Gina's POVHer fingers moved across the keyboard, and I watched as the screen lit up with a series of files and records. The process felt agonizingly slow, each click dragging out my impatience. "Hurry," I muttered under my breath, my irritation bubbling to the surface. I glanced at my wristwatch and saw that it was less than thirty minutes to 3pm. Lily and Monica would soon be here. I'm sure they're probably on the way by now.Dr. Lane shot me a brief look but said nothing, continuing her search. Finally, she found what she was looking for and pulled up Lily’s file. "Here it is," she said, pointing to the screen. "Lily Brookes. She came in a few days ago after experiencing a miscarriage." I leaned in, my eyes scanning the details displayed on the monitor. My heart skipped a beat as I reached the section about the cause. "We determined that her miscarriage was caused by poisoning," Dr. Lane continued, her voice clinical. "We found trace amounts of a toxic substance in her bl
Gina's POVFor a split second, panic gripped me. My breath caught in my throat, and the edges of my vision blurred. But years of careful planning had taught me how to act under pressure. But then, there was Elena standing behind them, carrying their bags. I knew she wouldn't recognize me anyway. I could imagine the sense of relief she would feel when she learns of what I did.I turned sharply on my heel, bending my head low as though something on my phone had suddenly demanded my full attention. Don’t look up. Don’t falter. The phone in my hand was merely a prop, a shield against recognition. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, each beat echoing like thunder in my ears. I moved with calculated speed, my pace brisk but not suspiciously hurried. As they drew closer, I could feel the weight of Monica’s gaze lingering, her sharp instincts trying to pierce through my disguise. Lily seemed distracted, her footsteps heavy with fatigue, but Monica was different. She always had a way
Elena's POVThe hospital air felt thick with sterilized coldness as I walked beside Monica and Lily toward the elevator. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting sharp, unflattering shadows across Lily’s pale face. She was still weak, her steps unsteady despite Monica’s firm grip on her arm. I kept my face neutral, my expression carefully shaped into one of concern. It wasn’t hard to fake. After all, I had played my role well so far. As we stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet whoosh, my phone vibrated in my pocket. My heart gave a tiny jolt, a mixture of anticipation and nerves. I already knew who it would be. Keeping my movements casual, I pulled the phone out and flicked my eyes down to the screen. **Gina.** I unlocked the message quickly, glancing at Monica and Lily from the corner of my eye to make sure neither of them were paying attention. *Everything has been taken care of.* That was all the text said. But it was enough.
Lily's POVThe car ride home was suffocating. Mom sat in the driver’s seat, her lips pressed into a firm line, fingers gripping the wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. I could feel the tension radiating off her like heat from an open flame. Every once in a while, she would exhale sharply, muttering under her breath, clearly unsatisfied with the doctor’s response. I stared out of the window, my head resting against the cool glass. The city lights blurred past in streaks of yellow and red, and the soft hum of the tires against the road filled the silence between us. I was angry. No—angry wasn’t a strong enough word. I was furious. The moment we stepped into the house, I spun around to face her, my chest tight with frustration. "Why did you take me to the hospital? Have you seen why I hesitated at first? I knew it would be useless.” I snapped, my voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. Mom turned to me, her face a picture of defiance. "Because I needed a
Gina's POVBy the time Elena arrived, I was dressed in a sleek black dress, my hair cascading down in soft waves. I had applied just enough makeup to highlight my best features—sharp cheekbones, full lips, piercing eyes. When I opened the door, Elena stepped inside cautiously, as she always did. She was dressed casually—jeans and a fitted top, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail. Her expression was neutral, but I could see the curiosity flickering in her eyes. “How is everything going at the house? I suppose Lily is getting better?” I asked, relaxing on the couch.“Yeah, she is becoming more lively. Julian hardly comes home these days. He stays out late more often ever since Monica came around.” “That's good. Let's get straight to the point then.”I placed my glass down and leaned forward slightly. “Lily and Julian are falling apart,” I said. “Monica made sure of that. But we need to make sure it stays that way.” Elena tilted her head. “And how do you plan to do that?”
Lily's POVThe house felt quieter after my mother left. At first, I thought I would feel relieved, free from her constant interference and overbearing concern. But instead, I felt… empty. I had spent days trying to pull myself together, forcing myself to move forward, to heal from the trauma of my miscarriage. Some mornings were easier than others. Some nights, I would wake up feeling like there was a weight pressing down on my chest, the memories of what I lost creeping into my dreams like shadows. I tried to remind myself that I wasn’t alone. I had Julian. Or at least, I used to. Since the miscarriage, since my mother’s warnings, he had barely spoken to me. He walked past me in the halls without a word, never meeting my eyes. If I greeted him, he would respond with the shortest reply possible—if he responded at all. At first, I told myself he was just grieving in his own way. That he was hurting too, and he needed time. But as the days stretched into more days, it became
Lily's POVThe morning light crept through the curtains, spilling into my bedroom, but there was no warmth in it. It was another cold morning, both outside and inside my heart. I had barely slept. The night before kept replaying in my head—Julian walking away, his voice sharp with frustration, the coldness in his eyes. But today would be different. I wouldn’t let things continue this way. I had spent so much time wallowing in my own grief, in my own pain, that I had shut Julian out, too. Maybe that was why he was acting like this—why he was distancing himself. I needed to fix this. Pushing aside my hesitation, I got out of bed and walked straight to Julian’s room. The door was closed, and for a moment, I hesitated. But then I took a deep breath and knocked lightly before pushing it open. Julian was still in bed, his back turned to me. "Julian," I called softly, stepping inside. He didn’t move. I walked closer and reached out, gently placing a hand on his should
Lily's POVThe silence in the house was suffocating. After Julian left for work that morning, I sat in the living room, staring blankly at nothing, my mind replaying our fight from earlier. The words we threw at each other still stung like open wounds. "Your mother is an old witch.""At least she cares about me!""I don’t think we can fix this."I had come to him with an apology, with an attempt to fix the damage, but instead, we had made it worse. I buried my face in my hands, my body trembling. Tears welled in my eyes again, and this time, I didn’t bother holding them back. I let them fall, let them soak into my skin, let them pour out all the frustration, the pain, the heartbreak I had been holding in for too long. Julian had once been my safe place, my home, my partner. Now, he felt like a stranger. And the worst part? I didn’t know if I could ever bring him back. Is this how Gina felt when she was married to him?The day dragged on, each minute feeling heavier t
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