ISABELLA'S POVThe first light of the day shone through my white transparent curtains, waking me up from sleep.I rolled lazily on my bed before rising to sit up.A yawn escaped from my mouth as I stretched my arms over my head.It was yet another Monday morning, the start of a new week, and still, the first thing I could think of was the chaotic weekend I experienced.Even in my dream last night, all the scenes kept replaying over and over again.From Michael’s unexpected confession to the wild night out with Lilian to the quiet solitude of Sunday.Everything just lumped together, leaving me with a weird sense of unease, of foreignness. It was almost as though I had watched all the activities of my body from a state of coma.I streched my hands again one last time before climbing down from the bed, my feet touching the floor of hardwood.I trudged across the room, starting up the routine of getting ready for work.Starting with a quick brush of my teeth, a refreshing shower, and the
ISABELLA'S POVI could still hear the loud breathing of my colleagues; they appeared to be louder now than normal.Judge Jonathan was slipping away from us, and we were running out of options, out of time.I dimmed my eyes, remembering the words of my favorite professor in my third year, Professor Raghav. He was Indian.He always had a way of seeing beyond the immediate problem—a way of finding the thread that connected everything. As I struggled to keep my composure, one of his popular quotes during our ward rounds hit me with a force triggering the light of insight."When you’ve eliminated everything you can see, start looking for the inviscible. Because danger is always a friend of the shadows."Those words struck me with new clarity. We were focused on what we could measure—what was right in front of us. But what if the real problem was something we hadn’t even considered? Something squatting in the background, eating up the patient in a way that wasn’t immediately obvious?“
ISABELLA'S POVI almost laughed after he made that statement but managed to hold it in, shaking my head instead as I headed towards the changing room attached to my office.I refused to look back until I closed the door behind me.For a second, I leaned against the cool tiled wall as my mind replayed the scene that unfolded back there.The image of Michael sitting there, playing my drunken love confession to me... What had I been thinking?“I can't let him get under my skin like this.” I whispered, covering my mouth with one palm. As I made it back to the office.Michael was still there when I opened the door; this time, he was comfortably sprawled on the couch.His fingers danced across the keypads of his laptop.He didn’t seem to notice me at first, and for a fleeting moment, I found myself smiling at the sight of him and how, at ease, he looked.But as soon as he flung his head up, I quickly averted my eyes and walked briskly to my desk, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing th
MICHAEL'S POVAs my car sped through busy city roads, I couldn’t help but keep replaying my last conversation with Isabella.The sound of her laughter was still echoing in my head, and the taste of her supple cheeks was still fresh on my lips.Just a few months ago, when she was still a married woman, I would never have guessed that this would happen so fast, even though I claimed to be patient.For the most part, since I’ve known her, she has always been out of my reach; I had been condemned to only seeing her in my dreams and daylight fantasies.Now, Isabella and I were something a little bit more than friends; I made lunch for her, and technically, we had kissed—I mean, a kiss on the cheek was still a win. I let out an excited laugh for no reason.I felt light, almost giddy.Even the controlled revving of the other cars in front and beside me seemed to dance to the rhythm of my joy.Is this really happening? I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror, noticing the
MICHAEL'S POV The puzzled silence after those words shot out of Grandpa’s mouth remained; deep lines cut across my forehead. I was trying to make sense of the whole sudden discovery. How could they possibly know about Isabella? Not a word about her or her family had slipped from my mouth when I last argued with them. My eyes darted around the room, searching for answers in the faces of the others in the room, particularly that of my parents, who were also peering back at me with the same measure of curiosity as a bunch of strangers. Grandfather stood directly in front of me, his gaze sharp and unflinching. Dad leaned forward slightly, a deep frown creasing his forehead, while Mom’s eyes narrowed, her lips pressed into a thin line, a questioning mask. Grandmother sat still beside Grandpa, her hands tightly clasped in her lap; she was folding and unfolding it. “Why did you wait for so long, son?” Grandpa’s voice came again, but it was a bit calmer this time; there was an ed
General POVDr. Langston was sitting at the head of an imposing walnut table in the Rutherford Club’s opulent boardroom.The boardroom was an exclusive space usually meant for the VIP patrons of the club.From the very high ceilings to the elegant moldings that seemed to stretch into infinity.Langston had taken a leave from his duties at the hospital that day, claiming he was recovering from a minor ailment he described as sudden headaches. This convenient excuse allowed him to orchestrate this discreet meeting without raising suspicion.He had invited each of the guests under the pretense of an important revelation and to discuss some “urgent matters” according to the text messages he forwarded to them.As the guests settled in, one after the next, the atmosphere changed into one of calm curiosity. Some of the attendees were Harold Kensington, a seasoned investor; Marianne Sinclair, a philanthropist known for her influence in the healthcare sector;Victor Carmichael, a business m
Isabella’s POVIt was closing hours. I sighed, fiddling with my handbag as I stepped out of the hospital. The cool evening air was a welcome relief after the many stifling hours spent back there.I could still feel the weight of the day’s work on my shoulders—the straight row of surgeries, the tough decisions, the constant pressure. A few of the night staff bowed at me as I walked by, their tired smiles a mirror of my own exhaustion.At the parking lot, I reached into my bag for my car keys, but then I froze, my heart skipping a beat, when I caught sight of another car next to mine.My surprise wasn’t about the brand of the car; rather, it was the familiarity of it.Its color, to its sleekness, its license plate partially obscured by a small scratch on the bumper that I have seen countless times before.I stopped abruptly, staring speechlessly. My eyes scanned the vehicle, and just as I began to wonder if he was really here, the window rolled down slowly, and his face appeared, a p
ISABELLA'S POVI rubbed my eyes as the faint light from the morning rays shone through my window.I arose with a jerk as soon as I remembered what was happening today.It was finally the day of the fundraising event.It is the same event I have been planning for a while now.Everything had to be perfect.I yawned and pushed the covers off, sliding out of the bed with my bare feet sinking onto the cool floors.I walked over to my wardrobe, glancing at my reflection in the large mirror beside it.My hair was a mess from sleep, and my face still had that dry, rough look.Opening the wardrobe, I began sifting through my clothes.I needed something that exuded confidence and grace. I touched a tailored black dress and shook my head.“Too formal,”Next, I considered a deep red gown but decided against it; it felt too bold for the morning event. Finally, my hand fell on a soft lavender dress with delicate lace sleeves and a subtle shimmer.It was elegant and not in an odd way.It had just
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