Clara leaned back slightly in her chair, her heart racing with the excitement of the moment. She had been waiting for this, and now it was finally happening. Benedict was no longer the cold, distant figure she had once admired from afar—he was here, with her, in this quiet moment of possibility. He was beginning to see her, to understand her, and maybe, just maybe, they were starting a new chapter."Yes," she said softly, her voice suffused with curiosity and expectation. "I think we will."There was something about the way Benedict gazed at her then - a mix of curiosity and something else, something stronger. For the first time that day, maybe for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like a reporter or an opportunist. She felt like a woman, standing before a man who could see her as who she really was. And in that moment he seemed to look away, collect his thoughts, Clara knew the evening had changed. It was no longer that casual business talk, but rather something much, m
This was just the beginning, and for the first time in a long time, Clara allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, the future held something beautiful in store for her and maybe it's time for her to be love.Meanwhile, as he drove, the city lights streaking against his vision, thoughts wandered to the evening he had just shared with Clara. Her presence was comforting and nostalgic, tugging at memories of college days long gone. She was his crush back then, a passing fancy he'd never acted on. Now, Clara stood before him like a ghost, reappearing in his life when everything else felt like a whirlwind.Clara Hemp was a girl who always occupied the limelight. In college, she embodied grace and charm in one—the perfect blend of beauty, brains, and ambition. That radiant smile and confident stride turned heads wherever she went. She was hardly a student; she was an event. As a candidate for Miss California 2021, Clara became an overnight phenomenon at their campus. She was a quee
It made Sabrina's heart beat a little faster as the thought took root. What if it isn't too late? She tried to push it away, but it lingered, persistent and dangerous. After all this time, after everything that had happened, could there still be a chance for them? Could Benedict really still care? Or was it just the lingering echoes of a past she had long tried to bury?She shook her head, trying to push those thoughts away. Benedict was gone, wasn't he? He had Clara now, didn't he? But why would the notion of him searching for her feel so palpable, so plausible?Her gaze slid back to Saben, sleeping peacefully in his crib, unaware of the storm in his mother's chest. He was the constant, the one person around whom everything revolved, the only one who needed her, who she could never abandon. And yet, she found her mind wandering, asking the impossible question: What if they had a chance?With a soft sigh, she backed away from the window, tracing the cool glass with her fingers. What w
Night stretched on, but his will to find her only intensified. He would stop at nothing, go wherever she was, to find her.Benedict stood by the window, his silhouette framed against the glow of the city lights. The world outside seemed vast and indifferent, but he refused to let it swallow his determination. His mind replayed moments from their time together—Sabrina’s laughter, the way her eyes sparkled when she spoke about her dreams, the quiet strength she carried even in the face of adversity.He had let her slip once through his hands. He had lost her because of his pride and blindness brought about by his ambition. And now, no way. This time, he would do all that it takes to bridge the chasm that stood between them.He picked up his phone, scrolled through contact after contact until finally his private investigator appeared on the screen. With a deep breath, he picked the call."It's me," he said, as soon as the connection happened. His tone was firm and unyielding. "I need you
For Clara Hemp, love was never a mere emotion-it was a destination. And Benedict was not just anybody; he was the man she had loved since college-the man she was sure of being able to make happy.In her mind, every step she took was deliberate, calculated. She wasn't chasing some old flame; she was building a future, one where Benedict could finally leave the pain of his past behind. The dinners, the conversations, even the seemingly casual text messages—each was part of her plan to secure a place in his life.She believed in herself, in her charm and intelligence. She was always the queen of the room she walked into. Now, she was going to reclaim that role in Benedict's life. "He needs me," she told herself. "He just doesn't know it yet."Still, a part of her felt a flicker of insecurity. She couldn't ignore the unspoken presence of Sabrina in Benedict's life. Though he was polite and engaging, there was a part of him that felt distant, like he was still tethered to someone who wasn'
As the cool night breeze swept through the house that her Grandma Wendy bought for them in Paris, Sabrina sat by the window, thoughts pulling her back to a time she had tried so hard to forget. The memories came rushing in, uninvited, as if the mention of Clara had unlocked a door she kept firmly shut.Four years ago, when she and her mother, Leila, were maids for Benedict's family, life had been easy, though filled with quiet struggles. She recalled how Benedict's laughter would carry through the halls when his friends came over, the sound carrying all the way to the kitchen where she helped her mother prepare meals.And then, there was her. Clara Hemp.Sabrina had never met Clara back then, but she knew her name all too well. Benedict's friends would bring her up endlessly—how beautiful she was, how smart and confident, the queen of their college campus. Benedict, too, would speak of her in a way that made Sabrina's heart ache in silence.Sabrina couldn't dismiss those words. They s
The next day, sitting in his office, the concentration of Benedict was broken by the sound of the door opening. He looked up with a jerk of his head and saw Clara standing there with a mischievous smile across her face and a takeaway bag slung over her arm. "Hey," she chirped, her voice light and casual. "I was just in the area and thought I'd bring some lunch. Hope you don't mind some company. Benedict blinked, caught off guard for a moment. He hadn't expected her to just appear like this. "Clara, you didn't have to do that," he said, standing up from his desk, hesitating. "But. I guess I could use a break. Thanks for the food. She stepped into the room with confident grace, with soft clicking heels on the floor. Clara placed the bag at the table, deliberate in the action, showing what enticement lay within: not complicated but all of him. She could see there had been thought in it — everything he liked, yet nothing too complicated, just that little gesture to show how much she car
The words hung between them, heavier than he had expected; for a moment, Benedict couldn't shake the feeling that Clara's intentions were more than casual conversation. Yet, before he could process his thoughts further, she sat back in her chair, picking up her fork again and changing the subject.Still, Benedict had to admit that this lunch was far from being a meal at its core. It was another step—a quiet, measured step by Clara to retake her position in his life, to remind him she was still there and interested and waiting. Though he tried hard to banish the feeling, part of him wondered if he ought to shut her out wholly. Clara was starting to seduce Benedict.Clara's subtleties were not lost on Benedict. Leaning a little in close as they continued eating, her voice softens as she speaks words apparently individually handpicked for their spot, every smile a little more inviting than the last. The glint in her eyes, the way she leaned her head to one side as she spoke, it was all p
Ramos squinted. He digested the picture unfolding before him. His stomach writhed in knots, but not at what he saw here. Rather, it was because of what was inside of him: a searing feeling of betrayal that churned up through his core. He trusted Morales, treated him like a brother. Now, though, his former brother stood before him—a man with blood on his conscience, guilty because he'd torn his oath of protection apart to kill another person.It was then that Ramos' voice pierced the heavy stillness, cold and impassive. "Morales," he said, as if his words carried with them the sentence of an executioner. "You are placed under arrest for having aided and abetted Clara Thompson in her escape and for concealing her whereabouts.Morales didn't blink, didn't budge. His head stayed bent forward, his eyes fixed on Clara's lifeless body as if he could resurrect her with one look. His fingers still grasped the gun, quivering as if they couldn't let go of the cold metal even in the face of inevi
Clara's face curled into something almost dark—unrecognizable."Yes, I do. You don't know what it feels like to be in love that much, have it consume and destroy you. Benedict was the dream, was the future, and then that woman came around and took all of it back."Her lip curled up and curled with contempt."She does not deserve him. She shouldn't even draw the same oxygen as he did."Morales clenched his fists. "And if you do this? So what? They will hunt you. You will have to run for all eternity."Clara moved closer, her voice becoming a snake venom whisper. "That's why you are here, Brother. To protect me. To clear up my mistakes. That's what family does, isn't it?" Clara spoke, her voice dripping with cold resolution.Morales swallowed hard at the sight of her. His little sister-he had no one, really-increasingly sinking into the night."Clara, I'm scared to death of you. I don't want to lose you. For Christ's sake, please … let go of Benedict," he implored, begging her as if sta
The ballroom continued the birthday celebration of Saben. The grand ballroom glowed with a warm golden light, casting over the laughter-filled space. The blue and silver balloons danced near the ceiling as Saben's classmates ran around the superhero-themed decorations, giggling. In the middle of it all stood Saben proudly in his blue suit, the tiny red bowtie slightly askew as he grinned up at his father.Benedict knelt down to fix it. "There. Now you're the handsomest boy in the room," he declared, tousling his son's hair.Saben chuckled at that and peeked over to Sabrina who stood by, her flowing white dress moving across the floor in a graceful elegance as she watches them with absolutely pure adoration in her eyes."You say that all the time, Dad," Saben teased. "Are you sure you're not just saying this because I'm your son?"Benedict grinned. "Absolutely not. You could walk into any room and still be the most handsome kid there."Saben raised an eyebrow in jest. "Even in a room f
Taylor Elite Hotel's grand ballroom became a wonderland for Saben's 8th birthday. Balloons in shades of blue and silver floated near the high ceiling, cascading ribbons adding a playful touch to the elegant space. A massive cake, shaped like a superhero fortress, stood at the center of the buffet table, drawing excited gasps from Saben's classmates.There were giggles in each corner of the room; children running around playing tag near the decorated tables. The room was full of freshly baked pastries and chocolate fountains, and everybody could enjoy such a feast in a view of great-moving music.Saben was dressed in a sharp blue suit with a little red bow tie. He darted across the room, his eyes shining bright with excitement. His energy was infectious. Every few minutes, he would take a friend by the hand, leading them to a different corner of the party, eager to explore everything that his great-grandmother Wendy had prepared.Benedict stood near the entrance, his arm resting on Sab
Delacruz nodded. "We have been monitoring Clara's bank accounts and any possible activity. She has not been using her main account, but we found something else. She accessed an offshore account a few days ago. Small withdrawals, nothing large, but it's enough for her to stay off the radar."Vargas sat forward, his interest piqued. "Could she be preparing something? Something big?""Could be," Delacruz said. "We do not know what exactly she's up to, but that's enough to give me concern. We even tracked her being close to some private jet hangar."Ramos raised his eyebrows. "A jet? She's flying the country?"Possibly, Delacruz answered cautiously, "But she's smart. She could plan here, wait for the right time to make the move."Vargas stood up, the weight of their failure hanging over him. "Then we need to move fast. We can't afford to wait. Every second we lose, she gets closer to whatever it is she's planning."Ramos slammed his hand on the table. "Alright, let's pull everything we've
Clara's eyes turned icy, a fire burning in her chest. "I'll make them regret ever crossing me."He gave her a slow, almost reluctant smile. "Okay then. I'll keep collecting the pieces. But remember, don't go rushing this. If you do, you're walking straight into their hands. Take it slow. Wait for the perfect moment.Clara nodded firmly. "I'm not leaving until I've done what I came for."The man stayed a moment, his eyes furrowed to study her as if trying to read her deeper. "You're not some woman to underestimate. But tread carefully. Those kinds of people don't just fall."Clara said lowly, saying it more to herself than the man. "I'm not afraid of them. They will not know what hit them.He gave her one last glance before he was out the door and leaving, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Clara stood by the door, gazing after him. The quiet in that room had become deafening, but it wasn't the silence that bothered her. It was the wait.But waiting didn't scare her. Clara knew th
Her mind was already racing ahead, thinking about the next steps. The safe house was just a temporary stop, a place to regroup. She couldn't stay there forever. She needed to plan, to figure out her next move.But one thing was clear. She wouldn't be stopped. Not by anyone.The van veered hard onto a quiet dirt road and down from view, where city eyes and noise wouldn't see. Clara felt her heart ease some but didn't calm at all; it settled and hung inside, weighing against the pain. It cost a great deal to what she was to do. Clara was uncertain whether she had been ready to take that risk of its coming result. Yet, there was no backing down. She could not retreat at this point. She had gotten this far.As the van came to a stop, the man glanced over at her. “You’ve made a dangerous choice, Clara. Don’t forget that.”Clara met his gaze without flinching. “I’ve made my choice. And I’m not going to regret it.”The man sighed, opening the door to the small, dimly lit building in front of
In one swift motion, she lunged forward, swinging the keys in a tight arc toward his face. Morales instinctively ducked, but Clara wasn't aiming for his head-she was aiming for his side, for the pocket where he kept his gun.Keys reached out, Morales grunted in surprise, taking a stumbling backward step. Clara's heart pounded in her chest, her veins full of adrenaline, she did not hesitate to use the moment to her advantage. She pushed herself forward swiftly and dodged around Morales's receding back to make a beeline for the gate.But just as she stretched out to the gate, a strong grasp closed around her arm. Morales regained his balance far quicker than Clara had permitted herself to let herself think."Not so fast, Clara," he snarled, twisting her arm behind her back with a jerk that sent a shock of pain through her shoulder.Clara gritted her teeth, refused to let the pain show. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. She kicked backward, aiming for his shin,
The secret, she was certain, lay in the pattern of the guard's rounds—when he passed by her cell, he inevitably stopped on that farthest corner. He never gave her much attention, thinking her just another condemned prisoner with no choice. Clara was not like the others. She was waiting for this one, single chance.She reached up to the small grate above her cot, the one she had secretly loosened during the last few days. It was a tight fit, but Clara had managed to create a small opening large enough to slip through, using pieces of cloth and the thin, wiry metal she'd managed to pry loose.She drew herself up, using the makeshift rope she had prepared, her hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was almost there.Footsteps approached again, closer this time.Her pulse was racing. This was the moment she had been waiting for.Clara gave one final glance over her shoulder, to ensure that Dolores was still asleep. With gritted teeth, she heaved herself up thr