The lies were vicious but gained currency quickly; soon an onslaught by trolls online threatened Sabrina's character. Sabrina wanted to and tried to tune out some of the comments, not easy. One evening, tearing through her phone, it brought tears to her eyes; Benedict found her in the living room tightly clutching her device: "Don't read that crap," he took the phone from her face. "None of that is ever true." "I know," Sabrina whispered, her voice trembling. "But it still hurts.". Benedict pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “We’ll get through this, Sabrina. Together.”Despite Clara’s relentless efforts, Benedict and Sabrina refused to crumble under the weight of her schemes. Each attack only solidified their resolve to protect their family. Late-night conversations, whispered promises, and shared moments with Saben began to fill the cracks in their fractured relationship. Benedict was no longer the man Sabrina had known once. He had transformed into a devoted father and man
As Clara stormed out, defeated, Sabrina turned to Benedict. She saw, for the first time, not the man who had hurt her but the man who had grown-a man who was willing to fight, to change, and to put his family above everything else. His transformation was undeniable, and in his eyes, she saw sincerity and regret mingled with hope. For a moment, the weight of their shared past pressed down on her chest, but alongside it came a newfound lightness. She didn't fully trust him yet, but she couldn't deny the shift in her heart.The walls she had built so carefully were beginning to crumble—not in an explosion of emotion, but in slow, deliberate cracks that allowed just enough room for forgiveness to seep through. He looked into her, his expression relaxing. "Sabrina," he murmured softly, coming closer. "Thank you for sticking up for me out there. I know that was no easy feat." "Yes,Sabrina." she said in barely audible tones, her voice strained with emotion. "But it wasn't just about you. It
But even as regret flickered in her heart, Clara's pride refused to let her admit defeat. Every failure only fueled her desperation, and her obsession with Benedict and Sabrina grew darker. If she couldn't have Benedict, then she would ensure he couldn't be happy with Sabrina. She planned something ugly in her mind to spoil the fragile peace. Her hatred was a clouding judgment that she convinced herself that she had nothing left to lose.Sabrina and Saben became the obstacles on her path to vengeance, and she intended to remove them. Week after week passed since Clara stalked Sabrina, Benedict, and Saben, watching their daily habits through school drop-offs, a family outing, seeing him chuckle with Saben and hold Sabrina's hand. The sight alone inflamed her blood with those moments. It wasn't envy; it was something within herself-a sore that she could never seem to let heal. One evening, Clara sat in her dimly lit apartment, pouring over photos she had secretly taken. Images of the ha
That evening, as they went back in the house, Benedict extended his hand toward Sabrina. She was hesitant for that moment, between uncertainty and hope, and then let her fingers intertwine with his. But warmth of his touch sent down shivers on her spine, reviving long buried feelings. The house was silent, the only sounds coming from the refrigerator humming in the kitchen and the gentle patter of Saben playing with his toys in the living room. Benedict looked into Sabrina's eyes; they were filled with warmth. "Thanks for trusting me today," he whispered softly."I know it's not easy."Sabrina sat there in silence, feeling the full weight of his words. She just looked at their joined hands and felt this nostalgic feeling. She was reminiscing about the early days when they were together and their relationship so carefree and easygoing. It included all of the laughter and whispering promises but how he looked at her as if she was the world. "Benedict," she started, her voice breaking."I
"Everyone has a breaking point," she said to herself, a fierce determination in her voice. "And I’ll find theirs. With a steadying breath, she reached for her phone and dialed a number she hadn’t called in years.When someone finally picked up, she spoke in a chilling, calculated tone. "I need your help," she said. "It's personal, and I'm willing to pay—no questions asked." Then, there was a silence before the voice responded with, "What are you looking for?" Clara's obsession had finally peaked and had reached its dangerous point where all the calculated moves were going into desperation. She was storming around her apartment, with her anger barely under control. Her fingers tapped out on her phone as she scrolled through contacts with fury. "I need someone ruthless," she whispered to herself, narrowing her eyes at the number. Dialing fast, she tapped her foot impatiently. When the line clicked, a gruff voice answered, "Who is this?""It's Clara Hemp," she said coldly. "I have a job f
One evening, when the setting sun painted the sky with soft hues of orange and pink, Benedict realized it was time to do something more to prove himself to Sabrina. Though he had been patient in giving her space, as she needed it, he felt the load of time. He wanted her to know that this was not a joke; he had serious intentions about them-that is, rebuilding their family. He fussed in front of the mirror over the knotting of his tie. Tonight had to be flawless; tonight was only one stop on the journey for that future he was setting to build with her.He took a deep breath and checked his time; his message was sent-simple as could be: "Would you go on a date with me? A real one this time. Just the two of us. I'll take care of everything. Sabrina’s response came a few minutes later: “Okay, Benedict. I’ll be there.” The thrill of anticipation coursed through him. It wasn’t just another dinner or a casual outing. This was his chance to show her that he was committed to more than just bei
Clara paced up and down in the faintly lit warehouse, with her heels clicking on cold concrete. The place smelled wet and oily, and an erratic light above cast fearful shadows on the walls.Standing around her were the men she had hired-tough, rough-looking fellows who asked no questions but cared about the money she promised.She stopped, glaring at them with the intensity of a woman scorned. "Do you all understand the plan?" she demanded, her voice sharp and commanding.One of the men nodded, a burly fellow with a scar running down his cheek. "Yeah. We grab the kid during his playtime at the park tomorrow. No witnesses, no mistakes."Clara narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to him. “Good. But let me be very clear—this is not a game. That child is the key to my revenge. Do not fail me.”The man smirked, seemingly unfazed by her threatening tone. “Don’t worry, lady. We’ve done this before.”Clara turned away, her mind racing with thoughts of vengeance. For years, she had been consumed
Benedict heard her cry and turned around to see the scene unfolding. His blood ran cold, and without hesitation, he bolted toward the van."Let him go!" Sabrina shouted, tears falling down her face as she stretched for her son.Benedict tackled Scarface, throwing a punch that sent the man backward. But the wiry man pushed Saben into the van and jumped in after him. The engine roared to life and sped away leaving Benedict and Sabrina behind, destroyed."No!" Sabrina fell on her knees weeping.Benedict pulled her into his arms, his own face pale with anguish. “We’ll get him back,” he said, his voice trembling but resolute. “I swear, Sabrina, we’ll get our son back.”Please tell me!" she was crying, clutching at Benedict as great sobs shook her. She felt as though some tremendous hammer had hit her on the chest, breathed out her breath, shattered her. "He is only a little boy," she moaned. "What if they harm him? What if—"They won't," Benedict interrupted firmly, though his own voice fa
Her fingers stroked the material. "Okay," she breathed.The boutique manager came back once more, and Eliana smiled, her voice more even now. "We'll take this one.""Good choice, Miss Thompson." The manager clicked her fingers together, obviously delighted. "We'll have it steamed and wrapped up to deliver this evening, or would you like to take it with you?"He rested against the door of the fitting room, arms crossed, suit perfect, tie razor-sharp—but jaw clenched, eyes contained, tracking her each movement in the mirror."You're staring," she said without raising her gaze."You knew you would."Eliana swung around reluctantly, glancing at him.The way he regarded her—it wasn't admiration. It was possession, and something in his eyes that bordered on restraint."Well?" she breathed. "Too much?"His gaze dropped to the V of the neckline, black, and up to her face."It's perfect," he said softly. "Perilously perfect."A silence. The whir of the boutique died under weight of air between
There was silence. Alexa was always too professional ever to say anything that wasn't absolutely imperative, but Eliana could almost feel the twitch of interest in the static."Oh, of course, ma'am. I'll alert Mr. Wolfe right away."The intercom clicked off.Eliana slowly breathing out through her nose, her fingers running along the top of the desk as if signing the lines of her own doubt.Why does the ring of his name feel like pulling on wire that had twisted hard against her ribcage?Damian Wolfe. Her shadow. Her bodyguard. The man whose lips whispered softly, and whose eyes whispered too loudly, leaving her quivering.It was not right—the way he gazed at her. The way he avoided gazing at her when he should have.As Nathaniel had been comfortable with the old version of her… Damian was comfortable with the woman she wasn't yet. With the one with burning rage, fear, and smoldering lust all twisted up in one.She sat back from her computer screen, attempting to escape in work, but he
She did not scroll to the top of her phone contact list. She did not have to. Damian Wolfe was the first on everyone else's list—just like Nathaniel Carter was. Two names. Two men. One choice she'd never been able to make.Until today.Her thumb was still hovering, her breathing even.One telephone call changed the direction of her life.Before she could get cold feet, she heard footsteps—heavy, slow, familiar.She turned.Damian stood in the doorway to her office.And something about the way he was looking at her—as if she were his shelter and his tempest—stole her breath."Eliana," he said softly. "I'm not going to press you. I swear. I just. I needed to confirm that you were okay.""I am not," Eliana said softly. "But I will be."He bobbed his head. "Good. Because I've watched you shatter and remade myself. I understand how strong you can be once you finally begin not to attempt to flee from yourself."There was something primal in his gaze, something smothered yet deeply well-wrou
Vincent smiled at her. "Does your security detail have a habit of crashing high-level meetings?"Noelle smiled to himself as he put away the tray."Men, take a five."Reluctance was there, but Vincent finally relented. "As you desire, bella."The others flowed out of the room, and he was left alone with her.Eliana stood in front of Damian, arms crossed, but her voice was filled with softness. "You didn't need to defend me like that."He leaned in over her. "I wasn't sticking up for you. I was reminding them who the hell you are.""I know who I am.""Then why are you allowing this world to destroy you just so you won't hurt?" His words cut her like glass."I'm not avoiding—You haven't even cried," Damian breathed, pulling another closer to her. "Not for the disaster Harper created. Not for Nathaniel. Not even for you."She pulled her face away. "If I do, I would not be able to stop."She waited. Then:"I'd defend you if you did."Her eyes were burning. She raised her face, and there
She hauled herself up, carefully brushing her matted hair out of her face, her heart slowed a bit now. More confident. Less frantic.Her gaze returned to the phone.No new messages.And for once, that didn't sting like abandonment.It felt like freedom.She stood, walked barefoot into the kitchen, and poured the forgotten tea down the drain. It had cooled. Like the version of herself who sat around waiting for someone else to pick her.That version had fallen silent now, too.A vibration on the counter startled her.Damian.Just his name. No note. Just a missed call.She gazed at it forever, then she murdered the screen's power. She wasn't ready—not for him, not yet. Perhaps never.She moved to the living room, attracted by the hum of the television behind her. Her brother's form glowed under the blue light, stretched out on the couch with a pillow over his face as if he hadn't intended to sleep but the rest of the world had otherwise."Saben?" she whispered.He groaned. "Mmhmm?""Did
The door closed gently, but to Eliana it was a gunshot.Her spine against the wood, she was frozen, her breathing barely more than a stillness. Her voice was still stuck in her throat, her heart bruising under the words she had said to Nathaniel-the words she had only recently realized for herself. "What have I done?" Eliana whispered into the silence, her voice faltering slightly.The Thompson estates did hulk over her in oppressive silence. The sort that did not forgive-it judged.Stumbling, she fell to the couch with her knees buckling under her. Her hand brushed against the thick cushion next to her, which Nathaniel would lean against for drawing her into himself and whisper, "You feel like home.""Then why do I feel so far from it now?" she whispered.Her phone flashed when she answered it. No messages. No missed calls. No apologies. No begging. No promises. Just her. Alone. With the wreckage of something she couldn't fix.She stared at Damian's name burning on her screen. Her t
Eliana resolved to speak with Nathaniel.Nathaniel's presidential suite door was too intimate. It repelled her.She’d memorized the weight of her hand knocking on it. The scent of his cedarwood cologne that always lingered in the hallway. The way her heart used to leap—used to believe—that she belonged here.But now, everything felt quieter.Not empty. Just. still.He opened the door after two knocks, like he’d been waiting. Like he knew.“Eliana.” His voice cracked the silence like thunder rolling in slow motion. “You’re here.”She nodded, catching her breath.He hadn't slept. Rumpled shirt, rolled-up sleeves. Hair ever so slightly too messy. Eyes ever so slightly too shattered.As if he'd been injured by her very indecision."May I enter?" she asked, knowing the response in advance. Nathaniel stepped aside. "You don't need permission."She entered as if it would be her last time ever pushing the door open.He stood there with arms crossed over chest, shoulder blade against the wall
The sun filtered a reluctant angle over Eliana's headboard blinds, tinting the floor in pale golden stripes as if someone was trying to make amends for a bitter, long-fought battle. She was lying on her side, the crescent moon charm still amazing her palm, her fingers clenched around it as if it might prevent her heart from breaking into fragments.But there was reality—that her heart was already broken. In more than one place.Tap. Light. Soothing."Enter," she breathed, already suspecting who it was.Sabrina entered, loose linen thrown over her, bearing a tray full of hot tea. She put it down on the floor without a word at all, eyes drinking in the broken pieces of her daughter's mind.Eliana sat up, legs tucked under her, hair wet from last night's rain. "May I ask you something?" she asked."Always," Sabrina replied, sitting on the bed, facing her."How did you know?" Eliana's voice broke. "How did you know Dad was the one? Was it easy?"Sabrina's eyes softened. "No. God, no. It w
The storm was over, but the earthy scent of the rain remained. Fragile mist curled from the window panes of Eliana's room; now the sun had to struggle to break free from the clouds, while everything around looked bathed in soft golden light. The world looked washed clean—fresh, mysterious, like a blank page with wet ink smeared at the edges.Eliana sat on the edge of her bed, the silver crescent pendant sitting quietly in her palm. She smoothed its curve with her thumb repeatedly, as though it would somehow open up a hidden answer to her if she pressed hard enough.The sketch Saben left lay beside her, and she’d stared at it until the ink seemed to blur and reshape itself. Damian on one side. Nathaniel on the other. And her—right in the middle, like a bridge being pulled at both ends.She hadn’t slept. Not really. Just drifted in and out of thoughts so loud they echoed inside her skull."You’re the shadow that never departed.""You were the light when I was shattering."Two truths. Tw