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 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 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
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