Craving the Man She Calls Uncle

"Thank you, Oliver." Gwen smiled sweetly, leaning into his arm. She then averted her gaze to Angela and said, "By the way, I almost forgot, there’s a party at the villa tonight. Angela, you must come!"

Angela quickly deterred her gaze, clearly uncomfortable. "I have something else to do."

"Oh, come on," Gwen pressed, her voice dripping with sweetness. "It’ll be fun. We’re almost family now!" Seeing that Angela was unmoved, Gwen turned to Oliver with a coy smile. "Please, let Angela go with us."

It was the first time Oliver had insisted she attend an event for someone else. He usually preferred that Angela avoid mingling with crowds, yet for Gwen, he made an exception. Angela couldn't help but notice the difference in his treatment of Gwen versus herself.

It was a stark reminder that all his exceptions and indulgences were for Gwen. But Angela no longer felt the sharp pain she had at the beginning.

Some people come into your life, others leave. And now, it was time for Angela to leave.

After they left for the party, Angela let out a long sigh of relief. With the help of several movers, she quickly packed up her personal belongings. The house, her life with Oliver—everything—was in the process of being put behind her.

...

At the party, Angela stood quietly in a corner, a drink in her hand, lost in thought.

Gwen, accompanied by a few girls, approached her, eager to drag her into their fun. Reluctantly, Angela followed them to the poolside. She stood at the edge, looking out at the water, her mind far from the festivities.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp shove from behind, and before she could react, she was falling, the cold water engulfing her.

A loud splash echoed across the space, followed by the clatter of a nearby drink table tipping over.

As Angela struggled to push herself up, her head barely above the water, she saw glasses crashing into the pool. Gwen ducked instinctively to protect Angela, but the pool's edge scraped her arm.

Fresh blood poured from the wound, quickly turning the water a disturbing shade of red.

It was a horrific sight.

Although Gwen wasn't injured, the shock was clear on her face.

Oliver heard the commotion and rushed over. His eyes widened when he saw Angela flailing in the pool, crying for help. Still, he shifted his focus to Gwen, pulled her into his arms to comfort her in a smooth, practiced motion, and then barked orders to his bodyguards.

"Help Angela out of the water." He turned to the others, his tone commanding. "Take her upstairs to the guest room, change her—don’t let her catch a cold."

Before leaving, he paused, casting a last glance at Angela, still dripping wet and shivering.

Gwen, ever the opportunist, added one last, seemingly concerned comment. "Be careful, Angela." She gave a delicate smile. "You’re lucky to have such a caring aunt like me who dotes on you."

But as Angela met Gwen's eyes, she saw the fleeting gleam of triumph in her gaze masked behind the façade of concern.

...

After being swiftly treated by the private doctor, Angela rested on the edge of the bed, her arm bandaged. Then, she noticed Oliver standing by the door, his face unreadable. He held her phone in his hand—dropped by the poolside in the chaos.

"Thank you, Uncle," Angela said, biting back the pain from her arm as she extended a hand to take the phone. But Oliver pulled it back.

"When did you get in touch with your aunt?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

Angela's heart skipped.

"What did she say?" Oliver pressed. "Aunt Joanne just told you to call her back when you have time. What did she want with you?"

Angela's mind raced. Joanne hadn't mentioned anything about coming back, and Angela felt a brief sense of relief. Yet, Oliver's insistence on asking left her with no choice but to come up with an explanation.

"Um... Auntie is in New York City," Angela said, her voice calm. "She said she would send me some seasonal pastries."

Before Angela was born, Joanne had worked for the Watson family. She had cared for Angela until she was eight when an incident led Joanne to move to New York. There, she met a wealthy businessman and became his partner.

"Oh, and she asked if you had any flavor preferences," Angela added. "She said she’d prepare some for you, too."

Oliver didn't seem suspicious and tossed her the phone without further question.

"No need," he said curtly before turning and leaving.

After a few hours, Gwen's nephew, Ralph, escorted Angela back to the house. She had refused, but Ralph insisted, and it seemed easier to go along with him than argue.

When they reached the entrance, just as Angela was about to change her shoes, Ralph suddenly grabbed her from behind, pulling her into a tight embrace.

Startled, Angela struggled, trying to free herself.

But before she could do anything, the sound of the door unlocking echoed through the hallway. Ralph loosened his grip but still held one of her hands, his fingers tightly wound around hers.