Camille POV:The silence in our bedroom pressed against me like a physical weight. Nathan sat at his desk, hunched over a mountain of paperwork, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. The lamplight cast long, harsh shadows across his face, making him look years older than he was.My hand rested on my swollen belly, a wave of nausea washing over me. It wasn’t just morning sickness this time. It was a deeper unease, a growing knot of anxiety that tightened with every silent hour we spent under the same roof.Ever since the Xing Enterprises mess, since his grand gesture of "sacrifice" as the news had dubbed it, a chasm had opened between us. He was a ghost haunting our own home, his thoughts a million miles away, always circling back to Agatha.He doesn't love me. He never really did. The thought, sharp and painful, pricked at the fragile bubble of denial I'd been clinging to.He had chosen me, hadn't he? He’d asked me to marry him
Charles POV:The low hum of the jazz music, the clinking of ice in crystal glasses, the hushed murmur of conversation—it all faded into background noise as I watched Camille Dubois enter the dimly lit bar. She was late, and my impatience simmered, a low burn fueled by a potent mix of whiskey and ambition.Playing hard to get, is she? I thought, my lips curling into a cynical smile.Camille was a pawn in my game, a useful tool to eliminate Nathan. But her usefulness extended beyond her connection to my rival. She was pregnant with his child, a vulnerable woman desperate for love and security, the perfect target for my manipulations.She spotted me at the corner table, her gaze hesitant for a moment before she walked over, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly.“Mr. Campbell,” she said, her voice softer than I remembered, a hint of nervousness clinging to her words.“Mrs. Dubois,” I greeted, standing up, offering her a chair with a flourish. “Thank you for coming. I trus
Nathan POV:The slam of our room door echoed the thunder booming inside my chest. I spun around, facing Camille, my hands clenched into fists at my sides, my heart a frantic drum solo in my chest.“What the hell was that, Camille?” My voice, rough with anger and hurt, bounced off the bare walls of our entryway.She flinched, her hand instinctively going to her swollen belly, her eyes wide and panicked.“Nathan, I… I can explain.” Her voice was a shaky whisper, barely audible above the city noise filtering in through the open window.“Explain what?” I stepped closer, my anger a living thing, pulsing in my veins. “Explain why you were meeting with Charles Campbell? Alone? In a bar? At this hour?”The scene replayed in my mind, a cruel, unending loop - the dimly lit bar, the intimate corner table, their hands clasped, their heads bent close together, whispering secrets. And Camille, my Camille, looking at him with an expression I couldn’t decipher – a mix of fear, desperation, and…
Agatha POV:The city lights blurred into streaks of color as I sped through the empty streets, the engine of my car a roaring echo of the turmoil in my heart. My phone lay on the passenger seat, its screen illuminated with Charles’s name, his unanswered calls a steady, persistent rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my own pulse.I ignored them. All of them. Charles, his charm, his promises, his suffocating possessiveness… it all felt overwhelming, a gilded cage I desperately needed to escape.The encounter with Nathan at the gala, his raw vulnerability, the plea in his eyes, the echo of our shared past… it had shaken me, awakened a longing I’d tried so hard to bury. And Charles’s reaction, the barely veiled jealousy, the possessive grip on my arm, the simmering anger in his gaze… it had confirmed my growing suspicions.He was playing a dangerous game, a game of control and manipulation, and I was caught in the crosshairs.But something else had shifted, a subtle but profound c
Agatha POV:James’s words echoed in my head, a sinister lullaby that chased away any hope of sleep. “Nathan Richards is not the man you think he is… his past is full of secrets. Secrets that could destroy you.”Destroy me? What did that even mean? What secrets could be so terrible? The questions gnawed at me, twisting my stomach into knots.I’d tried to dismiss James’s words as the bitter ramblings of a scorned man, a desperate attempt to manipulate me, to drive a wedge between Nathan and me. But doubt, like a persistent weed, had taken root, its tendrils wrapping around my heart, choking the fragile hope I’d allowed myself to feel.I thought about calling Nathan, demanding answers, confronting him with James’s accusations. But what good would it do? He’d already proven himself to be a master of deception. His words, his promises… how could I believe anything he said?Work offered a temporary distraction. I buried myself in spreadsheets and presentations, trying to focus on the f
Charles POV:The news report practically screamed from my phone screen: “Camille Dubois Calls Off Engagement with Nathan Richards!” A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face. That foolish girl had done exactly what I’d planned, right on schedule.She never stood a chance.Camille was a pawn, a simple tool to remove Nathan from the equation. A few whispers, a carefully orchestrated meeting, and her fragile world imploded. It was a brutal game, yes, but one I played with precision and purpose. All is fair in love and war, especially when the prize was Agatha De Rossi.My fingers itched to call Agatha, to be her rock, her confidante in this moment of turmoil. I imagined her, shaken and vulnerable, needing my strength, my comfort. The thought sent a wave of warmth through me, a possessiveness that bordered on obsession.I dialed her number, my heart pounding with anticipation. But it went straight to voicemail. Again.“Agatha, pick up.” I willed her, my smile fading, a knot of fr
Agatha POV:The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the chirping of birds, a serene backdrop to the storm raging inside me. I stood on the grand steps of the De Rossi mansion, staring at the wrought-iron gates, my heart a lead weight in my chest.The doctor’s words echoed in my mind, a relentless, chilling mantra: “Critical condition.” Dad, my rock, my anchor, was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. A massive heart attack, they’d said.My world felt like it was crumbling around me. First Nathan, then Camille, and now this. It was too much, a relentless assault on everything I held dear.The loneliness was crushing, a suffocating wave that threatened to drown me. Bianca, my surrogate mother, my confidante, had left weeks ago, seeking solace away from the storm that seemed to follow me wherever I went.“I need to go home, Agatha,” she’d said, her eyes filled with longing for a simpler life, away from the burdens of my family’s wealth and drama. “My fami
Charles POV:The warmth of Agatha’s body pressed against mine, her trembling a tangible expression of her grief, ignited a confusing mix of emotions within me. Protective instincts surged, a fierce desire to shield her from pain, to offer solace and strength. But alongside that empathy, a darker current pulsed - a thrill of possessiveness, a sense of opportunity.She’s vulnerable. She needs me. And this time, I won’t let her push me away.I held her close, my hand stroking her hair, her scent – a delicate blend of lilies and jasmine – filling my senses.“It’s alright, Agatha,” I murmured, my voice a low rumble against her ear, the words both a comfort and a calculated reassurance. “I’m here now. I won’t let anything else happen to you.”She clung to me, her sobs muffled against my chest, her vulnerability a potent elixir, intoxicating and dangerous. I felt a surge of power, a heady sense of control. This was what I craved, what I’d been working towards – Agatha, broken and reliant,
Charles POV:The sharp click of the phone disconnecting echoed in the sudden silence of my office.Agatha stood frozen, the color drained from her face, her eyes wide with a horror that mirrored the jolt of pure panic shooting through my own system.Lena Moretti. That interfering, sharp-tongued lawyer.What the hell had she just told Agatha? Something about Nathan, clearly. Something devastating, judging by Agatha's reaction.My mind raced, calculating angles, assessing damage, scrambling for control. This was bad. This could undo everything."Agatha, what is it?" I demanded, striding towards her. "What did she say?"I snatched the phone f
Agatha POV:"Lena," I answered, my voice tight, trying to sound normal, professional, acutely aware of Charles standing rigidly by the window, his back to me, but radiating tension like a high-voltage wire. "What is it? What leak?""Agatha," Lena’s voice was low, urgent, stripped of its usual calm professionalism. It sounded… strained. Scared. "Are you sitting down? Are you alone?"My heart lurched. "No, Charles is here," I whispered, glancing nervously towards his still figure. "Why? Lena, what's happened?""Okay," Lena took a deep breath, the sound crackling slightly over the line. "Okay. Just… listen. Don't react if you can help it. This is… bad, Agatha. Really bad.""Lena, you're scaring me. Tell me." My knuckles wer
Agatha POV:"...so if we shift the Q4 projections for the micro-optics division slightly, it buys us breathing room with the Tanaka investment without raising immediate red flags for the rest of the board." Charles tapped a pen against the polished surface of my desk – Dad’s desk – his brow furrowed in concentration. He’d shown up unannounced an hour ago, ostensibly to discuss NexGen strategy, though his presence always felt like more than just business these days. Ever since the hospital, since Dad started recovering… things between Charles and me were… complicated. Strained. He acted like everything was fine, like our brief intimacy had sealed something permanent, but I kept pulling back, needing space he seemed unwilling to grant."It's aggressive, Charles," I countered, leaning back in my chair, trying to focus on the figures he’d laid out, not on the way his knee occasionally brushed mine under the desk. "Moving those projections relies heavily on the successful rollout of Pha
Nathan POV:The chipped Formica tabletop felt gritty beneath my elbows.Outside the grimy window of this third-rate apartment Manuel had dug up, the city skyline was a distant, mocking silhouette.No penthouse views here. Just peeling paint, the lingering smell of stale cigarettes, and the constant drip, drip, drip from a leaky faucet in the kitchenette sink – a fitting soundtrack to the wreckage of my life.After knocking James Wei out cold back in his NYC office, I’d made that frantic call to Campbell, thinking I could leverage what I knew, maybe force an alliance against Wei. What a joke. Campbell had probably laughed after hanging up.I’d grabbed Wei’s burner phone – the one he used for his dirtiest dealings – and bolted, getting o
Agatha POV:The automatic doors of St. Jude's Hospital slid open with a quiet whoosh, admitting us into the familiar chill of conditioned air, tinged with the unavoidable scent of antiseptic and floor cleaner.Beside me, Charles radiated an almost unnerving enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the knot of apprehension tightening in my stomach."Ready, darling?" He placed a hand on the small of my back, a proprietary gesture that had become disturbingly frequent."Aldo's going to be so thrilled to see you looking so well. And to hear our news, of course.""Charles, we talked about this," I started, trying to keep my voice low, even. "I don't think today is the day to…""Nonsense," he inter
Agatha POV:The spoon felt unnaturally heavy in my hand, the mint chocolate chip ice cream cloyingly sweet on my tongue.Usually, it was my comfort food, my go-to indulgence after a stressful day. Tonight, each spoonful felt like swallowing lead.Across the low coffee table in my living room – Dad’s living room, technically, though I’d started thinking of the mansion as mine these days – Charles beamed, digging into his own bowl with gusto.He’d arrived exactly an hour after my text, a pint of the most expensive artisanal mint chip available clutched in one hand and a bouquet of pale pink roses, my favorites, in the other. The perfect picture of the doting, attentive partner.My skin prickled.
Agatha POV:"Everything looks perfectly healthy, Ms. De Rossi. Strong fetal development, right on track for ten weeks."Dr. Williams smiled warmly, adjusting the ultrasound wand slightly. On the screen, a tiny, flickering shape pulsed – a small miracle, a terrifying reality. My reality."See, Agatha? Perfect." Charles squeezed my hand, his voice radiating a proud, almost proprietary warmth that made my skin crawl.He leaned closer to the screen, his expression intense, focused."Heartbeat looks strong, wouldn't you say, Doctor? Any potential complications we should be aware of? Given Agatha's… history?"
Charles POV:Agatha stood before me, pale, defiant, her words a physical blow: My baby. I don't plan to register you as the father.Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the red haze of my anger. Take my child away? Erase me from their life? Let me walk away and marry some suitable drone my father approved of? The very idea was unthinkable, a violation so profound it shook me to my core.No. Never.The anger, the explosive rage that had surged moments before, receded as quickly as it came, replaced by a desperate, clawing fear. Fear of losing her. Fear of losing this… this unexpected, terrifying, miraculous connection. Our child.
Agatha POV:"Yes, Doctor Williams, thank you for calling back so quickly." I paced the length of my living room, the plush rug doing little to cushion the nervous energy thrumming through me. "Of course, Ms. De Rossi," Dr. Williams' voice came through the phone, calm and professional, yet with an underlying note of something… unusual. "I just wanted to follow up on our conversation from yesterday. And also… to mention something a bit odd.""Odd?" My grip tightened on the phone. "What is it?""Well, shortly after you left the clinic yesterday, a man came in asking questions. About you."My blood ran cold. "Asking questions? What kind of questions?""He was… persistent," the doctor continued, her voice hesitant. "Asked about the nature of your visit, your overall health, even tried to inquire about future appointments. Said he was a concerned 'family friend'."Family friend. The phrase hit me like a physical blow. Charles. It had to be Charles. Nathan was gone. James was subtle, a ma