Aelia’s POVI clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms, but the sting was nothing compared to the disgust twisting in my gut. My voice came out hoarse, strained from the sheer effort of keeping my emotions in check.“Why?” I asked, staring at the blood still pooling on the floor from the man’s severed wrist. “Why bring me here? Why make me watch this?” My voice cracked. “Why are you doing this to me?”Pedro leaned back in his chair, legs spread apart like he owned the entire world—and maybe he did. He ran a hand down his jaw, amused by my question, as if my horror was a form of entertainment for him.“I used you,” he said smoothly, his gaze never wavering from mine. “Because I know of no other woman who can provoke a man so easily, make him lose all sense of suspicion, all control.” His lips curled into a smirk, as if pleased with his own cruelty. “Just pure, primal instinct.”He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he watched me.“And for feeling that way towar
The doorbell rang again. Aelia’s fingers twitched at her side, still wary from the last unwanted visitor. She hesitated, but eventually forced herself to open the door.A man in a neat black uniform stood before her, holding an extravagant bouquet of deep red roses, their petals rich and velvety. He barely acknowledged her shock as he extended a clipboard.“Signature, please.”She blinked. “Excuse me?”The man gestured to the bouquet. “These are yours, miss. You need to sign for the delivery.”Aelia’s hand moved on its own, signing her name with shaky strokes. The moment she finished, the man gave a sharp nod, then turned and motioned to someone behind him.What followed made her breath caught.A small army of workers emerged from behind a massive truck parked on the street. Box after box, each branded with designer labels she had only ever seen in magazines was carried into her tiny living room. Shoes, clothes, bags, accessories… each item impossibly rare, the kind of things people f
Pedro’s POVMorning light streamed through the glass walls of my office, casting a dull glow over the polished floor. I barely glanced at it. My focus was on Derrick, who stood before me, hands clasped behind his back like a soldier awaiting orders.“She received everything,” he confirmed.A slow smirk pulled at my lips. Of course, she did.The gifts, the flowers, the message, each one carefully chosen, each one designed to remind Aelia that I wasn’t done with her. That she belonged to me, whether she accepted it yet or not.“And?” I prompted, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt.Derrick hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “She… accepted them. Though, she seemed a bit overwhelmed.”I liked that. I liked that I overwhelmed her. That even in my absence, she was drowning in me.I stood, rolling my shoulders as I made my way to the door. The boardroom was on the next floor, where my executives were already waiting for a meeting I had no interest in attending. Busin
Aelia’s POV The Spencer estate loomed before me, grand and pristine under the golden glow of evening lights. It was the kind of house people dreamed of. Polished marble floors, chandeliers that dripped with wealth, laughter that carried through its massive halls like music. To me, it was nothing more than a stage. A place where I had always been present but never truly belonged. I stood at the entrance, my fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. The weight of old memories pressed down on me, making it difficult to breathe. It had been years since I walked through these doors as a Spencer. Yet, stepping inside, it felt like nothing had changed. The moment I entered, the sickly sweet scent of vanilla and champagne filled my nose. Waiters dressed in black and white glided across the room, offering glasses of wine to guests who were already deep in conversation. Laughter rang through the air, light, elegant and practiced. Everything was perfect. Because in this house,
Aelia’s POVI was too stunned to speak when I saw Jamie. The murmurs started immediately, hushed but loud enough for me to hear, they never really cared enough to whisper.“Isn’t that Jamie Hartwell?”“The heir to the Hartwell family?”“I thought he was still overseas!”His grip on my wrist was firm but gentle as he led me away from the table and I had a feeling this news wouldn’t end in this table. My adoptive mother remained silent, but I knew she was watching, analyzing.Jamie barely acknowledged the crowd, his focus entirely on me as we stepped outside. The moment the doors shut behind us, he exhaled.“Are you okay?”I stared at him. The concern in his voice was real, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer.Jamie opened the passenger door to his car and gestured for me to get in. I hesitated, glancing back at the house.He sighed. “Aelia, do you really want to stay there?”I didn’t.So I got in.Inside the car, Jamie was quiet for a moment before finally asking, “What was that
The Montonio estate was eerily silent when Pedro arrived, the dim golden lights casting long shadows against the pristine marble walls. The scent of something rich and expensive lingered in the air, fresh roses, aged wine, and the overwhelming presence of her.Valeria Montonio.His wife.She was waiting for him.The dining hall was set as if for a scene in a high-society film. An extravagant chandelier hung above the long mahogany table, the finest china and silverware meticulously arranged, candles flickering with a warm but hollow glow.At the far end of the table, Valeria sat like a reigning queen, her elbow propped against the chair’s armrest, a delicate wine glass swirling between her fingers. She exuded effortless elegance, draped in a deep crimson silk dress that hugged her body like it was sculpted just for her. Her dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulder in waves, her full lips painted a shade of red that could only be described as dangerous.She had once been the most sou
Pedro entered his private quarters, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. The silence of the room did little to ease the restlessness crawling under his skin. His suit felt suffocating, his pulse too erratic, his mind spinning in too many directions.Valeria’s threats were not empty words. He knew that well.He had seen her ruin careers with a snap of her fingers, watched her strip models of their contracts, blacklist actresses from entire industries, and destroy women she deemed a threat, just because she could.And now, she had set her sights on Aelia.Pulling out his phone, he dialed a secure number.“She needs protection,” Pedro said the moment the call connected.There was no need for names. The person on the other end understood instantly.“Ghost detail?”“Yes.”The voice hesitated. “She won’t notice?”“She doesn’t need to.”There was a brief pause before the answer came. “It will be done.”Pedro ended the call and exhaled slowly, pressing his fingers against his templ
“Mr. Montonio sent an invitation.” Derrick announced and that was all that needed to be said. By the evening of the next day Pedro knew where he had to be. The Montonio estate was as extravagant as ever, its vast halls adorned with artwork worth more than most people’s entire lives. The dining room was set for four, candlelight flickering against the polished mahogany table, wine poured into crystal glasses.Pedro sat across from Valeria, his expression unreadable as he swirled the dark red liquid in his glass.And at the head of the table, exuding power and arrogance, sat Mr. Gabriel Montonio.Pedro’s father.The man who had made him. The man he despised.Gabriel Montonio had aged well, his presence as commanding as ever. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, his sharp eyes holding the weight of decades of ruthless decisions.But Pedro wasn’t looking at him.His attention was locked on the woman sitting beside his father.She was young, breathtaki
The moment Sola stepped outside, she knew something was wrong.The air felt too heavy, too watchful. The street was too quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic. Then came the sharp sound of a car door slamming.Two men in suits approached. Not just any men, law enforcement.“Sola Spencer,” the taller one said, voice clipped. “We need you to come with us for questioning.”Sola’s brows furrowed. “What?”A flash of a badge and a formal tone. “You’re a suspect in an ongoing investigation. Please come with us.”The world shifted on its axis. She felt it in the pit of her stomach, the kind of freefall sensation that came with being caught off guard. She barely had time to react before firm hands took her by the arms, guiding her toward the unmarked car.Her mind raced. Investigation? What the hell were they talking about?Then she saw them, reporters. Cameras flashing, microphones extending.(“Sola Spencer, do you have any comments about the allegations?”“Are you responsible for Aelia
The room was too quiet. The kind of quiet that made Darcy’s skin crawl.She sat beside the bed, hands clasped together as she stared at Aelia’s face. Peaceful. Unmoving. It didn’t suit her. Aelia was never still, never silent. She filled spaces with her presence, with her sharp wit, with the reckless gleam in her eye that always warned trouble was around the corner.Darcy swallowed the lump in her throat.She hated this. Hated how pale Aelia looked under the hospital lights. Hated the slow, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, each sound reminding her that Aelia was still here but only barely.“You idiot,” she whispered, fingers tightening in her lap. “You absolute idiot.”She exhaled, pressing her palm against her forehead. “You promised, Aelia. You promised me. And now you’re just lying here—” She sucked in a shaky breath, her chest heaving. “I can’t, I don’t know how to do this without you.”The words scraped against her throat, raw and aching.“I should be angry,” she admitted,
Something touched her, warm, damp, seeping into her skin like a silent plea. Aelia couldn’t see it, but she felt it. A drop of something, liquid, heavy, and full of sorrow breaking through the veil of unconsciousness that held her.And then, she could hear him.At first, it was just a murmur, distant and hollow, like an echo traveling through an endless void. But the more she focused, the clearer it became.Pedro.His voice cracked and raw, whispering words between ragged breaths. She couldn’t grasp all of them, but the pain in his tone tightened something in her chest. It felt tight, suffocating. He was crying. Crying because of me? The thought alone sent a ripple through the darkness. She wasn’t angry. She should be, she knew she should be. But all she felt was… grief. A terrible, gnawing grief.And then, Penelope.Aelia’s breath…if she had any in this state, hitched. The memory of her promise came crashing down. ‘I told her I would come back. I told her I’d visit every day.’ The
Pedro’s POVThe doctor stood stiffly behind his desk, fingers twitching against the clipboard he held. The room was too quiet, except for the ticking of the wall clock, slow, agonizing ticks that did nothing but fuel the storm building inside me.“She’s stable,” he said, voice careful, controlled, like he was stepping through a fucking minefield. “But… waking up is entirely up to her.”I stilled.“What?”The doctor swallowed. “We’ve done everything we can. The surgeries were successful. There’s no internal bleeding, and her vitals are steady, but—”“But?” My voice dropped, lethal.He hesitated. “But… at this point, we can only keep her stable and monitor her progress. We can’t force her to wake up.”A sharp, seething breath pushed through my teeth.The clipboard in his hands trembled slightly, his knuckles white. He wasn’t a fool. He knew who I was, knew what I was capable of. But that didn’t change the fact that I was hearing the same fucking words I had heard once before, words that
The hospital air was thick with antiseptic and despair.Pedro stood at the edge of the chaos, rigid and silent, his presence a storm contained within flesh. The emergency ward was alive with urgency, doctors barking orders, nurses rushing between rooms, the rhythmic blaring of heart monitors filling the space. People moved around him, but he remained still, watching through the glass as the team of surgeons fought to keep Aelia tethered to the world.His breath was slow, deliberate, but his mind was anything but calm.Aelia.Lifeless.The moment he had seen her car—no, what was left of it, something in him had cracked. The twisted metal, the shattered windshield, the streaks of blood smeared against the crumpled hood. It looked less like an accident and more like an execution.His phone had vibrated in his hand then, a message flashing across the screen like a blade drawn across his throat.“You should’ve said goodbye when you had the chance.”The sender was unknown. Of course, they
“What if—what if…they don’t come back?” Penelope’s muffled voice invaded Aelia’s ears like a nightmare. She lifted Penelope’s face and carefully cleaned her tear-streaked face, flashing a smile she forced to reach her eyes. “Don’t say that, they’d definitely be back, Penny. Or have you forgotten how resilient Sam is or even how Annabel can’t stay a day without Mr. Bunny? that means she would wake up soon to cuddle him so you don’t have to worry. Kimberly will never let you have all the snacks so she would certainly be back for them.”Penelope giggled, “You’re right, Kimberly would definitely be back for my snacks.” Her eyes had a rare gleam as she added “I don’t mind giving them all to her, if only she returns… I wish I had given them to her without fighting.” her voice cracked and Aelia’s heart broke. Aelia held Penelope tighter, cradling her as though she could shield her from everything. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. The orphanage, the only home they had, now a crime s
Pedro sat in the back of the car, fingers steepled beneath his chin as he listened to the report. His shadow man’s voice was level, but the words hit like a blow.Aelia had left the villa.And worse, he now knew why.“The children,” Derrick muttered from the passenger seat, brows furrowed as he read the incoming messages on his phone. “Food poisoning. All of them except one. The police are involved. It’s being called a targeted attack.”Pedro didn’t move, but something cold slithered through his veins. He knew how much those orphans meant to Aelia. If she had rushed to the hospital without thinking, she was vulnerable.More than that, this wasn’t just an accident.Someone was pulling the strings.Pedro exhaled sharply through his nose. “Get in touch with the hospital director. I want the best doctors on this case. No excuses.”Derrick nodded, already dialing.Pedro turned his gaze out the window, watching the streets blur past. His heart burned at the thought of those children, innoce
Aelia didn’t sleep well, but she refused to acknowledge why. She lay in a different room, the space around her feeling unfamiliar, suffocating, yet better than the alternative—waking up next to him again.She had just started to drift off when a knock at the door pulled her back to reality. Pedro’s voice followed, low and serious.“I have business to take care of. Don’t go outside. No matter what.”She blinked, staring at the ceiling. Business. The word carried a weight she didn’t want to unpack. She didn’t answer at first, but the silence stretched between them like a taut wire until she sighed and finally turned her head toward the door.“Alright,” she murmured, voice hoarse from exhaustion.He didn’t move. “Promise me.”Her gaze flickered toward the dark outline of his shadow under the doorframe. Even from here, she could tell he was waiting, testing her, maybe. Aelia swallowed, then glanced toward his arm, where she knew the injury still rested beneath his shirt, still healing.“…
The scent of blood and iron thickened the air, stale and suffocating. The dim light barely reached the corners of the abandoned warehouse, where a man sat slumped against a metal chair, his face battered beyond recognition. His breaths were wet, labored, rattling like a dying engine struggling to start.Pedro stood before him, sleeves rolled up, a cigarette burning between his fingers. His shirt was still crisp despite the chaos that had taken place here before his arrival. The man was barely conscious, but his body told a different story—deep bruises, lacerations, and the telltale signs of bones that had been forcefully bent in the wrong directions.Derrick stood nearby, watching the pitiful excuse for an assassin with cold detachment. “He’s tougher than expected,” Derrick murmured. “But he’s slipping. Another hour, and he’ll break.”Pedro exhaled a slow drag of smoke, watching the assassin’s swollen eyelids flutter. “We don’t have another hour,” he said, flicking the cigarette to th