weight in my chest.The doctor’s words echoed in my mind, a relentless, chilling mantra: “Critical condition.” Dad, my rock, my anchor, was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. A massive heart attack, they’d said.My world felt like it was crumbling around me. First Nathan, then Camille, and now this. It was too much, a relentless assault on everything I held dear.The loneliness was crushing, a suffocating wave that threatened to drown me. Bianca, my surrogate mother, my confidante, had left weeks ago, seeking solace away from the storm that seemed to follow me wherever I went.“I need to go home, Agatha,” she’d said, her eyes filled with longing for a simpler life, away from the burdens of my family’s wealth and drama. “My fami
Charles POV:The warmth of Agatha’s body pressed against mine, her trembling a tangible expression of her grief, ignited a confusing mix of emotions within me. Protective instincts surged, a fierce desire to shield her from pain, to offer solace and strength. But alongside that empathy, a darker current pulsed - a thrill of possessiveness, a sense of opportunity.She’s vulnerable. She needs me. And this time, I won’t let her push me away.I held her close, my hand stroking her hair, her scent – a delicate blend of lilies and jasmine – filling my senses.“It’s alright, Agatha,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble against her ear, the words both a comfort and a calculated reassurance. “I’m here now. I won’t let anything else happen to you.”She clung to me, her sobs muffled against my chest, her vulnerability a potent elixir, intoxicating and dangerous. I felt a surge of power, a heady sense of control. This was what I craved, what I’d been working towards – Agatha, broken and reliant,