Chapter Three (3)

Agatha sat comfortably on the soft couch in her aunt Racheal's living room, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee. The room was warm and inviting, filled with the scent of vanilla and the gentle hum of the ceiling fan. Despite the cozy ambiance, a hint of tension lingered in the air.

"Aunt, what did Dad mean when he said he was giving you twenty minutes?" Agatha asked, a note of suspicion creeping into her tone.

Racheal's expression remained calm, her practiced smile never wavering. "It's nothing, baby. He just gave me a typing job that I haven't finished yet," she replied smoothly.

Agatha wasn't entirely convinced. She stood and walked into the kitchen, automatically reaching for the coffee pot. As she prepared two fresh cups, her voice carried over to Racheal. "Why do you still work for him? You already have multiple businesses to handle."

"You know how I love making more money at every chance I get," Racheal said with a light chuckle, but the sound didn't quite reach her eyes.

Agatha sighed as she handed Racheal a cup. "Aunt, too much of everything is bad. Don't let my father disrespect you like that just because of money."

Racheal's smile faltered for a brief moment. She had always admired Agatha's sharp mind, but sometimes she wished her niece wasn't so perceptive. "Speaking of money," Racheal said, steering the conversation away from dangerous territory, "I have a livestock business I want you to invest in. It's highly profitable."

Agatha's expression softened slightly. "That sounds great, Aunt, as long as it has nothing to do with my father."

"You do know that sooner or later, you'll have to accept him, right? He'll always be your father," Racheal said, reaching for a folder beside her.

Agatha's lips pressed into a thin line. Accepting her father was not a bridge she intended to cross—certainly not anytime soon.

"I need your signature on some documents," Racheal continued, opening the folder and laying the papers in front of Agatha. "I'll send you the full brief via email afterward."

"Alright, where are they?" Agatha asked, taking the pen from Racheal's outstretched hand.

Racheal pointed to the designated lines, and Agatha signed without much thought. Trust was never an issue between them.

As Agatha finished signing, Racheal's face shifted, a glimmer of regret shadowing her features.

"I'm sorry, Agatha," Racheal murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Agatha looked up, confusion clouding her gaze. "Sorry? Sorry for what, Aunt?"

"For not always being there for you," Racheal said, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

Agatha set the pen down and reached out, squeezing Racheal's hand. "Aunt, you've been my guardian since my mother passed. What more could I ask for? If anything, I should be the one thanking you."

A fragile silence settled between them, and for the rest of the evening, they focused on lighter topics. Laughter and old stories filled the room, easing the earlier tension. Agatha decided to stay over, appreciating the warmth of her aunt's home.

---

The Next Day

Morning came with a golden hue, and Agatha arrived at her modest yet efficient office. Her workspace wasn't grand, but it was hers—built from the ground up with Racheal's support and her own hard work.

She immersed herself in tasks, checking emails, drafting proposals, and strategizing for her business's next phase. The hours flew by, and before she knew it, the sun was dipping below the horizon.

Satisfied with the day's work, she finally packed up and went home, craving nothing more than a long shower and a soft bed.

---

Later That Night

Just as Agatha was slipping under her duvet, the doorbell rang. She groaned, her mind already guessing who it could be.

When she opened the door, her suspicions were confirmed. Anita stood there, a mischievous grin on her face and a bag of chips in hand.

"Anita, what is it now? Do you have to interrupt my beauty sleep?" Agatha asked, her voice a mix of irritation and amusement.

"A warm welcome would've been nice," Anita huffed, brushing past her and settling on the couch. "But never mind, I don't need it. Guess who's in town?"

Agatha crossed her arms, leaning against the door frame. "You know I hate guessing games. Just spill."

Anita's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Christian Stone is in town! And he'll be attending the gala in three days!"

Agatha barely stifled a yawn. "Okay… and how exactly does that concern me?"

Anita threw her hands up dramatically. "How does that concern you? Christian Stone is the most eligible—and richest—bachelor in town! Well… maybe not a bachelor anymore. I heard he's coming with his newly wedded wife."

She clutched her chest in mock heartbreak. "I feel so betrayed. How did I not know he was getting married? His wedding should have made headlines! I can't wait to see what kind of woman he married."

Agatha shook her head, unimpressed by her friend's theatrics. "Why do you even like that guy so much? I heard he's a beast."

Anita's lips curled into a playful smirk. "Oh, please. He's only a beast in character. But look at that face—he's gorgeous! And to top it all off, he's loaded."

Agatha sat down, exhaustion settling into her bones. "Would you really choose to live with a beast just because he's rich? And cry every day?"

Anita chuckled, unabashed. "Yes, girlfriend. I'd rather cry in my 2023 Bentley than cry under the scorching sun or in the rain."

A tired sigh escaped Agatha. "Why choose to cry at all when you can avoid it?"

"I'm just saying," Anita said, stretching out on the couch. "Anyway, sleep tight, girl. But remember—we're going shopping tomorrow. We have to show up looking our best. Even if we can't have the man, we can at least have his favor."

Anita's voice faded as Agatha drifted into sleep, the weight of the day pulling her under. Soon, the room filled with the soft sounds of two friends, resting side by side—one dreaming of what could be, and the other wishing for a simpler world.