The President’s Mistake A Tale of Love and Regret



With a bittersweet smile, Nathaniel placed Frey's right hand on the piano keys and said hoarsely, "How about we play a song together like this? I'll play as the left hand and you're the right?"

Frey looked up at Nathaniel. A moment of nostalgia washed over her as she remembered their previous duet. The memory mingled with the present, adding a touch of poignancy to the scene.

Meanwhile, Peyton and Koen were strolling by the lake when the melody of "Dedicated to Alice" drifted from the castle's second-floor window. "Can Frey play the piano?" Peyton wondered aloud, her eyes widening in disbelief.

The doctor had said her hand might never recover, so hearing piano music was a surprise. Could Mr. Nathaniel be playing it? It didn't seem likely. Nheless, hearing the piano music was a hopeful sign.

That evening, a doctor arrived at the castle with Ozzy. A special medical room had been set up to facilitate Frey's treatment.

She underwent two hours of therapy, and the results were more promising than expected.

Nathaniel felt a wave of relief. He was grateful he had brought Frey away from the tumultuous environment of Saeville. Things were finally starting to improve.

While Frey rested in her room, Nathaniel stayed behind to discuss the treatment plan with the psychiatrist and Ozzy.

Over the next few days, Nathaniel was virtually inseparable from Frey. It wasn't just that he followed her around. It was as if he had become a shadow, constantly present in her life.

Every morning, Nathaniel would wake Frey for a jog around the lake.

After dinner, they would fish together or simply enjoy each other's company in peaceful moments.

He ignored his business concerns, focusing solely on Frey.

In the afternoons, they would bike along mountain trails or kayak on the river, He even took her skiing once, but due to her frail condition, he decided to limit their activities to avoid exhausting her.

In the evenings, while Frey painted the serene lake scene from the castle rooftop, Nathaniel would finally have time to catch up on work, sifting through hundreds of emails on his laptop. noveldrama

The rooftop, adorned with white marble carved with primitive patterns, was a tranquil space.

The climate in Stanna was perfect for their peaceful routine.

Frey, dressed in a long skirt and a beige sweater, was absorbed in her painting. On the other hand, Nathaniel was seated nearby on a lazy sofa and was immersed in his work.

They had fallen into a comfortable, unspoken rhythm, coexisting in quietude and mutual respect.

However, their peaceful routine was abruptly shattered by the ringing of Nathaniel's cell phone. It was an international call from an unfamiliar number in Saeville.

Nathaniel's eyebrows furrowed. This was his private number, known only to a few close associates. Fearing it might be a work-related emergency, he quickly answered the call.

To his shock, Abigail's desperate voice came through.

"Nathaniel! Help me! I don't want to die... I don't want to die!"

"I was wrong, Nathaniel. I will never harm Ms. Frey again. Please help me! I don't want to stay here... I don't want to..."

Nathaniel's heart raced as he stood up, clutching the phone. He glanced at Frey, then hurriedly walked to the room on the balcony.

Given his previous relationship with

the Hill family, Abigail had his

et

personal number. Since he was occupied with Frey's case, Nathaniel hadn't paid much attention to Abigail recently.

The evidence against her was overwhelming, and no amount of money could alter the course of justice.

Frey had flipped the situation on its head, and everyone was aware of the damage inflicted.