The Angel's Last Mission

Chapter 2- Pierce Croft

Pierce was in a hurry, his movements quick and restless. The house was still quiet, the kind of quiet that should have felt peaceful—but not today. He grabbed his cup of coffee, took a small sip, and set it down again. He didn’t even touch the breakfast waiting on the table.

Today was too important. He had people to meet, powerful people, and a big deal to close. This contract could change everything. He told himself he didn’t have time to slow down, not even for a moment.

In his hurry, he picked up his things and walked straight out the door.

He didn’t notice the small figure standing by the hallway.

David, his six-year-old son, had been watching him the whole time. He waited, hoping his father would look back, smile, or at least say goodbye. But the door closed without a word.

The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

David stood there, his small hands clenched at his sides. There were no tears in his eyes, no cries for attention. Instead, there was something deeper—hurt. A quiet kind of pain that a child should never have to feel.

In his young heart, he began to believe something he could not yet fully understand—that he was less important than his father’s work.

And little by little, that hurt started to turn into hatred.

Pierce was a single father. Six years ago, he lost his wife when she died giving birth to David. Since then, he had carried the weight of raising his son alone, burying his grief under long hours of work and endless responsibilities.

But in trying to build a better future, he didn’t see the small, fragile heart he was slowly leaving behind.

_

"Congratulations, Mr. Croft!” Mr. Smith said with a wide smile. “You did an excellent job. Our project was a success, and that calls for a celebration. I’ve already closed the entire bar for tonight. I want you and all your people to celebrate with me.”

Loud cheers filled the room. Everyone shouted in excitement, clapping and laughing. The team was overjoyed, proud of what they had achieved together.

Pierce couldn’t bring himself to refuse Mr. Smith’s invitation.

Soon, they all made their way to the bar owned by the wealthy businessman. The place was already prepared for them. Tables were covered with all kinds of delicious food, and bottles of expensive drinks lined the shelves. The lights were warm, the music was lively, and the whole place felt alive with celebration.

Everyone gathered around Pierce, congratulating him, raising their glasses, and inviting him to join in the fun.

Pierce had been in business for a long time. He knew exactly how to deal with people who mattered to his company. He knew when to smile, when to agree, and when to celebrate.

So he went along with them.

He laughed, drank, and joined the party as if nothing else in the world mattered. Glass after glass, he let himself be carried by the noise, the music, and the excitement of the night.

For a while, he forgot everything else.

He didn’t think about the quiet house waiting for him.

He didn’t think about the small child waiting by the door, hoping his father would come home.

And as the night grew deeper, Pierce continued to celebrate as if there were no tomorrow.

_

Pierce slowly opened his eyes, feeling as if his whole head was being squeezed. A dull, painful pounding echoed inside his skull, like a drum beating over and over again. The strong smell of alcohol still lingered in his breath, reminding him of how much he had drunk last night.

He groaned softly and lifted a hand to his forehead, trying to ease the pain. The room around him was bright, and the light made his eyes sting. He blinked several times, struggling to adjust, his vision still blurry and unfocused.

“Finally, you’re awake!”

A gentle, cheerful voice broke through his thoughts.

Pierce turned his head slowly—and then froze.

Lying right beside him was a beautiful woman, her long hair spread softly across the pillow. She was smiling at him, her eyes warm and calm, as if she had been waiting for him to wake up. The blanket that covered them both was pulled up to her chest, but it was clear she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

For a moment, Pierce couldn’t move.

His heart began to beat faster as confusion filled his mind.

He blinked again, trying to clear his thoughts, trying to remember something—anything—from last night. But no matter how hard he tried, his memory remained empty. It was like looking into a thick fog where nothing could be seen.

Then, suddenly, it hit him.

His breath caught in his throat.

He was in bed… with Portia.

Portia—the only daughter and heir of Mr. Smith.

Pierce’s chest tightened as the truth slowly sank in.

He had only met her last night at the celebration party. He remembered the bright lights, the laughter, the sound of glasses clinking. He remembered Mr. Smith introducing her to him with pride, placing a hand on her shoulder as he spoke.

Portia had been easy to talk to. She was confident, charming, and had a natural way of making people feel comfortable. They had talked for a long time—laughing, sharing stories, and drinking more and more as the night went on.

But that was all he could remember.

Everything after that… was gone.

He clenched his fists slightly under the blanket. Even if he couldn’t remember every detail, a boy and a girl in one room naked! It was clear that something had happened between them.

And that thought made his stomach twist.

“Portia… I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with unease. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her directly. “I… I don’t know what I did last night.”

Portia let out a soft, gentle laugh.

She didn’t seem upset. She didn’t seem worried at all.

Instead, she moved a little closer to him and placed her hand on his bare chest, her fingers tracing slow, light circles as if to calm him.

“Don’t say sorry, Pierce,” she said in a soft, reassuring voice. “It’s not your fault. We both wanted it… and we both enjoyed being with each other.”

Her words were calm and certain, as if there was nothing wrong with what had happened.

But Pierce couldn’t feel the same ease.

He turned his gaze away, staring at the ceiling, his thoughts racing.

A part of him wanted to feel guilty—to blame himself for losing control, for letting things go too far. But another part of him knew that no matter what he felt now, it wouldn’t change anything.

What was done… was done.

Pierce had never been the kind of man to stay in one relationship. He was used to meeting different women, spending time with them, and then quietly moving on. His relationships were always short, simple, and without deep feelings.

That was how he liked it.

No attachments. No complications.

But this time… things were not so simple.

Portia was different.

She was not just another woman he had met at a party.

She was Mr. Smith’s daughter.

And Mr. Smith was not an ordinary man.

He was powerful, sharp-minded, and known for always getting what he wanted. Many people respected him—but just as many feared him. He was not someone you would ever want to cross.

Pierce felt a cold weight settle in his chest.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.

This was not just a mistake from a wild night of drinking.

This could turn into something much bigger… something dangerous.

If things went wrong… his name, his reputation—everything he had built—could be destroyed because of it.