Agatha POV:My head throbbed, a dull, insistent ache that pulsed in time with the rhythmic beeping of a machine I couldn't quite place. I blinked, my eyes fluttering open, the harsh fluorescent lights of… a hospital room? … stinging my vision. Disoriented, I tried to sit up, a wave of dizziness washing over me, forcing me back against the starched white pillows.“Whoa, easy there.” A gentle hand pressed against my shoulder. “Just take it easy, Ms. De Rossi. You’re safe now.”A doctor, a young woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, stood beside my bed, a stethoscope dangling from her neck.“What… what happened?” I asked, my voice a raspy whisper, my throat dry and scratchy. “Where… where am I?”“You’re in the hospital, Ms. De Rossi,” she explained patiently. “You fainted in the cafeteria. Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. Just exhaustion and… well, it seems you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself lately.”Fainted? The cafeteria… Nathan. Camille's baby…The memories of
Charles POV:The taste of Agatha’s lips, a bittersweet mix of tears and uncertainty, lingered, a phantom sensation against my own. The air in the hospital room crackled with tension, thick and heavy with unspoken words, unresolved emotions.Nathan’s presence, a ghost I thought I’d banished, hung over us, a shadow tainting the intimacy I craved. His eyes, those that mirrored my own hunger for Agatha, were a constant, irritating reminder of the past, of the bond they shared—a bond I was determined to sever, once and for all.I forced a smile, my hand lingering on Agatha's cheek, a possessive gesture meant to stake my claim, to ward off any lingering hopes Nathan might harbor.“Are you feeling better now?” I asked, my voice a carefully modulated murmur.Agatha’s gaze, usually so sharp, so focused, was clouded with confusion, her eyes darting between me and Nathan, a silent plea in their depths.“I’m… I’m not a critical patient, Charles,” she said, her voice a shaky whisper, her hand fl
Agatha POV:“Agatha, you’re being reckless! You can’t just discharge yourself. The doctor said you need to rest.” Charles’s voice was a mix of concern and… annoyance? I couldn’t quite tell.I ignored him, signing the discharge papers with a flourish, my hand surprisingly steady despite the lingering dizziness, the exhaustion that tugged at me.“I’m fine, Charles,” I said firmly, my gaze meeting his, unwavering. “Really. I need to be with my father. He needs me.”“But Agatha…”“No, Charles,” I interrupted, my voice sharper than I intended. “I appreciate your concern, but I can’t… I can’t stay here. Not when Dad is…”I couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought of him, lying in that hospital bed, hooked up to machines, his life hanging by a thread, was a physical ache in my chest.“Okay,” Charles said, his voice softening, his hand gently touching my arm, a possessive gesture that both comforted and irritated me. “I understand. I’ll… I’ll drive you.”“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’l
Charles POV:The penthouse was silent, the only sound the gentle clinking of ice in my glass as I swirled the amber liquid, the city lights twinkling below like a scattered handful of diamonds. I should have been celebrating. NexGen was on the brink, Agatha, overwhelmed and vulnerable, was falling right into my carefully laid trap.Yet, a strange unease gnawed at me, a persistent hum beneath the surface of my carefully constructed composure.My father’s voice, sharp and disapproving, echoed in my mind. “NexGen? That’s a risky move, Charles. A De Rossi company? It’s not worth it.”He’d never understood my ambition, my drive to conquer, to possess. He’d always preferred the safe, predictable path, the steady accumulation of wealth and power. He’d never taken risks, never played the game with the same ruthless determination that pulsed through my veins.A soft chime announced the arrival of dinner. My stepmother, a woman whose name I barely remembered, glided into the room."Charles, d
Agatha POV:The penthouse apartment shimmered, a testament to Charles's impeccable taste and extravagant wealth. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the sleek, modern furniture, the abstract art that adorned the walls, the breathtaking view of the city sprawling beneath us.It was a world away from the sterile white walls of the hospital, the hushed whispers, the constant fear that had clung to me like a second skin.But even in this luxurious sanctuary, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach, a constant reminder of the weight I carried, the decisions I had to make, the tangled mess of my heart that I couldn't seem to unravel.Charles poured me a glass of champagne, the bubbles rising like tiny, effervescent hopes in the crystal flute. He handed it to me, his touch lingering on mine, a possessive gesture that both thrilled and unsettled me."To new beginnings," he said, his voice a warm caress, his blue eyes sparkling with a mixture of admiration and…
Jasmine POV:I tapped my pen against my notepad, the rhythmic click a counterpoint to the frantic pulse of my thoughts. Charles was at it again. This time, it wasn't a hostile takeover or a complex financial scheme – it was Agatha De Rossi, and as always, things were spiraling, fast.My phone buzzed. I knew it would be him, no need to even look at the caller ID. "Jasmine, I need to know everything about Nathan Richards’s finances. Leave no stone unturned!" The words, practically a command, were just a little bit too intense to be just for work, which was usually the case with Charles.I sighed, a small sound that was swallowed by the vast emptiness of my office. I’d been with Charles long enough to recognize the signs – the obsessive focus, the restless pacing, the underlying tension that radiated off him like heat from a furnace. He was smitten, utterly consumed by this woman, and it was making him… reckless."Of course, Charles," I replied, my voice a carefully modulated blend
Agatha POV:“Jasmine,” I said, my voice a carefully controlled whisper, my gaze fixed on her, trying to decipher the emotions hidden beneath her usual calm demeanor. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong with Charles?”Her gaze flickered, a brief flash of something – anxiety? – before her face settled back into a mask of polite professionalism.“No, Ms. De Rossi,” she said, her voice measured, almost clinical. “Nothing has happened to Charles, not physically. It is… another kind of matter entirely.”I leaned back in my chair. The air in the office felt charged with unspoken tension, the silence a heavy weight that pressed down on me.“What do you mean, Jasmine?” I asked, my voice barely audible, my fingers tightening around my pen. “What’s going on?”She hesitated for a moment, her gaze drifting to the window, the city lights a distant, indifferent backdrop to the drama unfolding within these sterile walls. When she looked back, her eyes, usually so cold and calculating, wer
Agatha POV:The air in the children’s hospital playroom was a chaotic mix of giggling, chattering, and the rhythmic thump of small feet against the linoleum floor. Colorful murals of cartoon animals adorned the walls, bright posters encouraged everyone to “Stay Strong” and “Never Give Up”, and a mishmash of toys lay scattered across the floor like fallen confetti. It was a world away from the sterile silence of the ICUs, but even here, the weight of illness, of childhood suffering, was a palpable presence, a shadow that couldn’t be completely erased by the bright decorations or the forced cheerfulness of the staff.I smiled, trying to project an air of carefree joy as I bent down to help a little girl with a sparkly tiara that kept slipping over her eyes. Her face, pale and delicate, was illuminated by the sheer glee of wearing a crown, her eyes sparkling with an innocence that tugged at my heart. This charity event, a fundraiser for the children’s hospital, was something I had pe
Nathan POV:The image flickered on the cheap laptop screen, grainy footage from a hidden camera I’d paid a disgruntled security tech (courtesy of Manuel’s untraceable funds) to install overlooking the entrance to Agatha’s ridiculously opulent mansion.There they were. Campbell, playing the dutiful partner, opening the car door for her, his hand lingering possessively on her back as she stepped out. Agatha, pale and tired, offering him a tight, forced smile before disappearing inside.My teeth ground together. His hand on her back.The sight sent a familiar surge of bile rising in my throat. P
Charles POV:The sleek, minimalist reception area of Moretti Legal was offensively serene. Soft lighting, muted grey tones. It projected an image of calm competence, of controlled efficiency. An image that did nothing to soothe the tempest raging inside me."Mr. Campbell," the receptionist, a young woman with sharp eyes, greeted me with professional, if slightly wary, politeness."Do you have an appointment with Ms. Moretti?""No," I stated flatly, striding past her towards the frosted glass door bearing Lena Moretti's name. "But she'll see me."I didn't bother knocking. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.Lena Moretti looked up from the documents spread across her wide, uncluttered desk,
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?"