CHAPTER 44

Damien's POV

I restrained myself from yelling at Anna when she delivered the wrong file for me a second time, but I couldn't help but bang my fist on the desk.

She scrambles backward in terror, dropping the pen off the desk.

She brought the incorrect file a second time after delivering a white coffee the first time.

Is it planned for me to have a poor day today?

When I was getting ready to go to work, Lisa did hers by making the ridiculous inquiry of who Helena was. How could she? She doesn't have the right to inquire about Helena.

I don't care how she learned about Helena; I don't know how she did, either. I'm simply upset with her for bringing up Helena.

She has no authority to act that way. She cannot ask me personal questions just because we are speaking civilly. Is it as a result of the questions I asked her about herself?

She says, "I'm sorry, sir," with a flicker of terror in her eyes.

"Sorry?" I let out a frustrated groan. She continues acting inappropriately despite my best efforts to prevent myself from directing my animosity to her.

She apologizes once again, stooping slightly. "I'm truly sorry, sir," she says.

I have to admit that I am sick of Anna. She is ineffective. She only wants to get together so she may keep working as my assistant.

All I ask of her is that she voluntarily quit this employment. Although I don't want to terminate her, it seems that I could have to if this foolish behavior continues.

I try not to yell as I say, "I asked for Johnson's file." Johnson rather than James.

She bows once more in return before turning around to go. I exhale and toss the paperwork on the table as I quickly watch her go before slumping backward in my chair.

I spin around, thinking about what occurred this morning.

I was asked by Lisa who Helena was.

Why the heck not? How on earth could she know who Helena was? Who informed her about Helena? What gave her the courage to inquire of me about her?

I mutter an expletive while tightly closing my eyes and allowing memories to flood in.

I've never seen a lady more lovely than Helena was. She was the quietest, most compassionate lady, and I adored her for it.

Despite the fact that I saw some parallels between her and Lisa, she wasn't as curious as Lisa. She sometimes questions me, but when she does, she demands my total openness.

Helena was an honest lady, so it was difficult to lie to her. She doesn't lie, and because angels don't lie, I refer to her as an angel.

I unintentionally ball my first, and my breathing becomes labored.

I murdered her. I murdered my wife.

We failed to reach the altar. We also lost the baby. I was unable to envision our unborn child or her future appearance.

At the thought of losing the memories of the individuals who matter so much to me, hot tears burn my eyes. When was the last time I had such frequent thoughts about Helena?

Since Lisa entered the picture, it has always been short since I have always been able to compare the two ladies.

I'm still working on my recovery, but am I expected to let go of all the memories? Good and evil together? Sweet and sour together?

Isn't this meant to be my just dessert for my heinous crimes? Is it not expected that I have the memory when I get up in the morning and when I go to bed at night?

After all, I was the one who killed her.

The doorbell rings, but before I can answer it and let her in, she opens it and walks in.

I look at her while desperately attempting to hold back the tears that are on the verge of falling at the memory of the lady who nearly became my wife and the mother of my kid.

"This is it, sir." Another file is extended to me by Anna. She doesn't seem rattled, and I'm starting to believe it was a deliberate move on her part.

I looked at her instead of accepting the file. When we last saw her, she was almost trembling from head to toe. She also doesn't seem frightened.

"Sir?" She gives me a glare.

I grab the file and quickly drop it to the ground before allowing the swivel chair to spin me around once again.

I attempt to stop thinking about my past as I face the clear glass and let my attention drift from one thing to another.

For the last two years, I've struggled to cling to a choice between trying not to think about Helena at all and worrying about anything that has to do with her. Perhaps it will hasten my recovery.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm healing or that I've come a long way, but other times, it hurts so much, and I think healing is still a long way off for me.

Will Helena ever forgive me?

In addition to causing her death, I broke our agreement, something I now regret. Because I want to please the public and stop my mother from pressuring me, I broke my commitment to be celibate for life and not get married, yet here I am with a lady who does nothing but dig into my affairs as my false wife.

But this is just temporary. I only stopped letting the concept upset me so much because of this.

Lisa and I will only be together for a year before I am free to live my life as I choose and have no reason ever to be married again or violate my vow of celibacy.

Helena deserves recognition despite death.

"Boss?" Anna's quiet voice jolts me out of my daydream. I swiftly turned around after realizing she was still waiting in my office since I didn't hear the door open and shut.

Who knows?

"Yes?" I furrow my brow in puzzlement, wondering why she is still here.

She anxiously rubs her head and starts to tug on the hem of her skirt. She is dressed in a blue shirt and a straight black skirt.

Since I married Lisa, I've been more interested in how other people are dressed, including my staff, particularly those with whom I do daily business, like Anna.

I never did this while Lisa was still my assistant, but since I married her, my behavior has altered.

In fact, today, more than ever, I pay close attention to anything she wears. She has also altered.

I'm referring to her fashion sense.

She rubs her hands together nervously, "There is something I would like to talk to you about," she says to me.

I'm immediately queasy.

Not because of how Anna is behaving but rather because of my morning's worth of thoughts.

Helena.

Since she passed away, if I think about her for too long, I always get nauseous, even though I seldom ever do.

The question "What is it?" I ask her firmly while slouching in my chair.

I think to myself, "I should probably head home early today." I immediately respond, "Within me," remembering that Lisa will be in my room alone when she gets home.

There were moments when I needed to be alone in order to wallow in self-pity and coerce sleep. Maybe the following day, I would feel better, but they were the days when I was single and living alone in my room, free from any interruptions.

That's probably not going to be achievable tonight. To get over this emotion, I need some alone time. Now I can't get ill. I'm dealing with a lot right now.

Is doing errands for your wife part of my duties as your assistant? I turn my head to look at her emerald eyes as she blurts something out.

I'm talking about doing stuff for her, like grocery

With a sweep of my hand, I halt her. The query amuses me, but I'm not in the correct frame of mind.

The question is now here, as I had anticipated.

Do any of these present challenges for you? I enquire carelessly.

She firmly said, "No, sir." "But…"

"No buts," I interrupted her. "You know the right thing to do if you have any problems completing any of the tasks I send you to complete for me or my wife."

She stops speaking.

"If that's all, you may go. I dismissively reply, picking up the paperwork she just delivered, "I have a lot to accomplish.

I need to go to work.

I should, indeed. Even though I want to leave the house early today, I should finish this file first.

She makes a gradual turn around and approaches the door. I get a glimpse of her observing me from the door as she opens it and steps outside.

I take a deep breath and drop the file once again as soon as I hear the door slam.

I just need some alone time. Before returning to work, take a few minutes to reflect.

I loudly cursed before jumping up and banging my fist on the desk in disgust, just as I was about to swing my chair backward again to ponder.

I missed her.

Helena!