His name was Nathaniel

89

The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bed. Nathaniel lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of reality pressing down on him.

He had to leave.

The thought was suffocating.

Adaliya was curled up beside him, still fast asleep, her face peaceful in the early light. For a moment, he considered canceling everything—staying in bed, holding her, ignoring the world outside.

But he couldn't.

His life didn't allow for that.

Carefully, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. She stirred slightly, eyes fluttering open.

Nathaniel sighed. "Didn't mean to wake you."

She blinked, adjusting to the light. Then, realization dawned on her. "You're leaving."

He hated how defeated she sounded.

Nathaniel exhaled, resting his forehead against hers. "I have to."

Adaliya bit her lip, her fingers tightening against the sheets. "You just got here."

"I know."

They stayed like that for a few moments, neither willing to move, neither wanting to face the inevitable.

Then, finally, Adaliya sat up, her expression unreadable. "Then go."

Nathaniel frowned. "Adaliya—"

"I get it," she said, offering a small, tired smile. "You have things to take care of."

But he could see it—the flicker of sadness in her eyes, the way she clenched her jaw like she was holding back something heavier.

Nathaniel reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. "I'll be back."

She nodded but didn't say anything.

And somehow, that made leaving even harder.

⸻

The moment Nathaniel stepped into the Donovan Enterprises building, he didn't waste a second.

He went straight to his father's office.

Stormed inside without knocking.

Edward barely looked up from his paperwork. "Ah, my prodigal son returns."

Nathaniel's patience was already nonexistent. "You set me up."

Edward finally glanced at him, unimpressed. "I strategized."

Nathaniel slammed a hand against his desk. "You overbooked my schedule. You chose that woman for negotiations. You let the media spin the story knowing exactly what it would look like."

Edward exhaled dramatically. "And?"

Nathaniel's hands curled into fists. "And you almost ruined my relationship."

Edward chuckled. "If something as small as a few rumors can ruin your precious love story, then maybe it wasn't strong enough to begin with."

Nathaniel saw red.

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the edge of his father's desk and shoved it forward just enough to rattle everything on it.

Edward's eyes flashed. "Careful, Nathaniel."

Nathaniel's voice was sharp. Dangerous. "You don't get to control me. Not my work. Not my life. And definitely not my relationship."

Edward stood slowly, straightening his suit. "That's where you're wrong. Everything you have, everything you are, is because of me."

Nathaniel's breathing was heavy. His pulse roared in his ears.

And then—

A sudden wave of dizziness.

His vision blurred for half a second, the room tilting in an unnatural way. He clenched the edge of the desk, trying to ground himself, but the sensation was relentless.

Edward noticed.

For a brief moment—so brief—there was something almost concerned in his expression. His sharp eyes flickered over Nathaniel's face, taking in his unsteady posture, the way his fingers gripped the desk like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Then, just as quickly as it came, the concern vanished.

Edward smirked. "You look tired."

Nathaniel forced himself to straighten. "I'm fine."

Edward hummed, unconvinced. "Are you?"

Nathaniel's jaw clenched. He refused to show weakness in front of him.

His father studied him for a long moment, then shrugged. "Well, if you insist on making your own choices, don't come crying to me when they collapse on you."

With that, he turned his attention back to his papers, dismissing Nathaniel entirely.

Nathaniel exhaled sharply, turning on his heel and storming out.

But the moment he stepped into the hallway, the dizziness returned—harder this time. His vision tunneled, his balance gave out—

And then—

A firm grip caught him before he hit the floor.

⸻

Nathaniel's bodyguards reacted instantly, keeping him upright as he slumped against them.

"Sir?" one of them asked urgently. "We need to get you to a hospital."

Nathaniel shook his head, his breathing uneven. "No."

"Sir, you nearly collapsed—"

"I said no."

Instead, he was quickly ushered out of the building, taken to his car, and driven home before anyone could see what had happened.

By the time they got him inside, he felt like hell.

His chest felt heavy, his limbs sluggish.

But he still refused to rest.

Instead, he ordered his personal doctor to come examine him in private.

No hospitals. No press. No one could know.

And while waiting, he did what any sane man on the verge of physical exhaustion would do—

He opened his laptop.

Because if he was going to survive this damn workload, he needed help.

⸻

Nathaniel knew himself well enough to accept that he wasn't going to slow down—not completely.

But he could take something off his plate.

He could find someone to handle the lesser tasks, the administrative work, the constant need for presence in meetings.

A secretary wasn't enough—he needed someone who could think for him when he was pulled in too many directions.

An apprentice.

Someone he could trust to handle smaller business matters so he could focus on what truly mattered.

He made a list.

The best candidates. The smartest minds. People who wanted to prove themselves.

His eyes scanned the names, his vision still slightly hazy, but his determination unshaken.

He was going to fix this.

His health. His business. His relationship.

Because failure?

Failure was not an option.

⸻