RAFFAELI woke up earlier than usual, the sunlight streaming through the windows irritating my already pissed mood. The faint sound of birds chirping outside did nothing to soften my disposition. I’d barely slept last night, my mind replaying the argument with Erica over and over. Her sharp words still stung, but I brushed it off. She’d learn her place soon enough.I threw on a shirt and headed downstairs, expecting the usual smell of coffee brewing and breakfast sizzling on the stove. But when I walked into the kitchen, I was met with silence—and an empty countertop. My brows furrowed as I glanced around. The table wasn’t set, and the kitchen was untouched.“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath.I waited for a minute, expecting Erica to come rushing in, offering some half-hearted apology for being late. But there was nothing. Just more silence.My irritation flared. She was pushing her limits again. After last night, she should’ve known better than to test my patience. I storme
Clarissa pushed her way into the club, her heart pounding harder than the bass reverberating through the walls. The usual haze of smoke and neon lights felt suffocating, but she barely noticed. Panic gripped her chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe. Her eyes darted across the room, searching desperately until they locked on Ray. He was lounging in his usual corner booth in the VIP section, his signature smirk in place as he held a glass of whiskey. The sight of him brought no comfort—only more fear. Without hesitation, she moved toward him, weaving through the crowd with shaky steps. When she reached the booth, Ray glanced up, his smirk widening briefly before his brow furrowed. “Clarissa,” he drawled, leaning back against the plush leather. “What’s got you in such a rush? You look like—” “Shut up,” she snapped, sliding into the seat across from him. Her voice was trembling, her hands gripping her purse like it was the only thing keeping her grounded. “I need to talk to
ERICA The world felt distant and heavy, like I was trapped under a suffocating weight I couldn’t push off. My head throbbed, and my body ached as if I’d been wrung dry and left to freeze. Blinking slowly, I tried to focus on the blurry shapes around me. They shifted and sharpened until I could make out the outline of a man in white—a doctor—fussing over an IV bag that was connected to my arm. My gaze drifted, searching for something familiar, and then I saw him. Raffael. He stood near the doctor, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, his face etched with a tension I rarely saw in him. He looked… worried? No, that couldn’t be right. Raffael didn’t worry. Not about me. I tried to move, but the effort sent a wave of pain through my body, pulling a weak groan from my lips. Immediately, Raffael’s head snapped toward me. His eyes locked on mine, relief softening the hard lines of his jaw. “Erica,” he said, his voice lower and gentler than I’d ever heard it. He stepped closer, h
Raffael pushed open the door with his shoulder, a tray balanced carefully in his hands. The warm aroma of freshly made soup, toast, and tea filled the room almost instantly, but Erica barely reacted. She lay on the bed, pale and exhausted, her body still weak from the fever that had taken hold of her. Her gaze flicked to him briefly before settling on the tray he carried. “I brought breakfast,” Raffael said, his voice calm but carrying that familiar commanding edge. He set the tray on the side table before moving it closer to her on the bed. Erica propped herself up on her elbows, her movements sluggish and weak. “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice scratchy and soft. She reached for the spoon, but before her hand could touch it, Raffael stopped her, his larger hand wrapping gently around her wrist. “I’ll feed you,” he said matter-of-factly, already picking up the spoon. She frowned, pulling her hand back. “What?” “You heard me,” he repeated, dipping the spoon into the soup and hold
RAFFAEL I sat in my office, tapping my pen against the desk as the clock ticked. It was mid-afternoon, and I was surrounded by paperwork, deals to finalize, and decisions to make. Yet, none of it could hold my attention. My mind kept wandering—to Erica. She was back home, resting. Romano was there to look after her, and the doctor had assured me she’d be fine with a bit of care and warmth. So why the hell couldn’t I stop thinking about her? I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temple. “Focus,” I muttered to myself, glaring at the stack of contracts in front of me. But even as I tried to refocus, I couldn’t shake the image of her pale face and tired eyes from my mind. She’s fine, I reminded myself. But the knot in my chest didn’t loosen. This wasn’t like me. I wasn’t the kind of man who let his thoughts stray, especially not over something—or someone—that didn’t concern me. Erica was a debtor, someone bound to me by circumstance. She wasn’t my responsibility. Not really. I shoul
Erica POV When I opened my eyes, the morning sunlight filtering through the curtains wasn’t as harsh as before. My head didn’t feel like it was stuffed with cotton anymore, and for the first time, I didn’t feel like my body was made of lead. Slowly, I sat up, testing my strength. My feet touched the cool floor, and I braced myself as I stood up. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I was still wobbly, but I could stand. That was progress. Tired of lying in bed like a fragile doll, I took my time moving around the room, tidying what I could. The books on the nightstand were stacked back neatly, the blanket folded. Every little task felt like a small victory. When I was done, I headed to the bathroom. The warm water against my skin jolted me awake as I washed my face. I stood in front of the mirror, studying myself. My cheeks were still pale, but there was color coming back to them. My hair was a mess, and my eyes looked tired, but I felt alive again. I sighed, brushing m
ERICA I sat cross-legged on the bed, my gaze fixed on the window, but my mind wasn’t really on the view outside. Instead, it drifted back to earlier in the day—to the moment I’d walked into the kitchen and found Raffael cooking. Raffael. Cooking. If someone had told me a week ago that I’d see a man like him—arrogant, domineering, always dressed in a sharp suit—standing in front of a stove with an apron, I would’ve laughed. But there he was, like some odd version of himself I wasn’t sure how to process. What was that about? Why did he even bother? The idea of him going through the effort to make food for me felt completely out of character. He could just bark orders at someone else and make it happen. And yet he’d been standing there, focused, actually cooking. I couldn’t make sense of it. This was the same man who’d thrown Jordan to the ground without a second thought. The same man who treated people like pawns on a chessboard. Why would someone like that waste his time making
CLARISSA The club smelled of sweat, alcohol, and desperation. It wasn’t unusual, but tonight, everything felt heavier. The neon lights were harsh, the music grated on my nerves, and every step I took felt like I was being watched. My heart had been in my throat for days now, beating so loudly I was surprised no one else could hear it. The blackmailer had sent another text this morning. The video again. Threats. Time was slipping through my fingers like sand, and I had nothing—no solution, no plan. And worst of all, Raffael hadn’t even noticed. No texts, no calls, not even a damn word. I clenched my fists, trying to shake off the sinking feeling in my stomach. This would be worth it. Marrying Raffael would bring everything I wanted. Power, wealth, influence—the kind of life I had been dreaming of for years. I couldn’t let this video ruin that. I needed Ray. He had to know how to fix things. If anyone could make this go away, it was him. But when I reached his office, the chair was
MONTHS LATERThe hospital room was quiet, save for the soft beeping of the monitors and the occasional cooing sound from the tiny bundle in Erica’s arms. Warm sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow over the space. It felt peaceful—like the whole world had stilled just for this moment.Raffael sat beside the hospital bed, his eyes never leaving them. His wife. His child. His entire world wrapped up in a single frame. He had never known a love like this before, never imagined he could feel so much all at once.“She’s perfect,” he murmured, reaching out to gently trace a finger over their daughter’s tiny hand. The baby stirred slightly, her fingers curling instinctively around his. His heart clenched.Erica let out a soft laugh, exhaustion evident in her voice, but her eyes shone with warmth. “She has your nose.”Raffael smirked. “And your lips.”Erica glanced down at their baby, brushing her thumb over the soft skin of her cheek. “I still can’t believe she’s
ERICA’S POVThe house felt strangely quiet after Clarissa and her mother left, as if all the tension had been sucked out of the air along with them.Raffael’s mother, still standing in the middle of the living room, let out a long, tired sigh. She turned to her son, her expression softer now—almost vulnerable.“I owe you an apology,” she said quietly. “I should have told you the truth a long time ago.”Raffael didn’t respond immediately. His jaw was tight, his hands still clenched at his sides. I could tell he was still processing everything that had just happened.His mother continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Clarissa’s mother has used this secret to blackmail me for years. Every time I tried to stand my ground, she would threaten to tell you. I was so afraid of losing you, of what you might think of me.” She swallowed hard. “But today… today, you stood up for me.”Raffael finally exhaled, his shoulders loosening just slightly. He stepped forward, his voice steady. “Nothing wi
ERICA’S POVIt had been a week since we got back from Chicago, but the tension in the air made it feel like no time had passed at all.Things should have felt different. The house should have felt like home again. But instead, it felt like we were holding our breath, waiting for the next storm to hit.And today, it finally did.Raffael’s mother had insisted on this meeting. She claimed it was necessary after Clarissa went to her, sobbing about their engagement being over. Raffael had been furious when he found out. He didn’t want to see Clarissa, let alone entertain her or her mother in his house. He had made it clear that whatever history they shared was over.But in the end, he agreed.Not for Clarissa. Not for her mother.For his own mother. And, in some way, for me.Now, we sat in the living room, and whatever peace we had hoped to maintain had long since shattered.Clarissa’s mother sat stiffly across from us, her face pinched in disapproval. Her sharp gaze moved between Raffael
ERICA’S POVI sat in the living room, curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the coffee table. My hands rested in my lap, fingers intertwined, squeezing together every now and then just to feel something—anything—other than the dull ache in my chest.The house was quiet. Unsettlingly so.The silence pressed in from all sides, heavy and suffocating, amplifying the thoughts I had tried so hard to push away. The weight of it sat in my chest, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.I hadn’t seen Raffael since last night. Since that moment. Since my world turned upside down.I told myself I didn’t care. That I didn’t want to see him, that I didn’t need to hear whatever excuse he had prepared.But the truth was, I had spent the whole day waiting.Waiting for him to come to me.Waiting for him to explain.Waiting for something.Something that never came.The hours stretched painfully, each second dragging on longer than the last. Every small sound in the house made my heart jolt, only
RAFFAELThe conference room was empty, silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. I paced back and forth, dragging a hand through my hair, my thoughts a chaotic mess.I hadn’t slept.Not a second.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the look on Erica’s face when she walked in last night—the shock, the hurt, the betrayal. It burned into my mind like a wound that wouldn’t close. She hadn’t given me a chance to explain, hadn’t let me tell her that I pulled away the second Clarissa kissed me.But why would she?She had every right to shut me out.I had spent the entire night waiting for her to open her door, knocking, calling her name, begging for just a second of her time—but she never did. The silence on the other side of that door was louder than any words she could have said.And this morning?Nothing.Not a single sign of her.The realization that she didn’t even want to see me twisted like a knife in my chest.I clenched my jaw, my hands fisting at my sides as I turned
ERICA’S POVThe moment Raffael pulled away, everything inside me shattered.I stood frozen in the doorway, my feet rooted to the floor, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and throat. My vision blurred as my brain struggled to process what I had just seen. Raffael. Clarissa. Their lips.I felt sick.Clarissa’s eyes landed on me first. The corners of her lips curled into a smug, knowing smirk, and her gaze flicked between me and Raffael like she had just won some twisted game.Then Raffael turned. The second he saw me, all the color drained from his face, his eyes going wide with shock and something that almost looked like fear.“Erica—” His voice was sharp, urgent, desperate.But I didn’t wait to hear whatever excuse he had.I turned and ran.My heart pounded violently against my ribs, my stomach twisting into painful knots as I rushed down the hallway. I could hear the quick, heavy thuds of Raffael’s footsteps right behind me, hear the way he called my name, voice full of urg
RAFFAEL’S POVI sat at my desk, fingers flying over the keyboard as I worked, my eyes fixed on the screen. The glow from the monitor was the only source of light in the dark room, creating shadows across the walls. The document in front of me was filled with numbers, reports, projections—things that required my attention. Things that demanded focus. And that was exactly what I needed right now.Work had always been my escape. The one thing I could rely on when everything else felt out of my control. It was predictable, structured—unlike the chaos unraveling in my personal life. Numbers didn’t change on a whim. Spreadsheets didn’t come with complicated emotions. Deadlines didn’t demand explanations.Unlike Clarissa.I clenched my jaw, fingers pressing harder against the keys.Everything between us had spiraled so fast. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I hadn’t planned for tonight to end in a fight, hadn’t expected to break things off with her in such a brutal, final way. But it had
ERICA’S POVThe room felt frozen.Clarissa stood in the doorway, her gaze flickering between me and Raffael, her expression unreadable for a moment—until she laughed.A sharp, manic laugh that sent a chill down my spine.Raffael tensed immediately. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he slowly stood up. I could feel the shift in his demeanor, the way his entire body stiffened in shock.“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low, controlled—but I could hear the irritation bleeding through.Clarissa smirked, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder as she stepped inside, completely unbothered by the tension crackling in the room.“Is this why you didn’t bother telling me about your little trip?” she drawled, sauntering past him like she owned the place. “So you could sneak off with her and let her warm your bed?”My heart pounded.Raffael inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring as he turned to face her. “Clarissa, don’t start—”“Oh, I will start,” she snapped, turning t
ERICA’S POVIt had been a week.Seven days since Raffael had looked me in the eyes and told me he loved me. Seven days since he’d shattered every assumption I’d ever had about him. Seven days since I’d decided—against my better judgment—to give him a chance to prove it.And in those seven days, I had seen a version of him I never thought existed.It still didn’t feel real.I kept expecting the old Raffael to slip through the cracks—the cold, arrogant man who had once treated me like an inconvenience. The one who barely acknowledged me unless it was to make a sharp remark or push me away. But that man had seemingly vanished, replaced by someone… softer.Not soft—Raffael could never be soft. But different. Gentler.He still had that quiet intensity, that unwavering confidence that made it seem like the whole world revolved around him. But now, that intensity was directed toward me in ways I didn’t know how to handle.He brought me flowers every morning—fresh, beautiful arrangements that