AbigailSusanna ended the call with a smug smile, turning her attention back to me.“Oh, did you want to talk to him?” she asked, faking surprise. “Sorry about that.” She offered a mock apology, her tone so insincere it made my blood boil.Then, with her nose in the air, she sauntered out of the room, leaving me standing there, gripping the file from the police station in one hand and my phone in the other so tightly my knuckles turned white.My anger felt like a living, breathing thing, threatening to consume me. How dare Conrad do this? How dare he treat me like this? How dare he give me something Susanna had rejected, knowing fully well how I felt about her? My mind replayed every slight, every instance where I’d felt pushed aside or overshadowed since Susanna moved in.As I wrestled with my emotions, Marceline stepped into the room, her expression searching. From the apologetic look in her eyes, it was clear she’d overheard everything.“Abigail,” she began gently, placing a hand o
AbigailAs I stepped out of the shower, the steam from my hot shower swirled around me and clung to the edges of the bathroom mirror. My damp hair clung to my neck as I grabbed another towel and began drying it absent-mindedly. I didn’t want to think about the file from the police station, Susanna’s smug words, or my horrible day. Not yet, anyway. I could feel the anger coiled up in my chest, just waiting for an excuse to explode. I needed this moment of peace and quiet.But even as I dried my hair, it didn’t last long. My phone, charging on wooden the bedside table, kept buzzing insistently. I frowned and tightened my towel around myself before padding across the room to see who it was, although I already had a good idea. The screen lit up with a familiar name as I picked it up. Four missed calls from Conrad. I stared at the notification, my stomach tightening. Conrad. Of course, it was Conrad.My lip curled as I opened the messages, skimming through a chain of text messages that app
AbigailI glanced up at her, smiling faintly. “Conrad used to bring work home sometimes,” I explained. “I helped him out whenever I could. I guess I picked up a thing or two.”Her eyes softened, and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her brows knitting together briefly before she silenced it. “You’re doing great,” she said instead, her tone encouraging. “Keep it up.”As she walked away, I turned back to my work. For the first time in quite a while, I felt in control. Maybe this was what I needed. Space. Independence. A chance to remind myself—and Conrad—that I wasn’t just an ornament, waiting to be polished and displayed when it suited him.The morning passed in a blur for me as I worked. Even though I had only arrived that morning, my desk was already drowning under a sea of documents, leaving no room for my thoughts to be consumed by Conrad or the mess that had led me here. I was totally absorbed in my work until I he
AbigailThe secretary’s announcement had barely finished ringing in my ears when she turned to Conrad and me. “You need to go to the scene immediately,” she added, her tone now turning brisk and professional. “I’ve already arranged for a company car. It’s waiting downstairs.”Without hesitating, I nodded. “Let’s go.”I moved toward the door, the news buzzing in my head like a bee around a flower. Alexander was back. A part of me still struggled to believe it. Just as I moved past Conrad, his hand shot out, gripping my arm to stop me in my tracks. “Wait, Abigail,” he said, his voice low and edged with frustration. “You still haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here, in the company? In my office?”I turned to him slowly, disbelief washing over me. I had just answered him, hadn’t I? The reason was obvious, yet here he was, dragging me back into a conversation that was irrelevant with this news of Alexander. Then it hit me—Conrad didn’t even remember. It hadn’t even been tha
AlexanderTwo Months AgoAfter I took over the family business, I faced constant resistance. Many eyes were on the company, both openly and secretly. The endless deception became tiresome. The people I could trust grew fewer and fewer. Besides my loyal subordinates, the only ones I could rely on were my family.Or so I thought.The memory of it all haunted me. No matter how much time passed, I could still feel the bitter sting of betrayal, the bone-deep exhaustion of fighting for my life, and the lingering grief of a promise made to a dying man. It had started with Susanna’s message, a simple plea for help that had thrown me into chaos.I was in another city, halfway across the country, handling a deal that demanded my full attention. But the moment I saw her name on the screen, followed by the panicked plea for help, everything else faded into the background. Her message was brief but filled with urgency.Alexander, I need you. Please come.My gut twisted as I read them, imagining the
AlexanderPresent DayMy estate home sat in a strange kind of quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful but expectant, like the air before a storm. I sat by the large window overlooking the driveway, the sunlight slicing through the curtains in golden streaks. A blanket covered my legs. The wheelchair carrying me had been carefully chosen for the role I was now playing. My wound had long since healed; I didn’t need the chair anymore as my leg no longer ached. But the wheelchair was a weapon now, a carefully chosen tool for deception.Florence, the head of my household staff, stood to my side, her tablet in hand. Her polished bearing betrayed a trace of concern as she delivered the news. “Sir,” she said, her voice soft. “The news of your rescue has been leaked to the family.”I nodded slowly, turning the chair slightly to face her. The golden light from the window cast shadows on her face, highlighting the faint worry lines on her brow.“Good,” I said, keeping my voice cool.“You
AbigailThe scent of jasmine rice and lemongrass greeted me before I even saw the basket. It sat on my desk, pristine and perfectly arranged, a silent proclamation of Conrad’s devotion—or perhaps, guilt. My stomach twisted—not from hunger, but from irritation. The presentation was perfect, of course. Conrad’s gestures always were, shouting louder to the office than any declaration of love ever could.I felt eyes on me as I approached my desk, coworkers waiting for my reaction. Some tried to appear casual, others not bothering to hide their curiosity. Sylvia, seated just a few feet away, was the first to speak.“Well, well,” she drawled, leaning against her cubicle wall with an expression of poorly hidden admiration. “If my ex-husband had been half this romantic, maybe I wouldn’t have divorced him.”The bitterness in her tone didn’t escape me, nor did the envy that lingered beneath her words.I forced a polite smile, my fingers grazing the basket’s woven handle. “If you want a man like
AbigailAs I pulled up to the dinner that evening, my determination wobbled like jelly. The house, with its grand columns and sprawling driveway, was lit with the soft glow of evening lights, but it felt nothing like home.“You said you’d go,” I muttered to myself. “You’re not a coward.” My stomach twisted as I sat in the car, gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. I could leave. I could turn the ignition, drive off, and call Marceline with some excuse—headache, sudden work emergency, anything to avoid stepping into that house again. But I’d given my word. And if nothing else, I always kept my promises.“You’ve faced worse, Abigail,” I added in a whisper, straightening my posture. “It’s just dinner.”It took several deep breaths, and a silent pep talk before I convinced myself to open the car door and step out. I smoothed the front of my emerald dress. It was understated but elegant, just enough to show I hadn’t come unprepared but not so much as to look like I was trying
Alexander The moment I pulled open the door hidden under the base of the statue of the Virgin Mary, the scent of decay hit me like a punch to the gut.No, that wasn’t quite right. I had smelled it the moment I stepped into the manor of the estate. That deep, cloying stench of something long past its time, something that should have been laid to rest but had been left to fester instead. But I had ignored it. Or rather, I had hoped, prayed even, that it was nothing more than the rot of an abandoned estate.I never thought we would find a body. But there she was.I barely had time to register the sight of the corpse before I heard Abigail’s sharp gasp behind me. I moved without thinking, shoving the door closed and stepping in front of it, using my body as a shield as if I could somehow erase what she had just seen. But it was too late.She had seen, and she knew. I didn’t need to hear her say it to understand. I had already reached the same conclusion—the same horrible, gut-wrenching
Abigail The man who had leaned against the statue stumbled back, waving away dust with one hand as he coughed. A thick cloud filled the air, and I instinctively raised my arm to cover my nose and mouth. The statue of the Virgin Mary had crumbled like a sandcastle, revealing something hidden under it. As the dust settled, Alexander stepped closer, his expression sharpening with concern and curiosity. Where the statue once stood, there was now a gaping hole, the jagged edges of stone framing what looked like a concealed door. The wood was so moldy and blackened with age that it barely looked like wood at all. There was no handle, just a small opening where fingers could slip in and pull. Alexander reached for it. Something in me screamed for him to stop. I don’t know why. Maybe I already knew, deep down, what was waiting behind that door. But he pulled it open anyway, grunting as a laboring creak filled the air. The first thing I noticed was the stench. It was putrid, suffocatin
Susanna I stirred awake to the sound of slow, rhythmic breathing beside me, the weight of an arm slung over my waist. My head felt thick with exhaustion, my limbs sore in ways I didn’t care to think about. For a long moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling of the garish motel room, the golden swirls on red wallpaper filling me with distaste. Where am I? The question drifted through my half-conscious mind before memory came rushing back, hitting me like a slap to the face. Oh. Right. Disgust twisted my expression. I shoved the arm off me, wincing at the soreness in my lower back as I sat up. The movement jostled the man beside me, and he made a groggy sound before blinking awake. He turned his head towards me, his lips stretching into a lazy, leering grin. "Mm," he hummed, eyes roaming over my body, shameless despite the crust of sleep still clinging to his lashes. "You haven’t lost your touch, sweetheart. If anything, you’re even better than before." I scowled, n
Abigail It had been hours since Alexander and I arrived at Ravenbrook, since I had first stepped into this decrepit house with my heart pounding and my hopes soaring against my better judgment. I had been so sure. After hearing Liam say the name, and seeing the terror on his face when he whispered it, I had believed with every part of me that my mother would be here. That I would find her at last. That all of this suffering, all of the waiting, all of the agonizing weeks spent wondering if she was alive or dead, had been leading to this moment. And yet, all I had to show for my hope was nothing. No signs of life. No whispers of her presence. No misplaced object, no forgotten article of clothing, no single trace that a woman who had once been the most important person in my world had ever been here at all. I had searched everywhere. The bedrooms, the bathrooms, the library, the study. I had torn through dusty closets, rummaged through abandoned drawers, even pressed my hand agai
Abigail The elevator ride down was silent. I barely registered the soft chime announcing each floor as we descended, nor the polished steel doors reflecting my pale face back at me. My mind was spinning, turning over the name Ravenbrook like a stone in my palm, searching for familiarity in its edges and weight. Where had I heard it before? It clung to me, refusing to let go, like a whisper just out of reach. Beside me, Alexander stood still, his hands in his pockets, but I could feel his gaze lingering on me. He was watching me closely. I wasn’t sure if it was concern or curiosity at my quietness, but I had no space in my mind to dwell on it. I could only focus on Ravenbrook. There was something stirring in my memory, faint but persistent. By the time we stepped into the hospital’s lobby and moved toward the parking lot, my hands had curled into fists. The answer was there. I could feel it. I slid into the passenger seat of Alexander’s car, fastening my seatbelt automatica
Abigail Liam moved closer, his shoulders shaking, his face wet with tears. His eyes were desperate as he reached out, trying to wrap his arms around me in an embrace. I turned my body away, just enough to avoid him. His arms hung in the air for a second before he let them drop. He sniffled loudly, his breath coming in short, unsteady bursts. I swallowed hard, forcing down the emotions rushing through me. “Liam,” I said quietly, my voice steadier than I expected. “That man you saw speaking with Marceline and Conrad, who was he?” Liam wiped his face roughly, blinking at me in confusion. “I told you already,” he mumbled. “I don’t know.” I didn’t believe him. Maybe he didn’t have a name, but Liam wasn’t stupid. He had spent time around Aaron, the man who had led him into this mess. There was no way he hadn’t overheard something, some kind of detail that could clue me in. I narrowed my eyes. “Liam, think.” He shook his head, his movements jerky. “I...I don’t know anything
Abigail I couldn't take it anymore. Everything Liam had said so far, every word, had been an excuse. I hadn’t wanted to say it, had tried to keep my emotions in check, but the words slipped past my lips before I could stop them. “All of this… all of it, Liam, is just you making excuses.” Liam’s eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t expected me to say that. But I couldn’t stop now. “You’ve told me about the gambling, the debts, the deals you made, but you still haven’t explained why you helped Susanna hurt me. Your own sister.” My voice shook with anger and hurt. “And what about Mom, Liam? You haven’t even mentioned her. Haven’t even said her name. Do you even care that we still don't know where she is?” I swallowed hard, my chest rising and falling quickly. “And you haven’t even apologized,” I whispered, shaking my head. “Not once.” Liam stared at me after my outburst, something dark and ugly flashing in his eyes. His hands clenched into fists. Then, in an instant, he
Abigail "I hope you mean that," Alexander said, taking a step towards the bed. Liam’s hands shook as he nodded, his fingers curling into the bedsheets. I held my breath, bracing myself, knowing whatever came next wouldn’t be easy to hear. “When did it really start?” Alexander pressed, his voice firm. “The gambling, the drugs… they didn’t just start when you met Marceline, did they? You’d already been sinking long before that.” Liam swallowed hard, guilt flashing in his bloodshot eyes. He lowered his head. “No. It started before.” I exhaled slowly, a bitter weight settling in my chest. Liam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if steeling himself, before speaking again. “It started with...Conrad.” I stiffened at the name, my hands clenching in my lap. Just the mention of his name sent a flash of anger down my spine. “The first time I asked him for money, I was hesitant,” Liam admitted. “I knew you already felt indebted to him for helping with Mom’s hospital bills, Bee
Abigail The facility Liam was being kept in was called Ridgeway Wellness Center, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have thought we had pulled up to a luxury retreat rather than a rehabilitation center. The building itself was discreet, modern but not flashy, and clearly designed to blend in rather than draw attention. Even the entrance was unassuming, hidden behind a row of neatly trimmed trees, giving the impression of privacy. I had half-expected Alexander to stash Liam away in some run-down place, somewhere fitting for a man who had made so many mistakes, but he hadn’t. He had brought him here. It must be my imagination that my eyes were burning as we stepped inside. The lobby was bright, clean, and quiet. The soft scent of antiseptic mixed with something fresher, like lavender, filled the air. A nurse stood at the reception desk, a man in his forties with neatly combed hair and a professional but friendly demeanor. He looked up as we entered, and immediately, something in h