Michael’s Point of ViewThe night air was thick with the scent of whiskey, polished marble, and money. It always smelled the same in these places—where power dripped from crystal chandeliers and greed lay just beneath the surface of every conversation. The gala was no different, a room full of men who thought they ruled the world and women who knew better but played along anyway.And then there was her.Danielle.Or rather, Nella, if I wanted to push her buttons.She moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her spine straight, her expression unreadable. The emerald gown hugged her in all the right places, every step calculated, every glance controlled. She had learned well. Too well.I sipped my drink, the slow burn trailing down my throat as I watched her from across the room. She was untouchable, at least that’s what she wanted people to think. But I knew better.A man approached her, his gaze lingering longer than necessary, his posture too confident for my liking.I didn’t mov
Michael’s Point of View The door clicked shut behind her, leaving only the faint trace of her perfume in the air. A mix of something delicate, deceptively soft—just like the woman wearing it. But I knew better.Danielle was anything but delicate.I sat down, running a hand over my jaw as I stared at the door she had just walked through. She was getting smarter. More aware. She was starting to see things—see me—in ways I wasn’t sure I liked.Or maybe I liked it too much.The moment she had called me out on already having a plan, something shifted between us. She was right. I didn’t need her to destroy Oliver.But that wasn’t the point.I wanted her in the destruction.I wanted her to watch him crumble, to know that I was the one who placed the final nail in his coffin. I wanted her to feel that power—not because she needed it, but because she deserved it.And yet… she still hesitated.That hesitation was a problem.I leaned back, my fingers tapping against the armrest as my thoughts s
Michael’s Point of ViewI should’ve known it was a setup the second I walked through the door.The air inside the abandoned warehouse was thick with the stench of rust and damp concrete. A single overhead light flickered, barely cutting through the shadows pooling in the corners. The place was too quiet. Too still.I moved carefully, my instincts coiled tight, ready.I’d come here for a deal—an arrangement that should’ve put my business another step ahead. But I wasn’t an idiot. In this world, trust was just another weapon waiting to be turned against you. And yet, I still walked in.They were waiting for me.At first, it was just him—Vincent Romano, a lowlife who thought ambition made him untouchable. He stood near a crate, hands stuffed into his pockets, posture loose, like this was just another night.“Michael,” he greeted, flashing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Glad you could make it.”I didn’t respond. Just watched.Then I noticed the way his fingers twitched, the slight sh
Michael’s Point of ViewPain was an old friend.I had been shot before. Stabbed. Beaten within an inch of my life more times than I cared to count. I knew how to grit my teeth, how to keep moving through the agony. But this?This was different.Because Danielle was here.She was kneeling beside me, her hands firm but careful as she pressed down on the wound. Her touch was warmer than I expected, despite the sharpness in her eyes.And she hadn’t hesitated.Not even for a second.I should’ve teased her for it. Mocked her for caring. But the words never came. Instead, I just watched her, the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the way her lips parted slightly as she focused.She was trying to ignore it—what this meant.And that was fine.Because I wasn’t ignoring it.“You need stitches,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. “I don’t have the right tools here, but—”“We don’t have time,” I rasped. “Just stop the bleeding.”Her hands stilled.Then, slowly, she lifted her gaze to
Daniella’s point of view A lot has been happening and it got me worried, it wasn't supposed to make me that worried.I stood in front of the mirror, my fingers tracing the edge of the vanity. My reflection staring back at me was unfamiliar, poised, untouchable. A woman draped in wealth, her skin kissed by soft candlelight, yet hollow beneath the surface. Michael’s world had draped me in silk and power, but it couldn’t erase the bruises time had left around my ribs.The door creaked open. I didn’t turn. His presence filled the space before his voice did.“It’s time,” Michael said.The necklace he held shining under the glow of the chandelier—a delicate chain of diamonds, a collar of ownership. He stretched his legs walking closer, the cool metal ghosting against my throat as he fastened it. His fingers tracing my collarbone, barely a touch, but it sent a sensation through me. I swallowed the reaction before it surfaced.“Perfect,” he murmured.He was watching, always watching. Was
Danielle’s point of view.The morning light cut through the room in slanted beams, gilding the edges of silk and shadow. I sat at the vanity, combing my fingers through my hair, watching the reflection that stared back.It was still me, the lady who Micheal liberated, nothing changed and I have to accept the truth.The events of last night lingered like the scent of burning embers, unseen, but impossible to ignore. Oliver’s presence. His calculated movements. Michael’s quiet amusement.It should have been satisfying to see Oliver fold under the weight of his own regret. But it wasn’t. Not entirely.A knock at the door. Soft, measured.Michael.I didn’t bother answering. He walked in anyway.He was already dressed—pressed charcoal slacks, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the throat. There was something effortless about him, something calculated.He leaned against the dresser, watching me in the mirror.“Sleep well?”I turned, tilting my head. “You already know the answer to that.”His
Isabella's point of view The night air pressed against my skin, thick with the weight of unspoken words. The scent of damp earth filled the air, carrying whispers of things left unresolved. My heels clicked against the marble as I stepped inside, the dim lighting casting elongated shadows across the walls. Michael’s presence loomed behind me, silent but heavy, his gaze a weight I refused to acknowledge.I raised my shoulders high in the air, my chest out as my hands swung as my hips swayed.My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms—a grounding sensation in the face of the storm swirling within me. The events of the evening lingered like an echo, Oliver’s stare, Caitlyn’s smirk, the silent war playing out in careful glances and lingering touches. The taste of victory was bitter in my mouth, laced with something I refused to name.Michael moved past me, his jacket sliding from his shoulders with practiced ease. The fabric landed on the back of the leather ch
Nella's POV:I stepped out of the room in a blue sundress, my blonde hair tied up in a messy bun. As I approached the stairs, one thought consumed me: Oliver Quinn, my husband, who had left for the parking lot a while ago.He was on his way to work, and I decided to see him off, even though I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it. No matter how much effort I put in, he always glared at me with disdain."But I won’t give up. Maybe this time, seeing him off will earn me a smile," I thought, smiling widely as I prepared to step onto the first stair. Just then, I caught sight of two hands reaching out from the corner of my eye, prompting me to turn away.“Arghhh!” Caitlyn screamed as she lost her footing. I instinctively reached out, trying to grab her shoulders, but it was too late—she tumbled down the stairs.‘Was she trying to push me?’ I wondered, watching her roll until she hit the ground hard and, blood began to flow out heavily from the side of her head.“Miss Cait!” a maid called, rushin
Isabella's point of view The night air pressed against my skin, thick with the weight of unspoken words. The scent of damp earth filled the air, carrying whispers of things left unresolved. My heels clicked against the marble as I stepped inside, the dim lighting casting elongated shadows across the walls. Michael’s presence loomed behind me, silent but heavy, his gaze a weight I refused to acknowledge.I raised my shoulders high in the air, my chest out as my hands swung as my hips swayed.My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms—a grounding sensation in the face of the storm swirling within me. The events of the evening lingered like an echo, Oliver’s stare, Caitlyn’s smirk, the silent war playing out in careful glances and lingering touches. The taste of victory was bitter in my mouth, laced with something I refused to name.Michael moved past me, his jacket sliding from his shoulders with practiced ease. The fabric landed on the back of the leather ch
Danielle’s point of view.The morning light cut through the room in slanted beams, gilding the edges of silk and shadow. I sat at the vanity, combing my fingers through my hair, watching the reflection that stared back.It was still me, the lady who Micheal liberated, nothing changed and I have to accept the truth.The events of last night lingered like the scent of burning embers, unseen, but impossible to ignore. Oliver’s presence. His calculated movements. Michael’s quiet amusement.It should have been satisfying to see Oliver fold under the weight of his own regret. But it wasn’t. Not entirely.A knock at the door. Soft, measured.Michael.I didn’t bother answering. He walked in anyway.He was already dressed—pressed charcoal slacks, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the throat. There was something effortless about him, something calculated.He leaned against the dresser, watching me in the mirror.“Sleep well?”I turned, tilting my head. “You already know the answer to that.”His
Daniella’s point of view A lot has been happening and it got me worried, it wasn't supposed to make me that worried.I stood in front of the mirror, my fingers tracing the edge of the vanity. My reflection staring back at me was unfamiliar, poised, untouchable. A woman draped in wealth, her skin kissed by soft candlelight, yet hollow beneath the surface. Michael’s world had draped me in silk and power, but it couldn’t erase the bruises time had left around my ribs.The door creaked open. I didn’t turn. His presence filled the space before his voice did.“It’s time,” Michael said.The necklace he held shining under the glow of the chandelier—a delicate chain of diamonds, a collar of ownership. He stretched his legs walking closer, the cool metal ghosting against my throat as he fastened it. His fingers tracing my collarbone, barely a touch, but it sent a sensation through me. I swallowed the reaction before it surfaced.“Perfect,” he murmured.He was watching, always watching. Was
Michael’s Point of ViewPain was an old friend.I had been shot before. Stabbed. Beaten within an inch of my life more times than I cared to count. I knew how to grit my teeth, how to keep moving through the agony. But this?This was different.Because Danielle was here.She was kneeling beside me, her hands firm but careful as she pressed down on the wound. Her touch was warmer than I expected, despite the sharpness in her eyes.And she hadn’t hesitated.Not even for a second.I should’ve teased her for it. Mocked her for caring. But the words never came. Instead, I just watched her, the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the way her lips parted slightly as she focused.She was trying to ignore it—what this meant.And that was fine.Because I wasn’t ignoring it.“You need stitches,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. “I don’t have the right tools here, but—”“We don’t have time,” I rasped. “Just stop the bleeding.”Her hands stilled.Then, slowly, she lifted her gaze to
Michael’s Point of ViewI should’ve known it was a setup the second I walked through the door.The air inside the abandoned warehouse was thick with the stench of rust and damp concrete. A single overhead light flickered, barely cutting through the shadows pooling in the corners. The place was too quiet. Too still.I moved carefully, my instincts coiled tight, ready.I’d come here for a deal—an arrangement that should’ve put my business another step ahead. But I wasn’t an idiot. In this world, trust was just another weapon waiting to be turned against you. And yet, I still walked in.They were waiting for me.At first, it was just him—Vincent Romano, a lowlife who thought ambition made him untouchable. He stood near a crate, hands stuffed into his pockets, posture loose, like this was just another night.“Michael,” he greeted, flashing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Glad you could make it.”I didn’t respond. Just watched.Then I noticed the way his fingers twitched, the slight sh
Michael’s Point of View The door clicked shut behind her, leaving only the faint trace of her perfume in the air. A mix of something delicate, deceptively soft—just like the woman wearing it. But I knew better.Danielle was anything but delicate.I sat down, running a hand over my jaw as I stared at the door she had just walked through. She was getting smarter. More aware. She was starting to see things—see me—in ways I wasn’t sure I liked.Or maybe I liked it too much.The moment she had called me out on already having a plan, something shifted between us. She was right. I didn’t need her to destroy Oliver.But that wasn’t the point.I wanted her in the destruction.I wanted her to watch him crumble, to know that I was the one who placed the final nail in his coffin. I wanted her to feel that power—not because she needed it, but because she deserved it.And yet… she still hesitated.That hesitation was a problem.I leaned back, my fingers tapping against the armrest as my thoughts s
Michael’s Point of ViewThe night air was thick with the scent of whiskey, polished marble, and money. It always smelled the same in these places—where power dripped from crystal chandeliers and greed lay just beneath the surface of every conversation. The gala was no different, a room full of men who thought they ruled the world and women who knew better but played along anyway.And then there was her.Danielle.Or rather, Nella, if I wanted to push her buttons.She moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her spine straight, her expression unreadable. The emerald gown hugged her in all the right places, every step calculated, every glance controlled. She had learned well. Too well.I sipped my drink, the slow burn trailing down my throat as I watched her from across the room. She was untouchable, at least that’s what she wanted people to think. But I knew better.A man approached her, his gaze lingering longer than necessary, his posture too confident for my liking.I didn’t mov
Danielle’s Point of ViewI went to the restroom to get my act all together, who does he think he is to talk to me like that.I heard a knock on the door which made me tilt my neck,“ Who is that?!” I asked in a loud voice as it never occurs, although on urgent occasions.”“ Ma'am, Marylin has someone inside your office and he wants to see you.” her voice was shaky as she spoke.“ For fuck sake.” I said in a breathy voice, adjusting my hair while wearing a smile to meet him.“ You're still here?!” I asked with a straight face.“ Yes, you can meet me at a gala tonight, I want us to discuss,I have a deal.”“ I won't be there.” He stood up towering over me.“ I'm not sure, queen.” he said, stretching his hands to show me the invitation card he had dropped on my desk.I was restless throughout the day, till night I decided to dress up for the gala.The air inside the gala was thick with power, threaded with the scent of champagne and something colder—money, control, and ambition woven into
Daniella’s point of view “ Oh, come here, I'm not done with you!.” Micheal said, turning me back to the initial close position we were in, but this time he held my shaking hands together with one of his hands and the other placed on my neck was a five finger necklace.“Are you putting up an act to hurt Marilyn?!” I asked in a low voice affected by the tickles spreading through my body with my breath hitting his neck as I controlled my hands, I couldn't feel my hands shake again.“ hm, since she wants to watch, let's put on a show for her, so she can watch.” he whispered in my ear.“ Micheal, don't you think you're going too far?!” I said my legs melting, our intense eye contact making me bite my tongue.He smirked trying to place his lips on mine.“Oh fuck it.” I pushed him far away from my lower body part, his butt landing on the chair behind him. I walked closer to him, pulled his tie and leaned closer to him.“This is better than yours.” I made our nose touch rubbing them lightly,