Sabrina spent the past months working tirelessly to bring into her life the things that she desired for herself and for Saben. She was not the woman who lived in Benedict's world, shrouded by uncertainty of whether she even belonged. Today, she was ready to forge a new future for herself, a future where her talents would be known and her ambitions would speak and be listened to as a master of success.Her interest in fashion was something that had begun slowly almost as a hobby. She just started drawing designs during her spare time, letting her mind flow onto paper. The months, however, increased her attraction to the fashion art. It was not clothes; it was about self-expression, identity, and how a design could transform someone. She wanted to put that feeling into life.One night, as she sat at her tiny but snug apartment at the sewing machine, Sabrina's eyes fell on the accumulation of the last several years' old stuff- leathers and fabrics of course, some vintage, pieces she alwa
One day, while Sabrina was working on a new design—a sleek, black leather bag with gold accents—her grandmother said something that would become the turning point of her journey."You finish your education, Sabrina," Wendy said gently. "You've gotten so far on your own, but to complete it's not the same. It makes you stronger, more prepared for the business world, which isn't always easy. Knowledge will be your arsenal. You will have what it takes to move ahead."Sabrina sat in silence for a time, pondering what her grandmother had told her. She had gone off to college many years before all this blew up with Benedict. For a long time, she'd shelved dreams as if they could be restarted, that perhaps she hadn't got time nor ability to return to those aspirations. As she glanced over the life she was slowly but steadily building, there wasn't really a good reason she couldn't go back to school and finish it off."I always wanted to finish my degree,mom" Sabrina confessed, her voice full
The days of Benedict were a whirlwind of meetings, phone calls, and endless negotiations. His company, Thompson Enterprises, had become a big deal in the business world, and he threw all his energy into it. Each day brought new challenges: high-profile clients, lucrative partnerships, and constant pressure to be ahead of the game. He was a performer who enjoyed the corporate game and loved being under pressure.But lately, there was one constant he couldn't shake: Clara Hemp.Whether it was a glamorous gala, a crucial business meeting, or a seemingly casual lunch for networking, Clara always seemed to be there, her presence woven into the fabric of his professional life. With her sweet face and social finesse, she was an asset in any room, handling corporate circles with a mastery hard to deny. Such skill unnerved Benedict somewhat; he couldn't stop noticing how she positioned herself indispensably.At the presentation of a new international client, Benedict glanced at Clara sitting c
Benedict adjusted his cuff links for the third time in front of the mirror. The navy-colored suit he had picked fit to perfection, making his broad shoulders and sharp frame a perfect outline. Tonight felt different; tonight was different for him because this wasn't just another business engagement, not for him, at least. He looked at his nightstand clock. He was running close to departure time.As Benedict walked into La Rosa Vinea, he came across the restaurant softly lit. Some soft melody of a piano could be heard along with the delicate tones intertwined with the low-hued murmur of conversation in the restaurant. The hostess there welcomed him politely and took him to the table by the window through which the bright glittering cityscape was in full display in all the evening splendor.He hadn't said much about tonight to Clara, except sending her a brief message:"7:30 PM. La Rosa Vinea. A small thank you for your hard work."He kept it professional but there was no getting away f
He had just turned to leave when he heard the door open behind him."Benedict, wait," Clara called soft but urgent.He stopped in his tracks, his brows drawing down slightly as he turned to face her. Clara stood in the doorway, the light from inside her apartment forming a golden glow around her. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of hesitation and something else—something more intense.Yes?" he asked, sounding unafraid even though he felt a riptide of unease.She took a step toward him and then held his gaze. Her green dress captured the faint breeze. There is something I need to tell you. she said, her voice trembling over the words.Benedict nodded, waiting, feeling his heart pound hard in his chest, eager for her words.But instead of saying anything, Clara stepped closer. Before he could fully register what she intended, she had reached up, resting hands lightly on his shoulders, and pressed her lips to his.The kiss was shocking, a collision of warmth and surprise. Benedict fr
She looked up at him, licking her lips, and smiled. His eyes were still closed in concentration, so she stood and grabbed his hand, pulling him to where their bed awaited. Finally, finally, they had arrived. No guests, no neighbours, no stairs.They undressed each other in a hurry, and she lay down, spread her knees, and pulled her legs back. He licked and lapped at her with more passion than he had on the stairs; and he had more room between her thighs now that she was lying back, able to open herself up more fully so that he could make sure no millimetre of her pussy was neglected. She grasped his hands with her own as they clasped her ass, squeezing him, and then pulling gently toward her chest.Benedict didn't need a more direct hint; he rose up and lined his cock up with her soaking entrance, then plunged in. She cried out, and he grunted; he slid into her and she raised her hips; he leaned forward to kiss one breast, and she squeezed and lifted it toward his eager mouth. His lip
The night between Clara and Benedict had been chaos—a collision of unspoken emotions, raw tension, and fleeting vulnerability. Benedict had given in to it all—exhaustion, desire, and the appeal of Clara's charm. The haze cleared, though, revealing just another moment to him, releasing him from the suffocating pressures of his life.But for Clara, it was much, much more. She sat on the edge of the bed, her window lit with golden sunlight the next morning. Her lips still tingled from Benedict's kisses, and her skin still thrummed with the imprint of his touch. But as the passion receded, the ache in her heart grew and she missed him so bad.She wanted more—more than stolen moments, more than a night of fleeting intimacy. She wanted Benedict's attention, his affection, and above all, his love. She wanted to replace Sabrina.Benedict, on the other hand, treated the day as if nothing had occurred. His cold, calculating nature was back in place as he walked into the office with his mind alr
She stood on the big stage, her heart beating in sync with the booming emcee voice throughout the hall. "And the winner of the Elite Fashion Design Competition of this year is… Sabrina Auburn!" The call echoed in the sophisticated auditorium, where it was then answered with an explosion of applause that almost rattled the chandeliers from the ceilings. Sabrina sat back for a split second, feeling the weight of the news. She stood up effortlessly, elegantly smiling, but her poise blazed much brighter than the chandeliers in the room. Her mother, Leila, grasped her grandmother Wendy's arm. Her tears streamed down her cheeks."She did it, Mom," Leila whispered with emotion. "She really did it." "I never doubted her," Wendy replied, her voice steady but her eyes brimming with pride. Sabrina walked towards the stage, her heart pounding with disbelief and triumph. Wearing one of her designs: a perfect harmony of power and femininity—a midnight-blue pantsuit with intricate embroidery, she mo
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