Chapter 153 Change of plans 1
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I dismiss the useless styling team June dragged in here with one flick of my wrist. They scatter fast—good. I don’t have the patience for incompetence tonight.
As soon as the door shuts behind them, I dial my phone.
The line barely rings once.
"He is still at the store. The wine section," a deep male voice reports.
Perfect.
A smile stretches across my lips—wide, triumphant. I end the call without another word.
I twirl around the room, humming as I reach for the wine bottle, and give myself generous pour, and a well-earned sip. Everything is falling exactly into place.
Hermes doesn’t remember June.
I just fired her.
I removed her from the board like the insignificant little pawn she is.
And Hermes… oh, Hermes looks at me the way he used to. As though I’m his constant, his comfort, and his ultimate choice.
The world finally feels right again.
But then— A thought creeps in, slithering into my mind.
What if he regains his memories of her?
The glass in my hand stills, as my pulse tightens.
No. I can’t allow that.
I leave the common room instantly and head straight for Hermes’s chamber. The door isn’t locked. He’s slipping again… good.
I walk inside, scanning the immaculate space for the pills Ted prescribed—the ones that stabilize Hermes’s condition and keep his memories from fragmenting.
If I can switch them, give him something that keeps him from remembering her…
It will be the perfect thing to do because Hermes belongs to me. He always has.
But where are the damn pills?
I move faster, irritation growing with each passing second, checking drawers, shelves, the bathroom cabinet, but I find nothing.
Tch.
I sit down on the edge of Hermes’s bed, tapping my nails against my thigh as the itchy thought returns.
Should I really let June walk away? Just like that?
What if she comes back? What if she tries something? Hermes may not remember today, but tomorrow—who knows? His condition is unpredictable.
Should I arrange her elimination?
It would be simple like a disappearance, ora tragic accident abroad or a problem erased before it ever resurfaces.
I stand abruptly, pacing toward his study—and then I stop.
My gaze drops to the bracelet Hermes gave me earlier. That beautiful, expensive piece that sparkled like a promise on my wrist.
Slowly, my smile returns. I should calm down.
After the wedding, I’ll deal with the drug situation, and June.
Right now, it’s my victory, and I deserve to savor it.
But then my phone rings, slicing through my satisfaction.
I glance at the caller ID.
Papa.
A different kind of tension settles in my chest. I answer.
"Papa, I have great news," I coo, smiling again.
"Come to the yacht," His clipped voice cuts straight through mine.
And then—he hangs up.
Just like that.
My smile fades. He's always brooding. Anyways... I know my news will cheer him up.
___
A sharp breeze hits my face the moment I step onto the yacht. The sun glints off the waves, catching on my sunglasses as I scan the deck.
I see Papa sitting at the bow, drinking, the wind tugging at his greying hair like it owns him.
I smile again—warm, dutiful, perfect daughter—and hurry toward him.
"Papa…" I sing, sliding into his arms. "I’ve something to tell you. You won’t—"
"Where’s Hermes?" His voice slices through mine, rough and impatient.
Tch. He can’t even let me finish a single sentence, as if I never have anything worth hearing.
I pull back with a tight smile, rolling my eyes behind the safety of my sunglasses. "He’s picking wines at a store," I answer dryly, taking the seat opposite him and removing the glasses.
Papa’s brows pinch. "Why’s he doing the purchase? What happened to the many staff's I provided?"
I shrug. "I don’t know. How is Uncle Lucien? Is he stable now?"
Papa hisses, irritated. "Does it matter?"
He extends his hand toward me, palm open, impatient.
"Where’s the document?"
I bite my lip and cross my arms, feeling heat crawl up my neck.
I can’t exactly tell him Hermes saw me sneaking into Lucien’s study. That would start a whole lecture of his disappointment, anger, suspicion, and it would ruin everything I planned to tell him about my discovery, and progress, so I lie.
"I’ll get it tonight," I say breezily. "Last night I was tired."
"Natalya Greta Voss." he says my full name—his anger coiling through each syllable.
"You better get that document tonight."
"Don’t worry about it, Papa," I say, smoothing my voice into something confident, controlled. "I promise—after the gala, I’ll drug him and get the document. The workers are going on break tonight, so it’ll be the perfect time."
Papa nods once, sharp and slow. "Are you sure there are no CCTVs in the house?"
"Of course." I answer instantly. "I made sure of it last week."
"Good."
He leans back slightly, swirls his drink, then fixes me with that heavy stare.
"How’s Hermes? Is he softening up to you yet? You know I need him to trust you."
A smile curls on my lips—sweet on the outside, triumphant on the inside.
"Yes, Papa. He’s very good to me now."
I savor the words, relishing the shift.
"And I must tell you… I have a secret about him he doesn’t even know about."
That catches his attention. His brows pull together.
"What do you mean?"
"He has a condition," I say, almost bubbling with the thrill of having leverage for once. "I forgot the exact medical term—I’m still studying it—but I—"
"Get straight to the point, girl—" Papa snaps, irritation flaring.
I swallow the annoyance, lift my chin.
"He forgets things now. He forgets people, events, deadlines. He… momentarily loses memories. Ted said it’s short-term memory lapses—and he’s starting to forget recent memories."
For once, Papa doesn’t cut me off.
He listens.
It fills me with a warmth, a rising sense of importance.
He actually needs me.
"So last night," I continue, excited, proud, "he caught me entering Uncle Lucien’s study and I tricked him—told him he sent me to get something inside—and he believed me. Can you imagine—"
The slap shatters across my cheek before I even register the movement.
I see a white flash, feeling a sting that burns into my jaw.