I lock my eyes with him, his gaze filled with an unexpected concern that sends a jolt through my already tumultuous heart. Confusion clouds my mind.How can he be worried about me? My pulse quickens.My cheeks flush as his warm breath caresses my face, igniting a rush of sensations within me. It's a paradoxical moment, both overwhelming and strangely captivating.I struggle to break free from his arms, but he stops me, saying, "Don’t move." His voice is low, gentle, and hoarse. "The more you move, the more uncomfortable you will feel."I understand what he is saying. But I am getting emotional. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart and swirling emotions. Yet, despite my yearning for solace, my attention is immediately drawn to his eyes, still locked onto mine.The weight in my chest grows heavier, and my throat constricts with unshed tears. I turn my face away, unable to meet his gaze, afraid of the vulnerability that lies beneath. The emotions within me intensify, th
George’s POV…I pace back and forth outside the restroom, the corridor seeming to close in around me as my mind spirals with worry and apprehension. Each passing moment feels like an eternity, amplifying the sense of unease that courses through my veins.My eyes dart toward the closed door, longing for it to swing open and reveal Vivian unharmed and well. The distant murmur of voices and laughter from the party seep into my consciousness, but it feels distant and muffled, overshadowed by the intensity of my concerns.I can't shake the nagging feeling that something is amiss and that Vivian's sudden discomfort holds a deeper significance. My thoughts swirl in a constant battle between fear and reassurance, teetering on the edge of rationality.My hands fidget nervously, my fingers anxiously tapping against my thigh as I attempt to quell the rising tide of anxiety within me. I mentally rehearse various scenarios, searching for plausible explanations to put my mind at ease.Perhaps it is
The day of the fashion show…The grand ballroom of the luxurious hotel is transformed into a stunning runway, adorned with elegant decorations and shimmering lights. The air crackles with anticipation as the guests, dressed in their finest attire, fill the room with whispers and excited chatter. The vibrant energy of the fashion show permeates the space, elevating the atmosphere to one of excitement and glamour.Flashes of cameras from the media pit capture the essence of the event.The backstage area is a flurry of activity and anticipation. Models, dressed in various stages of readiness, move gracefully through the space, their elegant gowns and meticulously styled hair reflecting the epitome of beauty and sophistication. Makeup artists and hairstylists meticulously put on the finishing touches, ensuring every detail is perfect before the models step onto the runway.In the midst of this organized chaos, I find myself at the center, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through my
I take the draft from the reporter's outstretched hand, my fingers trembling as I clutch the paper. My eyes lock onto the design, the intricate details that I poured my heart into, but something catches my attention—a signature, not my own.My brows furrow in confusion, and my mind races to comprehend the revelation before me."Misha," I whisper, tracing the name with my fingertip.Who is Misha? Why is her signature on my design?Doubt and disbelief flood my thoughts, intertwining with a deep sense of unease.How could this be?I created the design of this wedding gown; every stitch and every embellishment were born from my own imagination. This accusation feels like an assault on my integrity, a betrayal of my artistic vision.The reporters keep asking me questions, eyes fixed upon me, awaiting my response.I can feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on me; the air is heavy with anticipation. The spotlight that once illuminated my success now casts a harsh glare, exposi
The next day, I go to the office to talk to Amanda. As I enter Amanda's office, my heart is heavy with anticipation."Amanda, I need to talk to you.""Of course. Come and take your seat."I thought she would accuse me just like the others did, but she welcomed me with a smile. I am surprised.Amanda's warm smile puts me at ease.I take a deep breath, gather my thoughts, and then begin to explain the situation. I tell her about the forged signature and my disbelief in the whole ordeal."I don’t know who this Misha is," I continue. "I never met her. Why would I transfer money? I have no idea what is going on. Please believe me, Amanda. The design is my creation. I haven’t plagiarized.""I trust you, Vivian. I've worked closely with you, and I've seen your talent and dedication. I don't believe for a second that you would plagiarize."Relief washes over me, and a spark of hope flickers within me. Her trust in me is a balm to my wounded spirit, a reminder that there are still those who se
I expected George to storm out of the room in a fit of anger. But I am surprised to find him still standing by the side of the bed, his gaze fixed on me with an unsettling blankness. A tense silence hangs in the air as our eyes lock in a battle of wills.After what feels like an eternity, George finally breaks the silence. "I will drop you off at home. Your boyfriend, Michael, is too occupied with work to take care of you."His proposition stirs a storm of emotions within me, but I refuse to let my anger be silenced."There is no need." I vehemently turn him down. "I do not want Michael to misinterpret my intentions. Michael is very different from you, and he genuinely cares for me. I don’t want to cause him any undue distress."I say this purposefully. Since he likes to stab my heart over and over again, why would I step back?"Now that I have committed to moving on with him, I will be by his side always and embrace the love that I believe is genuine."George's face contorts with ang
With a mix of anticipation and apprehension, I enter Misha's ward, hoping to find the truth behind her actions. As I approach her bed, I see her fearful gaze locking with mine, and I speak softly, trying to ease the tension."Misha, please listen to me. I just want to understand why you've accused me and framed me for something I didn't do. Can we talk?""Get out!" Misha yells. "Get out of here! You have no right to be here!"I'm taken aback by her sudden outburst, and my attempts to calm her fall on deaf ears. I desperately try to explain."Please stop yelling, Misha… calm down. I genuinely want to know the truth. Why are you doing this? I won’t hurt you. I just want to know why you have framed me."But she keeps yelling, "Get out of here. I don’t want to talk to you. Get lost." The intensity of her yelling reverberates through the room, echoing in my ears.In the midst of the chaos, a doctor and two nurses burst into the room, responding to Misha's cries for help. Their urgency and
The morning sun bathes the office in a warm glow as I step inside, a renewed sense of purpose and excitement coursing through my veins. The usual hum of activity fills the air, but today there's extra energy and a buzz of anticipation that seems to permeate every corner.As I make my way to my desk, colleagues greet me with smiles, their eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and joy. The weight of the false accusations that had burdened me for so long has been lifted.Just as I settle into my workspace, my phone vibrates with an incoming call from Amanda."Can you come to my cabin?" Her voice was light and delightful."Sure."I step into her office, finding her radiant with enthusiasm and a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. She wastes no time in sharing the news that fills me with elation.I have something special for you, my dear! How would you like to participate in a fashion show in Paris?My heart skips a beat at the mere mention of such an incredible opportunity. A surge of exciteme
A few months later…The narrator’s POV…The sun bathed the elegant garden in a soft, golden glow as George and Vivian stood beneath a pristine white gazebo, surrounded by a sea of vibrant flowers.The venue for their wedding was nothing short of breathtaking, with its lavish decorations and stunning floral arrangements that seemed to burst with color and life. It was as if the very earth itself was celebrating their union.Vivian, radiant in her ivory lace wedding gown, held a bouquet of exquisite roses in various shades of pink and white, their delicate fragrance filling the air. George, in his dashing black tuxedo, looked every bit the handsome groom, a broad smile gracing his lips.The gazebo was adorned with billowing white fabric, which fluttered gently in the warm breeze. Crystal chandeliers hung from above, casting a soft, enchanting glow over the entire scene. The aisle was strewn with rose petals, creating a path of delicate beauty for Vivian to walk down.As Vivian took her
In the meantime, Evan and Barbe enter. Their faces light up with a grin when they see me awake."Mommy!" The voices that reach my ears are filled with excitement and pure delight. They rush over to me.With open arms, I welcome them eagerly. The warmth of their tiny bodies envelops me, and tears of joy stream down my cheeks. Their presence is a balm to my soul, soothing away the lingering echoes of fear and pain. I hold them close, cherishing every moment of their embrace."My babies," I murmur, my voice quivering with emotion. "Mommy is here. Mommy is fine."Evan's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he speaks, his voice trembling with a mixture of relief and lingering anxiety. "You scared us," he admits, his emotions raw and unfiltered. "Barbe has been crying a lot."I brush away their tears, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Shhh, my darlings. Mommy is fine. Look, I'm smiling. Give me your precious smiles."Their grins are like radiant sunshine, and I revel in the warmth of their lo
The guards had been looking for the man who sprayed the powder on the wedding gowns. They finally caught him and interrogated him, and he revealed that Michael had paid him to do that to frame me.He confessed everything to the police.I ordered the PR department to make a statement. Finally, the crisis in the company has been resolved, but Vivian is still unconscious.Thirty-six long hours have elapsed, and her continued unconsciousness gnaws at my very core. I sit by her bedside, my hand clutching hers as if it could coax her back to consciousness. I long for her to awaken, to see those beautiful eyes once again, to hear her voice, and to feel her presence fill the room.Evan and Barbe are worried as well. Tears stain their young faces as they grapple with the fear that their mother may never awaken. It breaks my heart to see them in such despair, and I pull them close, enveloping them in a desperate attempt to offer solace."Why is she not waking up?" Barbe's voice trembles as she
On the way, I receive a video message on my phone from the chief security officer. It is the video recorded on the pendant.As the video message unfolds on my phone's screen, I am drawn into a vortex of shocking revelations. The images and sounds contained within this digital tape serve as a bitter pill to swallow, awakening me to the harsh truth that I've been living a carefully crafted lie for years.My eyes widen in disbelief. The guilt and regret that surge within me is like a turbulent sea, threatening to overwhelm my senses.Vivian, the woman who has always been there for me and who has loved me unconditionally, emerges as the true heroine of that fateful kidnapping incident.I thought it was Megan who saved me from the kidnappers back then, but it was Vivian. Megan twisted the facts and acted as if she risked her life to save me. In reality, she ran away, leaving me in danger while Vivian fought back with the goons. She even partially lost her memory.Tears well up in my eyes,
My body twists and jerks in an attempt to evade the blows, but her strikes find their mark, the impact sending shockwaves of agony through me.Blood drips down my face. I cry out in pain and fear. Each blow feels like a stab of darkness, threatening to extinguish any hope of survival.Megan has gone crazy. She won’t stop until she kills me. But I don’t want to die, not like this, until I punish her. I need to tell George everything."George…" My voice is a raw scream of pain as I plead for George, hoping that somehow my cry will reach him and that he will come to my rescue.Everything is turning black. My eyes are getting closed. I feel a sense of lightness as if I am flying."Vivian…" His voice echoes in my ears, a lifeline that seems just out of reach. Is he truly here, or is he a mirage born from my desperation?The room blurs and the edges of my vision grow hazy as if reality is slipping through my fingers. My body is weakening with every passing minute. I feel like I am leaving t
All the scenes are playing as a recording in front of my eyes. I feel like I am reliving the terror of the past.The goons take us to an abandoned house on the hilltop. They throw us on the cold floor and close the door. The room we're trapped in feels like a desolate prison, cold and damp. The muffled sounds of the outside world barely penetrate the thick walls.George is still unconscious. His forehead is bleeding. I'm driven by a fierce determination to protect him. I tear my dress with my teeth and use the fabric as an impromptu bandage to staunch the bleeding. His vulnerability, lying there unconscious, tugs at my heartstrings.I glance around the room, my eyes landing on the meager comforts of a mattress and a blanket. Gently, I drag George over to the mattress, huddling close to him and pulling the blanket around us, seeking whatever warmth and reassurance it can provide.As the night wears on, George's condition worsens. His fever rises, and he trembles in his fitful sleep.In
Her eyes blazed with a mad intensity, her pupils dilating as she spoke. "I loved him since I was a child," she said, her voice low and even. "I always wanted to be around him, play with him, and marry him. But he liked to play with you. I hated you for grabbing his attention."Megan's confession is both unsettling and tragic. Her childhood infatuation with George has festered into a twisted obsession, and her jealousy of my connection with him has fueled her hatred. Her admission paints a grim picture of her psyche, revealing the depths of her delusion.I feel a cold dread creeping up my spine as she continues to speak. Her words are laced with venom, her anger and resentment palpable.Why is she saying such things? Has she mistaken me for someone else?I have no recollection of playing with George. George and I had never met before high school. I narrow my eyes, trying to process her words.I struggle again, trying to break free from her grasp. But Megan is too strong, her hold too s
As my consciousness gradually returns, the world around me materializes in fragments. The grimy, dilapidated surroundings of the room come into focus, casting an eerie atmosphere that matches the unsettling situation I'm in. Cobwebs cling to corners; shadows dance on the walls of my vision.My head feels heavy, and my ears still ring from the blow I received. I blink, trying to clear my vision, and my heart skips a beat when I realize I'm bound to a chair.The voices, hushed but audible, pierce through the haze in my mind. My senses sharpen, and I strain to listen, piecing together the conversation unfolding before me."I told you to stay away from here. Why did you come here?"I squint as I find this voice familiar. It’s Michael’s voice. Who is he talking with?"Ugh…" I groan and try to free my hands from the ropes that are restraining me.A second voice joins the conversation, and my heart sinks as I recognize it.Megan.The pieces fall into place, and I'm struck by the cruel revela
A few days later…Megan visits me when Vivian is away. I can't help but feel a wave of annoyance wash over me.She is so shameless. She has the nerve to show up in front of me again."George, oh, my God. Look at you, how badly you have been injured." She comes closer to me with tears in her eyes.I used to feel sad whenever I saw her cry. But now I can see through her malicious nature hidden beneath this pitiful exterior. Megan is pretentious. Her tears and sweet words can’t change my perception of her anymore. I now know how cunning she is.She tries to reach out and touch my face, but I swat her hand away instinctively. I don't want her touching me; doesn't she understand that? I glare at her, my eyes flashing with warning."I have completely lost my patience with you, Megan," I growl, my voice low and menacing. "Stop trying to get closer to me. Get lost."She gives me a hurt look as if she is the one who has been wronged. "How could you say such a thing to me?" she asks, her voice