Chapter Twenty-One

KEAGAN'S POV~

The board directors' incessant arguing and murmuring reverberated through the vast meeting hall, grating on my nerves. I eyed each of them coldly, desperately seeking a solution as the unproductive meeting dragged on.

Three hours had passed, yet no conclusion was in sight, and my patience was wearing thin.

"Are you all nothing more than a bunch of idiots in suits, irritating every cell in my body by murmuring for hours without a single reasonable idea?!" I snapped, my voice echoing through the suddenly silent room.

A hand cautiously rose amid the tense atmosphere, and my cold gaze swiftly landed on a man who had been typing away since the start of the meeting.

"Sir, I truly believe that for this new advertisement to launch successfully, we need the influence of a famous model to make it work," he suggested. The room filled with a murmur of agreement.

"Hmm," I hummed, stroking my beard as I swirled in my swivel chair, contemplating the idea.

Throwing a glance at my wrist, I realized it was time for the daily ritual I had maintained for eight long years. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I felt lost, cold and numb, staring blankly at my gleaming timepiece.

"Very well, then..." I slowly rose, closing my laptop and gathering my cellphones from the table while everyone kept their eyes on me. "My Beta, Hector, will oversee all matters concerning this model, including her pay, accommodation, and the agreement with her agency. He'll update me on any relevant information. If additional issues arise, please communicate them to Hector, who will ensure they're brought to my attention. I must now attend to important business." I excused myself and headed toward the door.

Hector promptly took my place, and as voices rose throughout the room, the door closed behind me, drowning them out.

I walked toward the garage, making my way into my car. I froze as I caught sight of the fresh purple hibiscus I had bought for her... Jessica. Jessica. Jessica. I shivered and slid into the driver’s seat. Jessica. A lump formed in my throat, and my grip on the steering wheel tightened as I tried to look away but i couldn’t…I never could look away when it came to her. Jessica.

My chest felt heavy, burdened by an invisible weight. I paused for a moment and pressed my head to the cool leather of the steering wheel. Breathe Keagan Breathe. My eyes slid shut as the mantra rang in my head. 

"You know, Keagan, you should be more romantic!" Jessica's voice from our second-year wedding anniversary echoed in my brain, so vivid it felt as though she was next to me. If I squinted, I could make out her lovestruck, chiding grin. "Take me to movies, dinner dates, and buy me lots of purple hibiscus flowers—I love them! Ugh, do I have to teach you every day how to be a romantic man?"

The memories struck my heart, and my burning eyes snapped open. Gritting my teeth, I started the car and sped into the dense traffic.

A while later, the vehicle came to a halt. As I stared at the rickety sign, it felt as though all the air had been punched from my guts. I couldn’t fucking breathe. Breathe Keagan. FUCK!

Trying and failing to hide my tremors, I grabbed the flowers and made my way to Jessica's burial site—the place where her ashes and bones had been laid to rest. I swallowed hard, sliding to the ground beside her tombstone. Each intake of air felt like a knife slicing through my heart.

Clenching my jaw, I placed the flowers on her grave. "I'm sorry," I muttered, my head spinning with emotion, rendering me speechless.

I never had the chance to see her before her death, and despite my efforts to uncover the truth, every source claimed that Jessica had been assassinated by the same people she had hired to kill Emma.

I couldn't believe it until I saw her bones, and the shock nearly caused me to pass out.

I didn't even know how to process the situation. My mother had assured me not to dwell on her death, insisting it was karma that had struck her down. But I couldn't simply ignore her; after all, she had been my first wife...my mate. But why…why did my sweet Jessica try to murder Emma? Had I pushed her so far that she lost her humanity? Emma had the scars to prove that…my Jessica had sliced a knife through every inch of her exposed skin. Why…Why?

I lowered my head, stroking the smooth surface of her gravestone.

 "Today is the anniversary of your death, Jessica, and I'm here to see you again. I have so many questions—countless questions that keep buzzing in my head...unanswered, loud and unforgiving. Questions that no one in the world can answer except you," I murmured, sighing deeply.

Many nights I couldn't sleep, struggling to come to terms with the unimaginable truth. My sweet Jessica was anything but.

Eight years ago, I returned from a lengthy business trip, utterly exhausted and longing for an extended period of rest. Just as I was about to eat dinner, Emma phoned me, anxiously revealing that Jessica had attempted to take her life, and she had managed to escape by a slim margin. I found myself racing toward Emma's location without a second thought, while her phone dropped the call, leaving a trail of cops in pursuit.

Upon seeing Emma lying on the road, her head bleeding, ragged knife cuts on the underside of her belly and clothes tattered, I froze. There was no trace of Jessica at the scene. My mother had issued an order for her arrest and wanted her immediately locked up, but I resisted. I urged the cops to apprehend Jessica for questioning before convicting her.

Even with mounting evidence against Jessica, such as the love potion she had used on me, I struggled to accept that she would attempt to assassinate her own best friend. Days turned into months, and Jessica remained missing, heightening my concerns.

I couldn't dismiss my suspicions. Jessica had been desperate for my love; she would have reached out to explain the situation, as she always had, instead of running away. Was she afraid, or was there another reason?

I continued waiting, investing millions of dollars in the search for her. I promised myself that I would locate her, but there was no indication of her whereabouts.

Hell was let loose for me when a fire ambulance found a burning house, and one of my private investigators provided images of a dress eerily similar to the one Jessica had been wearing on the day she vanished.

It felt as though time stood still as I stared at the remains of Jessica—her once beautiful form reduced to bones, surrounded by ashes and fragments of her clothing. Dried blood stained the scene, and my heart clenched in a painful squeeze unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I desperately wished I could turn back time, but it was too late.

On that day, our mate bond shattered, and the pain coursed through every cell in my body, nearly driving me to the brink of insanity.

Ever since, I have come here on this specific day each year to just see her…talk to my Jessica. I had been an asshole, and I wished I could change some things.

Heaving a heavy sigh of distress, I let my eyes slide close, resting my head against her tombstone.. I couldn't tell Jessica—I wondered how she would feel if she knew I had married Emma, the woman she had fought to keep away from me.

Months after Jessica's death, Emma returned home alongside my mother, announcing the birth of her babies, which came as a shocking revelation. She claimed that the doctor had informed her of a cryptic pregnancy, and she was fortunate to have given birth to them. Emma whose womb had been ruined by the car accident those years ago, suddenly returned home with two babies. A miracle indeed.

Overjoyed, my mother threw the grandest baby shower in the country. Although Emma might not be my true mate, she was the mother of my twins—my heirs. Under my mother's relentless pressure, I had no choice but to marry her. I swallowed the bitterness that spread through my heart, and my attention shifted to my pocket as my phone began to vibrate.

Sighing at the interruption, I saw that my kids were calling. I couldn't answer them here, as it would be disrespectful to the dead. 

So, I quickly bid my farewell, and instead of returning their calls, I responded to their text messages inquiring about my whereabouts once I was back in the car.

“Daddy is on his way home." I texted back, repositioning my rearview mirror which seemed to have strangely shifted, and before I could start off the car, I saw a figure quickly move like lightning right past my car.

I froze.