Sabrina turned around, the pulsating energy of the dance floor fading behind her. As she spun around with this intoxicating mix of freedom and reckless abandon in her veins, her laughter would have cut through the cacophony of the party like a tune that was so sweet to be savored. She had been free for what had seemed like a blissful few moments, lost to the rhythm of the music, the warmth of people. Concerns that had been growing for so long about Benedict—the spaced-out look in his eyes and the unspoken words lingering between them—became a memory. She lived, pulsed, breathed for the night to hold her folded within its folds.But as the hours went by and the drinks kept pouring, a heaviness started settling in her mind. She blinked away the blur of bright lights as dizziness washed over her. She breathed into herself to try to get her bearings."Hey, I'm going out to get some air," she called out to Claire, who continued to spin and laugh, totally lost in her own bliss.Claire barely
By the time Benedict reached the house, he had plenty to utter about his distaste, yet he dragged himself up those stairs with Sabrina in tow. She was drunk enough she could not even move on her own, and the wreckage of her tantrum swayed in the heavy unspoken tension between them like a pendulum. Benedict laid her slack form over in the bathroom and carefully settled her in the tub. Just when he would have let her go, she forward leaned and, in the most disgusting display imaginable, hurled all over his chest."Are you freakin' kidding me? " he mumbled, disgusted by the look on his face. He quickly shrugged out of his suit jacket and recoiled, wincing as he tried to scrub the stench off of his body. But with his movements, Sabrina's bleary gaze snapped to him, her drunkard eyes locking onto his cut torso. She blinked, and a drowsy smile spread across her face."Wow… abs," she slurred, reaching out to pinch his stomach playfully. She bent forward before he could respond, pressing her
Sabrina closed her eyes as warm water dripped, mingling the droplets with her tears. Standing there in the warmth, she wished she could wash her heart turmoil with soothing warmth. The echo of Benedict's words clung in her mind; every syllable dug into her hurt soul even further.She did love him, she reflected, her heart breaking because of the admission. "But does he even care?" Not a whit, it would seem. She could sense the warmth of the bath enveloping her as small comfort, but no heat could numb the chill over marriage the apathy had cast for her. She clenched her fists, letting sadness and hurt into her. But also, she said, determination that churned beneath the surface.As she scrubbed at her skin, trying to get rid of the leftovers of the evening—the smell of alcohol, the bitterness of betrayal, the weight of loneliness—her will began to harden. "I can manage this pain for now," she whispered to herself, voice quivering but resolute. "I will survive, I will survive. But if he
Sabrina caught her breath, shook off the bittersweet memory of the previous night, and knew that for Benedict, it was just a whim, one he would soon forget. For her, it just strengthened the bitter truth of their one-sided relationship.It echoed off the quiet walls of their house, and Sabrina's heart tightened at the thought of her husband returning. He would probably sweep past her without even casting a glance her way. Then there would be an aside or a word of faultfinding, and it all again was a reminder of the way he treated her—another reminder of his inaccessibility. But today Sabrina steeled herself. Today, she wouldn’t allow his coldness to cut as deeply.She headed into the kitchen, making him breakfast as she had done each morning since they had gotten married. It was a ritual she knew all too well, but even though her hands moved methodically through the process, her head wandered to the promise she made herself: hold onto this new strength and sense of self, no matter wha
Less than an hour passed, and Teresa arrived. The room filled with warmth Sabrina hadn't known she desperately needed, sitting with Teresa at the kitchen table, and unspoken words hung in the air between them.Moments passed and Teresa reached out to take Sabrina's hands across the table.. Her eyes were soft with concern. "Sabrina, my dear. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for all the pain Benedict has put you through.".Sabrina's lips trembled as the words of Teresa pierced through the walls she built around her heart. She turned her eyes downward so that Teresa would not see those tears form in her eyes. But Teresa gently prodded up her chin, making her look at her."You do not deserve this, Sabrina," Teresa said, and now her voice cracked with emotion. "I don't know how to begin to explain just how embarrassed I am because he is my son, and I brought him to you. I raised my son to be better than this – to love the woman I'd chosen to stand by him. And yet. Forcing him on you had made him a
After her emotional talk with Benedict's mom, Sabrina spent most of her day planting flowers in the garden. It was her way of trying to forget the stress and emotional turmoil she felt because of Benedict. As evening fell, she found herself alone again. She never expected Benedict to come home just to have dinner with her. After everything that happened last night, when they were together in the shower, she thought he despised her. To him, she was just a maid, and he saw no feelings involved, only lust. But for Sabrina, it was different, as she loved him deeply.She took a warm shower and changed into a nightgown, hoping for some peace. But around midnight, she heard the doorbell ring. Everyone was asleep, so she had to go downstairs to know who it was. And it was Benedict, but this time he was drunk. He had been drinking much lately, perhaps owing to the problems at his company, but he never spoke to her about it.The door creaked into her nostrils with a strong whiff of alcohol. No
She tilted her head to his face, dark eyes, hard face, but none of the vulnerability she so desperately wanted to see reflected anywhere on his face."Benedict," she stuttered, a little voice shaking. "What… what are you doing?"He burst into a laugh, humorless as it was, and at the same time reeking of bitterness."What are you doing, Sabrina? Isn't that exactly what you agreed on, the doting wife for me to command when so pleased, no need for questions?Sabrina blushes, but she isn't embarrassed; more rage is burning within. All these months, she kept carrying it inside of herself; she allowed all the twisting to seethe like a burning fire in the pit of her abdomen."So you really think that is all I am?"She said low, but firm as she could muster the strength for."A convenience to you?"Benedict raised an eyebrow. He rolled his eyes, disgust clear in his face. "What else would you be here for, Sabrina? You're not exactly my first choice." Each of his words stung her, sharper than
Sabrina waited, her phone glued to her eyes, almost as if it were to magically flash a message from Benedict. Every passing hour without one only grew the ache inside her chest. She found herself occupied cleaning up the garden, reorganizing closets. Anything to not feel the chasm of silence stretching between them. But with each task accomplished, she could only see that she was alone in a marriage she was promised to feel treasured for.With night again falling two days running, Sabrina could no longer wait up for him to come back home. She settled down by the edge of their bed; her fingers played over the phone on her lap for what felt like the millionth time, as the calls to his number hadn't received an answer once, the messages she tried to send went unanswered - they'd gotten more panicky than ever, one every few minutes."I'm your wife, Benedict. Don't I at least deserve an explanation?""I'm here, waiting for you. Please just come home. We can talk."But the messages sat on h
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