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,
Agatha POV:The mansion felt like a tomb, shadows lurking in every corner. The only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock, each tick a sharp stab at my already raw nerves.Dad was still in a coma, fighting for his life. The doctors didn't offer much hope, their faces grim, their words carefully chosen. NexGen, my family's company, was vulnerable, like a wounded animal surrounded by predators waiting to pounce.I couldn't even think about losing Dad. The thought was too painful, a black hole threatening to swallow me whole.James’s words echoed in my head, a creepy lullaby: “Nathan’s past is full of secrets… secrets that could destroy you.”Destroy me? How? Why? What was he talking about?The questions gnawed at me, adding to the fear and uncertainty that already felt like a physical weight.Charles had been my rock these past weeks. He was always there, a steady presence in the chaos, offering comfort and support. His calmness, his belief in me, had felt like a lifeline.But
Agatha POV:The silence after Charles left was thick, heavy with unspoken words and the ghosts of our shared past. Nathan stood frozen in the doorway, his gaze fixed on me, a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes – pain, anger, longing, and a desperate plea for… something I couldn’t decipher.My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the suffocating silence of the mansion. Charles’s words, his warnings about Nathan, echoed in my mind, a venomous chorus that twisted around my heart, poisoning the fragile hope I’d allowed myself to feel.“What are you doing here, Nathan?” I asked, my voice a shaky whisper, a shield against the emotions threatening to overwhelm me.He took a step closer, his gaze intense, his jaw clenched tight. He looked… different. Older, more worn down, the weight of the world etched into the lines around his eyes.“I heard about your father,” he said, his voice rough, the words strained, as if forced from his lips. “I came to… to see how he was
Charles POV:“Agatha,”I murmured, my voice a soft caress, my hand gently cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing away a stray tear that glistened on her lashes.“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”Her eyes, usually so bright and full of fire, were shadowed, clouded with a worry that twisted my gut. She was pale, her shoulders slumped, her whole body radiating a weariness that went beyond mere exhaustion.“Detectives,” she whispered, the word barely audible, a shudder running through her.“They were here, Charles. Asking questions. About Nathan.”My jaw clenched. Richards. Even
Agatha POV:“Ms. De Rossi?”That deeper voice again, Detective Miller, like gravel rolling downhill. It cut through the office air, making Camille flinch beside me. I forced a smile, plastered and fake, and turned to face them.“Detectives,” I said, cool as I could manage, nodding towards the plush chairs. “Please, come in. Have a seat.”They didn’t move, just stood there, blocking the doorway, Detective Davies’s eyes flicking around my office like he expected Nathan to jump out of the potted plant.“We’re fine standing, Ms. De Rossi,” Miller said, his voice polite but firm. “Just a few questions, if you don’t mind.”Mind? My heart was doing a tango in my chest, but I kept my face smooth. “Of course. Anything to help find Nathan.” Lie. The word tasted like ash in my mouth, but it was necessary.“We understand you saw Mr. Richards rece
Agatha POV:The spreadsheets blurred on my computer screen. Numbers swam before my eyes, and the carefully crafted charts seemed to mock my inability to focus.My office, usually a sanctuary of calm efficiency, felt like a pressure cooker today, the weight of NexGen, the weight of Dad’s health, the weight of everything, pressing down on me.I sighed, pushing back from my desk, the leather chair creaking in protest. Coffee. I needed coffee.Or maybe something stronger.But it was barely past noon, and even as CEO, showing up to a board meeting tipsy wasn’t exactly a power move.Just as I stood up, intending to make a run for the office kitchen, Sarah buzzed
Nathan POV:Another shot of whiskey, neat.The bartender, a burly man with eyes that had seen too much and judged nothing, slid the glass across the polished mahogany bar, his movements practiced, efficient, devoid of any warmth or sympathy.Good. Sympathy was the last thing I needed. Pity was poison.All I needed was the burn of the whiskey, the numbing oblivion it offered, a temporary escape from the relentless torment of my thoughts, the gnawing emptiness that had become my constant companion.Days had bled into weeks since I’d sent the letter to Agatha, a desperate, pathetic plea for forgiveness, for another chance, for a lifeline in the drowning sea of my despair.
Agatha POV:“Agatha, board meeting in five. They’re getting restless.”Sarah’s voice, sharp and efficient, buzzed through the intercom, dragging me back from the swirling vortex of my thoughts.“Thanks, Sarah. I’m on my way.” I replied, sighing and pushing back from my desk. Restless was an understatement.The NexGen board was more like a pack of hungry wolves these days, and I was starting to feel like the main course.But as I gathered my notes, my gaze drifted to the corner of my desk, to the cream-colored envelope leaning against my pen holder.Nathan’s handwriting.My stomach clenched. I hadn't touched it since it arrived yesterday, hadn't dared to open it, hadn't even wanted to admit it existed.But its presence was a heavy weight, a silent accusation that pulled at me no matter how hard I tried to ignore it.Board meeting be damned. I needed to know
Agatha POV:“Agatha, come in, come in! Don’t just stand there like a sentinel, you’re letting all the heat out.”Dad’s voice, though still raspy from weeks of disuse, boomed from the depths of his study, a welcome sound that chased away the lingering chill in my heart.I smiled, shaking my head at his theatrics, and stepped inside, the familiar scent of old books, leather, and his ever-present cigars enveloping me in a comforting embrace.He was sitting in his favorite armchair by the fireplace, a worn leather-bound volume in his lap, his reading glasses perched precariously on his nose.Color had returned to his cheeks, his eyes sparkled with their usual intelligence, and the oxygen tank that had been his constant companion for weeks was now tucked discreetly behind the chair.He looked… like himself again. My father. My rock.“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, a playful glint
Charles POV:“Agatha,”I murmured, my voice soft, drawing out the syllables, letting her name linger in the air between us. “You’re quiet.”She was standing by the window, the city lights reflecting in her dark hair, her silhouette a delicate outline against the dawn sky. Beautiful. Untouchable. Mine.I watched her, a possessive warmth blooming in my chest, chasing away the lingering unease of our earlier conversation.Last night had been… a breakthrough. A turning point. She was mine now, in a way she hadn't been before.“Just thinking,” she replied, her voice a soft whisper, barely audible above the gentle hum of the city waking up.
Agatha POV“Charles, what did you say to Nathan?”The question hung in the air of his penthouse, sharp and direct, a stark contrast to the soft jazz music drifting from hidden speakers, the plush velvet couches, the breathtaking city view framed by the massive windows.I watched him carefully, searching for any flicker of deception in his usually open, confident gaze.He turned from the window, a half-empty glass of amber liquid swirling in his hand, his brow furrowed in what looked like genuine confusion.“Nathan? What are you talking about, Agatha?”“Don’t play games, Charles,” I said, my voice steady, my gaze unwavering. “He
Agatha POV:“Don’t bother calling me again, Agatha.”Nathan’s voice, sharp and cold, sliced through the phone, making me flinch.“What? Nathan, what are you talking about?” I asked, my voice a mix of confusion and a sudden, sharp stab of anxiety. What had happened now?“I said don’t call me,” he repeated, his tone flat, final. “I won’t help you. I won’t help NexGen. Do whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.”“Nathan, wait!” I pleaded, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Dad is still in the hospital, NexGen is in trouble, and you’re just… giving up? Now?”