Tears streamed down Valentine Anderson's face as he lay on the hospital bed. When he finally found his voice, he whispered to Benita, "Andrea is gone... she's gone."
As he spoke, he squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears continued to flow.
Mrs. Anderson and Benita looked at him in silence, feeling helpless and guilty for their part in the turmoil that had engulfed Valentine's marriage.
Unaware of Valentine's accident, Andrea was far away from Vegas, having left with Mr. Singers some time ago.
As they stepped off Mr. Singers' private plane at Sunshine Airport, Andrea was taken aback by the impressive fleet of cars that had come to greet her. The sheer number of luxury vehicles made her realize the extent of Mr. Singers' wealth, leaving her feeling a mix of awe and unease.
"Are you regretting marrying me?" Mr. Singers teased with a wide smile.
Andrea shook her head in response, remaining silent. Mr. Singers chuckled before reassuring her, "You don't need to feel nervous. Everything that is mine is now yours. You have no one to impress here; in fact, others will be vying for your attention. As a Singers, you hold the power in this city."
Observing Mr. Singers, Andrea couldn't shake the feeling that he spoke and acted more like a father figure than a husband, likely due to their age difference.
As they boarded one of the cars in the convoy, they left the airport, with the entire city's traffic cleared for their passage.
In Sunshine City, Mr. Singers reigned as the supreme authority, holding sway over the city's economy and government, particularly with his 80% ownership of the seaport.
The convoy headed towards the eastern part of the city before veering off and arriving at the grandest villa in Sunshine City.
Stepping out of the vehicle, a look of displeasure crossed Mr. Singers' face as he surveyed the vast mansion. The anticipated reception he had expected did not materialize, prompting him to issue an order that was conspicuously absent.
Housekeeper Win gathered the maids employed at the mansion to greet Mr. Singers.
"Win, were my instructions relayed as I directed?" Mr. Singers inquired, a semblance of a smile not reaching his eyes, his voice resonating with authority.
Housekeeper Win quivered in trepidation; while Mr. Singers may seem approachable to some, he was a figure no one in Sunshine City would dare defy.
"Sir, I did not receive your instructions. Miss Agatha has been here for several days, and she made no mention of such a directive," Housekeeper Win replied, her legs shaking and her lips quivering.
Mr. Singers' face twisted into a frown upon hearing Housekeeper Win's words. Agatha, his chief of staff, managed his daily schedule. He had left her at Sunshine City to oversee his companies, liaise with his associates both abroad and domestically.
Turning away, Mr. Singers opened the car door for Andrea and assisted her in stepping out. "Housekeeper Win, please take her belongings to the master bedroom," he instructed before leading Andrea into the living room.
Agatha, perched elegantly on a chair in the living room, absentmindedly swirled a glass of wine in her hand. Her expression was icy, betraying her inner discontent.
As Mr. Singers escorted Andrea into the room, his demeanour shifted. With a forced smile, he directed Andrea to seek assistance from Vera, the maid, for anything she required.
Andrea, ever compliant, nodded and exited the room with Vera. In the wake of their departure, Mr. Singers' smile vanished, replaced by an air of sternness.
"Follow me to my study," he commanded coldly before striding off.
Agatha's heart skipped a beat as fear gripped her. She had never witnessed Mr. Singers in such a steely mood. Setting down her glass of wine, she trailed behind him, her mind racing with unease.
As Agatha followed Mr. Singers into the study room, she felt a sudden force against her, pinning her to the wall. Mr. Singers' bloodshot eyes bore into her, his grip tightening around her throat, making it hard for her to breathe.
Releasing her abruptly, he took a step back, wiping his fingers with a tissue before speaking in a chilling tone, "This must not happen again. Should you fail to heed my instructions next time, your life will not suffice to quell my fury."
Struggling to catch her breath, Agatha gazed at him with teary eyes and managed to ask, "Why?"
Mr. Singers, visibly irritated, furrowed his brows. He despised having to justify his actions to anyone. "Obedience is all that is required," he replied icily.
As Agatha slowly regained her composure, tears streaming down her face, she questioned, "Is she more beautiful than me? I have served you for two decades. Don't I deserve your favour more than a stranger? Why choose her over me?"
Mr. Singers' expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he retorted, "You're simply an employee I pay. Must I justify myself to you? Agatha, it's time you found a boyfriend for yourself. If you continue down this path, any chance of us being together will be impossible."
With those words, Mr. Singers strode towards the door and departed, leaving Agatha standing there with a pallid face, tears streaming down her cheeks as she began to cry.
Her fists clenched tightly, she wiped her tear-stained face with the back of her hand. Having worked for Mr. Singers for years, she had harboured the hope of one day becoming Mrs. Singers.
"If I can't have you, no one else will. You belong to me, Singers," Agatha vowed, her expression filled with resolve.
Unaware of her thoughts, Mr. Singers made his way to the master bedroom where he had instructed the maid to take Andrea Singers.
Upon entering the room, he found Andrea gazing out the window. "Do you like those flowers?" he inquired.
Andrea didn't need to glance at the door to identify the speaker. She replied in a hushed tone, "Yes, they remind me of my mother. She adores planting them. When we left our old home due to the debts my father left behind, she still insisted on planting them. I once asked her why she planted those flowers, and she told me it reminded her of my father whom I never got to meet."
Had Andrea turned around at that instant, she would have caught the guilty expression etched on Mr. Singer's face.