ISABELLA'S POVNathan had shared with me how Scarlett had been visiting him of late, lingering too long at his door, just enough to stir old wounds. And even reaching out to the estate security personnel whenever he wasn't around. At least it showed a level of desperation on her part. And that was why I was on my way there today.Despite the hurt, part of me hoped we could still talk this out. Even though restoring her back into his life wouldn't be all that possible.But we could still arrive at something that works. Just like James and I had done.After all, we had been friends for years. All I wanted was a hint of remorse from her, an acknowledgment of the line she had crossed.As I parked in front of the gallery, the emptiness of the space mirrored the hollow feeling in my chest. The lights were off, the windows dark, and not a soul in sight. I stood for a moment, staring at the locked door, a quiet sigh escaping my lips. So, she wasn’t here. And perhaps indoors or something
MICHAEL’S POV The moment I stepped into the club,music hit me, vibrating floors dim lights, charged atmosphere…name it. I paused just inside the entrance, scanning the room casually, my eyes adjusting to the low lighting as I searched for Owen. We had agreed to meet here. The club was one of those exclusive spots, packed with people who knew they were being watched but pretended otherwise. As I looked around, I saw a few groups clustered in private booths, laughter merged with the hum of conversation, while some others wriggled their tiny waists on the dance floor. Taking a breath, I made my way in, walking slowly and moving through the crowd, my hands brushing past people’s shoulders. Owen would be waiting in the VIP section, and I needed not to rush to get there. However, the urgency of what brought me drove me. The VIP area was cordoned off by a velvet rope, guarded by a bouncer who gave me a curt nod of recognition before unhooking the rope. I slipped past without a
ISABELLA'S POVI sat at the edge of my couch, my mind a storm of thoughts.It's been three days. Three days since I’d stormed out of Scarlett’s place, a trip of reconciliation that had quickly developed into something else I didn't bargain for.Now, it was followed by her trying to reach out to me, forwarding. desperate and pleading in the text messages...I had ignored them all, as if refusing to acknowledge them would make the gnawing suspicion less real.My gaze drifted out of the window. Inside me, there was only a deepening gloom. The things I had seen that day, the contracts with Xander, strange inconsistencies in Scarlett’s defense—it had all begun to fester like an open wound.No, something isn’t right. The words escaped my lips in a low murmur, barely audible.I needed answers. And I needed them now. I picked up my phone, quickly dialing Claire’s number and agitation in my veins.“Good morning, Dr. Isabella,” Claire’s voice greeted me, bright and efficient as always.“Morn
GENERAL POVOwen stood in front of the full-length mirror, tightening his tie with slow, deliberate movements. His reflection stared back.He brushed a few wrinkles from his collar, muttering under his breath, ticking off the list of meetings and cover-ups waiting for him at the office. After some time of thinking about the office and where he had to be, the same old thoughts crept back, uninvited and heavy.The same old sense of discomfort he had tried to bury for days now…his tangled feelings for Claire.Came yet again.However, his thought pattern was a little different this time.For reasons he couldn't explain, the scene from that fateful night replayed in his head.He had gone to meet her, intent on laying everything out his feelings, urge to speak his mind only to find her in the VIP section, lips locked with another man. Owen had frozen, his eyes startled and alarmed.But thinking about it now, what had haunted him more than the betrayal was actually her reaction. Claire ha
ISABELLA’S POVI was sitting on my couch that afternoon, my TV tuned on some spaces away. The live broadcast had been on for nearly an hour, but my focus hadn’t wavered. There on the screen was Michael, seated among the press, his expression calm but resolute, just as we had rehearsed together the night before. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, and his eyes were sharp. Michael sat in the center of the long table, surrounded by journalists whose pens moved rapidly across their notepads, eager to catch every word.His posture was upright, shoulders squared, but I could of course feel the tension he bore.I leaned forward on the couch as Michael began speaking, his voice strong and unwavering despite the gravity of what he was about to expose."After months of working with Robert Carlisle, I’ve uncovered disturbing truths." Michael began, his voice steady but his eyes darkening with emotion."I discovered that he’s been altering the properties of our product to make it more addict
MICHAEL’S POVMy grandparent’s large living room felt like a theater of looming judgment this afternoon.Every seat was occupied, and none of us was sitting with ease. It was like we all had fire under our buttocks.At the head of the room, Grandpa Howard sat, his large frame rigid in his high-backed chair, his normal face was a mask of barely contained rage, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. He gripped the armrests, staring at Elsa, who, as usual, was sitting in the far corner of the room; this time, she was avoiding his gaze like it would burn her alive.Her posture was stiff, hands clenched tightly in her lap, her eyes moving about in every direction but Grandpa’s.I found myself also mirroring Grandpa’s expression, the same fire in my own eyes.I could feel my parents sitting on either side of me, their faces drawn tight with disgust, eyes locked on Elsa.My mother’s lips were twisted, and my father’s fingers twitched as though ready to lash out at any moment. The only person who wasn
ISABELLA'S POVThree weeks had passed, and it felt like a lifetime since everything had come together so perfectly. I was standing at the entrance of the outdoor venue of Augustine's parish, it was the same church my maternal grandfather currently attended.The garden was so, so breathtaking.The large hall adjacent to the garden was filled up with family, friends and well wishers.The groom boy, Michael, my grandparents, cheerful as always, was sitting proudly among executives from his family's company. His own family mingled with the guests, their smiles radiating pride. My parents, always a picture of grace, were seated in the front row. My dad, Elliot Harrington, was wearing a navy blue suit that complimented his tall frame, while my mother looked radiant in an elegant gown. Owen and Nathan, my loving brothers, sat beside them. Owen, always the typical charmer that he was, wore a fitted burgundy suit.While Nathan opted for a classic black tuxedo, looking more reserved than
ISABELLA'S POVA year had passed since our wedding ceremony, and as expected, so much had changed. And this change began from where we had chosen to start a family.A towering off white mansion.It was everything we had dreamed of as a couple: It really made the experience feel like what it was called—exactly settling down.Think about the spaciousness; think about meaningful layout. It was just perfect.However, our new home was one out of many of the positive developments. My career as the “Phantom Medic” had soared in ways I hadn’t thought possible. Over the past year, I could no longer count the number of lives, performing surgeries that others deemed initially impossible had saved.My renown had grown by twice, not just as a surgeon but as an advocate. Remember the foundation I had fought so hard to establish? It had also grown to become a beacon for research into rare diseases, and that had been a deeply personal mission born out of my own health struggles... my near-death
ISABELLA'S POVA year had passed since our wedding ceremony, and as expected, so much had changed. And this change began from where we had chosen to start a family.A towering off white mansion.It was everything we had dreamed of as a couple: It really made the experience feel like what it was called—exactly settling down.Think about the spaciousness; think about meaningful layout. It was just perfect.However, our new home was one out of many of the positive developments. My career as the “Phantom Medic” had soared in ways I hadn’t thought possible. Over the past year, I could no longer count the number of lives, performing surgeries that others deemed initially impossible had saved.My renown had grown by twice, not just as a surgeon but as an advocate. Remember the foundation I had fought so hard to establish? It had also grown to become a beacon for research into rare diseases, and that had been a deeply personal mission born out of my own health struggles... my near-death
ISABELLA'S POVThree weeks had passed, and it felt like a lifetime since everything had come together so perfectly. I was standing at the entrance of the outdoor venue of Augustine's parish, it was the same church my maternal grandfather currently attended.The garden was so, so breathtaking.The large hall adjacent to the garden was filled up with family, friends and well wishers.The groom boy, Michael, my grandparents, cheerful as always, was sitting proudly among executives from his family's company. His own family mingled with the guests, their smiles radiating pride. My parents, always a picture of grace, were seated in the front row. My dad, Elliot Harrington, was wearing a navy blue suit that complimented his tall frame, while my mother looked radiant in an elegant gown. Owen and Nathan, my loving brothers, sat beside them. Owen, always the typical charmer that he was, wore a fitted burgundy suit.While Nathan opted for a classic black tuxedo, looking more reserved than
MICHAEL’S POVMy grandparent’s large living room felt like a theater of looming judgment this afternoon.Every seat was occupied, and none of us was sitting with ease. It was like we all had fire under our buttocks.At the head of the room, Grandpa Howard sat, his large frame rigid in his high-backed chair, his normal face was a mask of barely contained rage, lips pursed, eyes narrowed. He gripped the armrests, staring at Elsa, who, as usual, was sitting in the far corner of the room; this time, she was avoiding his gaze like it would burn her alive.Her posture was stiff, hands clenched tightly in her lap, her eyes moving about in every direction but Grandpa’s.I found myself also mirroring Grandpa’s expression, the same fire in my own eyes.I could feel my parents sitting on either side of me, their faces drawn tight with disgust, eyes locked on Elsa.My mother’s lips were twisted, and my father’s fingers twitched as though ready to lash out at any moment. The only person who wasn
ISABELLA’S POVI was sitting on my couch that afternoon, my TV tuned on some spaces away. The live broadcast had been on for nearly an hour, but my focus hadn’t wavered. There on the screen was Michael, seated among the press, his expression calm but resolute, just as we had rehearsed together the night before. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, and his eyes were sharp. Michael sat in the center of the long table, surrounded by journalists whose pens moved rapidly across their notepads, eager to catch every word.His posture was upright, shoulders squared, but I could of course feel the tension he bore.I leaned forward on the couch as Michael began speaking, his voice strong and unwavering despite the gravity of what he was about to expose."After months of working with Robert Carlisle, I’ve uncovered disturbing truths." Michael began, his voice steady but his eyes darkening with emotion."I discovered that he’s been altering the properties of our product to make it more addict
GENERAL POVOwen stood in front of the full-length mirror, tightening his tie with slow, deliberate movements. His reflection stared back.He brushed a few wrinkles from his collar, muttering under his breath, ticking off the list of meetings and cover-ups waiting for him at the office. After some time of thinking about the office and where he had to be, the same old thoughts crept back, uninvited and heavy.The same old sense of discomfort he had tried to bury for days now…his tangled feelings for Claire.Came yet again.However, his thought pattern was a little different this time.For reasons he couldn't explain, the scene from that fateful night replayed in his head.He had gone to meet her, intent on laying everything out his feelings, urge to speak his mind only to find her in the VIP section, lips locked with another man. Owen had frozen, his eyes startled and alarmed.But thinking about it now, what had haunted him more than the betrayal was actually her reaction. Claire ha
ISABELLA'S POVI sat at the edge of my couch, my mind a storm of thoughts.It's been three days. Three days since I’d stormed out of Scarlett’s place, a trip of reconciliation that had quickly developed into something else I didn't bargain for.Now, it was followed by her trying to reach out to me, forwarding. desperate and pleading in the text messages...I had ignored them all, as if refusing to acknowledge them would make the gnawing suspicion less real.My gaze drifted out of the window. Inside me, there was only a deepening gloom. The things I had seen that day, the contracts with Xander, strange inconsistencies in Scarlett’s defense—it had all begun to fester like an open wound.No, something isn’t right. The words escaped my lips in a low murmur, barely audible.I needed answers. And I needed them now. I picked up my phone, quickly dialing Claire’s number and agitation in my veins.“Good morning, Dr. Isabella,” Claire’s voice greeted me, bright and efficient as always.“Morn
MICHAEL’S POV The moment I stepped into the club,music hit me, vibrating floors dim lights, charged atmosphere…name it. I paused just inside the entrance, scanning the room casually, my eyes adjusting to the low lighting as I searched for Owen. We had agreed to meet here. The club was one of those exclusive spots, packed with people who knew they were being watched but pretended otherwise. As I looked around, I saw a few groups clustered in private booths, laughter merged with the hum of conversation, while some others wriggled their tiny waists on the dance floor. Taking a breath, I made my way in, walking slowly and moving through the crowd, my hands brushing past people’s shoulders. Owen would be waiting in the VIP section, and I needed not to rush to get there. However, the urgency of what brought me drove me. The VIP area was cordoned off by a velvet rope, guarded by a bouncer who gave me a curt nod of recognition before unhooking the rope. I slipped past without a
ISABELLA'S POVNathan had shared with me how Scarlett had been visiting him of late, lingering too long at his door, just enough to stir old wounds. And even reaching out to the estate security personnel whenever he wasn't around. At least it showed a level of desperation on her part. And that was why I was on my way there today.Despite the hurt, part of me hoped we could still talk this out. Even though restoring her back into his life wouldn't be all that possible.But we could still arrive at something that works. Just like James and I had done.After all, we had been friends for years. All I wanted was a hint of remorse from her, an acknowledgment of the line she had crossed.As I parked in front of the gallery, the emptiness of the space mirrored the hollow feeling in my chest. The lights were off, the windows dark, and not a soul in sight. I stood for a moment, staring at the locked door, a quiet sigh escaping my lips. So, she wasn’t here. And perhaps indoors or something
GENERAL POVOwen pushed the door to his apartment and entered.He shut the door softly behind him, pausing for a second, as though leaving the world outside was not quite enough.He moved with slow, deliberate steps, crossing the room with a weariness that had become second nature to him over the past few days.His face was hard to read; his brows were slightly drawn, lost in thought.When Owen reached his bedroom, he stopped at the center of the room, standing there as though uncertain of what to do next.His eyes were scanning the space, landing on nothing in particular, and for a long moment, he didn’t move.The room felt too big, too empty. It swallowed him whole.With a heavy sigh, his hand reached up to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one, slowly. The fabric fell away from his body, and he carelessly tossed it onto the bed. He stood shirtless and then made to sit down on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely as his head hung low.For day