Nathaniel slammed the office door shut behind him and let out a low groan of frustration. Nick looked up from the desk, raising a brow as he set his phone aside.
"Hey. You look like you just lost a deal."
Nathaniel walked over to the minibar and poured himself a glass of wine with shaking hands. He didn't speak right away—just stared blankly at the liquid swirling in his glass.
"It's Dorothy," he finally said, exhaling hard. "She's driving me insane."
Nick leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly. "Again? What now?"
Nathaniel pulled a small pendant from his pocket and sat down heavily. It was delicate—silver, simple, with the letter D engraved into it. He stared at it for a long moment, running his thumb over the surface.
"I believed her when she said she wasn't about the money," he said bitterly. "When I proposed, she said she needed time. That she wanted her uncle and cousin to get to know me, that it wasn't about rushing anything."
Nick raised an eyebrow. "Sounds reasonable so far."
Nathaniel scoffed. "Yeah, until she found out I own a gold mine. Now, suddenly, she's all smiles and saying we should get married immediately. Even joked she'd marry me on the spot."
Nick gave a dry laugh. "Well, you knew who she was, Nat. You even said it yourself—she plays innocent, but you're convinced she's a manipulator. So why are you complaining now?"
Nathaniel didn't answer. He kept staring at the pendant.
Nick studied his friend for a moment, then said more softly, "You're falling for her, aren't you?"
Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "No. I'm just… disappointed. I wanted to believe I was wrong." He took a sip of wine, his voice lower now. "I wanted to believe she was not the one."
Nick shrugged. "You went into this for revenge. Don't lose your way now. She's just playing her part."
Nathaniel looked down again at the pendant—at that single engraved letter.
"But what if I'm the one being played?" he murmured, almost to himself.
Dorinda sat alone in her room, the soft light of evening casting long shadows across the floor. Her window was slightly open, letting in the scent of blooming jasmine and the distant hum of the city. But her thoughts were far from the present.
She held one of Denmark's old letters in her hand, yellowed at the edges from how often she'd read it. Her fingers trembled as she traced his words, words that once meant everything to her.
"I promise, baby. I'll go find the gold. I'll make something of myself, and when I do, I'll come back for you. Just wait for me."
Her lips quivered as she read the line over and over again.
"Why didn't you come back?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the breeze. "You said you would…"
She pressed the letter to her chest and closed her eyes, lost in the memory of him, the late-night talks under the fig tree, his reckless laughter, the warmth of his hands. Denmark had made her feel like the center of the universe. And then he vanished.
Now Dorothy was getting married to Nathaniel. Nathaniel with a gold mine. A gold mine in La Montaña.
Her eyes opened slowly, thoughts swirling. Denmark had gone to La Montaña too. That small village tucked deep in the forest, full of nature and raw beauty. He had said there was gold there. She remembered the name clearly because he had spoken it with such hope.
"What if he's still there?" she muttered, sitting up straighter. "What if he found it, but something happened? What if…"
Her gaze moved to her desk, cluttered with old notes and newspaper clippings she'd kept over the months. She pushed them aside and pulled out a thin folder. Inside were more letters, a map, and an old photo of her and Denmark, both of them laughing like they had the world ahead of them.
"I'm going to find you," she whispered, her voice filled with resolve. "If Nathaniel found gold there… maybe you did too. Maybe you're still waiting."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but they didn't fall. Her heartbreak was old, now quiet and sharp, like a knife she had learned to live with. But the flame hadn't gone out.
And now, with Nathaniel's sudden rise and Dorothy's whirlwind engagement, everything inside her screamed that this was more than a coincidence. Something was waiting for her in La Montaña, and maybe she would be rich and wouldn't have to beg or pretend with her aunt and her stupid cousin Theo.
Dorinda barged into Theophilus's room without knocking, her voice already raised. "They're really going through with it! Nathaniel just spoke with Uncle Josh. Can you believe it? He still wants to marry her even after hearing about her past with Danmark."
Theophilus was standing by his desk, but when he heard that, he froze. "What?"
"I told you. Your precious Dorothy is getting married. And guess what? Nathaniel doesn't care that she's been with other men. She played him perfectly—just like she always does. Charming men are her greatest skill."
"Stop it, Dorinda," Theophilus said quietly, his fists clenching. "Stop twisting things."
Dorinda tilted her head. "Twisting? I'm telling you the truth. That girl's a master manipulator. And you—you were the one warning everyone about her, and now you're silent?"
He turned toward her, eyes burning. "I should never have listened to you. I should never have stayed away from her. You fed me poison and I swallowed it."
Dorinda stiffened. "I was only protecting you."
"No, you were jealous. And bitter." His voice cracked, filled with frustration. "You've always hated her. You turned me against her, and I let you! But Nathaniel—he sees her flaws and still wants her. Meanwhile, I pushed her away over whispers and assumptions."
He stormed past her, yanking the door open. Dorinda followed, but he spun around and grabbed her arm—not roughly, but firmly. "You don't get to control me anymore."
"Theo, wait—"
"No!" he shouted. "You don't love anyone but yourself."
He dragged her out of his room and into the hallway, eyes wild with emotion. "I lost the only woman I've ever loved because I let your words become my truth."
He started throwing things—pillows, books, whatever was within reach. His world was spinning, and Dorinda could only stand there, breathless, watching it all crumble.
"You don't know what you've done," he muttered, falling onto the edge of the bed, breathing hard. "You don't know what you've cost me."
Dorinda blinked back her own tears. For once, she had no words to twist the situation. The look in Theophilus's eyes told her everything—he didn't just blame her.
He was done with her.