Benedict sat in his office, the weight of Sabrina's words pressing heavily on his chest. With every revelation-be it his wife's pregnancy and then the tragic loss of their child-the pain didn't seem to move in any other direction in his mind; he had an ache he couldn't escape.Holding onto this pain, he took his phone and called a number he knew better than any other. His mother, Teresa, answered after the first ring."Benedict," she greeted warmly. "It's late. What's wrong?"There was a long pause before Benedict finally spoke, his voice heavy with emotion. "Mother, I… I saw Sabrina tonight."Teresa's tone shifted instantly, a mix of curiosity and concern. "Sabrina? Where? How is she?""At the St. Laurent Hotel," Benedict said. "She was there for an investor's meeting. She looked… strong, confident. But…" His voice broke as he tried to find the words."But what, Benedict?" Teresa pushed, her anxiety increasing.Benedict shook out his breath shakily, his heart weighted with grief and
"Actions really do speak louder than words, Benedict. It's always hard to remember that sometimes the hardest truths are the ones we need to face. Being honest is not just about speaking your mind; it is to feel it in your bones and let that lead your actions. And let her see that you have changed, not for her but for yourself."Benedict clenched his fists, determination settling. "I'll start with honesty. But that's not an end. I'll take up a fight for myself-even if it takes forever to prove myself worthy enough."Teresa looked on at him with a pinch of pride and concern. "Then don't waste any further time, Benedict. There is no pause in the clock for any of us."As Benedict stood there, preparing to leave, the spark of purpose flickered back into him. For the first time in years, he had a direction—a chance, however slim, to make things right. And he wasn't going to let it slip away.She went inside in her beautiful Parisian abode, composure unwrapping the moment the door creaked s
Benedict sat alone in his office, the heavy burden of his decisions weighing him down. His mind was a tornado of emotions that all came from the chance meeting with Sabrina at the event of the investor. Every word she uttered, every look she flung at him felt like an open wound that would never heal. But there was even more to what caused the stir in his being: the possibility that he might have a son—his child. A feeling of regret, and longing, and hope began to stir within him.He had vowed within himself to do whatever it took to make things right, but first, he needed to know the truth. Was that child hers? Was it really his?The thought of Sabrina's son haunted him. He knew he could not change what was done; perhaps he might still be able to redeem himself, prove himself as the man she once believed in. But before any of that, he had to know where Sabrina was, and if that child was his.Tucking the restlessness in his heart, he picked up the phone and dialed his mother's number.
Sabrina sat forward, forcing herself to focus.She nodded along as Penelope talked about the details, but the words felt distant and jumbled in her mind. All she could think about was the question that kept haunting her: how would she face Benedict if he found out that Saben was really his son? Her thoughts spiralled as she tuned out Penelope's voice. She replayed every moment of her meeting with Benedict at the investor's event. His expressions, his questions, the unmistakable pain in his eyes—all of it felt too real, too fresh. Lying to him about their child was all she knew to protect Saben and herself, but now she didn't know how long she could maintain the facade.“Hey!Sabrina,” Penelope’s voice broke through her fog. “You’re not hearing a word I’m saying, are you,dear?Are you okay?”Sabrina blinked, looking a little embarrassed. She had completely spaced out. "Sorry,Penelope," she muttered in a near-whisper, heat traveling to her cheeks. “I’m just. I’m not myself today.”Penelop
The next morning, Sabrina walked into Benedict's office building with a calm yet determined air. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor. She had convinced herself that this visit was necessary—not for Benedict, but for herself. She needed clarity, if only to prepare for what might come next.As she waited at the reception desk, she overheard hushed whispers from a group of employees nearby."Did you hear? The long-lost Sabrina—Benedict's ex-wife—showed up at the investor's night," one said, her tone conspiratorial."Yes, everyone is talking about it. I heard she told him their child had died. Poor Mr. Benedict. But can you imagine? After all these years, she just reappears like that?""I wonder if she's back to win him over," another chimed in.Sabrina did not react. Her face, unbroken, held an expression that reflected her stinging hurt. She curled her fists by her sides and willed herself not to respond.Across the hall, Clara was seething with anger. Benedict's long-te
"Clara," he stated firmly, his voice unchaotic but edged with frustration, "stop this. Whatever you think is happening between us, it's not real. What happened between us.it was a mistake."Her face crumpled at his words, tears streaming freely now. "A mistake?" she repeated, her voice trembling. "How can you say that, Benedict? After everything we've shared?"He shook his head, softening his tone slightly but remaining resolute. "I told you before, Clara. I don't love you and that is reality. Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but you deserve to be given someone's whole heart, and that's not me."Clara took a step closer, desperation written across her face. "You are lying to yourself! I have seen the way you look at me when no one is around, Benedict! You feel something for me—I know it! And Sabrina? She has a child with someone else! What can she possibly offer you now?"Benedict's jaw clenched over her words, but he forced himself to be composed. "Clara, it isn't about Sabr
Clara could not believe her assignment that had just been passed on to her. Between all the events she could be assigned to report on, it had to be the fashion show of Sabrina Ultra—a brand associated with the elegance of success and more importantly, Sabrina Auburn, the woman she loathed with all her being.Clara curled her fingers into fistfuls as she read the details. "It has to be a joke," she whispered to herself. It wasn't. And her editor had been quite clear on that level: this was the biggest event of the season, and Clara was supposed to bring an exclusive story.This could be my chance," Clara thought darkly, her lips curling into a sly smile. "My chance to expose her and finally put her in her place. Everybody sees her as this perfect, untouchable woman-but I know better. She is just as flawed as the rest of us-and I will make everybody know it.Clara's mind started racing with possibilities as she stared at the invitation to Sabrina Ultra's fashion show. There had to be so
Sabrina nodded somewhat with her relaxed posture, yet vigilant, "Thanks. Like I said at the start, we expand, yet focus on maintaining the good quality and integrity of our brand. The vision is definitely clear, and we just have to work hard with great people who can bring our vision into reality. If you want to hear more about this, I'd be so happy to give you an insider's view of our soon-to-be-released collections.".Clara nodded, finally moving the conversation to business, though she couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't quite finished with Sabrina just yet. She had made her point clear, but there was still something about Sabrina's calm exterior that Clara was determined to crack. She would wait for her chance—after all, the truth was only a matter of time."Your work is certainly impressive," Clara said, her tone neutral now. "I'll be sure to feature your brand prominently in our upcoming issues. I'm sure our readers will love to hear more about your designs and your journ
Sabrina stood there, unmoving, lost in the stillness of the night. The city lights ran together into a montage of emotions. The evening chill danced on her skin, but the storm in her was much colder. Her hands still quivering clutched the balcony railing. The words that Benedict had said kept whispering in her mind.*I love you. I hope you can give me a chance to correct my mistakes.*Her heart squeezed painfully as she remembered his face—so raw, so open. The man who was once her undoing was now standing before her, unburdening himself before her. But the stakes were too high. It was Saben's life, his stability, his innocence that mattered. It had been her sole desire for years to keep him from the chaos of Benedict's world. Tonight was the first time a little of that doubt crept into her.What if keeping Benedict out was the way of protecting her son? What if. it meant letting him in?Sabrina's breath caught as the thought sprouted within her. Could she dare to trust him? Could she
Sabrina held on to the bouquet tightly as if it was her only anchor. The composure was now ebbing out of her as the weight of Benedict's words seemed to press upon her chest, and his gaze, like some invisible force, did not let her breathe freely. She struggled to suppress the emotions within her, but the storm inside was building up, and she felt the need to say the right things to convey what she really wanted.They in the room stared back at her, with strange eyes that pick at her skin but nothing mattered at that moment than this storm of emotions washing out all else."Benedict," she whispered, her voice shaking, "this isn't about running away, Benedict. It's about protecting the life I built—the life he deserves."He stepped closer, his eyes softening even as his determination remained. "And what about the life I deserve, Sabrina? Don’t I have the right to know my own son? Don’t we deserve a chance to fix this?"Sabrina feels the air around her grow heavier, her pulse quickenin
Sabrina nodded somewhat with her relaxed posture, yet vigilant, "Thanks. Like I said at the start, we expand, yet focus on maintaining the good quality and integrity of our brand. The vision is definitely clear, and we just have to work hard with great people who can bring our vision into reality. If you want to hear more about this, I'd be so happy to give you an insider's view of our soon-to-be-released collections.".Clara nodded, finally moving the conversation to business, though she couldn't shake the feeling that she hadn't quite finished with Sabrina just yet. She had made her point clear, but there was still something about Sabrina's calm exterior that Clara was determined to crack. She would wait for her chance—after all, the truth was only a matter of time."Your work is certainly impressive," Clara said, her tone neutral now. "I'll be sure to feature your brand prominently in our upcoming issues. I'm sure our readers will love to hear more about your designs and your journ
Clara could not believe her assignment that had just been passed on to her. Between all the events she could be assigned to report on, it had to be the fashion show of Sabrina Ultra—a brand associated with the elegance of success and more importantly, Sabrina Auburn, the woman she loathed with all her being.Clara curled her fingers into fistfuls as she read the details. "It has to be a joke," she whispered to herself. It wasn't. And her editor had been quite clear on that level: this was the biggest event of the season, and Clara was supposed to bring an exclusive story.This could be my chance," Clara thought darkly, her lips curling into a sly smile. "My chance to expose her and finally put her in her place. Everybody sees her as this perfect, untouchable woman-but I know better. She is just as flawed as the rest of us-and I will make everybody know it.Clara's mind started racing with possibilities as she stared at the invitation to Sabrina Ultra's fashion show. There had to be so
"Clara," he stated firmly, his voice unchaotic but edged with frustration, "stop this. Whatever you think is happening between us, it's not real. What happened between us.it was a mistake."Her face crumpled at his words, tears streaming freely now. "A mistake?" she repeated, her voice trembling. "How can you say that, Benedict? After everything we've shared?"He shook his head, softening his tone slightly but remaining resolute. "I told you before, Clara. I don't love you and that is reality. Sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but you deserve to be given someone's whole heart, and that's not me."Clara took a step closer, desperation written across her face. "You are lying to yourself! I have seen the way you look at me when no one is around, Benedict! You feel something for me—I know it! And Sabrina? She has a child with someone else! What can she possibly offer you now?"Benedict's jaw clenched over her words, but he forced himself to be composed. "Clara, it isn't about Sabr
The next morning, Sabrina walked into Benedict's office building with a calm yet determined air. Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor. She had convinced herself that this visit was necessary—not for Benedict, but for herself. She needed clarity, if only to prepare for what might come next.As she waited at the reception desk, she overheard hushed whispers from a group of employees nearby."Did you hear? The long-lost Sabrina—Benedict's ex-wife—showed up at the investor's night," one said, her tone conspiratorial."Yes, everyone is talking about it. I heard she told him their child had died. Poor Mr. Benedict. But can you imagine? After all these years, she just reappears like that?""I wonder if she's back to win him over," another chimed in.Sabrina did not react. Her face, unbroken, held an expression that reflected her stinging hurt. She curled her fists by her sides and willed herself not to respond.Across the hall, Clara was seething with anger. Benedict's long-te
Sabrina sat forward, forcing herself to focus.She nodded along as Penelope talked about the details, but the words felt distant and jumbled in her mind. All she could think about was the question that kept haunting her: how would she face Benedict if he found out that Saben was really his son? Her thoughts spiralled as she tuned out Penelope's voice. She replayed every moment of her meeting with Benedict at the investor's event. His expressions, his questions, the unmistakable pain in his eyes—all of it felt too real, too fresh. Lying to him about their child was all she knew to protect Saben and herself, but now she didn't know how long she could maintain the facade.“Hey!Sabrina,” Penelope’s voice broke through her fog. “You’re not hearing a word I’m saying, are you,dear?Are you okay?”Sabrina blinked, looking a little embarrassed. She had completely spaced out. "Sorry,Penelope," she muttered in a near-whisper, heat traveling to her cheeks. “I’m just. I’m not myself today.”Penelop
Benedict sat alone in his office, the heavy burden of his decisions weighing him down. His mind was a tornado of emotions that all came from the chance meeting with Sabrina at the event of the investor. Every word she uttered, every look she flung at him felt like an open wound that would never heal. But there was even more to what caused the stir in his being: the possibility that he might have a son—his child. A feeling of regret, and longing, and hope began to stir within him.He had vowed within himself to do whatever it took to make things right, but first, he needed to know the truth. Was that child hers? Was it really his?The thought of Sabrina's son haunted him. He knew he could not change what was done; perhaps he might still be able to redeem himself, prove himself as the man she once believed in. But before any of that, he had to know where Sabrina was, and if that child was his.Tucking the restlessness in his heart, he picked up the phone and dialed his mother's number.
"Actions really do speak louder than words, Benedict. It's always hard to remember that sometimes the hardest truths are the ones we need to face. Being honest is not just about speaking your mind; it is to feel it in your bones and let that lead your actions. And let her see that you have changed, not for her but for yourself."Benedict clenched his fists, determination settling. "I'll start with honesty. But that's not an end. I'll take up a fight for myself-even if it takes forever to prove myself worthy enough."Teresa looked on at him with a pinch of pride and concern. "Then don't waste any further time, Benedict. There is no pause in the clock for any of us."As Benedict stood there, preparing to leave, the spark of purpose flickered back into him. For the first time in years, he had a direction—a chance, however slim, to make things right. And he wasn't going to let it slip away.She went inside in her beautiful Parisian abode, composure unwrapping the moment the door creaked s