David stepped back immediately, clearing his throat. "Oh… yeah."
"Yes," Andrea said, holding his arms before meeting my gaze "If you're hungry, baby, I can call the maids to prepare something for you."
I had no interest in whatever performance she was starting.
I simply walked out.
The next morning, I got ready for my first day at the company.
Elias was already in the car when I came out. I entered without a word.
The drive was painfully quiet. Elias didn't speak, not even once. I kept my gaze glued to the window, pretending I was comfortable with sharing the same space with him.
When we reached the company, he walked ahead, giving me no chance to slow down or look around. Straight into the boardroom.
Everyone stood immediately. A chorus of greetings followed. Elias took the CEO's seat at the center, and I sat on his right.
"I want to introduce Mara Lawson," he said firmly. "She'll be working alongside me here."
I noticed eyes shifting, some nodding politely, others whispering. I looked around until my gaze fell on her.
Purple dress. Sleek hair. Red lipstick too bold.
I recognized that face.
The face that kissed my husband.
Her smile was thin. Mocking.
I looked away before my anger swallowed the room.
The meeting dragged on which I didn't pay attention to. All I could think about was her, sitting there so comfortably, as if she hadn't played a role in destroying my marriage.
When it ended, Elias and I headed to the office. Our office suite was bright, modern, separated only by a glass wall.
Do I really have to share a space with him? How am I supposed to stay away like Clara warned me to?
He unscrewed a bottle of water, took a slow drink, and I stayed standing, waiting for whatever judgment he planned to deliver.
"This company is bleeding," he said finally. "I don't expect you to understand the details, but you'll do as you're told. Don't meddle. Don't interfere. And most importantly, don't embarrass the Lawson name."
I stared at him.
"So you've already decided I'm incapable of anything but destruction?"
His eyes met mine, sharp and cold. "Aren't you?"
The words stung. "You must really dislike me. Why so much hatred for someone you barely know?"
"Because my brother is dead," he raised his voice "and I don't know what part you played in it."
I froze.
What?
Does he…
Does he think I killed Philip?
"You're wrong," I forced out. "Even though I still can't remember everything from that day… one thing I know is that I loved Philip. I did not kill him."
He scoffed.
"You had enough reasons to end his life. And I regret…"
He stopped. Something shifted in his expression. Confusion? Annoyance? Maybe both. He dragged a hand through his hair and stepped closer, invading my space until I could feel the heat of him.
"Miss Lawson, what happened between us that night," he said, voice low "was a mistake. It will never happen again."
He won't win in humiliating me like this.
"What exactly happened that I supposedly can't remember?" I asked, steady and composed even though I was lying through my teeth. "Because from where I'm standing, you're the one who dragged me into this company. Now you're acting like I begged for it."
His eyes flickered in confusion. "You don't remember? Stop playing games with me."
I only stared back.
He stepped away slightly, still studying me like something wasn't adding up.
"Richard will brief you on your duties," he said finally. "You'll oversee Public Relations. You can leave."
I walked into my office and sat down, trying to steady my shaking hands.
His words replayed in my head, cutting deeper each time. My gaze fell on the iron nameplate engraved with my name.
If he suspects me…
Then why give me this position?
To watch me?
Either way, I wasn't going to let him break me.
The least I could do was prove myself.
I stood up and headed to the PR department.
Phones rang, laptops clicked, voices overlapped. They greeted me warmly, and for a moment, I admired how driven everyone looked, until my eyes landed on her.
She approached like she owned the entire floor. "Mara Lawson," she said, stopping in front of me. "We've already been informed that you'll be leading us."
"Yes," I replied calmly. "And I expect professionalism. We're here to work."
She smirked. "We've run this department for years. It isn't as simple as showing up. I doubt Philip would think you capable of handling this if he were alive. By the way, it's Vivian"
Her casual tone toward Philip made my stomach twist.
I tilted my head, matching her tone.
"If Philip trusted you so much, Vivian, the department wouldn't be in the state I found it today. Don't project your insecurities on me."
Her eyes widened—offended, furious—and I walked away before she could speak.
By evening, I finally arrived home, exhausted and emotionally drained. After freshening up, a knock came on my door.
"Come in," I said.
Margaret entered, carrying a tray. "Mrs. Lawson… I brought dinner for you."
"I didn't order anything," I said, stepping forward, then a sharp pain shot through my stomach.
She rushed to me. "Should I call someone? Are you okay Ma?"
"No. I'm fine," I said quickly. "Just… leave it there."
She hesitated, concern etched on her face, but obeyed.
I tried eating, but the pain wouldn't let me. Eventually, I lay down, letting sleep drag me under.
"Why… Did you think I wouldn't know?"
The voice dragged me out of sleep and into the nightmare I'd been running from.
I opened my eyes to find myself standing in Philip's study, the same room he died in. The same dream again. The same haunting replay… but this time, it didn't stop where it usually did. It went further.
Across the room, I saw me.
My other self—drunk, angry, shattered.
Philip stepped toward her, his voice breaking. "Mara… I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to find out this way."
I leaned forward, desperate to hear more, but the sound blurred, like the dream was muting the truth on purpose. My other self stumbled back, face twisted with hurt. Philip reached for her.
And she pushed him.
Hard.
His head slammed against the edge of the table with a sickening thud.
I jolted awake, gasping, drenched in sweat.
The dream was different this time. Sharper. More violent.
Did I kill him?
Did I really push Philip that night?
Could I have ended his life without remembering?
Maybe that's why everything is blank.
Maybe my mind is hiding something I'm not ready to face.