Agatha POV:My head throbbed, a dull, insistent ache that pulsed in time with the rhythmic beeping of a machine I couldn't quite place. I blinked, my eyes fluttering open, the harsh fluorescent lights of… a hospital room? … stinging my vision. Disoriented, I tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness washing over me, forcing me back against the starched white pillows.“Whoa, easy there.” A gentle hand pressed against my shoulder. “Just take it easy, Ms. De Rossi. You’re safe now.”A doctor, a young woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, stood beside my bed, a stethoscope dangling from her neck.“What… what happened?” I asked, my voice a raspy whisper, my throat dry and scratchy. “Where… where am I?”“You’re in the hospital, Ms. De Rossi,” she explained patiently. “You fainted in the cafeteria. Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. Just exhaustion and… well, it seems you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself lately.”Fainted? The cafeteria… Nathan. Camille's baby…The memories of
Charles POV:The taste of Agatha’s lips, a bittersweet mix of tears and uncertainty, lingered, a phantom sensation against my own. The air in the hospital room crackled with tension, thick and heavy with unspoken words, unresolved emotions.Nathan’s presence, a ghost I thought I’d banished, hung over us, a shadow tainting the intimacy I craved. His eyes, those that mirrored my own hunger for Agatha, were a constant, irritating reminder of the past, of the bond they shared—a bond I was determined to sever, once and for all.I forced a smile, my hand lingering on Agatha's cheek, a possessive gesture meant to stake my claim, to ward off any lingering hopes Nathan might harbor.“Are you feeling better now?” I asked, my voice a carefully modulated murmur.Agatha’s gaze, usually so sharp, so focused, was clouded with confusion, her eyes darting between me and Nathan, a silent plea in their depths.“I’m… I’m not a critical patient, Charles,” she said, her voice a shaky whisper, her hand fl
Agatha POV:“Agatha, you’re being reckless! You can’t just discharge yourself. The doctor said you need to rest.” Charles’s voice was a mix of concern and… annoyance? I couldn’t quite tell.I ignored him, signing the discharge papers with a flourish, my hand surprisingly steady despite the lingering dizziness, the exhaustion that tugged at me.“I’m fine, Charles,” I said firmly, my gaze meeting his, unwavering. “Really. I need to be with my father. He needs me.”“But Agatha…”“No, Charles,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. “I appreciate your concern, but I can’t… I can’t stay here. Not when Dad is…”I couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of him, lying in that hospital bed, hooked up to machines, his life hanging by a thread, was a physical ache in my chest.“Okay,” Charles said, his voice softening, his hand gently touching my arm, a possessive gesture that both comforted and irritated me. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll drive you.”“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’l
Charles POV:The penthouse was silent, the only sound the gentle clinking of ice in my glass as I swirled the amber liquid, the city lights twinkling below like a scattered handful of diamonds. I should have been celebrating. NexGen was on the brink, Agatha, overwhelmed and vulnerable, was falling right into my carefully laid trap.Yet, a strange unease gnawed at me, a persistent hum beneath the surface of my carefully constructed composure.My father’s voice, sharp and disapproving, echoed in my mind. “NexGen? That’s a risky move, Charles. A De Rossi company? It’s not worth it.”He’d never understood my ambition, my drive to conquer, to possess. He’d always preferred the safe, predictable path, the steady accumulation of wealth and power. He’d never taken risks, never played the game with the same ruthless determination that pulsed through my veins.A soft chime announced the arrival of dinner. My stepmother, a woman whose name I barely remembered, glided into the room."Charles, d
Agatha POV:The penthouse apartment shimmered, a testament to Charles's impeccable taste and extravagant wealth. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the sleek, modern furniture, the abstract art that adorned the walls, the breathtaking view of the city sprawling beneath us.It was a world away from the sterile white walls of the hospital, the hushed whispers, the constant fear that had clung to me like a second skin.But even in this luxurious sanctuary, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach, a constant reminder of the weight I carried, the decisions I had to make, the tangled mess of my heart that I couldn't seem to unravel.Charles poured me a glass of champagne, the bubbles rising like tiny, effervescent hopes in the crystal flute. He handed it to me, his touch lingering on mine, a possessive gesture that both thrilled and unsettled me."To new beginnings," he said, his voice a warm caress, his blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of admiration and…
Jasmine POV:I tapped my pen against my notepad, the rhythmic click a counterpoint to the frantic pulse of my thoughts. Charles was at it again. This time, it wasn't a hostile takeover or a complex financial scheme – it was Agatha De Rossi, and as always, things were spiraling, fast.My phone buzzed. I knew it would be him, no need to even look at the caller ID. "Jasmine, I need to know everything about Nathan Richards’s finances. Leave no stone unturned!" The words, practically a command, were just a little bit too intense to be just for work, which was usually the case with Charles.I sighed, a small sound that was swallowed by the vast emptiness of my office. I’d been with Charles long enough to recognize the signs – the obsessive focus, the restless pacing, the underlying tension that radiated off him like heat from a furnace. He was smitten, utterly consumed by this woman, and it was making him… reckless."Of course, Charles," I replied, my voice a carefully modulated blend
Agatha POV:“Jasmine,” I said, my voice a carefully controlled whisper, my gaze fixed on her, trying to decipher the emotions hidden beneath her usual calm demeanor. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong with Charles?”Her gaze flickered, a brief flash of something – anxiety? – before her face settled back into a mask of polite professionalism.“No, Ms. De Rossi,” she said, her voice measured, almost clinical. “Nothing has happened to Charles, not physically. It is… another kind of matter entirely.”I leaned back in my chair. The air in the office felt charged with unspoken tension, the silence a heavy weight that pressed down on me.“What do you mean, Jasmine?” I asked, my voice barely audible, my fingers tightening around my pen. “What’s going on?”She hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting to the window, the city lights a distant, indifferent backdrop to the drama unfolding within these sterile walls. When she looked back, her eyes, usually so cold and calculating, wer
Agatha POV:The air in the children’s hospital playroom was a chaotic mix of giggling, chattering, and the rhythmic thump of small feet against the linoleum floor. Colorful murals of cartoon animals adorned the walls, bright posters encouraged everyone to “Stay Strong” and “Never Give Up”, and a mishmash of toys lay scattered across the floor like fallen confetti. It was a world away from the sterile silence of the ICUs, but even here, the weight of illness, of childhood suffering, was a palpable presence, a shadow that couldn’t be completely erased by the bright decorations or the forced cheerfulness of the staff.I smiled, trying to project an air of carefree joy as I bent down to help a little girl with a sparkly tiara that kept slipping over her eyes. Her face, pale and delicate, was illuminated by the sheer glee of wearing a crown, her eyes sparkling with an innocence that tugged at my heart. This charity event, a fundraiser for the children’s hospital, was something I had pe
Charles POV:"Are you telling me there's nothing? No credit card pings? No ATM withdrawals? No signal from his burner phone? He didn't just evaporate, Thompson!"I slammed my hand down on the polished surface of my desk, the sound sharp in the otherwise silent office.The penthouse felt less like a sanctuary and more like a cage, the walls closing in, amplifying the frantic pounding in my chest."Sir, we're tracking every lead," Thompson's voice crackled through the speakerphone, calm, infuriatingly professional."But Richards went dark. Completely off-grid after leaving the hospital that day. No financial activity, no traceable communication."
Agatha POV:FlashbackThe bathroom floor felt cold beneath my knees. Another negative pregnancy test lay stark white on the tiles.Hope, that fragile butterfly, had fluttered its wings for two long weeks, only to crash and burn again. Tears stung my eyes, hot and familiar."Aggie?" Nathan's voice came from the doorway. He stood there, already dressed in one of his perfect suits, impatience etched on his handsome face. "Are you ready? We're going to be late for the brunch."I quickly wiped my eyes, scrambling to my feet, hiding the test behind my back."Almost," I choked out, forcing a smile that felt like broken glass. "Just… touching up my makeup."
Agatha POV:Unexpected. That was one word for it.Catastrophic felt more accurate.I stared blankly at the pamphlet on prenatal vitamins she pressed into my hand. It felt heavy, alien, like an artifact from another dimension. Charles’s baby. The thought slammed into me, stealing the air from my lungs, making the room spin.Somehow, I managed to navigate the elevator, the lobby, the revolving doors, moving like an automaton. The city noise hit me as I stumbled onto the sidewalk, I needed… I needed Lena. My fingers fumbled with my phone, slick with a nervous sweat I hadn’t realized was there.Her name swam in my contacts list. I pressed call, my brea
Charles POV:The city lights, usually a comforting panorama from my penthouse windows, felt like accusing eyes tonight. Each twinkling point of light was a reminder of the precariousness of my position, the crumbling foundation of my carefully constructed world. And Agatha… she wasn’t here. Not anymore."Damn it, Richards," I muttered, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, the ice clinking a discordant rhythm against the silence. I hadn't even bothered to turn on any music. What was the point?Nathan's disappearance had thrown everything into chaos. One moment, he was a broken, defeated man, a ghost haunting the edges of Agatha's life. The next, he was… gone. Vanished.And the vultures were circling.The
Agatha POV:The walls of the conference room seemed to spin around me, the voices of the board members fading into a distant, muffled hum. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white, my body swaying precariously."Ms. De Rossi, are you alright?" Sarah's voice, sharp with concern, cut through the fog in my brain."I… I just need a moment," I stammered, my voice a shaky whisper, my hand reaching up to my forehead, trying to steady myself, to push back the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm me.But it was no use. The room tilted, the faces around the table blurring, the floor rushing up to meet me. And then, darkness.I woke up to the insistent beeping of a machine, the scent of antiseptic stinging my
Agatha POV:My office at NexGen felt alien, cold. The sleek, modern furniture, the panoramic city view – it all seemed to mock the turmoil churning inside me.The space, once a symbol of my ambition, my newfound power, now felt like a cage.The memory of that confrontation, of Charles standing right where I was, his carefully constructed mask of concern cracking to reveal the anger, the possessiveness beneath… it replayed in my mind, a chilling loop.The documents, spread across this desk, the evidence of his betrayal…I ran a hand over the smooth surface of my desk, as if I could physically feel the re
Nathan POV:A price. Of course. There was always a price."What price, Manuel?" I asked, my voice a low growl, my hand tightening into a fist, my mind racing, calculating, weighing the risks against the potential rewards.He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of ambition and… something else. Something darker. Something… dangerous."Let’s just say… a partnership, Señor Richards,” he said, his voice a smooth, persuasive hum. “A mutually beneficial arrangement. You help me… and I help you. We both get what we want.”“And what is it you want, Manuel?” I asked, my voice a challenge, my gaze unwavering
Nathan POV:"Another one, Señor Richards?"The voice, soft and accented, barely registered over the roaring in my ears. I looked up, blinking, trying to focus on the man standing before me.It was Manuel. Aldo De Rossi’s assistant. What the hell was he doing here? And how did he even find me?"Sure," I mumbled, pushing my empty glass across the rough, concrete surface. "Why the hell not?"The 'bar' was a joke. A couple of crates stacked on top of each other in the corner of this abandoned warehouse, a pathetic collection of half-empty bottles its only sto
Charles POV:"Get me Thompson on the line. Now!"My voice, usually a smooth instrument of persuasion, was a ragged bark, echoing through the sterile emptiness of my office.I paced, the expensive Persian rug a blur beneath my feet, my hands clenched into fists, my mind a chaotic storm of anger, fear, and a desperate, gnawing need for control.Agatha.Her face, her voice, her rejection… It was a relentless loop playing in my head, a constant reminder of my failure, my… vulnerability.She knew. Somehow, she knew. About Xing, about the manipulations, about… everything.And she'd thrown me out. Dismissed me