Semua Bab Sunshine and The Beast: Bab 61 - Bab 70

MatthiasIt was always better to say nothing than to say something unnecessary. That was what I believed.Before this shit started to happen.There were things that were better left unsaid. I lived my life long enough, learned my lesson well enough to know that speaking things might bring trouble. And I hated trouble–even when the reality was trouble liked me quite a lot to come on my way.Gwen was nothing. At least for a few years now. I didn’t like to talk about her, nor did I feel the need to do so. She was something I chose to leave in the dark, to keep in a box and throw it away as far as possible.Yet she walked in, once again, with reasons I couldn’t explain. I ignored all her messages, mails, even calls. I made sure she didn’t get any access to reach me. Some people were better to be treated that way.So how could Althea meet her? And what the fuck with that “Matthias’s dearest”? Hearing it almost made me throw up.And now, Althea wouldn’t even look at me.For three days, she

AltheaEveryone had secrets.Some were harmless—like dropping someone’s toothbrush in the toilet and pretending nothing happened, copying someone’s homework, or even paying someone else to do their work and passing it off as their own. Others … well, others were far darker. The kind that could ruin lives, destroy families. The kind that could get someone killed.There were all kinds of secrets people carried. Matthias was no exception.When I first met him, I had already assumed that much. Someone like him—powerful, calculating, born into a world where trust was a currency rarer than gold—was bound to have secrets buried so deep they’d never see the light of day. And back then, I had no interest in unearthing them.Or so I thought.That was before Althea Lewis became Althea Cox. Before I became entangled in things I never wanted to be a part of. Before I stood here, in his home office, with the weight of unspoken words pressing down on us.For two days, I had managed to push Gwen Erik

AltheaIt had been a long time since I last stepped into this room. Granny’s home.There was nothing special about it. It wasn’t grandiose by any means—it was only a small space that was enough to live in, with a small kitchen, an old wall cabinet, two bedrooms, and one small bathroom.Small space, but a lot of stories happened here. At least for me. Before I went to uni and lived in the dorm, I lived here. I spent all my days watching Granny do whatever she wanted—watching TV, knitting, grunting about some nosy neighbor that bothered her morning walk, and so on.But now, the house felt different. Quieter. The warmth it once held was still there, but there was something else underneath it—something heavier, like the air carried unspoken words I had never noticed before.I wasn’t sure what I was looking for when I started going through her things. Maybe it was just an excuse to be here, to sit in the familiar scent of old wood and Granny’s faded perfume. But then I found the box.It wa

AltheaAt some times in my childhood, I had imagined how I would be if I were a detective. From the TV, it seemed like a fun and interesting job—full of adventure, action, and mysteries. But that was fiction—it portrayed only the thrilling part of reality, while the truth was often far more sinister.By any means, I wasn’t a detective. Yet, as I began to dig into the files left behind by my father, Jessen-Keith Lewis, I felt like I had stepped into a labyrinth of secrets. It started innocently enough: a curious glance at old financial reports and company memos. But then, hidden in the darker corners of our archives, I found something that turned my world upside down.My father had once been locked in a bitter rivalry with a company called Beaucare. They had been fierce competitors in the pharmaceutical industry—innovative, aggressive, and, as I soon discovered, corrupt.I read through the documents that detailed how Beaucare’s meteoric rise had ended in utter collapse. It wasn’t due t

AltheaThe world was an echo of distant voices and blurred movements when I opened my eyes. The brightness above me was sharp, unnatural, making me squint against the sterile white glow of fluorescent lights. The steady beeping of a machine filled the silence between my shallow breaths, and beneath the synthetic scent of antiseptic, I could faintly pick up Tristan’s cologne—woodsy and clean.A hospital.The word echoed in my mind, sluggish and detached, as I blinked against the sterile brightness. The fluorescent lights overhead were too sharp, too unforgiving, making the room feel like a void of white. The steady beeping of a monitor filled the silence, a rhythmic pulse that seemed to sync with the dull throbbing in my head. My body felt foreign, heavy, as if I were wading through water. Even lifting my hand took more effort than it should.The thin prick of an IV in my arm caught my attention, and I followed the clear tube upward to the saline bag hanging beside me. The slow drip mi