A Weak Moment

I sat in my room, staring at my phone screen, while the night air was heavy with silence. I continued seeing the message from the unidentified number.

• "The entire story is unknown to you. However, I do. Tomorrow night, come see me at the old vineyard. Come by yourself."*

My stomach churned with discomfort. Who was this individual? What were they aware of? What made them want to meet me behind my back?

I put my phone down and massaged my temples. Questions about Cole and his family were already taking up my thoughts, and now this? It was excessive.

I was startled out of my reverie by a knock on my door.

My heartbeat accelerated as I paused. I recognized the person already.

Cole.

After taking a deep breath, I got up and moved toward the door. He was standing there with his wide frame resting against the doorframe when I opened it. There was none of his customary icy confidence. Something strange cast shadows over his blue eyes.

Feeling sorry?

Anguish?

I wasn't certain.

"Can I come in?" He spoke more subtly than usual, almost warily.

I folded my arms. "Why?"

He let out a deep exhale as if he were making himself patient. "Because I don’t want to leave things like this."

I felt like slamming the door in his face. But there was another part that craved answers, the part that recalled the way he had looked at me when he said he wasn't to blame for my father's demise.

I moved out of the way.

He entered, moving more slowly than normal, as though he were toting something heavy. With my arms folded like a shield, I turned to face him and shut the door behind him.

He ran his hand through his brown hair and remarked, "I didn't come here to argue." "I just... I have something to tell you."

With my heart pounding in my ears, I waited.

He paused as if engaged in an internal conflict. Then, at last, he spoke something.

"My mother left when I was ten," he replied in a harsh voice.

I was taken aback and blinked.

The Montgomery family had always seemed to me like an untouchable power and control empire. However, this? This was not what I was expecting.

He went on, his eyes averted, "She didn't say goodbye." One day, she simply vanished. Not a word. No justification. Nothing.

Uncertain of what to say, I swallowed.

With a straining voice, Cole said, "My father didn't handle it well." After she departed, he immersed himself in his work because he was not the kind to express emotion. He began to treat me more like a project and less like his son. An obligation.

He seemed to be reliving it as he spoke, and it made my chest hurt.

I said nothing, allowing him to go on.

His eyes glazed with the memory; he remarked, "I remember one night." "I had a bad dream. You see, I was still a child. I hurried to my dad's workplace in the hopes that I was not sure. Comfort. Something.

He chuckled bitterly. He remained seated at his desk without even looking up. Simply advised me to "stop being weak." I claimed that feelings were pointless.

My throat constricted.

I saw a vivid image of a young boy standing in a huge, chilly office, gazing up at a father who hardly recognized him.

Cole forced a breath and shook his head. That's when I found out. You either control or you are dominated in this world. I also vowed never to be weak again.

My rage at him turned into something more as I gripped my fingers. For the first time since this whole thing began, I saw him in a different light, and I despised myself for it.

Not like that vicious billionaire.

Not as the man I said was responsible for my family's demise.

However, as an abandoned boy.

A boy who had been taught too early that love was hazardous.

His voice was low as he said, "I'm not telling you this for sympathy." "I simply... I need you to comprehend." I am not readily trusted. I refuse to let anyone in. At that moment, he gave me a steady glance as if to challenge me to turn away. "But I—" with you

His jaw tensed as he stopped himself.

What with me?

Unspoken but weighty, the words hung in the air between us.

Abruptly, I was out of breath, caught in the intensity of his stare.

I ought to have left. I ought to have reminded myself of the hurt, the treachery, and the questions that remain.

Rather, I found myself muttering, "I also don't trust easily."

There was a slight softness in his expression. "I understand."

We fell into a tense silence that was full of things none of us was prepared to speak.

Then, I reached out before I could stop myself.

Even if my fingertips hardly touched his, it was sufficient.

Enough for the air to change.

Enough to get my heart racing.

Cole was tense, as though he wasn't sure whether to back off. However, he didn't.

For the first time since I'd met him, I thought I was seeing him—not the aloof, unapproachable Montgomery heir, not the strong businessman, but the man beneath. The one who has been protecting himself from the outside world all his life.

The moment dragged on, uncertain and frail.

Then—

The silence was broken by a piercing buzzing.

I flinched and grabbed my phone, gasping for air.

One more message.

From the same unidentified number.

• "Plans have changed. The truth is impatient. In an hour, meet me in the vineyard."*

My heart raced.

With my heart pounding, I glanced up at Cole.

There was an impending event.

Something significant.

Furthermore, I wasn't certain that I was prepared for it.