Whispers Of The Past

Chapter4:Echoes Of The Past



“Please stop! I can't do this!” Violet tried saying in a calm voice, realizing how rude she may have sounded.



"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" Mr. Reynolds asked, his tone filled with confusion and alarm as he recoils, his hands falling away from her body.



Violet's chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath, her eyes wide with terror as she stares at him. She pushes Mr. Reynolds away immediately.



"I can't... I can't do this," she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion as she gathers her trembling limbs, her only thought to escape the suffocating grip of her past.



Without a second thought, Violet stands up immediately from the bed in order to put a reasonable distance between her and Mr. Reynolds.



“Violet, I don't understand,” Mr. Reynolds said, confusion written all over his face.



“I'm... I'm sorry,” she muttered.



Violet scrambles around the room with frantic movements in search of her evening gown. Mr. Reynolds bolts up from the bed immediately and grabs his evening robe.



“Violet, please can you just calm down,” he said as he reached out for her.



“Don't touch me,” Violet screams at him as she pulls back.



She puts on her gown immediately and gets her purse. She grabs her leftover glass of champagne and gulps it down quickly in an attempt to wash away her panic and fear.



Tears blur Violet's vision as she stumbles towards the door. Her legs shaky with every step she made. She hadn't achieved her goal with the champagne.



“I'm sorry,” she said to Mr. Reynolds as she tried cleaning the tears off her face.



She felt ashamed at the moment. Mr. Reynolds's facial expression was priceless. Violet walked slowly towards the door and left.



“I need to get out of here,” she kept repeating.



Every fiber of her being was screaming for her to flee, and she didn't stop walking until she was out of the hotel.







☆☆☆☆☆☆



Mark Calvin was having a hard time preparing for the day. The pharmaceutical researchers from the German university concluded the research on Neem Nano-liposomes for the treatment of malaria.



It was a novel drug delivery system for Neem that no one had produced before. A lot of research had been executed, and the drug product was pronounced safe for mass production and clinical consumption.



All the board members of Carl Pharmaceuticals were present during the presentation from the researchers the night before. Mark Calvin was meant to follow up with some paperwork and authorize the commencement of the production.



He paced around the room where he grew up— he had followed his parents' home after the meeting. Everything was set to begin today; this was a huge milestone for Carl Pharmaceuticals’ Incorporation; so why was he not excited to start the day?



Could it be because of the gold-colored Rolls Royce that drove into his parent’s garage in the early hours of the morning? The plate number of the car bore the Trinket name, and even if it didn’t, he would recognize Pamela's car from anywhere.



She came to his house early that morning, and the only time she visited his family that early in the past was after their big fight in order to get in his family’s good grace.



Pamela was more angry than he had judged after what happened at the fashion designer's. Violet Harper.



He remembered Violet's hair, the red streaks that tinted the lush brown hair, and her blue eyes. She looked so bold, yet vulnerable. Something about her strength called out to him.



Yeah, if the way he thought about her now was obvious yesterday, then Pamela had every reason to be furious.



Mark descended down the stairs and headed to the sitting room.



“Hey, Mum,” he gave his mother a peck on her cheek.



“You look gorgeous. Are you going anywhere?” Mark asked.



“Yes, dear. Pamela here has offered to take me for my spa appointment. She’s such a sweetheart. And Marky, is that how you greet your girlfriend?” Eleanor Calvin, Mark's mother, asked.



Her deep feminine voice carried across the room, her British accent sharp.

She noticed that they hadn’t said anything to each other, and she looked between both of them trying to read their expressions.



“Is everything okay here?” Mark's mum asked.



“Yes, Mum, everything is good,” Mark answered.



“Pam, you didn’t tell me you would be coming this morning,” he gave her a pointed look and smiled as he hugged her.



“Since when do I need permission to come to your house, Mark?” Pamela asked.



“I didn’t say that, I'm just surprised. I mean, you always call before you come,” Mark answered. Pamela rolled her eyes at him.



“Hey, hey, hey... what's happening here, guys? I smell tension,” Eleanor said.



“It's nothing, Mum,” Mark answered.



“I’ll be off to work now. Have fun at the spa. Bye,” he strode out of the sitting room answering a call.



“Trouble in paradise?” Eleanor asked Pamela.



“I’m not sure. He acted a little strange yesterday; we went shopping, and he couldn’t stop staring at the fashion designer, Violet Harper,” Pamela said.



“Hmmmm, familiar name. The Just You signature?” Eleanor asked.



“Yeah, she’s the one. You know her?” Pamela asked, her lips curved into a sneer.



“She’s making a name for herself. I hear she knows what she’s doing,” Eleanor said and checked Pamela’s face to read her expression.



Pamela looked away and answered petulantly.



“She’s alright, Shoshana was there yesterday for her fitting. She is VH's big fish,” her fingers made the ‘quote' sign in the air.



“So what about her and Mark, what are you upset about?” Eleanor asked; her curiosity was piqued.



“I just sensed that there is something,” Pamela answered.



“Come here, Pamela,” Eleanor signaled to Pamela.



“Let me tell you something,” it was meant to be a whisper, but Eleanor’s voice couldn’t be subdued. It was her personality.



She was the kind of woman that commanded power in every room she entered. Her sheer presence and charisma made people describe her as a handsome woman. She had a patrician face, a wide forehead, pointed nose, and green eyes.



“Infidelity changes any relationship; you never recover from it,” Eleanor said.



“Stop searching for signs that aren't there. Sometimes, we project what we feel onto others, you are insecure after your infidelity, but relax, Mark is a good man. He might seem tough but he was really hurt, and right now, I see him trying his best for your relationship to work.” Eleanor said.



Pamela didn’t expect the conversation to be intense; she was getting uncomfortable with Eleanor bringing up her infidelity, but she kept quiet.



"If you feel something, then keep calm and allow your instincts to speak to you. Don’t accuse him when you are not sure of what you see," Eleanor finished.



Pamela didn’t have any valid reason for her discontentment. And truly, she was the cheat in the relationship. So she concluded to give it a rest and do something nice for Mark.



She hoped Mark had forgiven her completely for her affair. But she honestly felt like he deserved the lesson. He was always busy, and he didn’t take her out as much as she wanted.



Pamela was her parents’ baby, and she had never struggled. All her extravagant desires were sufficiently provided for, so she had time to soak up in luxury and party. Unlike Mark, who had a business to run.



Anyway, she will text Mark if she could spend the night at his place and make it up to him. She would order his Mac and cheese from his favorite restaurant, and they would have mind-blowing s*x. Yes, she knew exactly how to make him feel good. He will fall back in love with her exactly where she needed him to be.



“Hey, Sugar, what are you doing tonight?” she texts Mark but he didn’t reply immediately.



“Probably busy,” she grumbles and returns her iPhone to her purse, and seconds later, she hears a chime and picks up her phone.



“Mon coeur, I miss you. We need to talk,” the message read.



Despite the unknown identity, she knew that only one person called her “Mon coeur,” the French word for “My heart.”



Pamela's heart raced as she stared at her phone screen, she knew the sender of the message.



Pamela took a quick glance around the room, her eyes searching around for Eleanor. She had a strange feeling of being watched. With trembling hands, she quickly types back a response.



“Simone?”