Michael's pov Once inside, I lay Abigail gently on the couch, her weakened state evident in her pale complexion. I cover her with a warm blanket, tucking it around her body, hoping to provide some relief from her fever. My mind races as I remember where the family doctor keeps his emergency contact information. I quickly retrieve the details and dial his number. The doctor assures me that he will arrive at our home as soon as possible. I thank him and end the call, my attention immediately returning to Abigail. I sit by her side, holding her hand, and murmuring words of reassurance. Minutes later, the sound of the doorbell echoes through the house, signaling the arrival of the doctor. I quickly let him in, and he wastes no time in examining Abigail, checking her temperature, and prescribing necessary medications. His calm demeanor and expertise bring a sense of relief to my worried heart. As the doctor tends to Abigail's needs, I find myself pacing the room, unable to sit still. I'

Jenelia's pov - "Hello, Will. I am back in New York. I need to meet you. I want you at home within one hour," I say firmly into the phone, my voice carrying a sense of urgency. Ending the call, I take a moment to collect myself. It's time to face the challenges that lie ahead. Opening the drawer of my study table, I'm greeted by a photograph of David from his younger days. The memories flood back, reminding me of the love that stole my peace and left me restless. But it was all one-sided. David never cared about my feelings. That doesn't matter anymore. I made the choice to marry his business rival, Mr. Stark, and now our sons are destined to be rivals as well. I raised William with the intention of turning Michael into not just a rival but an enemy. As I gaze at David's picture, emotions swirl within me. I close the drawer, locking away the memories of our tumultuous past. The present demands my attention. Our recent defeat weighs heavily on my mind, and I must uncover the reasons

Abigail's pov - I scoff, unable to contain my disbelief at her theatrical performance. This is not a time for her to play the victim. I didn't say anything to warrant her tears. The weight of her betrayal sits heavily upon my shoulders, and her attempt to shift the blame infuriates me further. Before I can respond to her feeble excuses, the call abruptly ends. Panic sets in as I repeatedly dial her number, desperate to continue the confrontation, but it goes straight to voicemail. The number is switched off. I am left screaming into the void, my grief and pain echoing through the empty room. In the depths of my anguish, I unleash a primal scream that reverberates through the room. It tears through the air, an anguished cry escaping from the depths of my soul. The sound that erupts from me is raw, unfiltered, and filled with a torrent of emotions that words alone cannot express. "AAAAHHHH!" The scream tears through my throat, carrying with it the weight of betrayal, hurt, and shatte

Michael's pov - I find myself locked in a difficult conversation with Ema, her words hanging heavily in the air. She seems determined to question the strength of my commitment to Abby, my wife. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, searching for the right words to convey my unwavering devotion. "Ema, I apologize if my words sound harsh, but I am deeply committed to Abigail," I say, my voice filled with sincerity. "Despite her insecurities and the claim of being Tuberose, I cannot betray her trust. You hold a special place in my heart, and I respect you greatly. But Abby is my life partner, and I would never even entertain the thought of hurting her. We may be facing conflicts, but I am fully dedicated to working through them and restoring the strength of our relationship." Ema looks visibly uncomfortable, her eyes reflecting a mix of understanding and disappointment. I reach out and gently pat her cheek, a gesture meant to convey reassurance. "I know it might be hard for your hear

Michael's POV - "Okay, then. If you guys want to solve it by yourself. I am not saying anything. However, I am just a knock away from you, my child." Dad pats her shoulder and leaves by giving me a gaze of rage. I take baby steps toward her. She changes her direction so I take faster steps and hold her right hand. "Listen to me, please." I plead, feeling the weight of the situation. I don't know why she is so stubborn. She clenches her fist, her eyes burning with stubbornness. "I have no interest in listening to your intimacy with another girl," she retorts, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut. It's clear that convincing her won't be easy. I steel myself, determined to make her hear me out. "Won't you at least hear me out?" I ask, my determination solidifying. She forcefully pulls her hand from my grip, her voice laced with defiance. "No, you can't force me, Mr. Pattinson," she states, uttering my last name with a touch of venom. It stings to hear her say it with such disd