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VI

Author: Maya East
last update Last Updated: 2024-12-16 16:51:16
At the dining table facing the glass wall, I sat with a cup of coffee in my hand, its bitter aroma piercing my sense of smell and slowly infiltrating my mind.

"So, how was the party?" asked Ben, his black hair a mess, and the pajama shirt and shorts he was wearing showed how relaxed this morning was for him.

I didn't turn around, just stared straight at my cup. "Nothing special,"

"Nothing special?" He pulled up a chair opposite me, his voice laced with skepticism. "That's not Grandpa's style. So, what's the latest political scheme he's devised for you, then?"

I forced a smile. "He introduced me to Julian Warren."

"Julian?" he gave a short laugh. "The eldest son of the Warrens? The guy who always looks like he's trying way too hard to be "cool"? That guy? What's the plan this time to organize a business wedding?"

I gave him a flat look, doing my best to ignore the knot tightening in my chest. "You know Grandpa. He thinks Julian and I are perfect for... fortalecer la alianza familiar—li
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  • His Son, Her Secret   VII

    Kyara lowered her coffee cup loudly onto a small saucer, making a clinking sound that attracted the attention of several guests at the following table.Her eyes widened, her gaze lingering on my face. "I hope this is a joke,"Aurora leaned closer to me, "Belly, you know how they treat you. Why would you even consider going to that party?"I leaned back into the chair, my hand holding the glass of tea I hadn't touched. "I have no choice. Grandpa gave me an ultimatum, and I knew if I didn't go, I'd be putting Max in danger. They... they threatened to bring his name to the Romanov family.""Of course, they'll use Max to force you. Typical of a family that only cares about their big name. They haven't changed a bit." Kyara snorted.Aurora touched my arm. "Is everything okay? What happened there?"I looked down, letting the memory of the party invade my mind. "Well, they had a lot of questions and were, obviously, surprised by Max. Papa and Mama barely spoke to me, they’re.... still very co

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  • His Son, Her Secret   VIII

    I arrived at the office precisely fifteen minutes before the meeting with Lantum Mining. My heart pounded like a war drum in my chest. I piled all the files on my desk, trying to focus on the presentation slides that I had prepared overnight"Focus, Belva. Don't mess it up," I whisper to myself, wiping my damp palms on the sides of my work skirt.A knock on the door startled me. Jess, Mr. Grant's assistant, stood up with a faint smile. "Mr. Grant asks you to get ready. Ten minutes."I nodded, my mouth too dry to reply. While she left, my eyes stared at my reflection on the dead computer screen. My face was tense, and the tired lines under my eyes couldn't lie.I straightened my blazer, grabbed the presentation file, and walked briskly to the meeting room. My heels press against the marble floor with a tick-tock sound that sneaks up to my heart.The main meeting room with glass walls that almost wholly overlooked the city of San Francisco was already partially filled with participants.

    Last Updated : 2024-12-20
  • His Son, Her Secret   IX

    “Miss Moguel?” The voice of the man who had been asking about technical constraints broke the ice that was choking me. “Can you explain more about risk mitigation in this implementation?”I tried to concentrate. My lips trembled slightly when I opened my mouth, but no sound came at first. It felt like this whole room was shrinking, the sound of Pascha's faint laughter echoing in my mind, even though he hadn't said anything.Mr. Grant turned to me, his eyebrows raised in slight concern. “Belva, please.”"I’m sorry." I nodded quickly, forcing myself to stand up straight again.I stared blankly at the screen for a few seconds, taking a deep breath before pressing the remote to display the next slide.“As I explained earlier,” I began, but the scratchy feeling in my throat made the voice hoarse. I closed my mouth for a moment and took another breath. “Our team has considered various risks in implementing this technology. In the event of operational disruptions, such as data inaccuracies or

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  • His Son, Her Secret   X

    “But isn't it...” He continued, folding his arms across his chest, “A team like that needs a leader who is not only smart but also... strong under pressure?”The whole room was silent, and I knew he wasn't just asking. He wanted to test me, to see if I was still the girl who had left him at the altar five years ago and whether I could still stand up under his pressure.I knew how Pascha always played with the people around him. Testing and testing. It was like he was the master of every game, while everything around him was just a pawn.And this time, I was the pawn.“Of course,” I replied, forcing a slight smile that didn't fully reach my eyes. “Pressure is part of the job, and I'm used to dealing with it.” I let the words hang, gauging his reaction.Pascha didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair. His cold eyes looked at me, then slowly toward the documents on the table before him. He held up one piece of paper, twirling the end between his fingers.“Interesting

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  • His Son, Her Secret   XI

    “Belva!”I turned my head sharply, my hand raised on its own.A hard slap landed on his face before I could think.Pascha stood still for a moment, his hand still gripping my arm. He touched his cheek with his free hand, then, instead of anger, he chuckled—low, deep, provoking. But his gaze was piercing, like he was trying to strip away every wall I'd built over the past five years.I held my breath, trying to break free from his grasp.“So many things have changed, Bee?” he said, a lopsided smile gracing his face. “Five years ago, you were just running. On the night three days ago you were still moaning my name. Now? You slapped me. I like this new version.”My blood boiled. I jerked at his hand, forcing myself to stand straight even though my body shook angrily. “You don't know anything about me, Pascha.”“Oh, I know a lot,” he retorted casually, but his eyes blazed with provocation. “I know the girl who stood at the altar five years ago didn't dare to say what she thought. But now..

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  • His Son, Her Secret   XII

    I sat on a cane chair on the balcony, looking at the coastline. The midday sun reflected golden sparkles on the waves rolling gently towards the sand. The cool coastal breeze blew through my hair, but I still felt like I was burning—not by the sun's heat, but by the thoughts that hadn't stopped tearing at my composure since this morning's meeting.In front of me, Max sat in his little chair, a spoon in his tiny hands, busily digging into the lasagna on his plate. His round cheeks moved as he chewed enthusiastically, his little legs dangling over the edge of the chair. Every time he looked at me, he smiled widely, like there was no sinner in the world."Mommy, the lasagna is so good!" he said happily, jolting me out of the dark vortex of thoughts shackling me.I forced myself to smile. "Really? Mommy made it, especially for you, Max. If you like it, I will be so happy."He nodded vigorously, his spoon back in action. I watched him eat, trying to hold on to the fact that he was the reaso

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  • His Son, Her Secret   XIII

    Max chuckled as Clara lifted him high, making a rattling sound like a robot. The little boy giggled loudly, his hands flapping like a bird learning to fly.I sat on the sofa, laptop on my lap, typing up the report due this week. Their laughter filled the house, forming an atmosphere that made me feel all was well."Mommy, look, I'm a robot Superman!" Max shouts, striking a strange pose: one arm stretched out like he's flying while the other grips his robot toy tightly.“You'd make a great superhero, Maxie.” I laughed, looking at him. I glanced over at them, seeing Clara teasing Max under the pretense of going after him.Clara was an irreplaceable presence in this house. She knew how to make Max happy and fill the void I couldn't constantly fill, especially when I was drowning at work or caught up in messy feelings like now."You really saved my life, Cece." I said, half-joking while typing the last line of my report."Ah, you know I'm glad to be here. Max is a wonderful boy. How could

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  • His Son, Her Secret   XIV

    This guy wasn't an asshole in the same way as Pascha. That was one thing I could admit without hesitation.Julian might be too conscious of his image but doesn't hide his weapons. Everything he did was open and obvious, unlike the other guy who still haunted me with that cold smile and game that always made me feel trapped.Inside, the atmosphere was luxurious. The Roles family had truly mastered the art of impressing their guests. A large crystal chandelier hung in the hall's center, and the scent of expensive wine and classical music's soft sounds filled the air.We didn't have to search for our hosts for long. The Roles—husband and wife, who looked more like living porcelain figurines, immediately greeted us with broad, overly friendly smiles."Belva Moguel!" exclaimed Mrs. Roles enthusiastically, grabbing both my hands. "It's been a long time. You were just a little girl the last time I saw you."I smiled slightly, trying to remain polite. "Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Roles. Yo

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Latest chapter

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXXI : Tiny Hands, Big Opinions

    "I'm telling you, Bumblebee is cooler than Optimus Prime!" Max's voice was shrill with conviction. "Even though I like Optimus, Bumblebee is like a soldier guarding him!""No way, Prime is the leader of the Autobots! He's stronger, wiser, and definitely cooler," Clara said in a challenging tone."But Bumblebee is faster! And he can talk on the radio! You only like Prime because he's the big boss, Cece!"I tried to stifle my laughter as I propped myself up in the doorway. The two of them stood facing each other on the sofa, Max with his arms folded across his tiny chest, while Clara sat dismissively."I just like characters who know how to make important decisions, Max.""No! Cece only likes leaders! If Transformers were a kingdom, Cece would choose Optimus to be the king!"Clara snorted. "Of course you would. And Bumblebee? Is he the royal guard?""He's a fighting prince!" Max lifted his chin, full of conviction.I couldn't help but laugh again. "Oh my, are you guys having a Transform

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXX : Not Even a Tear, Not Even a Fight

    My laptop was open on the table, rows of code filling the screen, moving quickly as I adjusted some parameters. In the right corner of the screen, the system diagram of the Lantum project is clearly displayed, an ambitious project that had occupied my mind from the start.I typed quickly, fixing the firewall I'd just developed for the main system. My team handled various other aspects, but the security part was still my responsibility. And I couldn't let this system have any loopholes.Project Lantum is everything right now.I've been absent for too long, and now, with this project finally underway, I have no reason to linger on my drama.My hands were still busy typing when my cell phone vibrated on the table.I took a quick glance at the screen.Then stopped breathing.Mamá.My fingers stop moving. For a moment, I just stare at the screen. There was a long pause before I finally swiped the green icon and answered the call."Hello," I said, my voice flat.For a moment, there was no s

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXIX : Seaside Dreams & Messy Hair Mornings

    I woke up with a slight gasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly.It took me a few seconds to realize where I was—not in my little apartment in Cambridge, not in the middle of a heated argument with the overly annoying Pascha.I was in the present in San Francisco, in my beach house.But the remnants of that memory still lingered in my head, settling like a fog that was hard to dispel.I growled softly, rubbing my face roughly.Why did I have to dream of that?I took a long breath and turned to the large window beside my bed. The sea stretched out before me, its water glistening in the morning light that was beginning to creep up.Usually, this view was enough to ease my mind, but not this time.I ruffled my hair in frustration, then got up from the bed, walking straight to the bathroom.I didn't want to relive that past.I turned on the faucet and washed my face with cold water, hoping to wash away the remnants of memory still looming in my mind.After refreshed, I dried my face wit

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXVIII : Flashback : You Tangle Wires, You Tangle Me

    I stand in the centre of my small apartment, hands on my hips, my jaw clenched tightly, as my eyes sweep across the room.His backpack is leaning against the wall by the door, and his boots lie haphazardly next to the sofa. In the corner of the room, two of his jackets hang on a chair, one of them still with the folded sleeves I took off last week.And that's not counting my desk, which is now littered with random wires that clearly don't belong to me. I can recognize some of the electronic components he's left exposed, a series of circuit boards and microcontrollers that he seems to be assembling, for who knows what."Pascha."There was no answer.Amidst all the scattered items, Pascha sat comfortably on my couch. His feet rest on my small coffee table. His head rests against the back of my sofa, and, more annoyingly, he's playing my PlayStation.Or... what used to be mine. Because it's been months since I last touched that thing.His two thumbs moved quickly on the control stick, h

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXVII : You Should Have Known

    Pascha was still standing there, so close that I could smell his signature scent, a mix of woody spices and something more familiar. But I didn't let myself be swept away. Not this time.I let out a sigh, pulled my phone from the back pocket of my jeans, and held it out to him. With a quick flick, I unlocked the screen and shoved it his way."Here. Read this."Pascha frowned but took the phone from my hand. His eyes swept the screen quickly, then his jaw hardened.I saw how his fingers gripped the phone tighter, and the look in his eyes, which had been full of judgment, now turned sharper and darker."What is this?" his voice sounded cold.I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, steadying myself. "Threats."He fixed me with a hard stare, waiting for more, but I simply lifted my chin, meeting his gaze without flinching."It was sent to Kyara. Right after the restaurant explosion."Pascha's breathing slowed, each rise and fall of his chest measured, controlled—like he was holding back

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXVI : I Knew You Were Trouble, and Yet…

    I pushed through the white picket fence and stepped into Kyara's front yard. The smell of fresh grass mixed with the salty odor of the ocean not far away. The San Francisco air is cool, and the coastal breeze blows gently, making my hair a little messy as I knock on the door.It doesn't take long before the door opens, revealing Kyara already standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.“You finally came too, Moguel. I almost thought you'd forgotten about this lunch.”“Sorry for being late, a lot of work.” I just shrugged, following Kyara into the well-organized dining room. On the table, there were several dishes-seafood pasta, fresh salad, and steaming onion bread. I raised one eyebrow, sitting on the chair comfortably.“Since when can you cook like this?” I asked, smelling the tantalizing aroma of the plate in front of me.Kyara pulled out her chair, sitting down casually before pouring white wine into her glass. “Since I got tired of takeout. Besides, I've had plenty of tim

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXV : San Francisco Mornings & Romanov Madness

    My body is warm. Too warm.I was drowning in a strange comfort, the firm plane chest, the regular breath wafting down my neck, and the strong arms wrapped tightly around my waist, keeping me trapped in something all too familiar.But this...This is not Max.Instantly, I opened my eyes.The morning light was already coming in through the gap in the curtains, refracting its golden rays across the room. And in front of me—too close—is Pascha.Pascha.His head nestled in the crook of my neck, his warm breath brushing against my skin, while one arm was held around my waist, tight ike I stil belonged to him and would not be let go.My chest tightens.How did he get from the other side of the bed to here?!I swallowed, preparing to push his body away, but before I could move, an annoyed grunt sounded from the other side of the bed."Mommy! Daddy's cheating!"I turned around quickly, finding Max sitting on the other side of the bed with an expression full of complaints. The boy crossed his a

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXIV : No Going Home, Mommy!

    It's late at night.The San Francisco air feels cooler as the breeze from the ocean breaks through the crack in the kitchen window.Max had been looking sleepy for an hour, but as usual, he refused to admit his defeat to sleepiness. He kept running around the house, driving around Pascha's house in his new yellow mini porche, which Pascha said he had ordered directly from the car company, and babbling endlessly about how he could beat all the Autobots with his new robot.I finally approach the front door, preparing to head back to my own house, literally right next door to Pascha's, Max suddenly appears from behind, standing directly in front of me with his arms outstretched, blocking my way.I frowned, seeing him looking at me with a serious expression."Where are you going, Mommy?" he asked in a suspicious tone.I raised my eyebrows. "Home....?"Max snorted loudly, looking at me as if I had just said something outrageous. "No!"I blinked, confused. "Why? Mommy's house is next door.

  • His Son, Her Secret   CXXIII: Flour, Fire, and a Love Long Lost

    My fingers moved deftly, removing the onion skin. The knife moves nimbly on the chopping board, slicing the onion, each thin slice falling into the bowl. A tangy aroma instantly fills the air, mingling with the fragrant remains of the dough Pascha failed to make earlier.Clara stands beside me, her sleeves rolled up, and without prompting, she begins cleaning up the mess left behind by Pascha."Are we making arepas too?" Clara asks, putting the remaining potato skins in the trash.I glanced over her. "If Pascha have white cheese, why not?"She walked over to refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients without asking: cornmeal, cheese, and butter. Everything was on the table in less than a minute. Her hands deftly started mixing the arepas without needing my signal.I returned to the piece of meat I was washing under cold water. It was a thin piece of flank steak for sobrebarriga, a dish that is supposed to be slow-cooked, but I knew how to speed up the process without sacrificing flavor

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