Chapter 3

Eilidh's POINT OF VIEW

I heard his voice earlier than I even noticed him.

For a brief moment, a tiny flicker of wish ignited deep within me. I thought that this particular situation might be unique. Maybe this time he'd say something that made sense, something that might ease the pain in my chest.

But no.

His eyes, those cold, dark ones, gazed at me with an extraordinary intensity, a fog of indifference encircling him like a heavy cloud. And then, with no hesitation, he spoke.

"I don’t need this toddler. Don’t forget to abort."

I could sense the blood drain from my face.

His words struck me sharply. The wish in my heart vanished in an instant, shattered by the coldness of his voice. It became like a knife had pierced right through me, twisting deep into my chest. How could I possibly entertain the idea, even in a movie, that this particular experience might be unique?

My hand, still clutching my bag, started to tremble. The weight of his words settled in, sinking into me like a heavy stone, and the small flicker of desire that had started to develop just moments ago became long gone.

What turned into what I was anticipating? That he’d change his thoughts? That he’d care?

I couldn’t help, however, chortling at myself. How could I have been so silly?

If he didn’t need the kid, then why did he sleep with me?

I desired to scream at him. I wanted to call for a solution, to shout out all the hurt and frustration that was building up inside of me. But nothing got out here.

He had immediately told me that he liked children and that he desired a circle of relatives. That changed into the purpose I hadn’t taken the drugs—the reason I let myself believe for even a moment that he may honestly care.

But no.

It seemed as though he valued children, but he was no longer with me.

My coronary heart felt adored; it changed into being ripped out of my chest. Every time he broke me, I instructed myself I wouldn’t allow it to harm me anymore. But it did. This happened consistently.

I kept my lower back to him, refusing to allow him to see the tears I may want to feel welling up behind my eyes. I could no longer allow him to witness my emotional breakdown. I knew it wouldn't make a difference.

Taking a deep breath, I pressured my voice to live calmly, although it felt like each word was ripping me apart.

"Mr. MacKinnon, don’t worry about it. I don’t need these two infants. I’ve already made up my mind to cease it."

I didn’t want to stop talking. I wanted to go away. I wanted to run away from him, from this area, and from all the pain he kept dragging me through.

But I couldn’t go away without announcing one closing thing.

"One greater thing," I said, my voice slightly a whisper. "I hope I by no means see you again."

I turned then, not looking lower back.

I didn't simply need to leave. But the suffocating weight of the whole thing between us was an excessive amount to endure.

My arms gripped my bag tightly, and I compelled myself to walk away, ignoring the way my heart felt like it was being beaten below the weight of my personal feet.

I heard his footsteps at the back of me, but I didn’t dare look back.

Just after I mentioned I may make it out without losing control, a voice called out to me.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t see you..."

I iced up, the phrases slightly registering before a person bumped into me, sending my files scattering across the floor. I felt a short jolt of panic earlier than I had focused on the undertaking at hand.

No, I noticed I was the only one who wasn’t paying interest.

"No, I’m sorry," I stated, crouching all the way down to assist him in accumulating the scattered files. My heart continued to race, but at least this task had become simpler. Something I may want to do.

After we finished, I stood up, cleaned my fingers, and entered the elevator. A familiar face greeted me as the door opened.

"Stella, there you are! How are you? You’re new here, right? If you want whatever, don’t hesitate to invite me."

It was Hamish Fraser, the senior manager.

I gave him a decent smile, forcing myself to sound greater and more comfortable than I felt.

"I’m first-rate, thank you."

We stepped into the office together, and as we settled in, Hamish spoke once more; his voice was more comfortable this time.

"I’m simply happy you frequent our place. It’s splendid to have you ever lower back." He handed me a pink file, and I took it without a second thought.

"I’m positive you’ve heard approximately the acquisition rumors. Our organization’s been getting a whole lot of interest currently; however, nothing’s pretty stable yet."

I nodded, taking in the phrases but not in reality processing them. My thoughts turned to the verbal exchange I had just had.

Hamish didn’t seem to be aware of my distraction. He went on, explaining how many organizations had been eyeing our company; however, Dunmore Group had a nice offer.

I ought to sense the air round us thickening, as if the room had emerged as smaller, heavier with expectation.

"But Mr. MacKinnon’s provide?" Hamish continued. "It’s no longer precisely what we have been hoping for. It’s… low." He paused, glancing at me. "That’s why I added you again. I need your help to make this situation better.

Dunmore Group. Ruaridh MacKinnon.

The phrases hit me like a blow to the intestine.

I felt the report in my hands grow heavier, the weight of it turning into more than simply paper and ink.

The recollections flooded back—reminiscences I had buried so deep I’d forgotten they may harm this a good deal.

His voice. His voice was characterized by its coldness and impassivity. His indifference to everything I have been. We shared everything we possessed.

I swallowed hard, seeking to calm myself; however, I felt the tremble in my arms.

"I'll do my best," I managed to say, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

Hamish smiled, obviously relieved. "Good. I’m happy to hear that."

I wanted to inform him of the whole thing. I wanted to share with him the pain Ruaridh had inflicted on my heart, as well as the lingering weight of the past that continued to haunt me. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

He had no concept of what he was asking of me.

I thought the day could stop there, that I could breathe again, but the beyond has a humorous manner of creeping up while you least count on it.

And once I stepped into the elevator to leave the workplace, my smartphone buzzed.

A text.

I opened it without thinking.

It comes from an unknown variety.

I want to look at you. Now.

I froze, my heart racing.

Ruaridh.

Was he gambling on video games again? Or does this become something worse?

I felt the air depart my lungs, and earlier than I could even suppose, I hit the respond button.

Why?

The message got here lower back almost immediately.

It’s critical. Meet me this night.

I stared at the display, my fingers soaring over the keys.

Was I truly going to try this once more?

The beyond changed into coming for me again, and this time, I wasn’t certain I ought to manage it.

What did he need now?

Would I ever escape him?!