Abby The warm afternoon sunlight casts dappled patterns on the ground as we walk through the park, holding cardboard coffee cups in our hands. The warmth seeps through the cup, mingling with the crisp air. It’s a nice moment, bordering on something that feels almost normal. And then we stop in f
“Smells amazing in here,” Karl says as he walks in, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before landing on the pot. “Whatcha cooking?” “Spaghetti Bolognese,” I reply, stirring the pot once more. “I remember it was one of your favorites.” “Still is,” he grins, moving closer. “Need any help?” I lo
Karl The mahogany door clicks shut behind me as I step into the conference room. Members of the council, influential businessmen and entrepreneurs who hold significant power in the community, are already seated around the long table. I can feel the weight of their expectations hanging in the air
“Karl,” Gianna says once they’re gone, snapping me out of my reverie. “I think you should come to dinner tonight. We need to discuss a few more things.” I look up at her. There’s something off about her tone, something I can’t quite place. Maybe because of that, I wind up making a snap decision. “
Abby I’m seated on a lounge chair in the back lawn, soaking in the sun and the chirping of birds as a soothing backdrop. The air smells of freshly cut grass, and I’m surrounded by the vibrant colors of the garden—reds, yellows, and blues.. It’s peaceful, almost idyllic, but my mind is elsewhere.
Truthfully, I can’t be angry with Gerald. He’s worked with Karl’s adoptive family for decades, literally watched Karl grow up once he was taken in here. He’s steadfastly loyal, and clearly angry with me. But his anger is founded on mistruths. The sooner that Karl makes his official announcement, t
Abby I’m in the kitchen organizing my thoughts, sketching out a mental roadmap for tonight’s three-course extravaganza as I mumble under my breath. “Sauvignon Blanc with the salmon… Hmm… Maybe I should prepare cappuccinos with the torte for dessert…” Just then, the door swings open, and in wal
“Dammit,” I mutter under my breath, reaching for a fresh piece of salmon. I’m about to season it when I overhear voices filtering from the dining room. “Well, you should have seen the look on her face, trying so hard to impress everyone with her little cooking skills. As if we’ve forgotten that ou