“Dad…<i>” </i>Cole had so many things he wanted to say, but when the moment came, not a single word seemed right.
He clutched his father’s cold, lifeless hand, sinking to his knees at Parrish’s bedside.
“Dad, please… I’m begging you, just don’t take Mom with you too… Please…” The words dissolved into sobs as Cole broke downpletely, his cries echoing through the silent room. “Dad… Dad…”
Alessia wiped at her eyes, but the tears just kepting, falling faster than she could catch them. Her heart twisted and ached, but she knew she couldn’t let herself fall apart–not now.
She put aforting hand on Cole’s shoulder and let him grieve, let him cry until he had nothing left.
It didn’t make sense. Just that morning, they’d been talking about vacation ns, arguing over what style to decorate the new house. How could everything change so quickly? How could their worlds be torn apart so suddenly?
Fragments of memory shed through Alessia’s mind, shifting rapidly from one to the next–sometimes just a sentence, sometimes a whole scene, always a blur. But in every memory, they were all smiling.
“This one’s your room, sweetheart. Do you like it? I made that swing myself–my hands are a little rusty, but I heard little girls love these these days.”
“Lessie got first ce again? Not bad! Mr. Whitley’s making a feast tonight!”
“What about me? I came in second!”
“You? Hmm, I suppose you can ride your sister’s coattails just this once. You get to pick a side dish.”
“Lessie, if you’re ever feeling sick, you have to tell Mr. Whitley, okay? Don’t keep it to yourself.” She remembered being seven, curled in Parrish’s arms–his voice gently nagging, but his embrace always soft and safe.
The memories tumbled over each other, fragments ofughter and love. Alessia couldn’t hold it together any longer. She bolted for the bathroom, hand mped over her mouth, dry heaving and sobbing as tears streamed down her face.
It was the lowest, most desperate moment of her life, but she couldn’t care less
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about appearances. If it were possible, she would have given anything–money, everyst possession, even her own life–just to bring them back. She would have traded her own existence in a heartbeat.
Fifteen–year–old Alessia tasted the agony of loss for the first time.
Whether by miracle or cruel twist of fate, Jade barely clung <i>to </i>life but slipped into aa, trapped somewhere no one could reach.
There was no time for grief–no room for relief, either.
At sixteen, Cole was forced to grow up overnight.
Swallowing his pain, he put his studies on hold and stepped up, putting everything Parrish had ever taught him to use. Somehow, he managed to steady the Whitley Group, keeping the family business afloat.
Everyone called him a prodigy, but only Alessia saw the truth: Cole barely slept two hours a night, living in a blur of exhaustion, chasing down wavering clients, holding together a staff on the verge of panic, juggling media briefings and shareholder meetings.
He hardly smiled anymore. He spoke less, grew quieter. But whenever Alessia was near, he always managed to muster a brave face just for her. Alessia did everything she could to help–gathering documents, organizing files, picking up whatever work Cole couldn’t finish, insisting he rest, even for a little while.
The two of them functioned almost like twins, their decisions and actions in perfect sync. Projects moved quickly, faster than anyone expected, and despite their relentless schedule, the Whitley Group began to stir with new hope, inching toward another golden era.
People marveled at their resilience, but only Cole and Alessia knew the truth: sleepless nights were numbed only by constant work, a desperate attempt to drown out the pain.
Neither dared let their grief show in front of the other, terrified that if one of them broke, the other would be crushed beneath the weight.
All they had left was each other. Together, they forged ahead, side by side, holding each other up through one long, unending night after another.
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