Chapter 27 – Misunderstood Paths

Dominic’s POV

Saturday should have been quiet, peaceful.

A time to rest.

But there I was, sitting at my office desk with files scattered across the table and my head pounding.

The city skyline outside my window didn’t move. Neither did the pile of issues stacked in front of me.

The company was falling apart from the inside.

Too many complaints.

Too many coverups.

Too many people I trusted doing the wrong things.

I rubbed my forehead, wondering how things had gotten so bad.

Maybe I wasn’t as good at picking people as I thought.

The worst part was—I couldn’t even shift to clear my head.

My wolf had been restless all week. Growling inside me and pacing.

I sighed and pressed the call button to the secretary line.

Only after I heard the dial tone connect did I remember it was Saturday.

No one should be here.

But then, a voice answered.

“Hello, sir?”

Vivian.

I closed my eyes.

Of all people.

“Bring me a cup of coffee,” I said flatly. “I’m still working.”

“Of course, sir!” she chirped, a little too happy.

I hung up and leaned back in my chair.

Five minutes later, she walked in.

And I knew the moment she entered that something was off.

Vivian was wearing a plain skirt, a soft peach blouse, and light makeup. It wasn’t flashy. But it was almost identical to what Mannie had worn two days ago.

I narrowed my eyes.

She placed the coffee on my desk. Then instead of leaving, she started pacing slowly in front of me.

Left to right. Right to left.

I kept reading my file.

She sighed loudly.

Then she bent over slightly, pretending to smooth her skirt.

“Is there anything else you need, sir?” she asked, voice soft.

I looked up.

“Yes,” I said. “Leave.”

Her smile faltered. “I just thought—”

“You thought wrong. This isn’t a fashion show. It’s a company.”

She flushed and turned sharply, heading out without another word.

The moment the door shut, I dropped the file on the table.

I was tired.

Tired of people pretending. Tired of employees who wanted attention more than results.

And Mannie—Mannie Twain didn’t fit any of that.

That woman had walked into my company like she didn’t need anything from anyone.

And somehow, she worked faster than people with degrees.

She didn’t complain, well. except for Evan’s harassment.

She was efficient, even better than those who said they had graduated from different big name universities.

Even when I pushed her buttons, she stayed sharp.

She had eight kids, and still, she walked with her back straight. Her clothes were simple, but they hugged her body like they were tailored only for her.

She looked nothing like someone crushed by motherhood. Nothing like someone poor.

And that only added to my curiosity.

I needed answers as much as I need to destress.

So I stood up and I grabbed my coat and headed out.

Halfway to the car, I called the housekeeper.

“Yes, Master Dominic?”

“Where is she?” I asked.

There was a pause.

“Miss Twain?”

Then the housekeeper’s voice lit up. “Ah! She’s in her hometown today. It’s her mother’s birthday. A big celebration. Everyone is there.”

I got in the car. “Text me the address. I’m going.”

“Oh! You’re finally going to visit her!” the old man sounded so pleased. “That’s good, Master. You’ve been too distant. Even if she’s not perfect, she’s still your mate.”

I frowned. “My mate?”

“Yes. Miss Twain. That’s who you were meant to be with, right?”

My grip tightened on the wheel.

I had never confirmed that.

Not once.

But the housekeeper sounded so convinced.

“She’s a bit proud, yes,” he continued, “but you can always guide her. She’s from a good family. Just misunderstood, that’s all.”

I didn’t argue.

I just hung up.

But something felt off.

It felt like we were talking of different persons but I didn’t think much of it. I already had a cluttered brain to begin with and didn’t want to think.

Mannie Twain—every time I saw her, something pulled.

I drove fast.

But halfway through the drive, my phone buzzed again.

It was the housekeeper.

“Sir,” he said, “Miss Twain is hosting quite the party. There are many people. Seems her family is very respected.”

I blinked.

“She’s hosting the party?”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Very grand. I’m surprised you didn’t know. She must be more important than we thought.”

I frowned deeper.

Mannie Twain was hosting a grand party?

That didn’t match her quiet ways. Her plain shoes or her humble lunch.

But then again, maybe I didn’t know her at all.

Maybe it was time to find out.

I pulled into the dirt road that led to the party venue— the house looked like it was owned by a nouveau rich because I didn’t understand the need to have everything almost in gold.

The parking lot was packed.

I turned off the engine and sat quietly for a moment.

Then, I heard two feminine voices.

Two women stood near a white van a few feet away, chatting loudly.

"Did you see that scene earlier? That Sandra woman tried to act classy but her fake gold got exposed. And by that little girl!"

"I know! What was her name again?"

"Sophie. Smart one, that girl. And her mom too... Mannie Twain. Poor, but blessed. With kids like that? One day they’ll lift her head up high for real."

I froze.

Why did they sound like Mannie wasn’t the one holding the party?

Or was she not?

My brain clicked once, twice, then stopped.

The housekeeper said Miss Twain.

And all this time, I assumed he meant Mannie.

But what if he didn’t?

What if...

I clenched the steering wheel.

Did I just drive all the way here thinking I was going to see one woman and instead end up near the other?

I leaned back in the seat and exhaled.

Maybe I should turn back.

But my wolf growled low. That same deep pull was back.

No. I wasn’t leaving.

Maybe I misunderstood.

But it kind of made sense now. Mannie didn’t seem capable of holding such party nor capable enough to stay in such a house.

If both ladies were here, wouldn’t it be nice if one slipped off and everything was revealed and I didn’t have to stress myself much.