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
Agatha POV:The silk sheets clung to my bare skin, still warm from the heat of our bodies, the scent of Charles’s cologne a lingering reminder of the night we’d just spent… entangled. My heart thumped against my ribs, a frantic drum solo against the silence of his bedroom.My mind replayed the events of the previous night, a confusing mix of shock, anger, fear, and a desire I hadn't expected.It all started after Charles had punched Nathan, his fury terrifying, his possessiveness almost suffocating. Seeing Nathan’s face, bruised and bloodied, had twisted something inside me, a mix of anger at Nathan, fear of Charles, and a desperate yearning for… something I couldn't name.And then, Charles, his anger fading as quickly as it appeared, had turned to me, his eyes filled with a tenderness that felt both genuine and calculated.“Let me take care of you, Agatha,” he’d murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down my spine.He'd led me upstairs, his hand a gentle pressure on my
Charles POV:“It’s been a whole day, Jasmine! Not a single call, not a text. Nothing!” I paced my office like a caged lion, my phone clutched in my hand. “Something’s definitely off.”Jasmine sighed on the other end of the line, that long-suffering sound I’d gotten used to over the years. It always made me smile, even when I was irritated.“Charles, you’re acting like a lovesick teenager,” she said, her voice a mix of amusement and exasperation.“It’s been one day. One very stressful day, I might add. Her dad is in the hospital! She probably has other things on her mind besides your… performance.”“But we were… intimate.” I lowered my voice, a smug grin spreading across my face even though I knew she couldn't see it. “Last night. After… you know, the whole Richards mess.”“You slept with her?” Jasmine’s voice was sharp, like she’d just tasted something sour. “Charles, are you serious? The woman’s father is practically dying, and you thought that was the right time to jump her bon
Agatha POV:The hospital air felt heavy, thick with the smell of antiseptic and a quiet kind of panic. Every beep of a machine, every muffled cry from somewhere down the hall, every hurried whisper from the nurses, made the fear inside me grow stronger.Dad was still unconscious. The only sign he was alive was the steady rhythm of the ventilator. His face, usually so full of life, looked pale and weak. The worry lines were etched deep into his skin.I had been praying that he’d wake up. I clung to the hope that his strong will, his fighting spirit, would pull him through. But the doctor’s words, even though he tried to be gentle, kept echoing in my mind: "Critical condition." It was a constant reminder that Dad was hanging on by a thread.I was exhausted. My eyelids feel heavy, my head dizzy. I needed coffee, something to keep me going, to keep the darkness away.As I walked down the long hallway towards the cafeteria, I saw him. Charles.He was arguing with the receptionist, hi
Charles POV:I watched Agatha across the hospital cafeteria, my chest tightening at the sight of her slumped figure, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. It should have been a moment of victory, a confirmation that my plan to break Nathan and Agatha was working. But a strange ache pulsed in my chest, a feeling that had nothing to do with winning and everything to do with… her pain.Damn it, Agatha. Why do you have to make this so complicated?I knew what had happened. Overheard Nathan’s assistant gushing on the phone about the birth of his child.“The Richards family is officially cursed!” she'd whispered, barely able to contain her glee. “The poor thing was born with some… problems. It’s really sad, but the grandparents are already talking about disowning her. You know how they are about the Richards’ bloodline.”She'd cleared her throat then, her voice back to its usual professional tone, completely oblivious to my presence.It was a cruel twist of fate, a tragedy for a child
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?”