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:The scent of lilies, their cloying sweetness now a source of irritation, hung heavy in the air of my penthouse, agatha’s words, her subtle rejection still echoed in my mind."I’m thinking about the future, Charles," she’d said, her voice a soft challenge, her eyes a mirror reflecting a truth I couldn’t ignore. "And I’m wondering… what kind of future do I really want?"What kind of future did she want? Not with me?My hand tightened around the stem of my wine glass, the crystal a fragile barrier against the rising tide of anger, of insecurity. I’d been so sure, so confident that she was finally succumbing to my charm, to my power, to the carefully constructed image I’d spent years perfecting.But her words, her distant gaze, her subtle withdrawal… they’d shattered that illusion, revealing the truth: Agatha was slipping through my fingers, slipping away into a realm I couldn’t control.I poured another glass, the ruby liquid a temporary balm against the burning ache in my
Agatha POV:His lips were warm, soft, a sensation I'd been fighting for weeks. The kiss unfolded slowly, hinting at something deeper than our usual interactions.A hunger I hadn't acknowledged flared within me, a longing that had been under my careful composure. I was losing myself in him, the sounds around us dissolving. For once, strategy didn't matter, control wasn't the goal. It was just… Charles.He broke the kiss, his eyes dark and intense as they searched my face. There was desire there, yes, but also a surprising rawness. It was a rare glimpse behind the charming facade. My carefully constructed walls had crumbled, leaving me feeling exposed.My heart hammered against my ribs, was this genuine? Was Charles a flawed man willing to reveal himself?“Charles,” I breathed, my voice soft against his lips, my fingers instinctively tracing the sharp angle of his jaw.He leaned closer, his breath warm on my skin. “Yes, Agatha?”“What… what was that?” I asked, my tone a blend of diso
Agatha POV:I woke slowly, my senses gradually coming alive.The faint scent of coffee, the distant hum of city traffic, and the solid, reassuring weight of Charles’s arm draped across my waist.He was still asleep, his breathing deep and even, his dark hair tousled against the pillow, a lock falling across his forehead, giving him a vulnerability that was at odds with the ruthless, controlling man I knew he could be.My body remembered the feel of his skin against mine, the way he’d whispered my name, a mix of desire and a possessiveness that both thrilled and terrified me.But my mind was elsewhere, replaying the events of the past few days – Nathan’s tearful confession, James’s cryptic warnings, Camille’s unexpected departure, my father's illness, and the weight of NexGen on my shoulders.And Charles’s confession, his raw vulnerability as he spoke about his mother, his childhood, his pain. It had moved me, shaken me, made me question everything I thought I knew about him.He stirr
Agatha POV:The automatic doors of St. Jude's Hospital slid open with a quiet whoosh, admitting us into the familiar chill of conditioned air, tinged with the unavoidable scent of antiseptic and floor cleaner.Beside me, Charles radiated an almost unnerving enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach."Ready, darling?" He placed a hand on the small of my back, a proprietary gesture that had become disturbingly frequent."Aldo's going to be so thrilled to see you looking so well. And to hear our news, of course.""Charles, we talked about this," I started, trying to keep my voice low, even. "I don't think today is the day to…""Nonsense," he inter
Agatha POV:The spoon felt unnaturally heavy in my hand, the mint chocolate chip ice cream cloyingly sweet on my tongue.Usually, it was my comfort food, my go-to indulgence after a stressful day. Tonight, each spoonful felt like swallowing lead.Across the low coffee table in my living room – Dad’s living room, technically, though I’d started thinking of the mansion as mine these days – Charles beamed, digging into his own bowl with gusto.He’d arrived exactly an hour after my text, a pint of the most expensive artisanal mint chip available clutched in one hand and a bouquet of pale pink roses, my favorites, in the other. The perfect picture of the doting, attentive partner.My skin prickled.
Agatha POV:"Everything looks perfectly healthy, Ms. De Rossi. Strong fetal development, right on track for ten weeks."Dr. Williams smiled warmly, adjusting the ultrasound wand slightly. On the screen, a tiny, flickering shape pulsed – a small miracle, a terrifying reality. My reality."See, Agatha? Perfect." Charles squeezed my hand, his voice radiating a proud, almost proprietary warmth that made my skin crawl.He leaned closer to the screen, his expression intense, focused."Heartbeat looks strong, wouldn't you say, Doctor? Any potential complications we should be aware of? Given Agatha's… history?"
Charles POV:Agatha stood before me, pale, defiant, her words a physical blow: My baby. I don't plan to register you as the father.Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the red haze of my anger. Take my child away? Erase me from their life? Let me walk away and marry some suitable drone my father approved of? The very idea was unthinkable, a violation so profound it shook me to my core.No. Never.The anger, the explosive rage that had surged moments before, receded as quickly as it came, replaced by a desperate, clawing fear. Fear of losing her. Fear of losing this… this unexpected, terrifying, miraculous connection. Our child.
Agatha POV:"Yes, Doctor Williams, thank you for calling back so quickly." I paced the length of my living room, the plush rug doing little to cushion the nervous energy thrumming through me. "Of course, Ms. De Rossi," Dr. Williams' voice came through the phone, calm and professional, yet with an underlying note of something… unusual. "I just wanted to follow up on our conversation from yesterday. And also… to mention something a bit odd.""Odd?" My grip tightened on the phone. "What is it?""Well, shortly after you left the clinic yesterday, a man came in asking questions. About you."My blood ran cold. "Asking questions? What kind of questions?""He was… persistent," the doctor continued, her voice hesitant. "Asked about the nature of your visit, your overall health, even tried to inquire about future appointments. Said he was a concerned 'family friend'."Family friend. The phrase hit me like a physical blow. Charles. It had to be Charles. Nathan was gone. James was subtle, a ma
Charles POV:"Tell me again, Thompson. Henderson’s exact words." I leaned back in my office chair, the supple leather cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat simmering beneath my carefully maintained composure.My fingers steepled, tapping lightly together. Patience. Control. That was the key."He stated, and I quote, sir," Thompson's voice came through the speakerphone, flat, precise, devoid of inflection, "that Ms. De Rossi's appointment as interim CEO is 'a temporary measure born of sentiment, not strategy,' and that he intends to 'formally challenge her suitability and demand a full board review of leadership capabilities' at the earliest opportunity."Henderson. Malcolm Henderson.A pompous, puffed-up peacock stru
Agatha POV:My mind raced.Was he trying to warn me about Charles using Nathan’s disappearance? Or was he subtly suggesting Nathan himself was a victim, not a villain? His words were like smoke, curling and shifting, impossible to grasp firmly.“Manuel,” I said, deciding to push back, test his boundaries. “What is it you really want? Why come to me with these… observations?”He met my gaze directly then, a flicker of something almost like… sincerity? … in his dark eyes. “As I said, Ms. De Rossi. My loyalty is to your father. To NexGen. I believe you are the rightful leader of this company. You have the vision, the strength. But… you are navigating dangerous waters. And you are… perhaps, isolated
Agatha POV:The blinking cursor on the monitor seemed to mock me. Financial projections swam before my eyes, a meaningless jumble of numbers that refused to align, refused to make sense. My head throbbed, a dull ache behind my eyes that had become a constant companion these past few weeks. And the tiny, persistent nausea that lurked just beneath the surface, a secret reminder of the impossible reality I was carrying inside me.The weight of it felt crushing. The board meeting next week loomed like an executioner’s appointment. They didn't trust me, I knew that. They saw Aldo De Rossi’s daughter, inexperienced, a temporary placeholder until they could install someone… more suitable. Someone they could control.The intercom buzzed, startling me. Sarah’s voice, usually crisp and efficient, sounded hesitant.“Ms. De Rossi? Sorry to interrupt, but… Manuel is here. He says it’s urgent and requests a private word.”Manuel? Dad’s assistant? My eyebrows furrowed. Manuel was quiet, efficien
Charles POV:The elevator doors slid shut, cutting off my view of Agatha. Her hurried escape, the almost frantic way she’d jabbed the button, left a sour taste in my mouth. She was hiding something."Errands?" I muttered under my breath, turning away from the closed doors. "In the Obstetrics and Gynecology wing? Unlikely."My mind raced. Pale. Tired. Nauseous, maybe? She'd brushed off my concern, blamed it on stress, on her father's illness. Plausible excuses, easily accepted if I hadn't seen the flicker of panic in her eyes, the way her hand had instinctively, almost imperceptibly, drifted towards her stomach.Something was wrong. Something she didn't want me to know.I found a quiet alcove down the hall, away from the sparse foot traffic.