(Abigail's POV – Refusing to Face the Truth)
The soft hum of the air conditioning in the hotel room was the only sound that filled the space, but it felt suffocating.
Abigail sat at the edge of the bed, staring at her phone, but her eyes weren't really seeing anything. She had read the sa text ssage from Joshua over and over, yet the words didn't bring her any comfort.
"Samuel... still ignoring ."
The room was dim, and the silence felt almost deafening.
Abigail's fingers tightened around the phone, her breath shallow. She could still see him—Samuel, standing in the banquet, his erald eyes cold and distant.
The way he had walked away with Belle Ross, barely sparing her a second glance.
"I should've been enough for him," she muttered, her voice trembling. "Why isn't he coming back? Why isn't he begging for like he used to?"
The thought cut through her like a knife, but it didn't stop her. She couldn't—she wouldn't—admit what had happened.
She couldn't accept that everything she had done had pushed him away.
No, it was his fault.
He wasn't the sa man anymore.
He had changed—and it wasn't her fault.
She stood up suddenly, pacing the room, her steps quick and erratic, her hands trembling with the weight of her thoughts.
Her mind kept racing back to Kayla's death—the one thing that had shattered everything she had ever known. She could still feel the pain of losing him, the devastating truth that her own actions had forced Samuel into a cage of guilt and loss.
But none of that mattered now.
All she wanted was him.
She needed him.
"I made him suffer. I know, but he belongs to . He always will."
She stopped in front of the mirror, studying her own reflection for a mont—her makeup slightly smudged, her expression tight, almost desperate.
She could see the woman she had beco, the woman who had always used power to manipulate, to control. But now, that wasn't enough. She needed more.
She needed Samuel.
"I will make him see," she whispered to herself, her voice filled with dark determination. "I will make him love again. No matter what."
Abigail's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white.
"It's not too late."
She took a deep breath, walking over to her desk and grabbing the bottle of wine she had ordered earlier. She poured herself a glass, the dark red liquid swirling as she stared into the depths of the glass.
"I'm not going to let him go. Not when I've waited this long."
Her obsession had grown over the years, but after Samuel had left her, it had only intensified.
She refused to admit her mistakes, the guilt she buried deep inside her. She refused to believe that everything she had done was the reason for his departure.
In her mind, she had always been justified. It wasn't her fault.
It wasn't.
"He still loves . He has to."
But deep inside, a small voice whispered to her—a voice she ignored every ti.
"You destroyed him. You broke him."
She poured another glass of wine, drowning out the truth.
No matter how much she tried to deceive herself, it didn't matter. She had lost him. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth—she was the reason for it.
She looked at the mirror again, her reflection staring back at her with eyes that were no longer full of the confident, controlling woman she once was. Now, they were filled with sothing darker—an obsession that no amount of pride or success could fill.
"I'll fix it. I'll fix everything. He'll co back to ."
Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone, dialing the number she knew all too well.
Samuel's number.
But once again, it went to voicemail.
"Sam, why aren't you picking up? It's . It's Abigail." She paused for a mont, her voice shaking. "I need you. I can't... I can't be without you. Please, just co back."
She ended the call, her lips trembling as she stared at the screen.
The silence in the room felt overwhelming. The truth was there, staring at her in the mirror, but she refused to acknowledge it.
All she could think about was Samuel—how to make him see that everything she did, she did for him.
And how much she would do to make him her own again.
No matter the cost.
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