Narrator
At night, everything was relatively lively. Although everyone had come to have fun, there were two people who seemed to be heading toward a battlefield from which they could return in only two ways: happy or devastated.
Mel was the first to arrive, accompanied by her parents and her grandfather, who hadn't stopped talking to her throughout the journey, asking how she was doing. Mel was surprised to see her grandfather behaving so empathetically, and her parents were also somewhat puzzled by the patriarch's unusual attitude.
Rupert had been doing his inquiries and, like Sheldon, had sensed that Judith was only seeking her granddaughter's attention because she wanted to get back together with her. That's why he decided to go see her, and he discovered that indeed, Judith wanted to speak with her granddaughter. Although the grandfather had forbidden her to approach, Judith's determination was unbreakable: she was going to find Mel, no matter his opposition.
Annoyed, Grandfather Castle asked, "What do you want?"
"Isn't it obvious, sir? I want Mel. I want to be with her again," Judith confessed.
The patriarch couldn't believe what he was hearing. To anyone else, these words might have been good news; however, deep down, he grew increasingly doubtful that if she had betrayed her fiancée, she could do the same to his granddaughter. Patriarch Castle valued loyalty, an indispensable virtue in his family, a virtue that Judith no longer possessed.
"I forbid you from approaching my granddaughter again," he ordered.
Judith, unwavering, replied, "The only one who can decide that is Mel. Still, I won't give up until she comes back to me."
"I will never accept that my granddaughter returns to you, because you may possess everything, but loyalty and fidelity are virtues you lack, and virtues that Mel also treasures," the grandfather said firmly.
Judith clenched her fists. In everyone's eyes, it seemed like a betrayal, and it truly was; something she could never erase. However, she was certain she would never repeat it. Perhaps it was immaturity, but she had learned. She loved Mel more than she had ever loved Amber, and she would never even think of looking at anyone else.
She knew words alone would not be enough to convince everyone. She had to prove it with actions. And for Judith, that wouldn't be difficult, because she would show it without waiting for anyone to ask. Every gesture, every detail toward Mel would be a silent, constant, and sincere proof that her love had changed, that the loyalty she once lacked was now engraved in her heart. She wouldn't allow anyone to doubt her feelings.
Since Judith arrived at the party, the first thing she did was look for Mel. At first, only with her eyes, but then she scanned the entire reception, her heart racing a thousand miles per hour. She found her among the crowd, standing near a table decorated with golden lights. They glanced at each other for only a few seconds, but in that brief exchange, both thought the same thing: how beautiful she looks today.
Although Judith added something more in her mind: Why does she have to wear that low-cut dress?
Jealousy began to surface dangerously, burning beneath her skin. If Mel didn't notice, it was only because, with elegance, she walked toward the balcony, seeking fresh air. That movement, unknowingly, prevented Judith from blushing—not from embarrassment, but from sheer restrained rage.
The balcony was almost empty, illuminated by lights hanging in spirals from the ceiling. From there, the city and the silver reflection of the moon could be seen. It was in that secluded corner that Judith, unable to contain her feelings any longer, approached Mel.
Without turning around, Mel asked in a calm voice, though tense, "Judith, I really want to know what you expect or want from me."
Mel turned to face her at last.
"You," Judith replied without hesitation.
She tried to move closer, but Mel took a step back, completely confusing her. Judith didn't understand. She believed she loved her, that everything they had lived through could not have been in vain. Had she changed her mind? Was it because of what her grandfather said? she wondered anxiously.
"Mel…" she murmured, trying to hold her hand. "I want you," Judith confessed, her voice breaking. "I fell in love with you."
Mel, torn between doubt and confusion, could no longer hold back what had been lodged in her chest.
"I know it's hypocritical of me, but I can't be with you because of how all this started. I know it was me you cheated with Amber, but I feel like…" She stopped, unable to continue without feeling like a complete fool.
Judith immediately understood what she meant and finished the sentence for her, almost in a whisper.
"You feel like I could betray you too."
Mel couldn't look her in the eyes. Shame burned inside her. She felt like the worst hypocrite for saying something like that, but it wasn't her reason speaking—it was her fear.
"I'm sorry, Judith. I know I asked you to choose me, but this never even crossed my mind. And right now… I'm scared," she whispered, her voice breaking, almost trembling.
Judith remained silent. She couldn't blame her; she understood that fear. Still, her heart ached.
"I understand why you feel that way…" she finally said softly.
Mel smiled with sorrow, interrupting her before she could finish.
"This is goodbye, Judith."
Her trembling hands reached up to touch Judith's face. She caressed her cheeks tenderly, trying to imprint the memory. Judith closed her eyes, captivated by the gesture, wishing time would stop. Then, without another word, they shared one last kiss: the kind that seemed like a farewell, both painful and burning at the same time.
And once again, as if fate—or the very scriptwriter of their lives—enjoyed interrupting them at these moments, someone appeared to ruin the scene. This time, it was Mel's grandfather, who, seeing her alone with Judith on the balcony, grew furious. His face hardened, and in an authoritative voice, he ordered his granddaughter to return to her parents and not leave their side for a single moment.
Mel obeyed, even though everything inside her screamed not to. She remembered the agreement she had made with her grandfather and how she had promised not to go against him again. But that promise now felt like an invisible chain, weighing heavily on her.
"What do I have to do for you to come back to me?" Judith exclaimed, raising her voice, making Mel stop just before crossing the doorway. "I'll do anything to make you trust me again."
Mel froze. Those words pierced her like an arrow. Her grandfather, witnessing the declaration, couldn't believe what he was hearing. His hands clenched into fists, restraining his rage. Mel, her heart begging her to turn around, pressed her lips together and continued on. Her reason, stronger for a moment, forced her forward, even though every step hurt like an open wound.
Judith noticed the hesitation in her movements, the tremor in her breathing. She's going to leave, but she doesn't want to, she thought desperately. She stepped forward to stop her, but didn't get far: Rupert, Mel's grandfather, stood between them with a glacial look.
"Are you sure about what you just said?" Rupert asked incredulously, his voice filled with authority.
"I'm very sure," Judith replied, not averting her gaze. "I'll do anything."
"But Mel isn't sure," Rupert replied, his tone turning grotesquely harsh. "So it's time you leave her alone."
Judith clenched her fists, holding back her irritation.
"I know she's like this because of you," she accused firmly. "All of this is happening because of you. And yet, I thank you… because, despite everything, you brought me to her. But now you must stop getting in the way…"
"Do you think you have the right to tell me what's best for my granddaughter?" Rupert interrupted, annoyed.
Judith took a deep breath, her voice calmer but no less firm. "I just want her to choose without your pressure. To not be afraid to pick what she truly wants."
A dense, almost unbearable silence followed. Judith faced him without backing down, determination shining in her eyes. Rupert, though he would never admit it, knew there was truth in her words. Deep down, he understood that by protecting her too much, he was actually hurting his granddaughter.
Finally, Rupert turned around, still frowning.
"Stay away from my granddaughter," he ordered sharply.
Judith watched him go, keeping her gaze steady. Once Mel's grandfather was gone, she murmured,
"I would do anything for Mel… even take away the responsibility of being the Castle heir."
Those words seemed like a threat, but her grandfather didn't hear them and continued on, convinced that, after all, what could she really do? What Rupert didn't know was that Judith did intend to do something. That night, as she watched the Castle car drive away, an idea began to form in her mind—a plan excessive, risky… but, for her, absolutely necessary.
After the party, Judith focused—almost obsessively—on causing all kinds of problems for Mel's company. Her goal was clear: to make Mel's grandfather ask her to stop, and at that point demand that he allow his granddaughter to make her own decisions without pressure. However, nothing went as planned.
Over the following weeks, Judith put her strategy into action. She moved her influence, closed aggressive contracts, and pressured the very clients who had previously worked with the Castles. Competition became so intense that even Mel's financial advisors began to worry. Problems piled up quickly, and Mel's grandfather started receiving reports that made his frustration boil over.
Judith's plan, however, did not unfold as she had hoped. Mel began to bear the full weight of that corporate war. She worked day and night, sleeping only a few hours, and eating very little, only out of obligation. Her face grew pale and exhausted. In meetings, her voice sounded weak, and her gaze was pure fatigue. Everyone in the company was worried, not so much for her, but for the consequences her collapse would bring to the business. If Mel got sick, who would take her place?
And as if misfortune had been summoned, the day came. Mel collapsed in her office on a rainy afternoon. She could barely breathe. At first, her assistant Sheldon thought it was a panic attack, but he soon realized it was much more serious. Mel gasped for air, clutching her chest, unable to stand. Without wasting a moment, Sheldon took her straight to the hospital.
He called all the Castles as soon as Mel was admitted. When they arrived, the doctor was already informing Sheldon of the diagnosis: pneumonia. A critical pneumonia caused by a bacteria. Endless hours of work, lack of rest, stress, and constant exposure to the cold—for forgetting to turn on the heating in her office—had taken a severe toll.
Sheldon never thought something like this could happen. He had always attributed Mel's shortness of breath to her cold allergy, never imagining her lungs were collapsing.
A bacteria had invaded her system, and the constant temperature changes weakened her defenses even further. That allergy, which everyone had always dismissed, was the mask of a far greater problem.
Mel was hospitalized, and with her admission began the decline of the company. Without her competing with Judith, the latter—unknowingly—gained the advantage. The board of directors descended into chaos. They called Mel repeatedly, but evidently, she didn't answer. Desperate, they contacted her grandfather, who, furious, ordered them to manage things however they could. His granddaughter was gravely ill, and he wasn't going to discuss business while her life hung by a thread.
When the news spread, chaos took over the company. Some partners showed genuine concern, although most were only worried about financial losses. Only two people—a senior woman, who had sympathized with Mel after her divorce, and her husband—expressed true concern for her condition.
The rest, as if Mel were just another piece on the board, began calculating how to survive the impending collapse.
The numbers started turning yellow, and in just a month, they were already in the red. To Judith, this was extremely strange. The Castle company's losses made no sense: contracts were falling through, and their figures were disastrous.
At the same time, a persistent, stabbing pain began to accompany her from the day Mel was hospitalized, although she didn't know it. It was as if her body somehow sensed that Mel was unwell.
No one told her anything. No one warned her that Mel was admitted, fighting pneumonia that worsened with each passing day. That's why Judith continued competing against Mel's company, unaware that the real battle was not corporate but biological. Mel was fighting a bacteria that refused to yield, one that was becoming immune to every new antibiotic administered.
The case baffled the doctors. Some had never seen anything like it. Yet they were unwilling to give up, even if it meant experimenting with combinations of drugs to save her. Mel's parents watched helplessly as each attempt failed. Her body did not respond, her breathing grew weaker. The doctors attributed it to extreme exhaustion, both physical and emotional.
Rupert, her grandfather, carried an unbearable guilt. He could not stop thinking that he was responsible for forcing her to resume the role of president when she clearly was not ready. His obsession with control had destroyed Mel's balance, and now he feared the price might be too high.
Her parents also felt guilty. They knew they had failed to protect her properly, letting her take on so many responsibilities alone. Mel was not only carrying the weight of the company; she was also carrying the weight of a broken heart. And that, combined with family pressure, had left her powerless.
Now, the only thing that mattered was that their daughter survived. Nothing else had value.
Mel's mother tried to appear strong in front of her, smiling, encouraging her with a gentle voice, stroking her hair, and promising that everything would be alright. But every time she left the room, she collapsed into her husband's arms, crying silently, suffocated by the fear of losing her.
For Mel, the days were a mix of drowsiness and pain. The bacteria kept her weak, without energy, barely conscious. If it weren't for the oxygen, she couldn't even breathe on her own. Her skin had turned pale, her lips colorless, and her hands were cold as marble.
When a month had passed since her hospitalization, the board of directors erupted. Reproaches, shouting, and desperation filled the meeting room. The company was on the verge of collapse. Although temporary replacements had been appointed—close and distant relatives—none could truly take Mel's place.
Even the opponents, who had tried to use the situation to place someone on their side, eventually gave up. In just two days, their substitute resigned, unable to withstand the pressure. Everyone wondered how Mel had managed to carry such a colossal burden for so long, while also facing Judith's fierce competition.
Layoffs were almost a certainty. Financial chaos was growing, and rumors began spreading rapidly: some said Mel had died; others claimed she was in critical condition.
The truth was even crueler: Mel was still alive, but every breath she took was a battle she fought in silence, while the world around her crumbled.
Because of the rumors, Castle company stocks began to plummet. In just a few days, the situation went from concerning to catastrophic. One Monday morning, Ryle called Judith to give her the news that left her frozen: the Castle companies were on the brink of bankruptcy.
"I don't understand how they haven't officially declared bankruptcy yet," he said tensely, "but everything points to them not being able to survive more than a week."
A chill ran through Judith from head to toe. This wasn't what she had wanted. Her plan had only aimed to free Mel from her grandfather's control, not to destroy everything. But before she could react, Ryle added carefully, though hesitantly:
"There are rumors saying that the president is missing… or worse. There are rumors that she is hospitalized, and some even claim she could be—" He paused, uncertain whether to finish the sentence. "dead," he finally said, distressed.
The words pierced her like a dagger. Judith felt the air leave her lungs and her body went into panic. Without thinking, she began calling every contact she had, desperate to hear something about Mel… her wife, because she still was, even if they were separated and only the two of them knew it.
She called colleagues, employees, acquaintances, and family members, but no one gave her a clear answer. Finally, someone gave her Jess's number, Mel's cousin. Judith dialed with trembling hands, and when the call was finally answered, the voice on the other end was filled with restrained anger.
"Are you seriously asking me about my cousin?" Jess replied, dripping with irony and anger. "As if you cared. This is what you wanted! And now you come pretending to be concerned when you had an entire month to ask about her. A whole month, Judith!" she shouted furiously before abruptly hanging up.
The silence that followed was deafening. Judith felt a pang in her chest. What happened to Mel? she thought, terrified. If it was true that she was sick, why hadn't anyone told her? Why hadn't even Sheldon said something?
With renewed urgency, she called Sheldon again. She tried several times until, finally, he answered.
"Ma'am?" His voice sounded broken.
"Sheldon… tell me she's okay," Judith managed to say, barely catching her breath.
A long, heavy silence followed on the other end, and then the answer Judith feared:
"I'm sorry, ma'am… She's very ill," Sheldon replied, his voice trembling. She could hear him holding back tears. "She's at South Hospital. I don't know how much longer she can hold on. She's not improving… and I fear for her."
Judith froze, feeling the world collapse around her. She couldn't breathe. Then, without a second thought, she ran out. She grabbed the first taxi she found and told the driver to take her to the hospital faster than her trembling voice could explain.
To be continued…