The party thrived in its own decadent haze, crystal glasses clinking, low laughter bleeding into the opulent music, the undercurrent of power struggles masked behind pleasantries. But amidst it all, Derrick found himself slipping, his carefully crafted detachment cracking with each glance in Louisa’s direction.She was standing near the bar, effortlessly poised, swirling the champagne in her glass without taking a sip. She was listening to something one of Pedro’s associates was saying, but Derrick knew she wasn’t really paying attention.She never did when she was trying to distract herself.And he could tell, because she was still wearing it.The necklace.A simple piece of silver, unassuming to anyone else, but to him, it might as well have been a damn shackle around his throat.Louisa had no reason to keep it. She should have thrown it away. Should have sold it. Should have done anything other than let it rest against her skin like a secret confession.Yet there it was.Derrick
Derrick picked up pace behind Louisa. The tension between them had always been there, silent, unseen by others, but thick enough to choke on.Derrick had spent years perfecting the art of pretending. Pretending that she didn’t exist, pretending that she didn’t affect him. But tonight, Louisa was making it impossible.She stood before him in that sleek black dress, her hair cascading over one shoulder, lips painted the same deep red that used to stain his neck. And that damn necklace, the very one he had given her years ago still clung to her throat like a ghost of their past.He should’ve ignored it, should’ve walked away. But the way she tilted her head, the way her sharp gaze dared him to acknowledge what they were, what they had been…it shattered something in him.“That necklace,” Derrick finally spoke after tailing her to a much secluded spot, his voice low, rough. “You still wear it.”Louisa’s fingers brushed over the pendant absentmindedly, but her expression didn’t waver. “So
“I’m not getting back with you, Jamie.”Aelia’s voice was firm, allowing no room for misinterpretation.Jamie exhaled, dragging a hand down his face as he turned to look at her. They were in a quieter part of the venue now, away from the prying eyes of high society. The air between them was thick with words unsaid and wounds unhealed.“That’s not why I pulled you away,” Jamie said, though the look in his eyes betrayed him. “I just… I needed to talk to you.”Aelia crossed her arms. “Then talk.”He hesitated. “You didn’t answer any of my calls.”“I didn’t want to.”Jamie let out a bitter chuckle. “That much was obvious.”Silence settled between them. Aelia tapped her fingers against her arm impatiently, waiting for him to get to the point.Jamie sighed. “Aelia, I made a mistake.”Her jaw clenched. “Which one? Not choosing me, or thinking you could fix it now?”His expression faltered, but he didn’t back down. “I didn’t have a choice—”“There’s always a choice,” she cut in. “And you made
The announcement of the dance echoed through the grand hall, and Aelia barely had time to react before Cassius stepped forward, extending his hand.“Dance with me,” he said, his voice smooth yet firm, leaving no room for refusal.Aelia hesitated, but Jamie’s relentless gaze from across the room solidified her decision. Without a word, she took Cassius’s hand, allowing him to lead her toward the dance floor.The moment their hands touched, a ripple of murmurs coursed through the crowd. The sight of the elusive Cassius De Luca, a man known for avoiding public spectacles, willingly guiding a woman into a dance was enough to draw attention.But Aelia barely paid it any mind.What she did notice, however, was Pedro’s reaction.She felt his stare before she even saw it, an oppressive weight against her spine. When she glanced in his direction, it was to find him standing rigid, his expression dark as he barely acknowledged the man speaking to him, a man who had been showering him with prais
The copper scent of blood lingered in the air, sharp and nauseating. Aelia’s breath hitched as she stared at the man who had tried to kill her, now groaning on the ground, restrained by security. But she barely registered him, her gaze was locked on Pedro.His white shirt was ruined, sliced open at the sleeve where crimson seeped through the fabric, painting a damning contrast against the pristine white. He didn’t even look at the wound. His eyes were on her.She felt lightheaded, her body still trembling from the attack, but Pedro’s grip on her was solid. Grounding. Infuriating. She was still dazed from how he swiftly pulled her into his embrace and took the cut in his arm.“You’re hurt,” she whispered before she could stop herself.Pedro’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “I’m aware, cuore mio.”Her heart stumbled at the Italian endearment, but she refused to acknowledge it. “Let me go now.”His grip didn’t waver. His fingers dug into her wrist just enough to make her pulse jump.
The city lights bled through the massive windows of Derrick’s penthouse, casting elongated shadows over the sleek furniture. Louisa sat on the edge of the couch, swirling the wine in her glass, her fingers tightening around the stem as the alcohol burned down her throat. She wasn’t drunk, just warm enough to let the tension simmer between them, thick and suffocating.Derrick stood across the room, jacket discarded, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had been watching her in silence for minutes, his dark eyes unreadable, his posture too controlled. It irritated her.“You always do this,” Louisa muttered, breaking the silence. “Pretend like nothing gets to you.”Derrick exhaled, a humorless chuckle leaving his lips. “And you always drink when you’re about to make bad decisions.”She scoffed, standing abruptly, crossing the space between them with slow, deliberate steps. “Maybe I like making bad decisions.”He didn’t move when she stopped in front
The ride to the villa was quiet. Unusually quiet.Aelia sat still in the passenger seat, her fingers curled into her dress, her mind distant yet hyperaware of the man beside her. Pedro didn’t speak either, his focus on the road, though his occasional glances at her and the slight clench of his jaw told her he wanted to. But for once, she wasn’t ready to fight him.The weight of what happened, of nearly dying, pressed heavily on her chest. And then there was Pedro’s arm, his blood soaking into his sleeve, a wound he took for her.She swallowed hard, her gaze flickering to him as he steered them into the villa’s driveway.The same villa.Memories of the last time she was here surfaced, but unlike before, her heart wasn’t hammering in rage. It was something else. Something strange.Guilt. Gratitude.She wasn’t sure which one unsettled her more.Pedro parked and got out without a word, opening her door for her. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping out, her hands smooth
The villa bore witness to their unraveling.Walls that had once been cold and unfeeling now pulsed with the heat of them, with the whispered gasps, the sharp intakes of breath, the friction of skin against skin.Pedro moved her with purpose, pressing her into the first surface they collided against a wooden table, the edge digging into her thighs as his hands roamed, memorized. His mouth claimed hers, dragging every last shred of resistance from her body until she was clinging to him, breathing him in like something she’d been deprived of for too long.She barely registered when he lifted her, when they stumbled through the villa, knocking into furniture, hands desperate, greedy. Aelia’s back hit the cool surface of a glass window, a sharp contrast to the fire coursing through her veins. Pedro’s lips traced down her throat, his teeth grazing, marking, branding her in a way that should terrify her.But she let him.She wanted this. She needed this! Daisy’s mother’s voice rang in her
The blue and red lights of police cars painted the hospital walls in frantic pulses. Officers moved in clusters, speaking in clipped tones into radios, while reporters hovered just beyond the line of sight, hungry for the next tragedy to feed on.Darcy pushed through them all, heart in her throat, hair clinging to her cheeks from the wind. Her shoes slapped hard against the concrete, breath ragged as her eyes scanned for a familiar face. Then she saw Pedro, standing like a wall of stone by the hospital entrance, surrounded by his men.Without thinking, she lunged.“You bastard!” she screamed, her fists slamming against his chest. “How could you let this happen?! How could you lose her?!”Pedro barely flinched. His eyes were dead and distant.Adrian appeared out of nowhere and caught Darcy from behind, dragging her back just enough to stop her flailing.“Darcy,” he whispered tightly, trying to calm her, but she kept fighting him.“She’s missing because of you!” Darcy’s voice cracked. “
Pedro stood motionless, his hands tucked behind his back as he stared at Valeria like she was a puzzle missing only one piece, one very damning piece!His sharp eyes slid from her face to the bag in her hands, then back up again.“I’ll ask only once,” his voice was calm, but laced with steel, “why the hell are you here?”Valeria held her chin high, calm on the outside, but her knuckles turned white as she gripped the handle of the tote bag. “I brought you some essentials. You haven’t been home in weeks. Thought you could use food, clothes. Maybe a razor.”She extended the bag slightly in his direction like evidence, but Pedro didn’t move.“Convenient,” he murmured. “The one day you visit the hospital, she disappears.”Valeria’s jaw tightened. “Are you accusing me?”Pedro didn’t answer. He stepped in closer. Too close. His breath mingled with hers, his voice dipped into a dangerous whisper. “You think I’m stupid?”“I didn’t even go near her room,” she said defensively, expression smoo
One Hour EarlierIt was warm here, too warm.Aelia stood barefoot in a sun-drenched field, the sky a rich shade of rose gold, the air thick with the scent of lavender and memories. The children from the orphanage were playing in the distance, their laughter soft and echoing, like it came from behind a veil. And beside her, Daisy stood. Whole. Smiling.“You could stay,” Daisy said, her voice feather-light, as if it didn’t belong to a body at all. “You and I… we could watch over them together.”Her fingers were laced with Aelia’s, the grip gentle but firm. Aelia looked down at their joined hands, felt the warmth, the strange comfort of it all.But something tugged.Not her hand, but her soul.“I can’t,” Aelia murmured, her voice uncertain, hollow. “I promised Penelope. I can’t leave her… I can’t leave them.”Daisy’s smile didn’t fade. “Then go,” she said softly. “I’ll take care of things here. You still have something to finish.”Aelia hesitated, but nodded and just like that, the golde
Pedro hadn’t slept.He sat in the dim hospital room, his elbows propped on his knees, shoulders weighed down by exhaustion and a torment he refused to name. His phone was in his hand, the screen glowing faintly as he scrolled through the collection of photos and videos his shadows had gathered, moments he hadn’t been a part of, moments when Aelia had smiled without knowing he was watching.Aelia sipping coffee by the window of the villa, her eyes reflecting sunlight.Aelia pacing while on the phone, probably with Darcy, her brows furrowed.Aelia sitting on the beach, hugging her knees, completely unaware of the drone that captured her.He hated himself for them now. Hated that he’d needed control so desperately, he resorted to surveillance. And yet he couldn’t stop watching her. Because she wasn’t smiling anymore. She wasn’t pacing or sitting or drinking coffee.She was motionless, and he was losing his mind.A quiet knock on the door pulled him back. A nurse stepped in politely, sa
Darcy sat on the edge of the bathroom counter, hissing softly as Adrian dabbed disinfectant on the cut across her forearm. Blood had already been cleaned off, but the skin was torn and angry, a painful reminder of Sola’s outburst.“You’d think I got slashed in a knife fight,” she muttered, wincing. “Didn’t know betrayal came in crystal form.”Adrian didn’t laugh. His brows were furrowed, jaw tight. He’d been quiet ever since Sola left, and that silence was beginning to hum with tension.“I’m fine, you know,” Darcy added, watching him through the mirror. “I’ve taken worse.”“That’s not the point.”Adrian’s voice was low, sharp. He met her eyes through the reflection, and she saw it the, the fury still simmering behind his calm exterior.“She could’ve hit your face. Or your head.”“But she didn’t.”“I should’ve thrown her out the second she showed up.” His voice cracked with restraint, like he was still trying to rein it in. “I knew she was spiraling.”Darcy tilted her head, still watch
Adrian hadn’t slept.Not really, anyway. The past month had been a cycle of long nights and longer days, of watching Pedro lose his mind by inches and keeping the pieces of their crumbling world from collapsing entirely.But tonight, for once, the storm had settled.At least, it seemed that way.Darcy was sitting across from him in his apartment, barefoot, legs tucked beneath her, a half-empty glass of whiskey dangling from her fingers. She had been talking about something, Aelia, Pedro, maybe the last time she had gotten a decent night’s sleep but her words had faded into the background, a low hum against the quiet crackle of the fireplace.Adrian wasn’t listening. Not because he didn’t care. But because he was too busy watching her.She was tired. She would never admit it, but he could see it in the slight droop of her shoulders, the way her usual sharp edges had softened just enough to let him see the exhaustion beneath.“You’re staring.”Adrian smirked. “I was admiring.”Darcy sno
One Month LaterThe world outside carried on as if nothing had changed. Stocks rose and fell, wars were waged in boardrooms and back alleys, and people continued to wake up, go about their lives, and go to sleep.But Pedro’s world hadn’t moved in a month.Aelia was still unconscious.She lay in that same pristine hospital bed, her body too still, her face far too pale. The machines surrounding her had become a familiar sight, the beeping of her heart monitor a sound Pedro had memorized. He hated it. That thin, fragile line on the screen was the only sign she was still here, yet it was never enough. It mocked him.Every day was the same. He’d sit by her bedside, watching, waiting, barely speaking. Some nights, he’d stay so late that Derrick had to pull him away, reminding him he still had an empire to run. Some mornings, he’d wake up with his head resting beside her arm, exhaustion having stolen away his consciousness for only a few fleeting hours.And then there were the days like tod
Louisa’s words haunted him.“I have a boyfriend now.”She’d said it so easily, so carelessly, as if it didn’t mean anything, as if he didn’t mean anything. But Derrick knew better. He felt better. That night they spent together wasn’t just lust, wasn’t just two people falling into old habits.It meant something.He saw it in the way her fingers trembled when she touched him, the way her breath hitched when he whispered her name.And now she was telling him she’d moved on? That she was settling down?Bullshit.But it wasn’t until later that day, when he saw it with his own eyes, that the words really started to sink in.He hadn’t been looking for her. Not intentionally, at least. But as he stepped out of the hospital, irritation already simmering beneath his skin, he caught a glimpse of her.Louisa.Standing by a sleek black car, dressed sharply in one of her tailored outfits that hugged her body just enough to be professional but tempting.And she wasn’t alone.A man, tall, broad-shou
Darcy Never Liked Hospitals.They smelled like loneliness and disinfectant, like whispered prayers and silent cries. They were places of endings and beginnings, of cold white lights and walls that had absorbed too many last goodbyes.But she was here.Standing beside Aelia’s bed, her fingers curled tightly around the metal railing as if her grip alone could anchor her friend to this world.Aelia looked small against the stark white sheets, too pale, too still. The rhythmic beeping of the machines monitoring her vitals felt both comforting and unbearable, a cruel reminder that she was alive but not awake.Darcy’s throat tightened as she studied the bruises peeking out from beneath the hospital gown, the quiet evidence of the violence Aelia had endured. It was wrong. Aelia had always been the strong one, fierce and stubborn, the kind of person who could stare down danger without flinching.Now, she looked defenseless.“She looks better than yesterday,” a voice murmured from behind her.