It had been a week since we were back to our hell—sorry Trexon Empire.

The grand launch was just in a week, so the pressure in the showroom had been boiling hot. Devon breathed down our neck all the way from his office throne resulting in office hours stretching from seven to eleven.

The pre-order slot was already full to the brim. Two of the investors had visited our showroom in the last three days, humming their approval and making Devon go rampage on us—the reason I'm standing on my stabbing heels, stretching my lips in a forever smile like a deranged Joker, and blurring through one customer after the next.

Sawyer was barely out of his office, or if he was out it was to go to Trexon Empire and get stuck there for hours. In short, I hadn't much time to see him or learn whether he got Winters to sign the contract or not. Although, judging by the way Devon had yet to fire me for trying to buy out shareholders, I could say we were safe—or desperately hoped so. I didn't know. I'm running without enough coffee to ground me for the day.

I huffed when the last of my customers walked out of the showroom with his silver Range Rover and smoothed a stray, frazzled strand.

"Night, Mir." Claire, a fellow saleswoman, waved off as she trotted out in her black heels and matching sundress.

"Good night," I drawled, turning back and zombie-walking to my counter.

I moaned in relief the second those death spikes were off my feet and I pulled on my comfy white converse.

I had been keeping these spare pair of shoes ever since I got blister from standing long hours in my death trap heels a couple of days ago. And some of my co-workers in heels started to bring in their own extras. Well, it looked like I had started a trend. Anyways, comfort before fashion, right?

I flung my bag over my shoulder and was about to head to the entrance when Sawyer's door opened from the other side.

We paused the second our eyes met.

His honey-gold suns were dull. Dark circles marred his tanned skin. His blond waves were tousled as though weathered a storm throughout the whole day. He was frazzled at best in his red and white checkered shirt, dark blazer, and jeans, and still managed to look so ravishing.

Did I just say ravishing? Sawyer? How tired my crow brain was, exactly?

I shook my head and offered him a thin smile before starting on my way.

"Mirasol."

I didn't stop, hearing Sawyer stride toward me. He soon caught up to me and we walked out of the showroom.

Silence stretched between us as the hustle and bustle of Downtown raged around us—or was it the car horn that pierced my eardrums just now?

I couldn't tell. I was too busy trying to navigate my way through the sidewalk and the man beside me. It was strange how in tune we had been in Dallas, rushing through problems and saving the day with solutions. Here, on our home turf, we might as well be awkward strangers—or co-workers—at best.

Maybe it was because in Dallas, we were glued to the hips and I barely had a moment to ponder over the information Devon had dumped on me on our last visit. Now, ever since Sawyer and I had space between us, I couldn't ignore the elephant any longer.

But how would approach the subject to him? I didn't believe Devon. But I couldn't rule out the possibility of his words being true either. He had Sawyer on a tight leash for some reason and I had to know what was it. And there was my second problem. Would Sawyer ever tell me?

I knew he could take any matters with his strides and smirks. But this was his father we were talking about. As much as Sawyer loved to portray a babble-mouth persona, he'd been strangely tight-lipped about his innermost secrets with me. This alone said we weren't close enough for him to trust me with his inside yet.

The thought shouldn't leave a bitter taste on my tongue like this, but sadly life wasn't fair.

"I can hear you think loud," I glanced at Sawyer who raised his stare ahead. "What is it?"

I could see our cars parked ahead in corner parking beside the street and slowed my steps.

"Nothing. Just thinking. How's your Dad?"

"Same. Responsive to the machines and not to the world."

I licked my dry lips. "What happened?"

Sawyer tensed. "Accident. Told you, remember?"

I nodded. "Right. How... did it happen?"

Sawyer stopped and turned. "What's wrong, Hayes?"

I stepped to the corner, allowing people to pass, and faced him.

"Devon holds something against you, Sawyer. What is it?"

"What does that have to do with my dad?"

I shrugged and looked away. "Just curious."

He stared at me for a piercing, hot while and slowly shook his head.

"What did he say?"

My heart jumped at the grave tone of his voice.

"What?"

"You met him," An observation, not a question. "What did he say?"

I took a slow, steady breath to calm my nerves and met his cold gaze.

"I asked you first."

The Downtown chill prickled my arms and chicks, making me regret not bringing a jacket to go with my short-sleeved pale yellow shirt and wide pants.

Sawyer did not respond, however, only burned me with a searing cold gaze.

After what seemed like ages, he breathed out and stood taller.

"Your car or mine?"

Huh?

"Mine it is."

"Sawyer—"

"I won't drop you back at the parking lot. Promise. Now, Let's go."

He pulled my arm, duly ignoring my glowering self.

***

I sat in the dim glowing car with my arms crossed and face watching the city night blur past us.

However, it was the thick air inside the closed space, doused in prickly tingles of silence, that had me breathing slowly. What it was the anticipation of finally getting my answer or a sick sense of foreboding, I didn't know. All I knew was that Sawyer was quiet. Too quiet.

I sneaked a glance yet again and averted my gaze after knowing his knuckles on the steering wheel were still white and his shoulders dead stiff. He had been like this ever since he stepped inside the car.

And the situation stretched for the next half an hour.

With nothing much to do, I fiddled with my phone. I had already texted Yuvan I was going to be late, played Temple Run, checked my unimpressed mail list, and again played Temple Run, making my character die in ten different ways and thinking if I could actually push Sawyer off a cliff with a nudge.

I snickered.

Tough shit.

"What's you laughing at?"

Oh, so now sir wanted to talk.

"Nothing." I pulled out of the game and turned off the screen.

But not so fast enough.

"Temple Run?" He glanced at my phone.

I shrugged and looked out, preparing for another round of silence when the car curved into the parking lot of a hospital.

Sawyer put the car in a swift diagonal parking that would have taken me errors and repeats to pull off and turn off the ignition. And just as usual got out of the car without a word.

I didn't bother, used to his antics, and opened the door to step out as well. There was one improvement, though.

Sawyer was waiting for me on my side of the car.

"Let's go."

I wanted to ask him why were we here but that somber look on his face and cold golden eyes froze my tongue right on the spot.

And so, I followed him.

We walked inside the hospital and my nose immediately scrunched up at the stiff cold air, medicine, and floor wash.

Did I mention I hated hospitals? Nothing else but the mere smell of this place was enough to make me dash out the other way.

Sawyer glanced up at me from his phone and increased his pace, much to my relief.

We walked toward the wide elevator, Sawyer pressed the ten on the panel, and I leaned away to give space when a wardboy pushed in a wheelchair carrying an old woman, and the doors closed shut.

The wardboy and the lady were chattering—more like bickering—with each other while Sawyer and I stood in stiff silence.

"I'm having macaroni tonight, that's it!" the old lady snapped.

"Nope. Not happening. Pumpkin soup it is," the wardboy retorted with a smirk.

"I'm all dandy boy, don't boss me around. My daughter pays thousands for me and you guys don't even care."

"Uh-huh."

"Seriously, it's just my kidney. I'm not dying." The lady huffed.

"Your son did give his kidney for you not to die, yeah."

"Ridiculous."

"Outrageous."

"Shut up."

"Okay."

"I will really die if I don't get that macaroni right now!"

The elevator pinged and the doors opened two floors below ours.

The wardboy snickered and began pulling her out.

"Nah. Your old bones ain't gonna rot over macaroni. It's the suffocation of love."

The old lady scoffed. "Suffocation of love indeed."

And that were the last words we heard before the elevator closed and we were stuck inside again.

It was when I looked at Sawyer that I found his fists clenched so hard his skin became a sick shade of white. His throat bobbed in a slow, hard rhythm as his shoulders grew stiffer with seconds—if that was even possible.

"Sawyer—"

The elevator ping cut me off and Sawyer strode out fast without wasting a second.

"Sawyer, wait!" I rushed behind him, a frown curling down my brows.

What happened to him? He was fine minutes ago—okay, maybe not fine but not this... I didn't know what to name this. Fury? Devastation? Hurt? All of the above? I really fucking didn't know, other than the fact that I didn't like seeing him this way.

I shouldn't have brought up Devon tonight, at all, damn it!

A heavy pit of regret was slowly pressing hard inside me.

But at the same time, I couldn't help but seek answers. This mystery between Sawyer and Devon had to go if we ever wished to pull off his revenge scheme without distrust bugging me.

I believed Sawyer like I had said. I really did. But if Devon had any hold over Sawyer, it might jeopardize our plan or create obstacles we might never recover from ever. But I knew Sawyer's resilience and I knew Devon's vindictive nature as well, and in no way I was about to let Devon have the upper hand here. I would never let him hurt Sawyer. No matter how big or small way that was.

Sawyer stopped before a door and breathed. His hard gaze washed over me for a brief second before he lowered his head and pushed open the door.

He walked inside at a much slower pace, leaving me to linger on the door.

Sawyer's shoes thudded softly on the floor as he reached a bed in the right corner of the cabin.

A tall figure lay limp there with IVs and cables connected to his veins. His heart monitor was steady and saline dripped gently down a cord connected to his body. I couldn't see his face as Sawyer shadowed before him.

He raised his trembling hand halfway through the air before dropping it right back and letting out a rough sigh.

My feet guided me before my brain could and before I knew, I was beside him.

My gaze briefly wandered down to a man with paper-thin pale skin and receding gray hair. His eyes were closed but I had a feeling that they would resemble a perfect honey-gold shade with the man beside me, just like his oxygen mask-covered face did—an older version of Sawyer, to be exact.

I rested my hand on Sawyer's arm, noting how his trembling ceased at my touch.

With a low, shaky breath, Sawyer clenched and unclenched his fists. His eyes never once strayed from his father. With a deep breath, his other hand dwarfed my small finger.

A sudden, irrational panic surged inside me that he'd remove my hand, that he couldn't tolerate my touch. He didn't even want it.

So, my breath hitched when his fingers curled over mine. Holding onto my hand in a hard grip, as though he needed to ground himself to something.

Moments passed in another sick ticking to silence. However, I did not wish to break it this time. Lord knew Sawyer needed it for some reason. And I wasn't about to deny him this small relief.

"I was at my nonna's," his raspy voice was calm, betraying the tremble in his hand.

I stared down at his father. The once mighty Benjamin Ronnes.

"I hate strawberry cereal and she was trying to get me to eat that for my breakfast. That's when we got the call, you know."

I turned my palm around and squeezed his shaking hand. He grabbed my fingers with his both hands and rested them over his chest.

"There was a lot of screaming. Frantic and scared. I had never seen Nonna so... off beat before," He let out a mirthless chuckle. "But guess there's a first for everything."

He swallowed hard and rubbed his left thumb over mine. "It was their second honeymoon that year. Dad wanted to surprise Mama with a trip in Miami. They were driving up the long highway when another car crashed into them. Mama went into coma. Then brain stroke. Then death. Dad was frazzled after that. No, that's an understatement. He went bonkers, not knowing what to do with his wife gone leaving a ten-year-old at his mercy. Dad had gone vegetable under the pressure so Nonna had to step in. He barely survived the mess by hair."

I leaned closer to him as he let out a hoarse snort.

"What happened next?" I whispered, not wanting to startle him with my voice and break this moment.

It was strangely a relief to be so close to him as it was sad. I might be really twisted in the head to think like that.

"Life."

His soft sigh did something to me as my throat burned.

Sawyer looked down at his dad and smiled. "The same fucked up fucker that showed me the true colors of people, namely this man."

I stiffened.

Sawyer continued. "Weeks before his forty-seventh birthday, I scooped through his old stuff in the attic, wanting to surprise him. Yeah, I know, girly shit, whatever. It was Nonna's idea so stop looking at me like that. Anyways..." He licked his lips. "I found some interesting stuff."

I focused on tracing my thumb over his skin. His grip on my hand had gotten considerably tighter.

"There were reports. Medical reports. Post-mortem. They found poison in Mama's blood. Slow poison. It was there for months before her death" He let out a rough breath and cleared his throat.

My inside crumbled at the torn expression on his face, and I decided I hated that look. That face was meant for smirking, for laughing, for sputtering infuriating nonsense. Not for smiling like there was no hope left in the world. And the worst part, I couldn't do anything to take that agonizing burn away from those honey-gold eyes. No matter, how much I wanted.

"Does..." I paused, not sure if I should have asked or not, but Sawyer's calm gaze pushed me enough."Does Nonna know?"

He looked down at our joined hands and unfurled my palm.

"No. I couldn't tell her," His fingers traced the lines on my hand. "She has iron heart but I don't think. She could take the news and probably burn Dad alive for the heck of it. But no, I don't think she deserves to go through the same pain twice. I'm many things, Mirasol, but not a sick sadist. Not to my nonna."

"Especially to your nonna." I offered.

And his lips curled a notch wider. "Especially to my nonna."

"And... The accident? Was that too..."

"Planned?" He glanced at me. "Not sure. Could be. Could be not. Dad didn't say anything about it when I asked."

I blinked. "You confronted him?"

He scoffed. "Well, duh," His fingers were now busy stroking the shape of my nails. "Right after his birthday ball. Hear that? Ball? Like those nineties, except less puffs and more huffs. Rhymed, eh?"

"Sawyer..." I rubbed his arm, hoping to soothe the pain behind his light words.

"Anyhoo, he told the truth without much fuss. Owned it like the Benjamin Ronnes that he tried to kill Mama because her love suffocated him."

My breath hitched.

The wardboy's words. Sawyer's white knuckles. It all made sense now.

"He said, she had been acting clingy for a while, paranoid that he was cheating on her, self-conscious about her figure, and had been seeking constant attention which apparently drove him up the wall. So much so, he tried to distance himself from her and that backfired on him. She had become worse, in his words, crying, screaming, fighting him, even slapping him once in the face in front of some foreign investors. It was that slap that had done it for him."

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. Sawyer pressed my trembling fingers together between his hands.

"He began dotting on her, just the way she expected. Mama was the happiest to get her husband back and confessed that she had been scared he was losing interest in her lately and acted out. Sorry's were exchanged. Sweet nothings were shared. And amidst that, her morning tea was getting a daily dose of tasteless, colorless poison."

I couldn't stop the tears from damping my cheeks. Sawyer offered a silent wipe on my face with his fingers before returning to my hand.

It took a couple of tries to clear my clogged-up throat but I managed to croak words.

"And... what did you do? After learning that?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Fate struck him first with a heart attack after the Trexon takeover news."

I felt something heavy lifted off my chest. Sawyer was innocent. Thank goodness, he was innocent. Clearly, Devon was lying, conniving assho—

"The second strike came in the form of an 'accidental' medicinal overdose."

And that boulder inside me dropped far lower and heavier than before with a resounding thud.

He continued with a serene smile, watching his father. "The nurse in charge was blamed. Doctors sweated over to save him. Cops were involved. In the end, all worked out nicely. Everyone was happy and well-compensated."

He looked up at me and raised my hands to offer a gentle kiss on the knuckles.

"Scared?"

I watched him with a blank face. My wet cheeks shivered in the chilling temperature of the air conditioner.

So many thoughts, so many questions swirled in my mind. Feelings raged wild in colors. But only one struck out the most among them.

"How did Devon know?"

I didn't know what reaction I had expected from him but smirk was not in my mind. Never.

"How do you think he even got ahold of Trexon Empire in the first place? Who lured him into the gold mine fortress? You got thirty seconds to think."

My mouth hung agape.

Un-fucking-believable!

"But—Why? I don't understand!"

"Again," His cold gaze moved to his dad for a fleeting second. "Think, Doll. Remember, thirty seconds. Clock is ticking."