"I told you not to call me like that, didn't I? You called me like a hundred times yesterday, what happened?" Andrew questioned Rosa, his voice filled with frustration. "It's not a big deal. It's been resolved now," Rosa said nonchalantly. "I asked what happened! Answer me!" Andrew yelled, growing increasingly agitated on the other end of the call. "Bye, I am hanging up," Rosa declared, abruptly ending the call. "Tch! Jerks everywhere," Rosa muttered in annoyance, tossing her phone onto the bed. "Who? Me?" Michael inquired, breaking the silence as he sat in an armchair in his room. His button-up shirt was partially unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up, and he wore only tight-fitting boxers, revealing the contours of his body. Rosa turned her gaze towards him, her eyes piercing with a mix of disgust, anger, and rage. "Reduce that glare," Michael snapped, irritated by her gaze. He reached for his bottle of wine and poured some of the red wine into a balloon glass before settling back
Adrienne woke up the following day, a typical Monday morning. As she glanced around the room, a sinking feeling crept in—she was alone. "Didn't we sleep together? Or did he go out again?" She asked herself, her brow furrowing as she tried to piece together the fragmented memories. Slowly, she stretched her weary limbs and sat up. "It's been a while since I've done my usual morning meditations," Adrienne murmured to herself. The absence of Ryan nagged at her, and she couldn't shake the curiosity any longer. "Where is he?" she wondered aloud. Her eyes wandered over to the window, capturing the breathtaking morning view of the beach, momentarily distracting her with its beauty. "So satisfying," she sighed. Adrienne hurried to freshen up and wore Ryan's clothes. Descending the stairs, she surveyed the empty house, calling out for Ryan, hoping for even a faint response but silence greeted her. Then, she noticed a note affixed to the refrigerator door. "Good morning angel. Ther
Michael was leaning on a walking stick for support. A wave of worry washed over Ryan. "Did he see me kissing Juliette?" he mused to himself, his mind racing with questions. "Why are you with a walking stick?" Ryan blurted out, not bothering to greet. "It's not your business, I came to see my wife," Michael replied curtly, his tone laced with bitterness. Juliette, ever polite, offered a respectful greeting and bowed her head. Michael barely acknowledged her presence. "She's still as beautiful as ever, even in this state of unconsciousness," Michael remarked, feigning sentiment. Ryan couldn't help but roll his eyes. His father's facade was as transparent as glass. Narrowing his gaze, Ryan studied his father from head to toe and noticed a peculiar sight – blood staining Michael's sock, like it was trickling down his leg. Exchanging a concerned look with Andrew, Ryan subtly pointed towards his dad's injured leg, silently conveying his discovery. Without delay, Michael announced h
Left alone in her room, Adrienne contemplated his proposition. "He may be up to no good as usual," she thought to herself, skepticism clouding her mind. "Or maybe he's just using this as a ploy to trick and deceive me into dressing up." A wry smirk tugged at her lips as she added, "Does he really think I'm that gullible?" But beneath her skepticism, an undeniable curiosity sparked within Adrienne. A part of her yearned to embrace the unknown and follow him to wherever he wanted to take her. After all, the quest for answers about her past lingered deep within her soul. It had been over forty agonizing minutes before Adrienne finally emerged, gracefully making her way down the grand staircase. She was adorned in a sleek, form-fitting black dress that accentuated her figure, paired with elegant black heels. In her hand, she carried a small, black clutch purse. As usual, her attire was skimpy, leaving little to the imagination. The matching black earrings and bracelet added an a
"That's a really weird name for a club," she added, crossing her arms. "You look weirder than the name itself," he responded, his gaze fixated on her disguise. "Whatever. Why are we even at a club? What does this have to do with what you wanted to tell me?" "You'll see," he teased, gently gripping her hand. Surprisingly, she didn't resist his touch, her mind preoccupied with indifference. As they stepped into the club, Adrienne's vision blurred amidst the flickering colored lights. The atmosphere was vibrant, crowded with people of varying styles and expressions. Some women donned daringly revealing outfits, while men sported simpler attire. Bodies swayed to the pulsating music, glasses clinked, and conversations mingled with the beats. Others simply sat, absorbed in their phones, seemingly unaffected by the lively ambiance. Her hand still held in his, Adrienne meekly followed behind, her gaze cast downwards. Eventually, they approached a door, and Adrienne's curiosity prompted
"You've regained your memories, right?" He asked again, his voice firm and his tone demanding. "I wish," Adrienne said with frustration as she scoffed. Deep down, she longed to remember, to piece together the fragments of her past. "Oh, come on. I know you have regained your memories, and you want to use Ryan for whatever revenge you are planning," he accused, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Taken aback by his accusation, Adrienne's brows furrowed in confusion. "Use Ryan? What are you talking about?" Adrienne asked, genuinely puzzled by his words. She had no vendetta against Ryan, nor did she have any memory suggesting a connection. "Forget about it," he said dismissively, his attention shifting to his attire. He began dressing up, attempting to button his shirt, but Adrienne interrupted him before he could finish the task. "Explain what you meant by that statement," Adrienne demanded, her voice firm yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability. She needed answers, and she needed
"So, you had sex with her in the restroom?" Adrienne asked. "I never said that," he answered evasively. "Oh, so you two didn't have sex then," Adrienne said. "I also didn't say that," he replied with a cryptic smile. "Ugh! Seriously??" Adrienne rolled her eyes in frustration. He was purposely stringing her along, refusing to reveal what happened with his so-called first love. "So, let me get this straight," Adrienne said, her voice laced with annoyance. "You thought it was a brilliant idea to recreate a scene from your supposed first love by tying me to a chair and having a stripper touch me?" He shifted uncomfortably under her piercing gaze. "Yes, well, that was part of it. But there's another reason too. I wanted to confirm something," he explained, trying to keep his composure. Raising an eyebrow, Adrienne pressed on. "And what might that be?" With a smug grin, he leaned closer. "I wanted to prove to you that you only moan when I touch you," he stated confidently, hi
Daniel sat in a dimly lit room at the police station, exhaustion etched across his face. After a grueling three-hour journey, he had finally arrived, only to be greeted by the anxious officers who filled him in on the details. The car, belonging to Adrienne, had hurtled into a shallow canal in the dead of night. It was reported by a concerned citizen, but when the rescue team arrived, no occupants were found. The gaping doors of the vehicle suggested that Adrienne and her companions had managed to escape. Desperation clawed at Daniel as he dialed Adrienne's number repeatedly, each call met with an unsettling silence. A knot of worry began to form in his gut, intensifying with every unanswered ring. "What could have possibly led Adrienne to venture this far from the city?" he pondered, his mind racing with concern for her well-being. Feeling a rising urgency, Daniel texted her mom and informed her about her daughter's inexplicable disappearance. Hours crawled by, a tormenting unc