MARIANNE When I arrived at my old apartment, I paused outside, scanning my surroundings with a cautious eye. The air felt heavy, as if it carried an unspoken warning. It was still my house though. With a deep breath, I approached the keypad, and entered the code. As the door clicked open, I stepped into silence. The house was eerily still, void of the warmth and familiarity it once held. “Sharon?” I called out, my voice echoing in the empty space. No answer. I fished out my phone and dialed her number, only to be met with a dead line. The same number that had called me earlier was suddenly unreachable. I didn't need a soothsayer to tell me that something terrible was about to happen, but not to me. Determined to figure out what was going on, I began searching the house. My steps were quick and purposeful, the creak of the wooden floors beneath me the only sound. As I ascended the stairs two at a time, a faint noise stopped me in my tracks. It was coming from the CCTV room. I
MARIANNE HOURS EARLIER My dream lingered as I woke, the soft voice of a little girl calling me "Mommy" fading into the morning haze. My chest felt tight, as though her voice had reached into the very core of my being and left an imprint I couldn’t erase. I washed my face, staring at my reflection, trying to shake the dream off. The face staring back at me seemed foreign—cold, calculated, and so far removed from the woman I used to be. I had to make a decision. I couldn’t delay anymore. Dr. Raymond was waiting for my answer, and I knew I needed to face him today. But as I dried my face with the towel, a nagging thought struck me. There was something I had ignored earlier—a file I hadn’t bothered to open. Curious, I grabbed my phone and opened it. My brows furrowed as I noticed it was an audio file from Sharon. I pressed play. The voices that came through made me lift my brows. Aislinn. Sharon. I listened intently as Aislinn spoke with venom, her words sharp and deliberat
MARIANNE The sharp crack of the gunshot shattered the tense silence, the bullet tearing through the glass bottle and embedding itself in the wall behind it. Aislinn's blood-curdling screams filled the room, echoing like a symphony of anguish as chaos erupted. The four bodyguards who had flanked her bolted in a panicked frenzy, their loyalty dissolving in the face of danger. Aislinn collapsed to her knees, her trembling hands clawing at her face, now marred by the searing acid. Angry red burns crept across her skin, and her scorched clothes hung in tatters, exposing her charred arms. Her guttural cries reverberated around us. Suddenly, the muffled sound of a scuffle filtered in from outside. My grip tightened on the gun as I instinctively aimed it at the door, my pulse thrumming like a war drum. The commotion ebbed, replaced by an eerie stillness that stretched taut. Sharon stepped closer, the glint of her knife catching the dim light. Her knuckles whitened around the hilt as
MARIANNE Troy opened the door and helped me out, his grip still firm on my hand. Sharon stepped out as well, her eyes briefly meeting mine. “I need to speak with her,” Sharon said, addressing Troy as she handed him his keys. He sighed in irritation. “No, you can’t.” “Please. It’s important,” she insisted, her voice steady but firm. I pulled my hand away from Troy’s grip, my expression stern. “I’m not a child,” I said firmly. "I can decide for myself." Troy folded his arms, his sharp gaze fixed on me as though he was trying to unravel my thoughts. He didn’t argue, just stood there, waiting. Sharon stepped forward, her face pale but determined, and motioned for me to follow her. “What do you want to say?” I asked, folding my arms, after we'd moved away from Troy. Sharon hesitated, biting her lip before speaking. “The video you saw earlier at your house… I’m the one who left it in the CCTV room for you to watch. I didn’t know how else to tell you… that I tried to seduce
TROY The days without Marianne felt like an eternity, harder than I ever imagined. Every moment away from her was a sharp reminder of the emptiness she left behind. Despite my anger at her, I was desperate—desperate to have her back in my life, in my arms. It was as though my heart couldn’t beat properly without her. I realized, perhaps too late, how deeply I loved her. That desperate love made me agree to something I would have never considered before—working with Sharon. “What exactly is your plan?” I asked, trying to sound calm, though my chest felt tight. Sharon had promised to reunite me with Marianne, and though I didn’t trust her, I was willing to take the risk. The old me would never have given Sharon the time of day. After all, she’d tried to throw herself at me in the past—a clear red flag. But now, even knowing I shouldn’t trust someone like her, I clung to the sliver of hope she offered. She smiled slyly and leaned closer. “Can I have your number?” I raised an
TROY I kissed Marianne on her forehead and cupped her face, my eyes drilling into hers as I asked excitedly, "Really? Are you really pregnant?" She nodded, her face crumbling as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I almost got rid of it, Troy. I almost got rid of our child. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just…" Her voice broke, and she couldn’t continue. "Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay," I said softly, pulling her into my arms again. I held her tightly, feeling her trembling against me. "But you didn’t, Marianne. You didn’t go through with it, and that’s what matters now." She sniffled, her tears soaking into my shirt. "Yeah," she murmured. "Thanks to my doctor. He made me think things through. He… he saved our baby." Holding her face gently in my hands, I gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Remind me to thank him someday," I said, trying to lighten the mood. My hand moved to her belly, resting there as if I could already feel the life gro
TWENTY SIX YEARS LATER Alva Berg and her best friend, Freya Strand, stood outside the shiny supermarket, staring at the sleek building. Its glass doors opened and closed as people walked in and out, each dressed in expensive clothes and holding car keys to luxury vehicles. "Come on, let’s go in," Alva said with excitement, tugging on Freya’s hand. Freya shook her head quickly. "No, Alva. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Look at the kind of people going in there. They all have fancy cars, expensive clothes... I don’t want to embarrass myself." Alva rolled her eyes and gave her a playful nudge. "Freya, that’s exactly why we should go in. Let’s not let them intimidate us. Come on, trust me." Freya hesitated. "What are you even hoping to gain from this?" she asked, crossing her arms. Alva grinned mischievously. "You’ll find out when we’re inside." With some reluctance, Freya let herself be dragged along. As they stepped inside, the cold air conditioning hit them, and the scent of
“Why did you give that young girl your card?” Henrik, Jonas' friend asked Jonas as he wheeled a trolley filled with expensive items toward him. “I was watching you from the other side, you know. It’s not like you to act like this.” Jonas smiled faintly, his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know, Henrik. Something about her stirred something in me. When she bumped into me, the way she looked at me—it was kind of cute. She seemed so innocent, almost childlike in her awe. She must be around twenty, maybe younger. And honestly, I could tell she was crushing on me. I couldn’t help it. You know me; I like to help.” Henrik raised an eyebrow. “You? Like to help? That’s a laugh. You never go out of your way to help anyone, and suddenly you see a pretty girl, and you’re in charity mode? Come on, Jonas. Have you already forgotten about my sister? Emilie is your fiancée, for crying out loud.” Jonas’s smile vanished. His tone turned sharp. “Oh. Then where is she? Hmm? Where has she been for the
After drinking from the glass Diego gave her, Alva felt her stomach twist, but she tried to ignore it. She turned to leave, eager to get away from him. But Diego’s voice stopped her. "Hold on. Aren’t you going to stay and listen to me make the call? Sit down and wait. I promised I’d call your mom." Alva shook her head. "It’s okay. I trust you’ll do it." Diego’s eyes darkened. "If you walk out of that door, I’ll change my mind." Her heart sank. She had no choice. With a reluctant nod, she returned to the chair, her hands gripping the edge of the table. Diego, meanwhile, took his sweet time operating his phone, smirking every now and then as if enjoying her discomfort. "Um, anytime now," Alva muttered impatiently. "I need to get back to my Granny at the hospital." Diego pretended to act surprised. "Oh, right, my bad. Let me call your mom now." He dialed the number and put the phone on speaker, glancing at Alva as her head dipped slightly. She blinked hard, feeling dizzier
"Alright, fine! Just leave her here for now. The day isn’t over yet. I’ll get the money before the day ends, I promise!" Alva pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. The nurse shook her head firmly. "I’m sorry, but we can’t keep her here. We have to move her to the public ward. The bill from last night hasn’t been paid, and today’s charges were due this morning. Once you pay everything and show us the receipt, we’ll bring her back to the private ward." Alva’s heart sank. "How much could it possibly be? Isn’t it just a few dollars?" The nurse gave a bitter laugh. "A few dollars? No, your grandmother owes almost a hundred thousand dollars." Alva froze, her voice rising in disbelief. "That’s impossible! That’s a lie!" The nurse’s expression remained calm, almost pitying. "You can check with the accounts department if you don’t believe me." "But how did the bill get so high? How can it cost that much?" The nurse sighed. "Her surgery was never paid for. Your mom, or wh
EARLIER IN THE DAY After saying goodbye to her friend Freya, Alva returned home. As she walked through the door, she immediately noticed her mom waiting in the living room. Her brother, Spear, was nowhere in sight, but there was someone else sitting on the worn-out couch—a man whose presence made her stomach churn. Alva froze for a moment. She recognized him. His name was Diego, a notorious figure in the city. He was involved in shady businesses and also managed several bars. Just seeing him in her house sent a wave of unease through her. “Mom, what’s going on?” Alva asked cautiously, walking to her mother’s side. Her mom smiled, her expression unsettlingly warm. “Sit down, my dear.” Alva hesitated. That smile wasn’t normal—it was too forced, too sweet. She knew her mom didn’t really like her. Ever since Alva could remember, she had been treated like an outsider. Being adopted only made things worse. The only people who had ever truly loved her were her father and grandmothe
“Why did you give that young girl your card?” Henrik, Jonas' friend asked Jonas as he wheeled a trolley filled with expensive items toward him. “I was watching you from the other side, you know. It’s not like you to act like this.” Jonas smiled faintly, his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know, Henrik. Something about her stirred something in me. When she bumped into me, the way she looked at me—it was kind of cute. She seemed so innocent, almost childlike in her awe. She must be around twenty, maybe younger. And honestly, I could tell she was crushing on me. I couldn’t help it. You know me; I like to help.” Henrik raised an eyebrow. “You? Like to help? That’s a laugh. You never go out of your way to help anyone, and suddenly you see a pretty girl, and you’re in charity mode? Come on, Jonas. Have you already forgotten about my sister? Emilie is your fiancée, for crying out loud.” Jonas’s smile vanished. His tone turned sharp. “Oh. Then where is she? Hmm? Where has she been for the
TWENTY SIX YEARS LATER Alva Berg and her best friend, Freya Strand, stood outside the shiny supermarket, staring at the sleek building. Its glass doors opened and closed as people walked in and out, each dressed in expensive clothes and holding car keys to luxury vehicles. "Come on, let’s go in," Alva said with excitement, tugging on Freya’s hand. Freya shook her head quickly. "No, Alva. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Look at the kind of people going in there. They all have fancy cars, expensive clothes... I don’t want to embarrass myself." Alva rolled her eyes and gave her a playful nudge. "Freya, that’s exactly why we should go in. Let’s not let them intimidate us. Come on, trust me." Freya hesitated. "What are you even hoping to gain from this?" she asked, crossing her arms. Alva grinned mischievously. "You’ll find out when we’re inside." With some reluctance, Freya let herself be dragged along. As they stepped inside, the cold air conditioning hit them, and the scent of
TROY I kissed Marianne on her forehead and cupped her face, my eyes drilling into hers as I asked excitedly, "Really? Are you really pregnant?" She nodded, her face crumbling as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Yes," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I almost got rid of it, Troy. I almost got rid of our child. I wasn’t thinking straight. I just…" Her voice broke, and she couldn’t continue. "Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay," I said softly, pulling her into my arms again. I held her tightly, feeling her trembling against me. "But you didn’t, Marianne. You didn’t go through with it, and that’s what matters now." She sniffled, her tears soaking into my shirt. "Yeah," she murmured. "Thanks to my doctor. He made me think things through. He… he saved our baby." Holding her face gently in my hands, I gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Remind me to thank him someday," I said, trying to lighten the mood. My hand moved to her belly, resting there as if I could already feel the life gro
TROY The days without Marianne felt like an eternity, harder than I ever imagined. Every moment away from her was a sharp reminder of the emptiness she left behind. Despite my anger at her, I was desperate—desperate to have her back in my life, in my arms. It was as though my heart couldn’t beat properly without her. I realized, perhaps too late, how deeply I loved her. That desperate love made me agree to something I would have never considered before—working with Sharon. “What exactly is your plan?” I asked, trying to sound calm, though my chest felt tight. Sharon had promised to reunite me with Marianne, and though I didn’t trust her, I was willing to take the risk. The old me would never have given Sharon the time of day. After all, she’d tried to throw herself at me in the past—a clear red flag. But now, even knowing I shouldn’t trust someone like her, I clung to the sliver of hope she offered. She smiled slyly and leaned closer. “Can I have your number?” I raised an
MARIANNE Troy opened the door and helped me out, his grip still firm on my hand. Sharon stepped out as well, her eyes briefly meeting mine. “I need to speak with her,” Sharon said, addressing Troy as she handed him his keys. He sighed in irritation. “No, you can’t.” “Please. It’s important,” she insisted, her voice steady but firm. I pulled my hand away from Troy’s grip, my expression stern. “I’m not a child,” I said firmly. "I can decide for myself." Troy folded his arms, his sharp gaze fixed on me as though he was trying to unravel my thoughts. He didn’t argue, just stood there, waiting. Sharon stepped forward, her face pale but determined, and motioned for me to follow her. “What do you want to say?” I asked, folding my arms, after we'd moved away from Troy. Sharon hesitated, biting her lip before speaking. “The video you saw earlier at your house… I’m the one who left it in the CCTV room for you to watch. I didn’t know how else to tell you… that I tried to seduce
MARIANNE The sharp crack of the gunshot shattered the tense silence, the bullet tearing through the glass bottle and embedding itself in the wall behind it. Aislinn's blood-curdling screams filled the room, echoing like a symphony of anguish as chaos erupted. The four bodyguards who had flanked her bolted in a panicked frenzy, their loyalty dissolving in the face of danger. Aislinn collapsed to her knees, her trembling hands clawing at her face, now marred by the searing acid. Angry red burns crept across her skin, and her scorched clothes hung in tatters, exposing her charred arms. Her guttural cries reverberated around us. Suddenly, the muffled sound of a scuffle filtered in from outside. My grip tightened on the gun as I instinctively aimed it at the door, my pulse thrumming like a war drum. The commotion ebbed, replaced by an eerie stillness that stretched taut. Sharon stepped closer, the glint of her knife catching the dim light. Her knuckles whitened around the hilt as