His name was Nathaniel

87

Nathaniel was drowning.

His schedule had always been hectic, but this—this was something else entirely.

Every morning, he woke up to an inbox overflowing with urgent emails, back-to-back meetings scheduled so tightly that he barely had time to breathe, let alone eat. His days blurred into endless conference calls, business proposals, and high-stakes negotiations.

And at the center of it all?

His father.

Edward had orchestrated every bit of it—an onslaught of responsibilities disguised as "essential business affairs." Nathaniel hadn't questioned it at first. It made sense; the company was expanding, and his workload was naturally increasing.

But after weeks of nonstop pressure, of sleepless nights and barely-there meals, he was beginning to see the truth.

His father wasn't preparing him for leadership.

He was pushing him toward collapse.

⸻

One of the largest tasks on Nathaniel's plate had been the potential acquisition of a competing company—a deal that could significantly strengthen Donovan Enterprises. The negotiations were delicate, requiring multiple private meetings to work out the details.

And that's where she came in.

Elena Harrington. Heiress to a media conglomerate, well-connected, and—more importantly—someone Nathaniel's father had specifically chosen to oversee the negotiations.

Nathaniel had never been interested in her beyond business. She was intelligent, sure, but she carried the same arrogance as most high-society elites. And yet, Edward had insisted she was the best point of contact for the deal.

Now, looking back, Nathaniel could see the setup for what it was.

His father had wanted the media to capture those meetings. Had wanted rumors to spread about Nathaniel spending time with a woman from his class.

A strategic move. A trap.

And Nathaniel had walked right into it.

⸻

The Breaking Point

By the time he finally got home that night, exhaustion clung to him like a weight. His body ached, his head pounded, and the stress of the past few weeks pressed down on him with unbearable force.

But none of it compared to the cold feeling in his chest when he checked his phone.

Missed Calls: Adaliya (4)
Unread Messages: Lola, Violet, Greg...

And then, a single text from Adaliya:

We need to talk.

Nathaniel exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before immediately calling her back.

She answered on the third ring, and the sharpness in her voice sent a chill down his spine.

"So, do you want to explain," she began, her tone deceptively calm, "why I had to find out through the media that you've been having private dinners with some heiress?"

Nathaniel's grip tightened around his phone. "Adaliya, it's not what it looks like—"

"Then what is it, Nathaniel?" she snapped, the calmness evaporating. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like you've been lying to me."

Nathaniel's jaw clenched. "I haven't lied to you."

"Oh, really? Then why didn't you tell me about her?"

"Because she's not important," he said, his voice growing strained.

Adaliya let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Not important? The entire internet seems to think she is!"

He ran a hand down his face, already feeling his patience wearing thin. "You're believing tabloids over me now?"

"No, I'm believing what I'm seeing," she shot back. "You—my boyfriend—having private meetings with another woman, and somehow, I'm supposed to be okay with that?"

Nathaniel inhaled sharply, his exhaustion cracking into frustration. "Do you seriously think I'd cheat on you?"

Adaliya hesitated for a fraction of a second, and that hesitation stung.

"I don't want to believe it," she admitted, her voice quieter. "But Nathaniel... you've been so distant. You barely call, you barely check in, and now this?"

Nathaniel's breath came heavier, his head pounding. "I've been working—for us, for the company, for the life I'm trying to build! And instead of trusting me, you're accusing me?"

"Don't turn this around on me!" she snapped. "You don't get to act like I'm overreacting when you were the one keeping things from me!"

Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. "I wasn't keeping anything from you—"

"Then why did I have to find out like this? Why didn't you just tell me about her?"

"Because I knew this would happen!" he snapped, voice raising. "I knew the second you saw the headlines, you'd jump to conclusions!"

Adaliya sucked in a breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was tight with hurt. "So this is my fault now?"

"That's not what I—"

"Then what are you saying, Nathaniel? Because right now, all I hear is excuses."

Nathaniel's hands curled into fists. He was exhausted, overwhelmed, drowning, and now the one person he thought would always stand by him was pulling away.

And it hurt.

"I don't have time for this," he muttered.

Silence.

Then, in the coldest voice he had ever heard from her, Adaliya said, "Neither do I."

And the line went dead.

Nathaniel stared at his phone, his pulse roaring in his ears.

She had hung up on him.

His chest tightened, anger and frustration battling with something deeper. Something dangerous.

Fear.

⸻