CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NATHANIEL
I can't believe I got her to go on a date with me. But then again, what did I expect? Caroline had made it clear in the past that she wanted money and wouldn't mind selling herself to the highest bidder.
Something inside me keeps hoping she has changed, but deep down, I know I'm sailing a sinking boat. The sooner I swim to shore, the sooner I find peace. I'll take what she denied me, and that will be the end of it. She can move on to her next victim for all I care.
Still, the thought of Caroline with another man doesn't sit well with me. For crying out loud, she's been with other men all the time I've known her—so why does it sting now?
I stood at my front door and slid my card into the security lock. The door swung open, and I walked in with my bag and the flowers I bought from her earlier still in one hand. After leaving Caroline's shop, I had headed back to my office, leaving the flowers in my car. Now here I was, stuck with them until they wilted. I had no one to give them to, and I couldn't leave them in the car to dry up.
The house was as empty as ever. My younger sister, the only one who used to visit, had stopped coming after she got married and had her first child. I dropped my jacket and briefcase on the centre table, pulled my phone from my pocket, and dialed her number. She picked up on the fourth ring.
"Hello, Biggy," her voice boomed over the phone.
"Hi, baby," I replied, smiling.
"Stop calling me that! My son calls me that now because of you."
I laughed. "Well, that's what big brothers are for."
Her laughter faded into a crash in the background, followed by the sound of a child crying. I knew our call was almost over.
"When are you coming to see me?" I asked quickly, even though I already knew the answer.
"I'd love to, but juggling work, being a mother, and a wife has stolen my 'best sister' title," she said, her voice trembling slightly.
"You're still the best sister ever. No one can take that title away."
Another loud crash followed, then her hurried, "Please, I'll talk to you later." The line went dead.
That was the longest conversation I'd had with her in two years.
I sighed, sank into the couch, then stood and walked to the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of mixed fruit juice—alcohol could wait. As I sipped, I thought about how quiet my life had become.
After finishing the juice, I picked up my briefcase and jacket and climbed the stairs to my room. I emptied my hands on the bed and set the glass on the nightstand. As I unbuttoned my shirt, the photo of my father on the table caught my attention. I picked it up and ran a finger along the frame.
I missed him. He was stubborn as a bull, but he was the strongest man I knew. He'd raised my sister and me single-handedly after my mother's death. I could barely remember her face—she'd left too soon. Dad never spoke about her, and none of her family ever visited. He'd forbidden any talk of her.
I had planned to ask him about her when he was close to death, thinking he might finally open up. But he died while I was out of the country. He took all his secrets to the grave.
My uncle—Dad's brother—was no help either. He believed he'd been cheated out of Dad's wealth and wouldn't talk to me. The man was poison; his sons were worse. If I ever got close to them, they'd smile for two minutes and stab me in the back the third.
I replaced the frame and walked out of my room, heading for the kitchen. The smell of reheated food greeted me as I opened the microwave. I sat at the kitchen table and ate slowly. It was delicious, but it couldn't fill the growing emptiness inside me.
Just as I finished, my phone rang. I rinsed my hands and answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Mark from Santos Logistics Company. I'm calling to remind and confirm your appointment with our marketing team tomorrow."
"Oh, right," I said, trying to recall the time. "What time tomorrow?"
"Seven p.m., sir."
Seven p.m.? That clashed with my plans. "Can it be moved to earlier? Or maybe rescheduled?"
"I'll confirm and call you back, sir."
"Alright. I'll wait for your call."
When the line went dead, I exhaled. I couldn't believe I'd forgotten such a major deal. They wanted to partner with my transportation company for all their haulage operations—a huge contract. And I almost let it slip.
Money was all I had left to focus on. Yet lately, even that seemed meaningless. The emptiness inside me was eating deeper than I'd like to admit. Maybe it wasn't hate I felt toward Caroline—maybe it was regret.
Still, regret or not, I needed closure. Revenge was the only way I knew to get it. I'd rather lose this deal than lose the chance to finish what I started with her.
I left the kitchen and headed for the bar. Tonight wasn't a night to sit in the lounge; I wanted to be closer to the drinks. I poured myself a glass of Absolut Vodka—strong and burning. I didn't care. I needed the numbness.
Somewhere between my third and fifth glass, my phone buzzed again. The meeting had been moved to next week. I tried to remember why that mattered, but the alcohol drowned everything out.
---
I woke up with my neck stiff and my head pounding like an orchestra gone wild. My tie was strangling me, and my shirt was half unbuttoned. I'd slept at the bar again.
Groaning, I pushed myself up. My body ached with the weight of exhaustion and regret. I took slow, careful steps toward the stairs, each one calculated so I wouldn't collapse.
Once in bed, I rolled over and closed my eyes, but my phone rang again.
"Someone better be dying," I muttered before answering.
"Sir, good morning," my PA said politely. "Just checking on you."
"I'm fine," I grumbled.
"When should we expect you, sir?"
"What time is it?"
"Ten a.m., sir."
"Ten—what?" My voice rose, and pain shot through my head.
"Are you alright, sir?"
"I'll live. Cancel everything for today. I'm not coming in."
"Alright, sir. Please take care."
"I will," I said, ending the call and sinking back into my pillow.
Moments later, the smell of strong coffee reached me. My cook, Daniel, entered the room with a steaming cup in hand.
"Your PA said you might need this, sir."
"God bless that woman," I murmured, taking the cup. The first sip hit like medicine. Slowly, the drummers in my head softened their beat.
"Thank you, Paul," I said, handing the cup back. "I need to sleep. No disturbance until five."
"Won't you like some food, sir?"
"Later."
"It's already two p.m., sir," he said gently.
"Then wake me up in an hour and a half," I replied.
He nodded and turned to leave.
"Oh, Paul l," I added, "please thank her for me."
"Your PA?" he asked, and I nodded.
Just then, I remembered the flowers in my sitting room.
"Tell my driver to take the flowers and give them to her," I said. "She's always been there for me."
Before Daniel could respond, I let my head sink back into the pillow, not bothering to check if he understood me. Sleep claimed me again, heavy and dreamless.