Gina's POV The morning sun spilled through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the soft sheets. I stirred, my body still tingling from last night’s passion, my heart swelling with a sense of fulfillment I never thought possible. Alex was still asleep, one arm draped possessively over my waist, his bare chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.I turned slightly to look at him. Even in sleep, he looked so peaceful—so *mine*. A small smile curved on my lips, and I carefully eased out of bed, not wanting to wake him. The cool air kissed my skin as I wrapped a silk robe around myself and padded across the room.The house was quiet, still wrapped in the serenity of morning. I made my way to the kitchen to fix a cup of tea. As I sipped it slowly, I couldn’t help but glance out the window. The estate was even more beautiful in the morning light. Birds flitted across the treetops, and the ocean glimmered in the distance, like a sheet of liquid glass.After finishing my tea,
Gina's POV I sat on the balcony, the salty sea breeze tangling in my hair as I cradled my grandfather’s worn leather journal in my lap. The distant sound of waves kissing the shore served as a gentle rhythm, but my heart was anything but calm. I had found the journal that morning, tucked away in a hidden drawer of an old writing desk in the study—almost like it had been waiting for me all these years.My fingers traced the soft, cracked edges of the cover before I opened it again. The pages were yellowed, stained in places, and the ink had faded in some spots, but the voice of my grandfather leapt off the page with startling clarity.At first, the entries were mundane—daily musings, observations about the estate, even notes on weather. But a few pages in, the tone shifted. His writing became more introspective, poetic almost. And then, her name appeared for the first time.Evelyn.I whispered it aloud like it was a spell, one that summoned curiosity, confusion, and a tinge of heartbr
Gina's POV My fingers trembled slightly as I opened another old journal. It felt almost sacred, like I was stepping into a part of him that no one had touched in decades. The first few entries were ordinary—accounts of weather, estate affairs, his travel notes—but soon, things took a mysterious turn._"May 14th, 1892. Evelyn came to visit today. She looked tired… no, haunted. I offered her tea, but she refused. I asked about the child. She wouldn’t speak of it. Her silence is beginning to scare me."_Flipping through more pages, I found her name again and again. Evelyn. The entries were always emotionally charged—sometimes sorrowful, sometimes angry, often confused. He never wrote her full name, only cryptic initials or a small sketch of a flower beside her name. A violet._"June 3rd, 1893. Evelyn is leaving for good. Says she can’t live under this roof with secrets buried deeper than the soil. I begged her to stay. Told her the child had a right to know. But she turned away."_Child
Gina’s POV (Next Morning)The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains of the estate bedroom, casting a golden glow across the polished floors and soft linens. I stretched lazily, the memory of last night’s peace still wrapped around me like a warm blanket. It had been a week of romance, serenity, and the kind of joy I’d once thought was only reserved for fairy tales.But fairytales, I’ve learned, always come with a twist.I was in the sunroom, curled up on a plush ivory armchair, reading one of Grandpa Victor’s old leather-bound novels. The soft sound of waves in the distance lulled me, the scent of salt air and blooming gardenias wafting through the open French doors. I was just beginning to relax when Lana’s voice rang through the hallway.“Ma’am, there’s a letter addressed to you. It’s marked urgent”I frowned. “Urgent?” I echoed, rising to meet her at the hallway.Lana handed me a thick envelope, her face unreadable. It bore an expensive-looking seal—black wax with an int
Gina's POV The morning began like any other.Alex had just returned from a phone call with our lawyer, his expression tired but optimistic. The challenge from Victor Wells, the man claiming to be Evelyn’s son, was still looming over us like a thundercloud—but we had a plan. We were fighting back. That alone gave me some comfort.I stood in the bathroom, brushing my hair in slow, gentle strokes. The scent of lavender soap still lingered on my skin from my bath, and sunlight filtered through the windows, dappling the marble floors with gold. I should have felt calm, at peace even. But there was a pressure behind my ribs I couldn’t explain—something tight and uneasy that had been brewing since I woke up.Maybe it was the mental stress.Maybe it was something else.I placed a hand on my belly and whispered softly, “We’re going to be okay, little one. Mommy’s just overthinking again.”But the reassurance felt hollow in my throat.Later that morning, I joined Alex for breakfast in the din
Gina's POV The days since my hospital release had blurred into one long stretch of quiet hours and whispered worry. I spent most of my time propped up on the chaise lounge in the recovery room, listening to the waves outside the window and the rustle of Lana’s footsteps in the hallway. Alex had arranged everything perfectly for my bed rest—pillows fluffed, herbal tea on demand, soft music always humming in the background. But it wasn’t enough to distract me from the storm churning inside my mind.Victor Wells hadn’t backed down. The estate was still under scrutiny, and rumors were beginning to circulate in the press. My name was being dragged into headlines—“Heiress Under Fire,” “Family Fortune in Dispute,” “Will Forgery Suspected.” And though Alex insisted he was handling everything, I couldn’t ignore the fear that I might lose everything—especially now that everything included the life growing inside me.That afternoon, just as the sun dipped past the window and painted the room
Gina's POV (The next morning)Being confined to bed was a special kind of torment.The world outside continued to spin—cases built, secrets unraveled, decisions made—all while I remained still, cocooned in layers of soft linen and frustration. Every morning, the same ceiling greeted me. Every afternoon, the same view of the garden through the wide windows teased my aching desire to move. My body had become a vessel of caution, every movement scrutinized, every ache whispered about.Alex, bless his heart, tried to make everything feel normal. But I saw it in his eyes—the worry, the constant checking, the way his hand lingered just a second longer on my stomach each time he touched it. He was scared. I was too.So when he hired a nurse, I didn’t argue. Not really.Nurse Penelope was kind. Soft-voiced, gentle, but no-nonsense. She had a habit of humming lullabies while checking my vitals, as if the baby could hear her already. She brought calm into the room, and even though I hated bei
Gina's POV “He claims to be Martin’s son,” Evelyn said. “My grandson. Your cousin, Gina.”The room tilted slightly.“Claims? You're not sure?” Alex asked, cutting in.“That’s why he’s claiming the estate,” I said slowly. “Because he believes it’s rightfully his.”“Yes. But he doesn’t know the full truth. He doesn’t know what Wilson planned. And he certainly doesn’t know that I kept every letter. Every piece of proof.”“And yes, I'm not sure”, Evelyn continued, throwing us into further confusion.My son, Martin, never told me about his son. I know he had a child some years back but I never met him. Surprisingly, this Victor Wells, has the resemblance of Martin. I suggest you carry out a DNA test to be sure if he's from our lineage. That will give you all the answers that you need, because if he isn't, a court case wouldn't be necessary.’She slid a box across the table toward me. “It’s all here. Letters, photographs, even legal documents Wilson sent me but never filed. They’ll be enou
Five years later, the estate is no longer just a retreat. It’s a sanctuary—a living, breathing testament to the resilience of love, family, and legacy. As I stand by the grand oak tree in the heart of Seraphina’s Garden, I can hear the laughter of children echoing through the estate. My daughter is among them, her golden curls bouncing with every step as she runs around with her friends, her infectious giggle carrying on the breeze.Seraphina. The little girl who was born during a storm and who now, in the light of day, flourishes as a beacon of joy and hope. She’s everything I ever dreamed of and more. Every day, she reminds me of the strength I had when I thought I had none. And every day, she teaches me that the future is always worth fighting for.I watch as Alex kneels on the grass, helping her with the butterfly she’s carefully cupping in her hands, showing her how to let it go, how to trust the world outside. His love for her is something more than I ever imagined. A father’s l
Gina's POV There’s something sacred about peace—not just the absence of chaos, but the quiet fullness of a life hard-earned. I used to wonder if I would ever know such a feeling. Now, sitting in the sun-drenched solarium with my daughter giggling in my lap and Alex stretched beside us on the chaise, I know I’ve found it.I’ve found home.And it didn’t come wrapped in the perfect package or with a roadmap. It came in storms and secrets, in compromise and conflict, in tear-streaked nights and breathtaking mornings. It came in the arms of a man I never expected to love. And in the eyes of a child who showed me how to live without fear again.That’s why I decided to write it all down.My story.Our story.At first, it started as therapy. I needed a way to untangle the knots left behind by everything that had happened—the contract marriage, Victor’s threats, the courtroom battles, Evelyn’s truth, and the secrets buried deep within the Saxton legacy. But the more I wrote, the more I realiz
Gina's POV We named her Seraphina.The moment I held her in my arms, I knew there was no other name that could ever fit. She was born from fire and softness, from struggle and grace. And as she blinked up at me with those curious hazel eyes, so much like mine yet startlingly like Alex’s, I felt my heart permanently tether to hers.“Seraphina,” I whispered against her soft cheek, brushing a kiss there. “You’re going to change everything.”****Weeks passed in a blur of midnight feedings, lullabies hummed through tired lips, and soft coos that echoed down the estate’s halls. Alex and I were exhausted, but blissfully so. Our world had narrowed to a singular, perfect focus—her.The estate, once a symbol of looming uncertainty and painful inheritance, had become our sanctuary. But I didn’t want it to be just ours. My grandfather’s name had been dragged through courtrooms and sullied by lies. I wanted something different—a legacy rooted in healing, not conflict.That’s how the idea for the
Gina's POV The nursery smelled like fresh paint and baby powder, soft sunlight streaming through the white lace curtains that fluttered slightly in the breeze. I sat on the rocking chair near the window, my hand resting over my growing belly, which had become more prominent with each passing week. I was just seven months along, and though I felt constantly tired and achy, I also felt an overwhelming sense of love swelling inside me—more than I thought was humanly possible.Alex had just left for a quick meeting with our lawyer to finalize some estate documents. Evelyn was downstairs preparing her herbal tea mix that she claimed would "bring me peace of mind and smooth sleep," and Lana was folding tiny baby clothes in the corner of the room. It was a quiet morning. Too quiet.I shifted in my seat, rubbing my belly as a sharp ache shot up my spine. I winced but brushed it off. Pregnancy was full of strange sensations—this had to be just one of them. But a few minutes later, the ache r
Gina's POV The courtroom was colder than I remembered, its marble walls echoing the low murmurs of conversation, the clicking of heels, the scratching of pens. I wasn’t physically there—I was still confined to my bed—but through the live stream set up on my bedside table, I watched everything unfold.Alex sat at the front beside our lawyer, composed and confident in his tailored navy suit. Beside him, Evelyn, dignified in a modest beige dress, clutched a worn leather folder tightly in her lap. Her hands trembled slightly, but her eyes held the strength of someone ready to face the ghosts of her past.I pulled the blanket tighter around me, my heart pounding. This was it.“Court is now in session,” the bailiff announced.I gripped the edge of my blanket. This wasn’t just about reclaiming the estate anymore. It was about reclaiming the truth—our family’s truth. It was about protecting our baby’s future from a man who had threatened everything we held dear.Victor sat across the room, a
Gina's POV The room was silent except for the steady ticking of the antique grandfather clock that stood tall near the window. I lay in bed, propped up with an array of soft pillows, my hands gently resting on my growing belly. The sun had barely risen, but I hadn’t slept. My mind buzzed with anxiety, thoughts turning in endless circles.Alex had been pacing the hallway since dawn, talking to lawyers and strategists, his voice hushed but urgent. I could feel the weight of our reality pressing down harder with each passing day. The threat Victor posed wasn’t just legal anymore—it was dangerous, personal. And with each letter from Evelyn, each scrap of evidence we uncovered, the stakes only grew.I had never imagined a world where my family’s legacy could turn into a battlefield, or where protecting my unborn child would mean playing dangerous games of deception and strategy.When Alex finally stepped into the bedroom, his face was pale but determined. His suit was pressed, his tie per
Gina’s POV The morning sunlight filtered gently through the gauzy curtains, wrapping the living room in a soft golden glow. The sound of waves crashing against the distant shoreline was like a lullaby to my anxious heart, and for the first time in days, I allowed myself to relax. I stretched slightly on the couch, my swollen belly cradled by pillows, and let my eyes drift lazily across the pages of the book I was reading.Lana sat just behind me, carefully running a wide-tooth comb through my tangled hair. She was gentle—always had been. Her hands worked through the knots in slow, practiced strokes, humming quietly as she did so. It reminded me of childhood days, when my mother would brush my hair and talk softly about her dreams and regrets. It brought a strange sense of comfort, even amidst the chaos of recent events.“Lana,” I murmured, closing my book and glancing over my shoulder, “would you mind getting me a glass of water?”“Of course,” she replied warmly, setting the comb dow
Alex's POV The courthouse smelled of polished wood, nerves, and freshly brewed coffee. A place where truth was supposed to hold weight—but truth, I’ve learned, is fragile in the face of men like Victor Wells.The judge’s voice echoed in the courtroom as the proceedings began, stern and unwavering. I sat at the front bench beside our attorney, Mr. Langdon, a seasoned man with sharp eyes and a mind like steel. Beside Victor, his legal team looked smug—too smug for someone who hadn’t even seen the real documentation yet.Gina should’ve been here with me. She would’ve sat tall and poised, even in fear. But the doctor’s orders had been clear: strict bed rest. No exceptions. Not when her life and our baby’s were on the line.Just the thought of her curled up at home in bed while this circus played out made my jaw tighten. I was here not just as a husband—but as her voice, her shield, her sword.Victor looked every bit the conman he was, wrapped in a tailored gray suit and arrogance. He sat
Gina's POV “He claims to be Martin’s son,” Evelyn said. “My grandson. Your cousin, Gina.”The room tilted slightly.“Claims? You're not sure?” Alex asked, cutting in.“That’s why he’s claiming the estate,” I said slowly. “Because he believes it’s rightfully his.”“Yes. But he doesn’t know the full truth. He doesn’t know what Wilson planned. And he certainly doesn’t know that I kept every letter. Every piece of proof.”“And yes, I'm not sure”, Evelyn continued, throwing us into further confusion.My son, Martin, never told me about his son. I know he had a child some years back but I never met him. Surprisingly, this Victor Wells, has the resemblance of Martin. I suggest you carry out a DNA test to be sure if he's from our lineage. That will give you all the answers that you need, because if he isn't, a court case wouldn't be necessary.’She slid a box across the table toward me. “It’s all here. Letters, photographs, even legal documents Wilson sent me but never filed. They’ll be enou