CHAPTER 001

Eilidh's POINT OF VIEW

I stepped off the plane and into the familiar, cold air of Inverness. My coronary heart felt like a heavy weight in my chest as I stared at the city I had escaped from six years ago. The streets seemed identical, but I wasn’t. Not anymore. I had left behind all the pain, the reminiscences, and the lifestyles I’d had here, but it felt like they had been coming back to swallow me whole.

I climbed into a taxi and advised the motive force to cope with the situation. I was barely able to focus on the experience, as my mind drifted back to a time I had made a concerted effort to ignore. My boss had referred to me as returning for a cause, and I was unable to refuse him. The corporation I worked for was falling apart, and he wanted me to shop it. I didn’t want to be right here, but I had no choice. The metropolis is probably identical, but I wasn’t.

He helped me six years ago when I had nothing and everything seemed lost. And now, I owed him. That became the most effective reason I turned to my my lower back. The relaxation didn’t depend. The relaxation was independent of the reminiscences. The pain doesn't bother me. It's not even the town's fault.

When I arrived at the workplace, I may have wanted to pay attention to voices within the hallway. Laughter. Loud chatter. I walked through the corridors, ignoring the gossip that seemed to be everywhere.

"I heard that a few massive employers are calling to buy us."

"Really? A new boss, then?"

"I wish the new boss weree as attractive as those TV dramas."

"Do you understand who’s buying us?"

I shook my head at their pointless chatter. They didn’t care about who was buying the corporation. However, they were indifferent to certain things, such as gossip.

But I did care. I had to. The employer’s destiny relied on it.

"Of course, it’s going to be MacKinnon’s, the Dunmore Group," one of them said. "Who else may want to take over?"

I froze. The name struck me with a profound impact. MacKinnon. Dunmore Group. I knew those names all too well.

And that's when the entire group came rushing back.

Ruaridh MacKinnon. The guy I had was soon married to. He was the man I had cherished.

Memories from six years in the past flooded my mind. I felt dizzy; the floor underneath me seemed to shift, and I struggled to hold onto reality. Dunmore Castle. The bloodless stone mansion, where I had lived a life that had amounted to nothing more than a contract, was now my home. The settlement held no promises.

Six years in the past, I had the concept that that I should trade things. I had been hoping—stupidly—that love may want to develop from that bloodless, empty area. But it hadn’t. It, by no means, might.

I needed to depart; however, my legs refused to move. The recollections had been too sturdy, too loud. And I couldn’t break out.

Six years ago…

Inside Dunmore Castle…

I stood inside the livingoom, my arms shaking as I held the report. I had hoped for just a second that the check would say something exceptional. But it hadn’t. The reality stared back at me, bloodless and unfeeling.

I hadn’t seen Isla, the housekeeper, close by till she spoke.

"Eilidh, are you ok?" she inquired, a hint of concern in her tone. "You look so faded. What’s wrong?"

I didn’t find a solution right away. I just stood there, holding the papers in my hand, feeling the load of everything crashing down on me. Isla stepped closer, her eyes flicking to the papers.

"Is the whole lot okay?" she asked gently.

I forced a smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. "I’m excellent. It’s not anything."

Isla didn’t purchase it. "No, you’re not. Your face says otherwise. Maybe you should lie down. Could I prepare some Cullen Skink for you, please? I am aware it's your favorite"

I shook my head, looking to push the rising panic down. "I’m first-rate, sincerely," I stated, my voice trembling. "It’s simply... I haven’t had my duration in two months. I visited the sanatorium for a checkup.

Isla’s eyes widened, and heor she appeared to understand right now what I was attempting to say. She gazed at me, and even without uttering a single word, she understood.

"You’re pregnant," she whispered.

I nodded. My coronary heart felt as though it had stopped beating.

Isla didn’t understand what to mention. She was there for me through the whole thing, but even she doesn’t recognise a way to assist me now. This situation was beyond her capacity to help.

I was married to Ruaridh for three years. But it had by no means been a wedding based totally on love. It changed into an agreement. A deal. I had stepped in for Fiona, my sister, the female he had clearly cherished.

From the instant we married, I knew I wasn’t his first preference. He cherished someone else, and I was just a placeholder. I thought perhaps—simply maybe—I ought to trade things. Perhaps the child could draw us closer together. Maybe it'd make him stay. Maybe he could sooner or later love me.

However, given the current situation, I knew better.

Isla, after a protracted silence, ultimately spoke. "Well... congratulations, I bet."

I didn’t see a way to respond. What was there to mention?

I had tried so hard. I had hoped for something greater, but I knew the truth. Ruaridh didn’t love me. He in no way had.

Suddenly, the door to the living room creaked open, and I iced up. My heart started to race as I became closer to the sound.

Ruaridh stood in the doorway, his eyes bloodless and remote. "I don't want this baby," he said, his voice as piercing as a knife.

The words hit me harder than something I had ever felt before. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t suppose. All I need to do is shift into a starting position.

His eyes, those bloodless blue eyes, seemed to see through me as though I didn’t even exist. He didn’t care. He by no means had.

"I don’t need this infant."

The words echoed in my thoughts. I have been hoping for something—something to alternate. But it becomes all a lie.

I wanted to scream. To cry. I begged him to stay. But nothing came out. My throat tightened, my heart pounding with each passing second.

I walked away from him, my hands shaking as I wiped my eyes. The tears wouldn’t stop. They simply kept coming, a never-ending stream of ache and unhappiness.

Ruaridh stated nothing more. He simply turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, alone.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was going to explode.

He didn’t want this baby. He didn’t need me.

I had continually recognized that this marriage was a lie, but hearing the words come from his lips felt like the final blow.

I stared out the window, my arms gripping the edge of the desk as I fought to regulate my breath. I thought I might want to turn it into a painting. I had a concept... No, I hoped that perhaps one day, things might be one of a kind. But now I knew.

He didn’t need me. He in no way had.

And now, I needed to face the consequences.

What do I do now?