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CHAPTER 59- POISONED WHISPERS

last update Last Updated: 2025-09-02 00:55:31

The steady beep-beep of the heart monitor broke through the haze of Montez’s mind. His body felt heavy, stitched together with pain. His first conscious thought wasn’t of himself but of the name that left his lips in a rasp.

“Amira…”

His eyelids fluttered open. But instead of her face, instead of the warmth of her presence, he saw another.

“Montez,” Rhea gasped, springing forward from the chair beside his bed. Relief flooded her features, though it carried something sharp beneath. Her manicured hand slid over his, clutching it like she had a right to.

He groaned lowly as his chest flared with pain, his body instinctively jerking before she pressed him back gently.

“Easy… easy,” she soothed, reaching behind to adjust the pillow and propping it against his back with careful hands.

He grimaced, breath ragged, but forced himself to straighten against the cushion. His mi
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    The ballroom pulsed with light and music. Crystal chandeliers glittered above, scattering diamonds of brightness over gowns and tuxedos. Laughter, clinking glasses, and polite applause filled the space as Montez Vitalio was congratulated again and again for the company’s one-hundredth anniversary. The scandal of earlier was already being rewritten by the hour. Where reporters had come thirsting for blood, they now whispered about passion, loyalty, and love. The kiss between Montez and Amira had become the day’s centerpiece, eclipsing every attempt to shame them. Montez played his role well. He shook hands with partners, accepted the warm congratulations of dignitaries, and let cameras capture his polished smile. Yet every time his gaze wandered, it was Amira he searched for. She stood slightly apart, her head bowed as though overwhelmed by the tide of celebration. He excused himself from a cluster of investors

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    The room was so silent after his words that Amira felt the ticking clock above the mantel vibrate in her chest. Montez’s voice still echoed in her head, sharp and cold. Equally rising to her feet, she dropped the remote onto the couch, her fingers trembling as if she had been holding fire. She tried to open her mouth, to explain, but the words stuck. The television was still blaring, still showing her, still tearing her apart with its merciless exposure. Finally, she whispered, “It isn’t what it looks like.” Montez’s eyes narrowed, his jaw flexing. He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on her like a predator cornering its prey. “Then tell me what it is. Because from where I sit, I see you prancing half-naked under cheap neon lights with another name. And now, the entire city sees it too.” Her lips quivered. “I—I-I had no choice. You don’t know what I went through.” “No choice?”

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