The following morning, Sabrina woke up to a thumping vibration on the bed, by her bedside table-that of her phone. Her rubbing eyes went out looking for and retrieved it. What amazement she found seeing on the screen. 'Teresa Thompson', to whom she had talked once over the phone before entering into the company. For such important events, it required attending by all top rank officers of the firm Benedict owned."Hello, Teresa," Sabrina replied, trying to be as bright as possible, though the sting of last night still lingered in her head."Good morning, Sabrina! Hope I didn't wake you. I wanted to inform you that we are having a company event tomorrow evening at the Grand Ballroom. It's going to be a big deal, and we need everyone there—especially Benedict. It's important for the company image."Hope flared in Sabrina. "Of course, I'll remind him. He wouldn't want to miss it, would he?""He doesn't know how important this is," Teresa said vaguely. "He's been. distracted lately."Sabri
She found some strength to go to Benedict, and the laughter and the music faded into the background as she focused on the man who had become both her pain and, in the strangest way, her resistance. The longer she had been at the event, she realized she didn't need his validation but the thought of confronting him, standing up to him even in the smallest ways, felt like a much-needed long-overdue obligation.She came upon him as he played host to a small circle of admirers. They laughed a little too hard, their eyes flicking between him and Sabrina as she closed in on them. Her heart started racing, her hands closing tight around her clutch."Benedict," she said, her voice calm but firm. His gaze fell on her, and his smile died out, replaced by annoyance."What is it?" he said coolly, his voice laced with irritation."We need to talk," she said, forcing herself to meet his steely gaze. She could feel the eyes of the onlookers darting between them, sensing the tension.Benedict smirked,
But for the first time, she felt like she could breathe again; as if the weight of his disdain had finally started to lift. Her heart still hurt and the ache of his rejection still throbbed, but a new strength was simmering beneath the surface. She had faced him, stood up to him, and reclaimed a part of herself that she had lost in the shadow of their broken marriage.As she disappeared in the crowd, along with admirers who never knew the man behind that mask of smiles, Sabrina made herself a promise silently. No more getting held captive to his meanness. No more letting him tear apart the person she was trying to find.Tonight had been a small victory, a spark of defiance that would eventually lead to her liberation. She did not know how or when, but one day, she will leave this broken marriage for good. And on the day she would, she would be stronger, more courageous, and more braver than she had ever felt before. Turning back to the party, she rejoined the crowd, quiet determinatio
Sabrina turned around, the pulsating energy of the dance floor fading behind her. As she spun around with this intoxicating mix of freedom and reckless abandon in her veins, her laughter would have cut through the cacophony of the party like a tune that was so sweet to be savored. She had been free for what had seemed like a blissful few moments, lost to the rhythm of the music, the warmth of people. Concerns that had been growing for so long about Benedict—the spaced-out look in his eyes and the unspoken words lingering between them—became a memory. She lived, pulsed, breathed for the night to hold her folded within its folds.But as the hours went by and the drinks kept pouring, a heaviness started settling in her mind. She blinked away the blur of bright lights as dizziness washed over her. She breathed into herself to try to get her bearings."Hey, I'm going out to get some air," she called out to Claire, who continued to spin and laugh, totally lost in her own bliss.Claire barely
By the time Benedict reached the house, he had plenty to utter about his distaste, yet he dragged himself up those stairs with Sabrina in tow. She was drunk enough she could not even move on her own, and the wreckage of her tantrum swayed in the heavy unspoken tension between them like a pendulum. Benedict laid her slack form over in the bathroom and carefully settled her in the tub. Just when he would have let her go, she forward leaned and, in the most disgusting display imaginable, hurled all over his chest."Are you freakin' kidding me? " he mumbled, disgusted by the look on his face. He quickly shrugged out of his suit jacket and recoiled, wincing as he tried to scrub the stench off of his body. But with his movements, Sabrina's bleary gaze snapped to him, her drunkard eyes locking onto his cut torso. She blinked, and a drowsy smile spread across her face."Wow… abs," she slurred, reaching out to pinch his stomach playfully. She bent forward before he could respond, pressing her
Sabrina closed her eyes as warm water dripped, mingling the droplets with her tears. Standing there in the warmth, she wished she could wash her heart turmoil with soothing warmth. The echo of Benedict's words clung in her mind; every syllable dug into her hurt soul even further.She did love him, she reflected, her heart breaking because of the admission. "But does he even care?" Not a whit, it would seem. She could sense the warmth of the bath enveloping her as small comfort, but no heat could numb the chill over marriage the apathy had cast for her. She clenched her fists, letting sadness and hurt into her. But also, she said, determination that churned beneath the surface.As she scrubbed at her skin, trying to get rid of the leftovers of the evening—the smell of alcohol, the bitterness of betrayal, the weight of loneliness—her will began to harden. "I can manage this pain for now," she whispered to herself, voice quivering but resolute. "I will survive, I will survive. But if he
Sabrina caught her breath, shook off the bittersweet memory of the previous night, and knew that for Benedict, it was just a whim, one he would soon forget. For her, it just strengthened the bitter truth of their one-sided relationship.It echoed off the quiet walls of their house, and Sabrina's heart tightened at the thought of her husband returning. He would probably sweep past her without even casting a glance her way. Then there would be an aside or a word of faultfinding, and it all again was a reminder of the way he treated her—another reminder of his inaccessibility. But today Sabrina steeled herself. Today, she wouldn’t allow his coldness to cut as deeply.She headed into the kitchen, making him breakfast as she had done each morning since they had gotten married. It was a ritual she knew all too well, but even though her hands moved methodically through the process, her head wandered to the promise she made herself: hold onto this new strength and sense of self, no matter wha
Less than an hour passed, and Teresa arrived. The room filled with warmth Sabrina hadn't known she desperately needed, sitting with Teresa at the kitchen table, and unspoken words hung in the air between them.Moments passed and Teresa reached out to take Sabrina's hands across the table.. Her eyes were soft with concern. "Sabrina, my dear. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for all the pain Benedict has put you through.".Sabrina's lips trembled as the words of Teresa pierced through the walls she built around her heart. She turned her eyes downward so that Teresa would not see those tears form in her eyes. But Teresa gently prodded up her chin, making her look at her."You do not deserve this, Sabrina," Teresa said, and now her voice cracked with emotion. "I don't know how to begin to explain just how embarrassed I am because he is my son, and I brought him to you. I raised my son to be better than this – to love the woman I'd chosen to stand by him. And yet. Forcing him on you had made him a
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