As much as I loathe calculus, I hate family dinner.
Isn't it hypocritical to call it family dinner if you all don't see each other as one? If you don't treat each other as one?
As I sat there, staring at the neatly arranged plates and utensils, the air around me felt so fake. Every movement felt scripted, as if everyone was pretending we were this perfect family. But the truth? We were far from it.
Why do we even need to keep up this weekly charade? We all just sit here, eating in silence, pretending we're closer than we actually are.
And honestly, the silence was better than the fake conversations.
Uncle Sandro broke the silence, flashing his usual polite smile. "So, Farah, how's school going?"
Farah, who had been quietly picking at her food, perked up a little. “I’m actually running for valedictorian in 10th grade,” she said, a hint of pride in her voice.
A small smirk tugged at the corners of my lips. At least someone in this family was achieving something. But before anyone else could react, my father, Edmund, let out a dry chuckle.
“Valedictorian?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s the point of being valedictorian if you’re just a girl?”
The room fell into an awkward silence. I could see Farah’s face fall, her excitement crushed in an instant. Here we go again. Another reminder that, in my father's eyes, being a girl would never be enough.
"Edmund, come on," Uncle Sandro said, his tone almost pleading, trying to diffuse the tension.
Edmund didn’t even look at him. Instead, he just gave a short, dismissive cough, as if to say the conversation wasn’t worth continuing.
But then, Uncle Sandro, ever the mediator, turned his attention to me. "How about you, dear Eloise? How’s life lately?"
“Good,” I muttered, keeping it as short as possible. I had no energy to engage in another fake, meaningless exchange. I knew what would come next, anyway. And just as I predicted, Edmund didn’t let the moment slip by.
"Sandro," he said, turning to his brother, "Why don’t you talk some sense into your niece? Instead of wasting money on useless things, why doesn’t she just find another husband and give me a grandson..."
To my father, my worth could only be measured by my ability to marry and bear a son. The worst part? He said it as if I wasn’t sitting right there, as if I was just a project to be managed, not his daughter.
I heard Uncle Sandro sigh deeply, as if he felt bad for me.
"Edmund, it’s only been four years since that tragedy happened. Let's give Eloise some time—"
"Time?" Edmund cut her off, his voice sharp. "How much time does she need, Sandro? A decade? Two decades? I’m not getting any younger, I need a freaking heir!"
Uncle Sandro's eyes narrowed, and I could hear the frustration in his voice when he responded. "I don’t know, brother, if you’re blind or something. You already have your two heiresses right here!"
Edmund chuckled, the sound laced with insult. "I'd rather trade my soul to the devil to make me live longer than hand the company over to them."
He had made it perfectly clear how little he thought of us, of me and Farah. We were never enough in his eyes, never what he truly wanted. And no matter what we did, we never would be.
Edmund shook his head in disbelief, a scornful expression on his face. “When my wife died, I immediately recovered. Unlike Eloise, who seems to be wallowing in her sadness forever.”
I couldn’t let that slide.
“Because you didn’t love her,” I shot back, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me.
His expression shifted slightly, surprise mixed with indignation. “What do you know about love, Eloise?” he spat.
A small smile crept onto my lips at the absurdity of his question. I slowly put down my utensils and met my father’s intense glare.
"I don't know, father, but all I know is that love is not about trying to impregnate someone after your wife died, hoping you can have your own son, but instead ending up with a freaking daughter, right?"
His face turned crimson, anger radiating from him like a heatwave. “You bastard.”
“Edmund!” Uncle Sandro interjected, his voice sharp with concern.
But Edmund was too far gone, his rage spilling out. “You ungrateful little shit—” he began, hurling a string of curses at me, each word sharper than the last. “You think you know everything, don’t you?!”
“I know everything you could imagine I can.” I said calmly.
“Shut your mouth, Eloise! You don’t have a damn clue about real life! You’re just a spoiled widow brat thinking she can throw around insults without any consequences!”
I turned him out, the heat of the moment boiling over. I refused to let his words crush me. I stood up from the table, my chair scraping loudly against the floor, and walked away without a backward glance.
This “family dinner” always ended up the same way: a cycle of insults, accusations, and regret. I had had enough.
As I left the dining room, I could hear Edmund still cursing under his breath, “You’ll never be anything more than a disappointment!” But his words felt distant, like echoes fading into nothingness. I didn’t need to hear him anymore. I stepped outside the mansion to get my car.
Tonight was another episode of illegal activities.
---
“You’re going to race in that outfit?” Gary asked, looking me up and down with a skeptical expression.
I rolled my eyes at him. Damn, Edmund. Because of him, I forgot to change clothes.
“What’s wrong with my outfit?” I shot back, my tone defensive. I was wearing a bodycon orange dress that hugged my curves, and I thought I looked great.
Gary shook his head, crossing his arms. “No way. I’m not letting you race like that. You’ll get yourself killed.”
I sighed, frustration bubbling up inside me. “Come on, Gary! I know what I’m doing.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “You’re asking for trouble. You’ll be more of a distraction than anything.”
“Distraction? Is that all you think I am?” I stepped closer, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “How about I make it worth your while?”
His eyes narrowed, intrigued but still hesitant. “What do you mean?”
I smirked, pulling a crisp bill from my pocket and waving it in front of him. “You let me race, and this is yours. A little motivation, don’t you think?”
Gary’s expression shifted as he took a step back, pretending to consider it. “You think money will change my mind? This isn’t just about cash, Eloise. It’s about safety.”
“Safety is boring,” I countered, pushing the bill into his hand. “Just think of it as a bonus for being a good friend. Besides, I promise to be careful.”
He stared at the money, then back at me, weighing his options. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, he shook his head. “Fine, but I’m keeping an eye on you. If things go south, you’re out.”
I grinned, feeling victorious. “Deal. Now let’s hit the road!”
With that, I slid into my car, adrenaline coursing through me. Tonight was going to be a rush, and I was determined to make it count.
The atmosphere at the racetrack was electric, the sound of revving engines and cheers echoing all around. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my heart racing with excitement. This was what I lived for—the thrill of the race.
As the countdown began, I glanced at the other racers. When the lights turned green, I shot forward, tires screeching on the asphalt.
The race was intense, every corner a challenge. I wove in and out of cars, feeling unstoppable. But then, I miscalculated a turn and bumped into a wall. The impact jolted me, panic flooding my mind.
But I shook it off quickly. I slammed my foot on the accelerator, feeling the engine roar back to life. I was back in the game.
I pushed forward, gaining speed and closing in on the lead car. The finish line was in sight, and I poured everything I had into that final stretch.
With one last burst of speed, I crossed the finish line first. Cheers erupted around me, and I felt an overwhelming rush of victory. I had done it. I stepped out of the car, adrenaline still pumping, and grinned.
Tonight, I was a champion.
As I walked toward the tent to search for water when I heard some noise.
“You loser, you got beat by Eloise again,” one of them laughed, his tone dripping with mockery.
“Shut up, you son of a bitch. I just let that bitch off the hook because she’s a widow,” the other replied, a sneer in his voice.
I smirked sarcastically. They were talking as if my status as a widow made me less of a competitor.
“Look at her,” the first guy continued, “playing the grieving card. She’s just using that to get sympathy from everyone.”
“Exactly,” the second one chimed in. “It’s pathetic. She should be at home crying instead of racing. What a joke.”
I couldn’t take it anymore. I stepped out from behind the tent, confronting the two guys with fire in my eyes. “You know what’s pathetic? You two losers sitting here trash-talking a woman who just kicked your asses in a race.”
They turned, surprise flickering across their faces. “What did you say?!” the first guy sneered, trying to regain his composure.
“I said you’re both losers,” I shot back. “You should be embarrassed to lose to someone you think is just a ‘widow’ playing the grieving card. Clearly, I’m just better than you two.”
Their expressions soured, and I could see the anger brewing. “You think you’re tough, huh?” the second guy spat. “You’re just a sad little girl looking for attention!”
“Sad? I’d say it’s sad that you can’t handle losing to me.” I stepped closer, my adrenaline pumping because of excitement. “You should be ashamed of yourself for talking about someone who’s gone through real pain. But I guess that’s all you know how to do—be pathetic.”
In a sudden flash of rage, the first guy lunged at me. I sidestepped him, my instincts kicking in, and with a swift motion, I punched him squarely in the nose. He staggered back, clutching his face, blood streaming between his fingers.
The second guy reacted, I was caught off guard, he punched me on my face, making my nose bleed but before he could launch another punch, I kicked him hard between the legs, and he collapsed to the ground, groaning in agony.
“Next time you want to talk shit, think twice,” I hissed, feeling a mix of triumph and adrenaline.
But that victory was short-lived. A couple of security guards rushed over, quickly assessing the situation. “What’s going on here?” one of them demanded, looking between me and the two men on the ground.
I raised my hands defensively. “They started it.”
The guard glanced at the two guys, who were now groaning and nursing their wounds. “You’re coming with us,” he said, grabbing my arm.
Before I knew it, I was being led away, my heart racing for a different reason now. I never thought I’d end up in jail over a stupid argument, but I wasn’t going to regret standing up for myself. They could call me whatever they wanted, but I would never be a victim.
“I’m here for Eloise Hart.”
A smirk crept onto my face at the sound of that familiar voice.
Of course, he would save my ass again.
Elijah Dawson, my brother-in-law.
"Ahh... Fuck…”“Damn… Ahh, fuck me… fuck me… Elijah, baby… Please… Ahh. Fuck me… Ah!”“You're so tight and wet! Fuck it!” Ahh… Fuck!”I'm there. I can feel it. I squeezed her boobs harshly as if holding to my sanity. I gave her a long thrust that made her moan long and loud before I convulsed. I immediately stood up, grabbed the condom, tossed it in the trash, and picked up my phone from the nightstand. I couldn't help but feel irritated when I still saw no reply from her. Me: Where are you? Me: I saw you with your friend yesterday. Me: Hey? Me: I saw your bank statement and you're running out of money. I was so frustrated I could have thrown my phone against the wall!“Is that Eloise Hart that I know?” Before I could type a reply, I felt someone wrap their arms around my back.“Not your business,” I replied, irritation creeping into my tone. She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed with my response. “Come on, I was just asking. You don’t have to be so uptight.”I ignored her
"You son of a bitch!” “Eloise, please, let me explain first!” He pleaded, there's desperation in his voice.“There’s nothing left to talk about! Fuck you!” I spat back, my hands gripping the car door, trying to steady myself. My heart was pounding, fury surging through every vein.“Eloise, come on! We’re going to crash! Damn it, fix your issues when we get home!” Eduard shouted from the back seat, his voice frantic, but I barely registered it. “Stop the car! I can’t stand looking at your fucking face! Stop the car!” I screamed, tears burning my eyes.The car swerved, and suddenly, everything was spinning—I jolted awake, gasping for air, my heart still racing as if I’d just lived through it all again. Reality came crashing down as I looked around and realized where I was.Elijah’s penthouse.Not his. Not that night.I closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing, pushing the nightmare to the back of my mind. After a few moments, I threw the blanket off and got up. This wasn’t the firs
"I will never let this slide, Elijah!" I rubbed my temples, feeling the weight of her words settle in. Four years. Four damn years since Matthew’s death, and my mother still couldn't let it go. Every mention of Eloise sent her spiraling. Taking a deep breath, I looked around. The early morning air was cool, the sky just starting to lighten, and here I was, standing outside in a simple white v-neck and sweatpants because my mother couldn’t resist making a scene.As I walked into the penthouse, I saw Eloise sitting at the dining table, eating ramen while watching something on my laptop—probably something she took from my room again.She looked different now than before Matthew died. Back then, she was full of life; her hair was bright, and her laughter filled the room. She was a painter, known for her bold colors and deep feelings. Everyone loved her, and she had a bright future ahead.But after the accident, it was like everything changed. The bright colors in her life turned dark. S
ELOISE“Isn’t it better if I take you inside? I can vouch for you to Uncle Edmund.” My face turned sour at his question. “What am I, a teenager?” I asked irritably as I unbuckled my seatbelt. I heard him laugh. “Aren’t you?”“Do you also want your nose to get broken like what I did to those jerks?” Elijah held up his hands in mock surrender, a playful grin still on his face. “Okay, okay, I get it. No nose-breaking today.”“Good,” I replied, finally pushing the car door open and stepping out. I straightened my clothes, feeling the evening chill brush against my skin."Thanks." That was the last thing I said before I walked away from his car.I could still hear his shout behind me, but I just raised my middle finger.I stumbled back into the house, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The events of the morning felt like a blur, but all I wanted was to crawl back into bed and forget about everything—especially the drama with my mother-in-law.I shuffled through the hallway, ignoring the s
I headed straight to my office after dropping Eloise off at her house. Despite the chaos she often stirred, there was something oddly energizing about it, and I found myself looking forward to the peace and quiet of my workspace—or so I thought. When I opened the door, I immediately heard the sound of someone crying. My brow furrowed as I stepped inside and saw Venice, her face buried in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks.Sitting beside her was Rafael, holding a coffee cup with a smug expression, clearly enjoying the scene before him.“Seriously, Rafael?” I closed the door behind me and gave him a pointed look.“What?” he shrugged, trying to hide a laugh. “It’s not every day you see Venice cry over someone. It’s... entertaining.”“Asshole,” Venice muttered, sniffing loudly as she glared at Rafael.I walked to my desk, dropping my keys on the surface before addressing them. “Alright, what happened this time?”Venice let out a loud sob and pointed dramatically at Rafael. “He d
The roar of the engine filled my ears as I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my foot pressing harder on the accelerator. The world outside blurred into streaks of light and color, but I kept my focus steady. I glanced at the side mirror, catching a glimpse of the car behind me struggling to keep up.A smirk tugged at my lips. Too slow.I swerved around a sharp turn, the tires screeching as I maintained control. The thrill of the race coursed through my veins, drowning out everything else. The crowd’s cheers were deafening, but it only fueled me. I could see them lining the makeshift track, waving their hands and shouting my name.They were all expecting me to win—no, counting on me to win. I knew most of them had bet everything on me, and I wasn’t about to disappoint.I stole another glance at my side mirror. The closest car was at least two lengths behind, its driver desperately trying to catch up. I laughed softly under my breath, the adrenaline making me feel invincible.“This is
"I thought we were in this for the ups and downs, bro. Damn you! I’m really going to kill that jerk. Damn, he punches hard!"I closed my eyes tightly as the scene from earlier replayed in my head. Eloise... Shit. Does she really kiss like that?! And she still had the nerve to make out with someone else right after getting into an accident?!Rafael finally stopped complaining when he noticed I wasn’t listening. He sat there, getting his bruises treated by a nurse, while I stayed on the sidelines, seated on the edge of a bench, staring blankly ahead. “Elijah,” Rafael called, his voice quieter this time. I didn’t respond. My thoughts were elsewhere. I couldn’t shake the image from my mind—the way she kissed that guy, like she didn’t care about anything. And then, the chaos that followed. “Elijah!” Rafael’s voice was louder now, snapping me out of it. I blinked and looked at him. “What?” I asked, my tone sharper than intended. He frowned, wincing as the nurse dabbed at his
I looked him straight in the eyes right after saying it.I saw how he struggled to swallow after hearing my words, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.His reaction made me smirk."What’s the matter, Elijah?" I teased, my tone dripping with mischief. "Did I make you uncomfortable?"I crossed my arms, tilting my head slightly, waiting for his response.He stiffened, trying so hard to maintain his composure. "No," he muttered, but his voice crackedjust enough for me to notice.I chuckled, stepping closer to him, deliberately invading his space. "You’re a terrible liar," I whispered, enjoying the way his breath hitched.His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and I could tell he was fighting the urge to step back—or maybe to grab me, I wasn’t sure. Either way, I loved the effect I had on him.“You don’t scare me,” he said finally, his voice low and rough.I leaned closer, so close our faces were almost touching, and smiled. "Good," I murmured. "Because I wasn’t trying to scare you."
When I was not yet a mother I treated my car as my babies. I handle them with so much care only to end up crashing it into roadside trees and now that I'm a mother… Now that I'm a mother... I can only pray I don’t end up crashing my actual baby into something. Not literally, of course. But the fear of messing up? Of not being good enough? That was real. I used to think taking care of cars was already a responsibility—checking the engine, making sure there were no scratches, keeping them in perfect condition. But taking care of a baby? Completely different level. A car wouldn’t cry in the middle of the night. A car wouldn’t look up at me with big, innocent eyes, completely trusting me with its life. Eloah did. And that scared the hell out of me. I was about to reach for my coffee when I noticed Elijah standing near the doorway, his expression unusually serious. My brows furrowed. "What?" He hesitated, and that hesitation alone made my stomach drop. “Elijah,” I pressed,
I hummed a lullaby softly as my son slept peacefully in my arms. His tiny chest rose and fell with each breath, his little fingers twitching every now and then. It was… surreal. This little human—so small, so fragile—was mine. Ours. Eloise was watching us from the hospital bed, her eyes filled with something unreadable. Love, maybe. Or maybe disbelief, just like me. I glanced at her. “We still haven’t really decided on a name.” She bit her lip, thinking. “I’ve been thinking about something…” I raised a brow, waiting. She took a deep breath. “Eloah.” Eloah. I looked down at my son, testing the name in my mind. It felt… right. “Eloah Hart-Dawson,” I murmured. Eloise nodded. “It means 'God is my light.'” I swallowed, my arms tightening slightly around my son. Eloah. My light. Our light. I looked at Eloise again, and this time, I didn’t hold back my smile. “It’s perfect.”As I drove us home from the hospital, I kept glancing at the rearview mirror, watching E
I never really thought about what it would be like to give birth. I mean, it’s just one push, right? The baby comes out just like that—simple, like… pooping.Well, I was fucking wrong. This was nothing like pooping. The pain was unbearable—like my body was being ripped apart from the inside. I was sweating, panting, gripping the hospital bed so hard my knuckles turned white. I wanted to scream, curse, throw something—anything to make this stop. "You're doing great, Eloise!" one of the nurses said, her voice way too cheerful for my liking. "Great?!" I snapped, glaring at her. "If this is great, I don't want to know what bad feels like!" Farah was beside me, holding my hand, her face pale but determined. "El, you can do this." "I can't!" I groaned as another wave of pain hit me. "Just knock me out! Get this baby out of me already!" And where the hell was Elijah?! "He's on his way," Farah assured me, reading my mind. He better be, because if I was suffering through this
The moment her lips left mine, I smirked. “I didn’t know you already suck at kissing.” Eloise shot me a glare, still slightly breathless. “Excuse me?” I leaned in again, my lips barely brushing her ear as I whispered, “You pulled away first.” She scoffed and crossed her arms. “Because I need energy. Unlike you, I’m carrying a whole human inside me.” I chuckled, reaching for her waist, but she stepped back and grabbed her coffee like I wasn’t just kissing her senseless a few seconds ago. Damn, this woman. “You’re really just gonna act like that didn’t happen?” I teased, watching as she took a slow sip from her mug. Eloise raised a brow. “Act like what didn’t happen?” I narrowed my eyes on her. “Unbelievable.” She shrugged, turning away as if she wasn’t affected, but I didn’t miss the way her fingers slightly trembled against the mug. She was so full of it. I smirked, stepping closer behind her. “You can deny it all you want, Eloise…” I leaned in, my voice low. “But
I was laughing at another ridiculous scene from Friends when Elijah suddenly placed a glass of milk on the vanity table beside me.I glanced at him, raising a brow. “What’s this for?”He shrugged, sitting down next to me. “For you. You need it.”I rolled my eyes but took a sip anyway. “You act like I don’t drink enough milk.”“You don’t,” he said flatly, making me laugh.Elijah leaned back, watching the TV with mild interest before turning to me. “You’ve seen this show a million times. It’s, what? Twenty years old?”“More than twenty,” I corrected with a grin.He shook his head. “So why do you still love it?”I sighed, hugging a pillow. “Because it’s comforting. It’s funny, lighthearted… and no matter how many times I watch it, it still makes me happy.”Elijah hummed, considering my words. “So it’s like your comfort food, but in TV form?”“Exactly.”He smirked. “So if Friends is your comfort show, what does that make me?”“The father of my child.”Elijah went completely silent, and I
ELOISEWithin three months, a lot of things happened.I can't say our situation is really okay now, but at least it was far from before. The weight on my chest wasn’t as heavy, the nightmares weren’t as constant, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again. Victoria was sent to a mental hospital.It was inevitable. After everything she had done, after the chaos she left behind, there was no other place for her to go. The last time I saw her, she was sitting in a quiet corner of the facility, staring blankly at the wall. Her once sharp, calculating eyes now seemed distant—empty.A part of me wanted to hate her, to curse her for every wound she inflicted on me, on Elijah, on Noel. But standing there, watching her so lost in her own mind, I felt… nothing. No anger. No satisfaction. Just an eerie sense of finality.Edmund, on the other hand, was in prison.Justice was swift, and there was no escaping what he had done. The trial had been exhausting, dragging o
It has always been me. Those words hit me harder than any bullet ever could. I stared at her, my mind refusing to process what she just said. After everything—after years of regret, after watching her slip through my fingers, after forcing myself to accept that I had lost her—she was telling me this now. I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists. “Eloise…” My voice was hoarse, like I had been drowning for years and was finally gasping for air. She loved him. She admitted it. But all this time, it was me. I was the one she gave away when I walked away first. I let out a shaky breath, my heart pounding so hard it hurt. “Then why…” I swallowed, trying to steady myself. “Why did you never tell me?” Why did you let me believe I had already lost you?She smirked before lowering her head. "I was scared… but then again, what is life without a little fear?" I watched her, my chest tightening. Fear? Was that what kept her from telling me? From reaching out? "Eloise..." My v
For years, I carried the weight of unanswered questions. Why did he leave me? Why did he let Matthew take his place? Why did he make me feel like I was never enough to fight for? I never got the answers—not from him, not from anyone. Just assumptions, just pain. The airport buzzed around us—people rushing, announcements echoing, luggage wheels rolling against the floor—but it all faded into the background.We sat on the cold metal bench, side by side, facing the massive glass wall that overlooked the runway. Planes took off and landed, coming and going, just like everything in my life."Elijah," I whispered, steady but firm. "No more lies. No more excuses. Just tell me… why?”The orange light from the sun reflected on his face, casting soft shadows over his sharp features. He looked tired—drained—but there was something else in his eyes. Something raw.He smiled… I stared at him, waiting—needing—to hear more. Elijah leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his finger
I smirked. I needed to compose myself. There was no room for fucking drama right now, Elijah. We needed to focus. We needed to prioritize Eloise. Even with the gun pointed at me, I took a deep breath and let my smirk widen. "Go ahead, Eloise," I taunted. "Shoot me." Her grip on the gun was steady. Her expression was cold—unwavering. "You think I won’t?" she asked, voice sharp as a blade. "I know you can," I said, stepping forward. "But will you?" She didn't move. Didn't even blink. "You're standing beside the man who destroyed your life—”"But also," she continued, her voice unwavering, "the man in front of me pointing his gun is the brother of the woman who killed my brother and husband!"She was talking about Veronica.My fingers tightened around my gun, but I didn't move."And don't forget, dear, the reason why he distanced himself away from you it's because he choose Veronica than you—" “Shut the fuck up you old man!” I couldn't help it anymore. I feel like I lose