AVA The storm outside was relentless, rain hammering against the windows like a never-ending rhythm of tension. I slipped out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Liam. His steady breathing told me he was still asleep, or at least pretending to be. I didn’t want to think too much about that. Padding downstairs, I made my way to the kitchen, craving something to calm my nerves—a glass of water, anything to break the silence that clung to me like damp air. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, the dim light from the kitchen caught my attention. I wasn’t alone. My heart gave a slight jolt. Davies was there, leaning against the counter, a glass of something strong in his hand. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, like the man himself. His eyes, however, held that familiar glint—the one that always made me uneasy. The one that felt like he saw right through me and enjoyed what he saw. “No,” I replied, my voice tight. “Just came down for some water.” I c
DAYS LATER Cynthia stood in the living room, her arms crossed defiantly. Jacob, her young son, played quietly on the floor, oblivious to the tension that filled the air. Richard paced back and forth, frustration evident in his furrowed brow. “Jacob can’t be around Amelia anymore,” Cynthia’s voice pierced through the stillness of the living room, sharp and accusatory. She had stumbled upon Amelia being hostile towards Jacob and she intended to use it to her ultimate advantage. “I don’t want my son around anyone who might hurt him,” Cynthia continued. “Amelia is a liability.” “Cynthia, you can’t just come in here and make wild accusations,” Richard said, trying to maintain his composure. Cynthia shot him an incredulous look. “You think I’m making this up? Amelia has been openly hostile toward Jacob! I won’t let him be around someone who might harm him.” “I never threatened Jacob!” Amelia interjected upon entering the living room with fire in her eyes. “This is ridiculous.” Cynthi
Cynthia's plan had been in motion for weeks, and now it was beginning to bear fruit. Richard had started spending more time away Isabella, citing business and meetings, but everyone knew where he was. He was always with her—Cynthia—and his bastard son, Jacob. It felt like he got the family he always truly wanted. He’d would always take Jacob and Cynthia out, regardless of the effect it would have on his reputation. Isabella, now isolated in her own home, could feel the weight of Cynthia’s growing influence. And she felt totally helpless. In the living room, Amelia sat quietly, watching her mother move around with a noticeable sadness. Isabella barely spoke these days, and when she did, her voice was tired, as if she’d lost a piece of herself. “Mom, you need to do something,” Amelia finally broke the silence, her voice thick with frustration. Isabella sighed, placing a cup of tea in front of her daughter. “What can I do, Amelia? He’s your father. He’s been like this sinc
AVA I lay in bed, wrapped in the warmth of Liam’s arms, the soft glow of the morning sun casting a warm hue over us. His chest rose and fell gently against my back, each breath igniting a spark of comfort and desire deep within me. I could feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, a rhythm that felt like home. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?” Liam murmured, his voice low and intimate. I turned slightly to face him, a playful smile dancing on my lips. “Not in the last five minutes.” He chuckled softly, brushing a thumb along my cheek. “Well, consider yourself informed,” he said, leaning in to capture my lips in a slow, lingering kiss. As our mouths moved together, the world outside faded away. My fingers tangled in his hair, and I could feel the heat radiating from him, drawing me closer. I deepened the kiss, pouring all my longing into that moment, savoring the taste of him—warm and intoxicating. When we finally pulled apart, both breathless, I felt a rush of bold
Cynthia stood by the kitchen window, peeking through the curtains to make sure no one was watching. Her eyes glinted with cold calculation as she looked down at the small bottle of olive oil in her hand. She had planned this perfectly. A wicked smile curled her lips. Sacrificing her own son wasn’t something that bothered her. After all, it was a means to an end—her end goal of controlling Richard entirely. Cynthia peered around the corner to check if the coast was clear. She listened intently for any signs of life from the other rooms—silence. Satisfied, she moved swiftly, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Slipping into the kitchen, she opened a drawer and pulled out a small bottle of olive oil. A wicked smile curved her lips as she twisted the cap off, pouring a thin, nearly invisible stream of oil along the top three steps of the staircase. She quickly wiped the bottle clean, placed it back where it belonged, and took a deep breath. "This should be enough," s
The sun streamed through the large windows of Richard’s mansion, casting an almost serene glow over the breakfast table—a stark contrast to the tension that weighed heavily in the air. Richard sat at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on his phone, seemingly oblivious to the thick cloud of discomfort that hung over his family. Across from him, Amelia sat stiffly, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The events of the previous night still haunted her, her father's harsh accusations ringing in her ears. Cynthia, seated beside Richard, was the only one who appeared completely at ease, her lips curled into a slight, smug smile as she calmly spread butter on her toast. Isabella quietly sipped her coffee, her eyes flicking between her daughter and Richard, unsure of how to break the silence. She could feel Amelia’s simmering anger and hurt from across the table, and her heart ached to fix it. But she knew it wasn’t that simple anymore. The clinking of silverware was the only sound
Ava’s heels clicked sharply against the stone path leading up to her father’s mansion, each step a surge of anger and determination building inside her. She had tried to stay away from this house, from her father’s betrayal, but she couldn’t ignore the call she’d gotten from Isabella and Amelia days before . The details of her father’s affair with Cynthia, the fact that the woman had moved into their home and was making life unbearable for her step mother and sister, had left Ava furious. As she reached the door, Ava took a deep breath and knocked loudly. She wasn’t sure what reception she’d get, but she was prepared for whatever would come. A few moments later, the door swung open, and Ava was met with the cold, assessing gaze of a woman she immediately recognized as Cynthia. She had an air of arrogance that seemed to ooze from her. Cynthia didn’t smile. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at Ava, scanning her from head to toe. “And who might you be?” she asked, her tone sharp
The early morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes of Richard’s study, casting muted shadows over the room. Isabella stood quietly by the door, her hand resting on the polished wood handle as she listened to the murmur of voices within. She had expected to find Richard alone, but instead, Cynthia’s unmistakably sweet, condescending tone drifted out, causing Isabella to pause. “Richard, darling, the villa in the south of France is perfect for a family vacation,” Cynthia purred, her voice dripping with self-satisfaction. “Just you, me, and... well, our son, of course. Doesn’t that sound wonderful? We need the respite you know, for our family. Jacob especially. The poor boy has been through a lot trying to fit into this prestigious family” Isabella’s heart clenched. Their son. A constant reminder of Richard's betrayal, of the family that had been forged behind her back. She pushed open the door and stepped into the room, her presence immediately altering the air. Richard and Cynt
Months later AVA The morning sun poured through the windows, bathing the room in a warm golden light. I stood in front of the mirror, my hands gently resting on my swollen belly, feeling the soft kicks of our baby. I could hardly believe this day had finally come—our wedding day. Again. I smiled to myself, watching my reflection as my fingers brushed over the lace of my gown. It was simple, elegant, and perfect for the small, intimate ceremony Liam and I had decided on. A fresh start. A new beginning for our family. There was a knock on the door, and Clara walked in, her face lighting up when she saw me. “Ava, you look beautiful,” she said, her voice soft but filled with sincerity. I turned to her, smiling. “Thank you, Clara. I’m glad you’re here.” She walked over, her expression a little more serious now. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. After everything… you and Liam deserve this happiness. You deserve a fresh start.” Her words meant more to me than she k
LIAM The silence in the hospital room was deafening. I sat beside Ava, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, my fingers trembling as I reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. She looked so fragile, so pale. I had never felt so helpless in my life. The day had dragged on endlessly, every hour a brutal reminder of how close I had come to losing her. The doctors had said she was stable, but she hadn’t woken up. I had tried talking to her, whispering reassurances that everything was going to be okay, but there was no response. Just the maddening, continuous hum of the machines monitoring her vitals. “Ava… please, wake up,” I whispered, my voice hoarse from hours of silence. “I need you. We need you.” The door to the room opened, and a nurse stepped in quietly, checking the monitors before giving me a small nod. “She’s doing well, Mr. Liam. It’s just a matter of time now.” Time. It felt like an eternity had already passed. I watched the nurse leave,
LIAM I held Ava tightly in his arms, feeling her tremble against me. Her breathing was shallow, and her skin, pale and cold. Despite everything, she had held on. We both had. As I brushed the dirt-streaked hair from her face, I whispered, “You’re safe now, Ava. It’s over.” Her lips parted as if she was trying to speak, but no words came out. Her fingers clutched weakly at my shirt, trying to ground herself. “I’m here,” I whispered, holding her as close as I could without hurting her. “I’ve got you.” She blinked up at me, her gaze unfocused before she glanced around, her eyes landing on Clara and Davies, who stood near the door, watching us with somber expressions. She looked back up at me, her brows knitting together. Her hand moved to her stomach, resting there for a moment before her eyes widened. “Liam…” “What is it?” I asked, my heart skipping a beat. Her grip on me tightened, and fear began to seep into her gaze. “I—Liam, something’s wrong.” Before I could even pro
LIAM The cold concrete floor felt like it was digging into my bones, and every breath I took was shallow and labored. My body ached, the weight of exhaustion and hunger gnawing at me with every passing minute. Ava sat beside me, her face pale, streaked with dirt, and her once-vibrant eyes dull with fear and fatigue. We had been here for what felt like an eternity, tied up, helpless, malnourished, and broken. I glanced over at her, my heart wrenching as she tried to keep herself together. Every now and then, she would give me a small, strained smile—something to reassure me, as if to say we were going to get out of this. But even her resolve was weakening. I could see it in the way her hands trembled, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The room reeked of sweat and desperation, the oppressive silence hanging over us like a death sentence. Then the door creaked open, and the sound of footsteps echoed through the warehouse. My pulse quickened as I turned to see John and El
Clara had been restless, unable to sleep, and decided to head downstairs for a glass of water. As she descended the staircase, her footfalls silent against the thick carpet, she heard voices coming from John’s study. At first, she thought nothing of it. It was not unlikely for him to make calls this late. John often stayed up late for business calls, but as she reached the bottom of the stairs, something in the tone of his voice made her pause. She ducked into the shadows, peeking around the corner, just in time to hear him say something that froze the blood in her veins. “Once they are dead, the property and the company will be ours. There won’t be anyone left to challenge us. We’ve endured far too much and we’ve played those meaningless games with those two pests! Now it’s time to get rid of them forever” Clara’s breath hitched in her throat, her hand trembling as she clutched the banister. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. John’s voice was calm, almost bored, as th
AVA I woke up with a pounding headache, my limbs heavy and sore. My eyes fluttered open, the room around me coming into hazy focus—a cold, dimly lit space with concrete walls and the faint hum of distant machinery. As I shifted, I realized I couldn’t move my arms. Panic set in, and my breath quickened. My wrists were bound tightly behind me. A groan escaped my lips as I tugged at the restraints, but they wouldn’t budge. It was then that I noticed Liam, slumped beside me, his head hanging low. “Liam,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Liam, wake up.” He stirred slightly, groaning before his eyes slowly blinked open. “Ava…?” His voice was rough, groggy. “What… where are we?” “We’re tied up,” I said, my voice trembling as I fought back the fear rising in my chest. “Liam, I don’t know what’s happening.” His eyes darted around the room, assessing the situation much quicker than I had. He tugged at his own restraints, his jaw tightening when he realized there was no immediate escape
LIAM I stood outside Ava’s house, nerves tearing through me. It had taken me far too long to realize how deeply I had hurt her. I had been a fool—letting my own uncle, John, manipulate me into casting her aside. My heart raced as I stared at the door, hoping, praying, she would listen. I lifted my hand to knock again, but the door suddenly opened. Isabella, her stepmother, stood before me. The hostility on her face was unmistakable, her lips curling into a sneer as she crossed her arms. “What are you doing here, Liam?” Her tone was icy. “I need to see Ava,” I said, my voice pleading. “I need to talk to her. Please.” She laughed bitterly, stepping forward, almost blocking the doorway. “Talk to her? After what you did? You have no right.” My heart clenched, but I refused to give up. “Isabella, I know I made mistakes. I just need five minutes—” “No,” she cut me off sharply. “You’re not coming in, Liam. She doesn’t need to hear more of your excuses.” I was about to respond when, s
Clara paced nervously in the hallway outside her brother’s room, debating whether to knock. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she rehearsed the conversation in her head. She knew Davies was loyal to their father, John, but after everything that had happened—after all the plotting and scheming—Clara couldn’t keep quiet any longer. She had seen the damage her father had caused, not just to Liam but to the entire family, and it was time to stop it. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked on the door. A moment later, Davies opened it, surprise etched across his face. "Clara? What’s going on? It’s late," Davies said, stepping aside to let her in. Clara entered, her steps hesitant as she glanced around his room. "We need to talk. It’s important." Davies raised an eyebrow. "Talk about what? It better be good Clara. You know I don’t like when somebody interrupts my sleep” “Oh shut up. I came to talk about something important. Dad’s plan with Ava and Liam. Don’t yo
In the dimly lit study, the heavy scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air. John Tyson sat behind his large oak desk, fingers tapping rhythmically against the polished wood as his mind churned with plans and schemes. Across from him, Clara perched on the edge of a leather armchair, fidgeting with her hands, her gaze flicking nervously between the door and her brother. "I don’t like this," she muttered, breaking the tense silence. "We’ve done enough damage. Liam’s health has improved since Ava came into his life. Maybe it’s time to let things be." John’s gaze hardened as he turned to face her, his fingers pausing mid-tap. “You think I care about Liam’s well-being, Clara? This isn’t about him. It’s about our legacy, our fortune. Ava’s nothing more than a distraction, and I’ll be damned if I let her undo years of planning.” Clara sighed, leaning back in her chair, her shoulders sagging under the weight of their family’s endless plots. “We’ve been at this for too long, Dad. We’ve done