FLORENCE’S POV“The Whitehills will pay…”Daniel’s words echoed endlessly, a haunting refrain that twisted into knots of dread in my stomach. He’d stormed out hours ago, tires screeching against gravel as his flashy sports car tore away from the villa. He didn’t return until well after dark, headlights slicing through the midnight, the engine roar disturbing the peace. I was in the living room when I heard him walk in. I had a book in my lap that I had stopped reading ages ago. I stared out the window blankly as he made his way to me. Once he stopped, I moved my gaze to his face, dark and unreadable. In his hand, he held a sharp pair of scissors, metal gleaming under the dim lamplight.I stiffened, my pulse quickening. “What… are you doing with that?”Without a word, he stepped forward, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and before I could scream or push him away, he cut it clean off. The sickening sound of metal slicing through strands echoed sharply in the silence.“What the hell—” I
FLORENCE’S POVRaiden didn’t take any chances. After everything I’d been through, he drove me straight to the same hospital where my father had spent the last few months. The sterile hallways were hauntingly familiar, the smell of disinfectant bringing back bittersweet memories.Raiden’s hand stayed firmly intertwined with mine, his grip gentle yet protective, almost as though he feared someone would tear me away from him again if he dared loosen his hold. His nervous energy was comforting, a solid presence reminding me that this nightmare was finally ending.After a full battery of tests—blood work, X-rays, a neurological assessment—the doctors reassured us that physically, I was perfectly fine. But emotionally, I was exhausted, overwhelmed by the constant barrage of medical jargon.“Miss Hart, physically you’re unharmed,” the senior doctor explained calmly, flipping through notes on a clipboard. “However, you might experience delayed reactions—panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares. It
MASON’S POVMy heart stopped.I stared at the dusty warehouse floor, vision tunneling to one horrible detail: Florence’s golden hair, spilling gently from the edges of the dark body bag.No.My breath caught in my throat, my entire body going rigid, frozen in disbelief.This wasn’t happening.Jade’s words rushed back, desperate and oddly confident: “He’s bluffing, Mason. He’s just trying to mess with you.”God, I wanted to believe her.But Daniel’s twisted smile said otherwise. Calmly, cruelly, he sat back, watching me unravel.I gripped the pen tighter, knuckles turning white. Slowly, I straightened up and tossed it back onto the table, voice shaking with barely suppressed rage and fear.“I’m not signing a damn thing until I see inside that bag,” I said, glaring daggers at Daniel.His brows raised mockingly, eyes glittering. “And have you collapsed like some tragic Shakespearean hero when you realize I’m not bluffing?” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “I don’t have all night fo
MASON’S POVThe first thing I noticed was the silence.It was thick, deafening, pressing down on me from all sides. Then, slowly, sensation returned: the sharp bite of metal digging painfully into my ribs, the acrid smell of burning rubber and gasoline. Glass shards littered my lap, sparkling cruelly beneath the dim glow of the flickering dashboard lights.I couldn’t move.Fear spiked through me, colder than the icy rain now pattering on the shattered windshield. I tried to shift, but every tiny movement shot unbearable agony through my chest and legs. Panic surged as my breaths became shorter, shallower.Trapped.Helpless.I had never felt more alone. Even in my darkest moments—when my father had disowned me, when Florence had walked out—I’d never known hopelessness this raw. My heart pounded erratically, skipping beats as dread twisted my insides, and I felt myself trembling uncontrollably.Through blurred vision, I caught sight of Daniel’s Land Cruiser a few yards away, illuminate
FLORENCE’S POVI stood frozen in the hospital lobby, my lungs refusing to work properly. The antiseptic hospital air burned my throat. My fingers trembled at my sides, still seeing the blood across Mason’s face, the way his shattered gaze had locked onto mine—“Do you want to stay here?” Raiden’s voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. I nodded, unable to speak. “Flo, are you okay?” Raiden’s concern was palpable, his hand steady on my shoulder.The world seemed to spin a little faster, my heart racing as I tried to process the flood of emotions. My knees felt weak, and suddenly, the hospital corridor felt overwhelmingly claustrophobic.“I—” My voice broke, and without warning, my breathing quickened, panic clawing its way up my throat.Seeing my distress, Raiden quickly guided me to a quieter seating area, away from the prying eyes. He handed me a cup of water, his eyes never leaving mine. “Take slow breaths, Flo. It’s going to be okay.”I took a sip, the cool wat
FLORENCE’S POVThe tension in the hospital corridor was palpable, thickening the already heavy air. Melissa Whitehill’s voice, sharp and accusing, cut through the silence of the corridor. “What is SHE doing here?” she demanded, pointing directly at me while glaring at Jade.Clarke, less accusatory but equally puzzled, followed up with a concerned, “Flo?”The Whitehills’ reception was as cold as the sterile walls of the hospital and also completely unsurprising. Howard and Melissa exchanged looks, a silent conversation passing between them.Melissa’s voice rose, her words laced with venom. “This accident happened because of you. Since you have left him, Mason has been a shadow of himself, destroying his company image, his own image—acting the fool.” Her glare intensified, pinning me like an insect under a microscope.“And now, you have the audacity to turn up here as if you care,” she finished. “I—”“Thank god Jade is at least in his corner,” Howard chimed in. “Because you certainly
FLORENCE’S POVI hadn’t even realized we’d spent the whole night at the hospital.It was 8 AM by the time Raiden finally walked me to my apartment door. Exhaustion had fully settled into my bones, making every step feel heavy.He stood by as I unlocked the door, patiently waiting until I stepped inside.“I wish I could stay with you all day,” he started, leaning against the door frame, concern clear on his face. “But there's a board meeting—”I waved away his worry quickly. “No, of course, you should go! I just need a shower and I'll be back in the office today!”Raiden frowned. “Florence. You can't be serious.”“I've been gone almost a week,” I insisted stubbornly. “Blackwood must be falling apart without me.”He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Well, you're right. It's an absolute mess.”“See?” I smiled triumphantly. “All the more reason I need to get back.”He gave me a stern look, suddenly firm. “No, Flo. It can wait. One more day.”“But—”“No buts.” His voice was gentle yet un
FLORENCE’S POVTwo weeks had passed since the night I saw Mason wheeled into the emergency room. Two weeks of desperately trying not to think about it, not to wonder if he was okay, and failing miserably at both.I knew I should leave it alone. Mason had made his choice, and it wasn’t me. He picked Jade—the woman he had always loved—and worrying about him made me feel foolish. Why was I torturing myself over someone who clearly didn’t want me in his life? It felt pathetic.But logic didn’t silence my heart. Despite my efforts, Mason’s face, bloodied and helpless, haunted my thoughts. What if he was still hurt? What if his injuries were worse than I knew?“No,” I whispered aloud in my empty apartment. “Stop it, Florence.”Yet my fingers reached for my phone before I could stop myself. I scrolled to Clarke’s name and called.He answered almost immediately. “Flo?”“Hi, Clarke,” I said softly, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable. “I’m sorry to bother you… but I—I just wanted to check
FLORENCE’S POVIt took Annalise ten full minutes to come out of the bathroom.I didn’t say anything. I didn’t knock. I didn’t push.I just sat on the floor with my back against the door, knees pulled to my chest, eyes flicking toward the clock every few seconds, trying not to let panic cloud my voice when I spoke.“I’m right here, Anna,” I said softly. “Take your time.”The only response I got for a while was the low hiss of the tap and the occasional rustle of movement.My stomach twisted.Finally, I heard the click of the lock, and the door creaked open.She stood there, pale and clammy, her eyeliner smudged at the corners. I’d seen her drunk, seen her mid-breakup sobbing over a pint of mint chocolate chip, seen her dancing barefoot on marble floors at parties—but this?This was different.“Are you…” I rose to my feet slowly, “okay?”She nodded, then shook her head. “I don’t know. That’s been happening a lot lately.”“What!?” My voice rose despite myself. “And you haven’t been to a
FLORENCE’S POVThe Blackwood private jet was exactly what you’d expect from Raiden: understated elegance, all clean white leather seats and warm wooden trim. No obnoxious gold, no velvet—just quiet charm and impeccable taste. Even the glassware looked like it had been chosen by someone who appreciated minimalism over flash.Rosa was already curled up in one of the corner seats with her legs tucked under her, champagne in one hand and a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries on her lap. She looked like she belonged there—like her life had always included private jets and French confections at 40,000 feet.Raiden was fast asleep, head tilted against the plush headrest, hair falling slightly into his face. His tie was loosened, his shoes were off, and his arms were crossed like he was guarding a secret. I couldn’t help but smile.I took the seat across from Rosa and buckled in.“So,” I started, propping my chin on my palm. “How is it that you’re flying back with us? Tired of having your
MASON’S POVThe jet ride home was quiet.Too quiet, considering the war I knew I was flying into.The luxury didn’t register. I didn’t taste the wine, didn’t hear the engines. I sat there staring out the window, watching clouds smear against the sky like brushstrokes on glass.I’d agreed to move back into my parents’ estate—not because I wanted to, but because returning to the mansion I once shared with Florence felt like walking back into a coffin. At least at the estate, there were people to blame. Walls I hadn’t painted. Silence I hadn’t created.Control was easier to tolerate than grief.A black car pulled up to the jet before it even fully powered down. No welcome committee. Just a driver and two security guys.Subtle. Functional. Meant to say: You’re back. You’re needed. Don’t ask questions.I didn’t.***The estate looked exactly the same. That was the worst part.Immaculate hedges, polished floors, servants who still wouldn’t meet your eye.As soon as I stepped out of the car,
MASON’S POVMy heart tore in two as I walked away from Florence at Fashion Week.Telling her I respected her new relationship… that I wanted to be friends…It felt like I floated up out of my body and watched someone else speak those words with a calm I didn’t feel. Someone more collected, more mature, more self-sacrificing.That wasn’t me.And yet… it was the only version of me I wanted to be around her right now.Because what was the alternative? Beg? Cling? Remind her of a love she had spent so long trying to recover from?I couldn’t be that selfish anymore.Still, as I turned the corner away from the crowd, my legs took me to the one place that felt familiar.Chris’s hotel room.***“And… you’re okay with being friends?” Chris asked as he popped open another bottle of beer like it was just water. The room around him was a disaster. Clothes half-folded in piles on the chair. Camera equipment scattered like he’d been mid-shoot and never stopped. Plates from room service littered
FLORENCE’S POVOur last few days in Paris went surprisingly smoothly.It was as if all the drama had cracked open the sky, and now the sun could finally shine through. We stopped walking on eggshells, stopped checking over our shoulders. For the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe.And with that breathing space came something quieter. Sweeter.Raiden and I stopped working, or thinking, or strategizing. We just… existed together.One morning, he took me to a flower market tucked into a sleepy corner of Rue Cler, where stalls overflowed with peonies and sunflowers and wild sprigs of lavender bundled in newspaper. We walked slowly, fingers brushing but never fully entwining, like we were suspended in the space between a first kiss and forever.Another day, he surprised me with a day trip outside the city. Just two hours from Paris was this sleepy, golden-drenched village called Vézelay, where the streets were cobbled and wine was poured like water. We had lunch at a tiny c
FLORENCE’S POVThree hours and what felt like a million photos later, the shoot finally wrapped.Everyone was sun-drunk and emotionally winded, hovering somewhere between exhilaration and exhaustion. The air smelled of lavender and camera flash, and the vineyard around us glowed golden in the soft, late-afternoon light.But the results?They were extraordinary.Emily stood barefoot in the grass, wrapped in a loose linen robe the color of pearl, sipping chilled lemonade from a glass that looked almost too elegant for this world. Her braid had loosened over the shoot, strands falling gently around her face, giving her a soft, earthy glow.She didn’t look like someone recovering from a scandal.She looked like someone who had just stepped into her power.Rosa and I walked over slowly, like approaching a moment we didn’t want to break.“Hey,” I said gently. “How are you holding up?”Emily turned to us and smiled. Not forced, not shaky. A real one. “Honestly? I’m good.”“Really?” Rosa aske
FLORENCE’S POVRaiden didn’t say a word as he led me away from the group, down a gravel path that wound through the vineyard toward a quieter patch of garden closer to the house. It was all rose bushes and old stone walls and creeping vines, and for a brief moment, I felt like we’d stumbled into someone’s private love story.The air here was still, sacred almost, as if even the bees buzzing near the blossoms knew to keep it down.“Raiden?” I asked gently. “What’s going on?”He stopped walking but didn’t turn around just yet. I watched his shoulders rise, then fall with a long exhale.“I don’t like the way Chris was flirting with you,” he said finally, his voice low and calm. “He’s got that whole harmless charm thing going, but I see through it. And I didn’t love watching you laugh at his jokes.”My brows lifted slightly. “You dragged me into a secret garden because you were jealous?”“Not just jealous,” he said, finally turning to face me. His eyes searched mine with quiet intensity.
FLORENCE’S POVOnce Emily confirmed she was okay with doing the nude shoot—completely on her terms, no pressure—we got to work.It wasn’t even sunrise yet when I sent the first text, barely able to feel my fingers after such an emotionally wrecking night. But there was no time to sleep. We had a window—small and delicate—and I was determined to help her step through it.I remembered an art director I’d met at Fashion Week just a few days ago. French, sharp, and wildly creative, she’d shown me a campaign she did for a sustainable lingerie brand that felt more like a gallery exhibit than an ad. I’d tucked her number into my phone, not thinking I’d need it anytime soon.Now I was dialing with barely a second thought.Her response came in instantly.Florence? Mon dieu, I would die to work with you.I didn’t even need to explain much—just that it would be raw, elegant, empowering, and fast. That was enough. She was in.I’d never done anything this last-minute in my life.Usually, shoots to
FLORENCE’S POVEmily stared at the wine glass in her hand like she couldn’t remember how it got there.The room had quieted now. We’d coaxed her into eating something—a small plate of pasta and a few forkfuls of salad—and poured her half a glass of red. She hadn’t said much. She wasn’t crying anymore, but the silence around her wasn’t peace. It was a void.We sat around the little dining table in her suite, lit only by the dim overhead light and the soft glow from the city outside the windows. Rosa sat beside Emily, one protective hand resting lightly on her forearm. Rosa hadn’t even met Emily before this night, but had practically adopted her by that point. I was on her other side. Across from us, Raiden had flipped open his tablet and was already in fix-it mode.“I suggest we start with the basics,” Raiden said calmly, tapping through his notes. “Natalie, you’ll need to call the police. File a formal report. The earlier we do it, the better. Even if it doesn’t lead to anything imme