Not anymore.Stepping out of the police station into the chill of early dawn, Sabrina wrapped her coat around herself and glanced at Benedict."We are not going home straight away, are we?" Sabrina asked."No," he said. "We are going to the hospital.""Eliana has to rest—""She's going to be lying in front of that motherfucker Harper in a hospital bed," Benedict growled. "I will have to contend with him.""Dad." Eliana attempted.But Benedict was already off, jaw set.They went in two cars. Damian drove with Saben and Eliana and Sabrina in the rear of the second car with Benedict. There was tension. There was an atmosphere of oppression all around them and a heavy buildup of tension.Within the vehicle, Damian addressed her. "You had do well to avoid the hospital for the moment, El."Eliana raised an eyebrow. "Why?""Because Benedict Thompson and William Harper at the same location? That's not a family reunion I'd care to have front-row seats to."Saben growled, "He's correct."Eliana
The acrid odor of antiseptics wafted on, sterile and heavy. It hung in well-lit passageways in St. Martin General Hospital, echoing off tiled floors scrubbed spotless. Nurses rushed through, their soft-sold footwear barely making any sound as they blazed through doors to a room, bringing medication and checking vital signs. There was a single passageway that differed.Two uniformed police officers stood outside Room 312 like granite statues, staring and unblinking. They loomed oppressively over the otherwise antiseptic air. Within, the man they were instructed to protect lay unconscious, strapped to monitors and IVs.William Harper was in no way the towering figure the world was used to having beforehand. He was pinched and gaunt to the face, lips dry and cracked, and a wide bandage across his forehead. There was the soft beep of the heart monitor, slow. He breathed, but little else.Detective Arthur Payne stepped into the room with a determined but even gait. His black overcoat moved
"Acknowledged," Judge Ramirez answered.The courtroom heard. William's voice echoed in the room."You think your family's above the law? I'll demonstrate power."Sabrina held Benedict's hand. Saben's fists were balled.Eliana's voice on the tape shook as she pleaded with him to stop.The courtroom was silent when the audio stopped.Mitchell rose. "Miss Thompson, isn't it a fact that you two had a history together?"Eliana blinked. "We went to school together. That's all.""No romantic history?""At all.""Maybe he misunderstood your relationship."Eliana gave him a glare. "No. He knew what he was doing."Mitchell took a step back.Then the detective, then the medical team. Each described a picture of meticulous planning, evidence, and motive.The defense final witness was a psychiatrist."Mr. Harper has unresolved trauma and delusions. Although he knew right from wrong, his emotions clouded his judgment."But Delgado stood up and asked one question."Did he know what he was doing when
The courtroom hummed with anticipation, all the seats filled to capacity by witnesses whose mutters and papers shuffling created the atmosphere. The front bench symbolized the same justice most of them had arrived anticipating today's verdict to render.Eliana Thompson sat poised on the witness stand, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Nineteen years old, she was placed in a situation older than her years, but her eyes were steadfast, her voice unflappable.In the corner of the room, William Harper sat at the defense table, his face impassive. Paul Harper's son, a disgraced former board member of BMX Estates, William's presence was a harsh reminder of previous betrayals and the extremes to which revenge could propel a man.The prosecution lawyer, Delgado, walked up to the stand."Miss Thompson," Delgado started, "can you tell us about your relationship with the defendant?"Eliana nodded. "We went to the same university. Our encounters were brief—friendly nods, nothing more.""No ro
Beneath the chilly gust blowing onto her cheeks, Eliana did not realize that she had been crying thus far.Sufficient to say, outside the courtroom proper, in the hallway, there were whispers between reporters and lawyers, and whisperings suspiciously filled the air. Cameras clicked outside of her peripheral vision, but she glided through them all like a ghost in her own existence."Eliana!" a voice shouted.She whirled around to see Benedict approaching her, his expression white with anxiety. For someone who was renowned for keeping emotions sequestered behind a closed vault, his eyes betrayed him now—fear, remorse, heartache."I ought to have predicted this," he muttered, clasping her shoulders firmly. "I should have known they would aim at you.""You couldn't have stopped it," she murmured, but her voice shook. "He hates you, Dad. And he used me to hurt you.""I did this. Paul Harper's destruction was at my hands. His son's fury—it all stems from what I did.""You didn't ruin them.
The courtroom was charged. Journalists slouched forward, pen tips hovered above notebooks. Cameras clicked quietly, capturing every concerned face. The air reeked with the scent of waxed wood and unspoken gravitas.Eliana sat on the plaintiffs' side of the bench, putting her hands over her lap. Bruises on both cheeks had lost their color, but the cuts from what she had endured were still pink and raw-looking. Her attorney, Margaret Lin, to her right, pored over papers with deliberate purpose.Across the aisle, William Harper sat, stone-faced. Leaning forward before him, whispering into his ear, was his attorney, Mitchell Crane. William remained silent. His eyes were on Eliana, a tempest brewing behind them.Judge Ramirez appeared, and the courtroom rose. She sat, gavel tapped once to bring the court to order."Be seated," she commanded.Margaret stood and pushed her glasses up. "Your Honor, the prosecution would like to bring Eliana Thompson forward as a witness."Eliana stood from he
Eliana brushed a tear from her cheek. "He didn't look even remotely regretful.""No, he won't," Nathaniel said quietly. "But that's not your job anymore."Eliana stood on unsteady legs. "Can I… get out of here?"Of course," Margaret said. "I'll deal with the press."Nathaniel escorted her out of the courtroom through the back door. Flashbulbs flared outside as reporters yelled questions, but Margaret stood firm, pushing them aside.Outside in their parking lot, the sun began to cool in late afternoon, but it still felt warm on Eliana's skin."I thought I'd be better," she breathed. "I thought… when it was done, I'd feel free."Nathaniel walked beside her, staying step for step. "Healing does not happen in court. It occurs day by day. Painfully sometimes. Quietly sometimes. But you're not alone."She raised her head to his. "You actually loved him once, didn't you?"Nathaniel's jaw was shut tight. "He was my father. I worked my entire life to be the sort of son he'd be proud of. And th
The Thompson home glowed brightly in the setting sun, the tall glass panes reflecting its final rays of gold like sharp eyes on a lookout toward the horizon. Inside, the sitting room thrummed with the strain that adhered to the air like damp mist.Sabrina sat upon the highly polished marble floor, the clinking high heels echoing in harmony with her worried mind."Should be home by now," she repeated for the third time, her voice gritted with worry."She's with Nathaniel," Benedict said, sitting on the couch, trying to remain calm—but tension crept into his voice against his will. "He won't harm her.""That's the exact thing that scares me," responded Wendy Taylor in her armchair, pearl earrings bobbing slightly up and down as she swiveled around. "That boy is a Harper. He's cursed blood. That family lives on revenge.""He's not William," Sabrina said, halting. "He risked his life for Eliana. He nearly died for her.""He's a Harper anyway," Wendy replied calmly. "We don't even know Eli
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