(Lydia)The sound of the front door clicking shut signaled Thomas’s return from the office. I was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner, trying to busy my mind with something tangible. Since we’d come back to the mansion, I’d been living in a strange sort of haze. I’d disconnected from social media, blocked out the news, and even avoided conversations that veered too close to what had happened in D.C. The only thing grounding me now was the routine: the kids, Mama, keeping the house running.“Hey,” Thomas called from the hallway, his voice low, likely not to wake the kids. He walked into the kitchen, his tie already loosened, the usual fatigue lining his face.“Hey,” I replied, giving him a tired smile, “How was your day?”He came over to kiss me on the forehead before glancing at the chopping board. “Long,” he admitted. “But nothing I couldn’t handle.” He glanced at the half-prepped ingredients, “Let me help.”I knew I could easily call on the cook that lived in the servant
(Thomas)It was late, well past midnight, and the house was quiet except for the occasional creak of the old wooden floors beneath our feet. Lydia and I were sitting at the kitchen table, the soft glow of the lamp above us casting long shadows across the room. The kids had been asleep for hours, and we’d spent the evening turning over our options, trying to make sense of the mess we were in.Nathan was a looming storm, and the legal chess game he was playing was far more calculated than we had anticipated. But we couldn’t let him control the narrative. We couldn’t let him paint himself as the victim while the real victims were dragged through the mud.“We need to be strategic about this,” I said, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my temples. My head was pounding from the sheer amount of information we’d been processing, “We can’t just react to what he’s doing. We need to build our own case.”Lydia nodded, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, though it had long gone cold. “We can
(Lydia)It was Friday, and I was looking forward to having some extra time with Mabel and Miles after their short day at pre-school. I had been busy making sure our plan was running smoothly but I had to focus on the kids as well.I had prepared their favorite lunch, grilled cheese sandwiches with carrot sticks and a little bowl of apple slices and set everything on the kitchen table. Usually, they would come running in, full of stories about what happened at school. Mabel would eagerly tell me about the latest craft project, while Miles would share a funny thing one of his friends had done.But today was different. They were quieter than usual, their faces serious as they slid into their chairs, barely glancing up at me. They didn’t even giggle when I cut the sandwiches into little stars, a trick that always used to make them laugh.“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I watched them pick at their food.Mabel just shrugged, taking a bite of her sandwich without much
(Lydia)As soon as the kids were tucked into bed that evening, I sat on the edge of the couch, waiting for Thomas to come back from his office. My thoughts were heavy, swirling with everything that had happened at lunch. I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about it yet, not with dinner and the bedtime routine to get through. But now that the house was quiet, it was time. I couldn’t let another day go by without telling him.I heard Thomas's footsteps approaching, the familiar sound of him rubbing his hands together as he walked, a habit he had whenever he was deep in thought. When he walked into the room, he saw me sitting there, staring off into space, and he immediately knew something was wrong."Hey," he said softly, coming over and sitting next to me, "What’s on your mind?"I sighed, leaning back against the couch and looking up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where to begin. “It’s about Mabel and Miles,” I said finally, my voice low but steady, “Something happened at school
(Thomas)I had just hung up with George when the call came from the receptionist. The conversation with George had left me feeling a rare mix of relief and anticipation. Several of the women who had been affected by Nathan’s actions had agreed to testify after we reached out to them. Some were even willing to go public, brave enough to face the onslaught of media attention. Others preferred to remain anonymous but would still testify in court, a decision I respected fully. It was more than I could have hoped for. With their courage, we had a real shot at taking Nathan down, making sure he couldn’t hurt anyone else.But then the receptionist’s voice came through my office phone, cutting through the satisfaction I was feeling.“Mr. Lombardi? There’s someone here to see you. He says his name is Nathan Andrews, and he’s here with his team. They’re requesting a meeting with you.”My hand hovered over the phone for a second, my mind spinning. Nathan Andrews was here? The audacity was almos
(Lydia)As I sat on the couch, the soft hum of the evening settling in around me, I felt an uneasy tension in the air. Thomas had been in his office longer than I expected, and my mind raced with thoughts of what he might be dealing with. The news from the kids still weighed heavily on my heart. We had a meeting with the principal tomorrow but I couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that Nathan might somehow be lurking, ready to unleash more chaos in our lives.When the front door opened, I turned, my heart skipping a beat as Thomas stepped inside. He looked worn but composed, a smile breaking through his fatigue as he caught my eye. But there was something else in his expression, something guarded.“Hey,” I greeted, standing up and moving toward him, instinctively reaching for his hand, “How did it go? Is everything okay?”He nodded, but I could tell it was a rehearsed motion. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” he paused, the smile fading slightly, then he said, “Just the usual back-and-forth
(Lydia)The next morning, Thomas and I sat in the car outside the preschool, staring at the unassuming brick building. It was strange to think that behind those colorful walls, where our children played with blocks and painted bright pictures, they had also been hurt by words too heavy for them to carry.I took a deep breath, glancing over at Thomas. His expression was calm, but I knew him well enough to sense the tension just below the surface. He was good at hiding it, especially when he needed to stay composed. But when it came to our children, he wasn’t going to let this go without a fight.“We need to keep this civil,” I reminded him softly, “We’re not here to accuse anyone. We’re here to find a solution.”Thomas gave a curt nod, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “I know,” he said, “But it’s hard to stay calm when you know your kids are being dragged into something they should never have to hear about.”“I know,” I said, reaching over to squeeze his hand, “But let’s h
(Thomas)The steady hum of the city traffic felt distant as the car stopped in front of the building where George’s office was located. Lydia and I got out and were immediately flanked by the bodyguards, which included Roger and Gerard. After everything we’ve been through, I trusted only a few people and they were in that list. It was our second visit this week, and the weight of the situation sat heavily on my chest. Nathan’s threats had started to escalate, but the discovery of his connection to a drug case was what really pushed us to take further action. And now, George had called us in again, saying there was more.I glanced at Lydia beside me. She looked calm on the outside, but I could see the tension in her posture, the way her shoulders were slightly hunched, her fingers nervously adjusting the strap of her purse. This was starting to take its toll on both of us, but she wouldn’t admit it, not yet. I reached over and squeezed her hand, offering a quiet reassurance that we we
(Adeline)The front garden was always my favorite place to sit, especially in the morning. The air carried a crisp freshness, and the soft rustle of leaves felt like nature’s whisper of reassurance. Today, I felt lighter, less weighed down by the fog of fatigue that had wrapped around me since the surgery. A week had passed, and though I knew there was still a long road ahead, scans, radiotherapy, and who knew what else, I was grateful for small mercies like this. Lydia sat beside me, her posture relaxed but her eyes distant. She should have been glowing after her date with Thomas last night; I’d seen her excitement all day leading up to it. Yet, there was something off about her today, a subtle undercurrent of worry she couldn’t quite hide. I reached over and patted her hand, drawing her out of her thoughts, “You seem troubled, my dear. What’s on your mind?” She blinked, then gave me a soft smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Nothing to worry about, Mama. Just…think
(Margaret)The mansion was quiet, its grand halls and rooms bathed in moonlight, but I was still awake, as I often was these days. Sleep came sparingly. I’d taken to wandering the mansion late at night, a habit born of restlessness and regret. Tonight, I found myself seated in the parlor, nursing a lukewarm cup of tea, when I heard the faint creak of the front door. Ruby. Her steps were light but purposeful, and as she crossed into the hallway, I caught a glimpse of her face. She looked lost in thought, her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line. There was something about her expression that tugged at me, a pang I couldn’t quite place but that settled uncomfortably in my chest. “Ruby,” I called gently, my voice cutting through the stillness. She froze for a moment, her back to me, before turning slightly, her posture tense. Her eyes met mine briefly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them, before she resumed her stride, heading toward the staircase.
(Jack)The room was bathed in the muted glow of the television, the credits of the movie rolling silently on the screen. Ruby lay beside me, her head resting lightly against my shoulder, her breathing slow and even as she slept. I didn’t dare move. Instead, I let my gaze linger on her, taking in the soft lines of her face, the way her lashes rested against her cheeks, the slight rise and fall of her chest. Her hair framed her face, catching the dim light in a way that made her look almost ethereal. I shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t let myself get caught up in the illusion. But in that moment, it felt impossible not to. For years, this apartment had been a space I’d tried to keep void of emotion, a place where I could compartmentalize my life, separate work from personal chaos. But Ruby had changed that. When she’d been here, this place had felt alive, warm. And now, with her asleep beside me, it felt like a dream I didn’t want to wake up from.My mind wandered back to the few
(Ruby)I stood outside Jack’s apartment door, my hand hesitating over the knocker. I shouldn’t be here. I’d already done more than enough, stitched him up, watching him avoid my questions like he always did. But despite every logical reason to stay away, I was here. Because this wasn’t just anyone, it was Jack. The Jack who had once made me laugh so hard I cried, who had shared countless quiet evenings with me in this very apartment. The Jack who, despite all the hurt and chaos, still managed to make my heart skip a beat when I thought of him. I pressed my lips together, pushing the memories aside. This wasn’t about rekindling anything; it was about making sure he was okay. He had shown up at my door injured and vulnerable, and no matter how much time had passed or how complicated things had gotten, I couldn’t ignore that. Taking a deep breath, I knocked. When Jack opened the door, his surprise was clear, though he quickly masked it with that practiced cool demeanor of his.
(Jack)I sat on the edge of my couch, staring at the bandage on my side, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The family doctor had left about an hour ago after re-dressing my wound. He was efficient and professional, as always, and I appreciated the care. But damn it, why hadn’t I thought to call him in the first place? The moment I got injured, my instincts hadn’t pointed me toward practicality or logic. No, instead, I’d ended up at Ruby’s apartment, bloodied and in desperate need of stitches. I didn’t even remember the exact route I’d taken to get there, just that I had. Like my brain had been hardwired to seek her out, even when it made no sense. It embarrassed me now. Ruby had been nothing but calm and steady as she stitched me up, but I could tell how unsettled she was underneath that brave exterior. And I’d put her in that position, dragged her into something she had no business being
(Lydia)The drive back to the mansion felt electric, charged with an energy I couldn’t quite put into words. Thomas’s hand rested on my thigh as he navigated the quiet streets, his fingers brushing gently against my skin. Neither of us said much; the connection between us was palpable without needing words. By the time we reached the house and stepped through the door, it was as if the air around us crackled with anticipation. Ruby had left a note on the counter saying the kids were asleep and she’d see us tomorrow. I smiled, grateful for her support, but my focus was entirely on Thomas. As soon as the door to our bedroom clicked shut behind us, it was like a dam broke. His lips were on mine in an instant, hot and urgent, pulling me into him as if the space between us was unbearable. My hands found their way to his shoulders, then his hair, as I pressed closer, feeling the hard lines of his body against mine. “Lydia,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. I didn’t
(Lydia)When I woke up in the morning, I felt completely refreshed. Today was special. Thomas and I had a date planned, just the two of us. It had been far too long since we’d had an evening to ourselves, and the thought of spending uninterrupted time with him filled me with excitement. Thomas was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed as he adjusted his tie. His usual morning routine was precise, and I admired how calm and collected he looked, even when I knew his day would be busy. “Good morning,” I murmured, leaning up on my elbows. He turned, smiling warmly, “Good morning, love. Sleep well?” I nodded, sliding closer to him, “You’re leaving early today.” “Lots to do before tonight,” he said with a wink. I couldn’t help but smile at the playful glint in his eyes. Recently, he had been waking up looking like he didn’t get much sleep the night before. But today, he looked like he rested well. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him passionately, savoring the
(Thomas)The drive back to the mansion was quiet, the city lights a blur as they passed by the windows. My mind replayed the events of the day, the chaos with that one candidate, the interviews that went nowhere, and then Jack. That wound, the tension in his voice, the possibility of Marco being involved, it all left a sour taste in my mouth. But I pushed it aside for now. I didn’t want to bring that storm home with me.By the time I pulled into the driveway, the mansion was bathed in soft light, welcoming and warm. I exhaled deeply, the weight of the day slowly lifting as I reminded myself of what mattered most, my family.Inside, the familiar sounds of home greeted me. Miles and Mabel’s laughter echoed from the living room, where they were playing with a set of blocks. Lydia sat nearby, her eyes flicking between them and her phone. When she looked up and saw me, her face brightened in a way that made the tension in my chest ease instantly.“Daddy!” Miles and Mabel shouted in unison
(Thomas)The hallways of the office were unusually quiet as I left the disaster of the last interview behind me. My steps echoed faintly as I made my way toward Jack’s office, needing a moment to vent about the absurdity of the day. Jack always had a way of grounding me, even when the world felt like it was spiraling out of control.But when I arrived at his office, it was empty. The blinds were drawn, the desk cleared except for a mug of cold coffee. I frowned, pulling out my phone to call him.He picked up after a few rings. His voice was low and somewhat strained when he spoke, “Thomas?”“Jack,” I said, glancing at my watch, “Where are you? I just came by your office.”“I’m at my apartment,” he replied, his tone clipped. “At your apartment?” I repeated, my frown deepening, “It’s the middle of the day, Jack. What’s going on?”There was a pause, long enough to make me suspicious. “I had to step out for a bit,” he finally said, “I’ll be back soon.”“Jack-”“Thomas, I’m fine,” he int