LOGINMinutes later, the door to Nathan Mills’s hospital room flung open with a loud bang that echoed down the quiet corridor. He stormed out, one hand clutching at his trousers as he adjusted the belt hurriedly. The plain white shirt he wore was tucked neatly into his suit trousers, replacing the hospital gown he had discarded without a second thought. His hair was still damp from a quick wash, strands falling slightly over his forehead, while his jaw remained clenched tight. His chest rose and fell heavily, as though he had just walked out of a battlefield and was still carrying the tension of war within him.Marcel and Helen stood just beside the door, caught completely off guard by his sudden appearance. Their eyes widened in shock, both of them frozen for a brief second as they took in his appearance and the fierce determination written all over his face.“How long have you both been here?” Nathan asked, his brows knitting together as his sharp gaze cut through them. His tone carr
Helen stood by the door, her chest still rising and falling from the rush that had brought her here. In her trembling hand was the file, the very document that had shattered the fragile silence of the room and ignited a storm of emotions none of them were prepared for.Nathan sat upright on the hospital bed, his back no longer slouched, his eyes no longer empty. For the first time in days, there was life in them. Not peace, not calm, but something far stronger. Hope. Dangerous, uncontrollable hope.“I knew it!” Nathan repeated, his voice rising again, filled with raw conviction. His fingers trembled as he pointed toward Marcel. “I told you all of this was a lie. Charlotte is alive. She has to be alive. This is her way of punishing me. She wants me to feel what she felt.”Marcel exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening as he tried to steady himself. As Nathan’s assistant and bodyguard, he had seen his boss in many states: angry, cold, ruthless, but never like this. Never so broken, so des
Nathan sat slouched in the hospital bed, his body weak, his spirit even weaker. His shoulders sagged forward as though the weight of his regrets had become physical, pressing him down with a force he could no longer resist.His eyes were hollow, dull and distant, as though whatever light once lived in them had been completely drained.His face was pale, stretched thin over his bones, and his lips were cracked, dry from dehydration and neglect.The smell of disinfectant in the ward hung heavy in the air, clean yet suffocating, mixing faintly with the bitter stench of whiskey that still clung stubbornly to his breath. It lingered around him like a reminder of how far he had fallen.The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the soft, steady beeping of the monitor beside his bed. Each sound echoed like a ticking clock, counting down moments he didn’t feel worthy of having.Marcel stood a short distance away, his arms folded tightly across his chest. His posture was rigid,
The evening was quiet.On that lonely rooftop at the hospital, Nathan Mills sat in a wheelchair, his back bent, his face hollow, as though something vital had been scooped out of him and left him to exist with the empty shell.In his hand, he gripped a glass of whiskey, his fingers trembling slightly with every rise and fall of his breath. The half-empty bottle rested on the tiled ground beside him, tilted as though it, too, had grown weary of standing upright after witnessing too much sorrow in too short a time.His eyes were half-closed, his lips parted slightly, his body sagging into the chair like a man standing at the fragile border between sleep and collapse.The wind brushed past him, cool but sharp, carrying the scent of antiseptic and distant rain. It tugged lightly at his shirt, whispering against his skin as if trying to wake him up from the misery swallowing him whole. For anyone else, the rooftop view would have been breathtaking, the city lights flickering to life one
Jennifer was on her knees, her tears running freely as she shook Nathan Mills’ arm.His body was limp, his face pale, his chest barely moving. “Nathan! Nathan, wake up!” she screamed, panic clawing at her throat and tightening every word that left her mouth.Her wails echoed down the hospital corridor, sharp and uncontrollable, drawing attention like a siren in the quiet space. Within seconds, the door flung open.Helen, Nathan’s secretary, rushed in first, her face stiff with shock, her usual composed demeanor completely gone. Behind her came Marcel, his breath already uneven from running, his eyes scanning the room in alarm.“What happened?” Helen asked, bending quickly beside Nathan, her fingers moving to his wrist to check for a pulse, her movements careful but urgent.“He fainted! He’s not moving!” Jennifer sobbed, clutching Nathan’s hand tightly as though her grip alone could pull him back to consciousness.Marcel didn't waste a second. His voice came out firm, commanding, cut
Even though Jennifer’s face twitched at the sound of Charlotte’s name, she forced herself to stay calm. Her lips stretched into a polished smile, carefully crafted and controlled, while her eyes softened just enough to maintain the illusion she wanted him to believe. Her voice came out smooth, sweet like honey. She refused to allow irritation spoil the moment she had carefully created.“Nathan babe,” she cooed gently, setting the flask neatly on the table as though presenting something precious, “I brought lunch. You should open it.”Nathan didn’t even raise his eyes to meet hers. He remained seated, shoulders slightly slumped, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the walls of the office. His voice came out flat, heavy, uninterested. “Not interested.”Helen, who had remained standing near the door, shifted awkwardly. She had seen enough. The tension was clear, and she knew better than to remain in a place where emotions were barely contained.Clearing her throat with a polite cough
As Celine descended the stairs into the living room, the sharp clicking of her heels echoed faintly against the polished marble floor. Two housemaids standing by the corridor straightened immediately, their backs snapping to attention as they bowed low in practiced unison."Good morning, Mrs. Mill
Charlotte practically floated out of the tall glass building, her laughter light and unrestrained as the doors slid shut behind her. The Sydney sun felt warmer than usual, or maybe it was just her mood. She swung her handbag playfully at her side, her simple navy suit hugging her frame neatly, co
Her phone buzzed inside her bag while the car was still moving, the vibration faint but persistent against the leather seat beside her. Charlotte frowned slightly. For a brief moment, she wondered who could possibly be texting her now. Very few people knew she was leaving today. Fewer still cared
"Mom, did you find that fairy tale book?" Celine's voice was low but sharp, each syllable edged with impatience as she spoke into her phone.She sat on the king-sized bed, still dressed in silk pajamas that clung to her frame. The luxurious hotel room was dimly lit by warm bedside lamps, casting s







