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God Bruce
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Love Under Fire Only one monster can kill another
GloryI was sitting in front of my dressing table, calmly brushing my hair, trying to shake off the thoughts that haunted me. Everything around me was falling apart, but that wasn't why I was going to stop taking care of myself. I was already in my bed dress, ready to go to bed, when I heard the bedroom door open with force. Charles entered with heavy steps, his presence filling the space in a way that made me shudder."It's going to be one of those nights..." I thought about it and resigned. He had been drinking, that much was obvious. His uncoordinated walk, the strong smell of alcohol that filled the air, and that predatory look... everything indicated that Charles wanted to satisfy himself, like so many other times. I mentally prepared myself for what was to come. It wasn't the first time he'd forced himself on me, and I doubted it would be the last.He approached quickly, without saying a word, just staring at me with those empty eyes. Suddenly, his hands were on me, his lips wer
Love Under Fire He's dead
HaraldI drove through the dark, deserted streets, the silence only interrupted by the low purr of the car engine. The city seemed asleep, as if the world had taken a brief rest after the chaotic events of that night at the Morton mansion. Streetlights intermittently illuminated the road in front of me, creating shadows that danced across the asphalt, but my mind was far away, lost in the events of the Christmas dinner I had just witnessed. It had been a night I would never forget, and the emotional impact of it reverberated inside me like a bomb ready to explode.I had finally done the unthinkable: rebelled against my father. For the first time in years, I found myself breaking the invisible chain that bound me to Charles Morton's tyranny. I still couldn't believe what I had done. I felt a visceral fear coursing through my veins—the kind of fear that paralyzed me and made me question every decision. But at the same time, a wave of relief washed over me. It was a strange relief, like
Love Under Fire Out of control
HaraldI was still processing what I had just heard. Glory's words echoed in my mind, over and over again, like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. "I killed Charles." I couldn't understand what that really meant. Every time I tried to rationalize what had been said, it seemed like the surrounding reality crumbled a little more. I knew that my father and I had a complicated relationship, filled with abuse, manipulation, and resentment. Maybe, at some point, I wanted him to disappear, for him to leave the scene. But imagining that this had actually happened — and at the hands of Glory, the woman with whom I was emotionally involved, the person I thought I knew — was an idea that tore me apart inside.The cold of the night seemed to envelop my body, but it didn't bring the relief I expected. Leaning against the porch wall, I tried to organize my thoughts, but everything was chaotic. My head was spinning, and I felt a growing pressure in my chest. What should I do? What would anyone do
Love Under Fire It's time to make a decision
HaraldAfter I ended the call with Glory, I rushed to the bedroom, my head spinning from everything that had just happened. My hands shook as I tried to quickly unbutton my shirt, as if every second wasted was crucial. “I killed Charles.” Glory's words rang in my mind over and over, like an ominous echo that I couldn't shake. It couldn't be real, it couldn't be possible that she had actually done that. As much as my father was a monster in many ways—someone who controlled and manipulated me—he was still my father. And Glory, the woman I had fallen for so deviously, had taken his life. I threw on some jeans and pulled a random jacket from my closet, my hands still shaking as I tried to process what I needed to do next. I needed to find glory; I needed to understand what the hell happened. Maybe she was in shock, maybe she was confused—I didn't know. But I had to go to her. I had to resolve this. Before I could get out of the closet, the door was slammed open, and Candace appeared. He
Love Under Fire I have to escape
GloryThe night was already advancing when I realized that Harald would not come. Every second that passed was a blow, a wound that deepened, reminding me of how much I had been betrayed. I looked at my cell phone once again, waiting for a message, a call... anything. But nothing. He abandoned me.I felt my body shaking, not from fear but from pure anger. The man who said he loved me, the man I sacrificed everything for, simply disappeared when I needed him most. The despair I felt was quickly replaced by a coldness that took over me completely. If Harald wasn't coming, I needed to make my own decisions. I couldn't stay there. I had to run away and disappear before everything fell apart.Furthermore, when I got out of bed, the sheets were still messy from what had been a normal day until a few hours ago. Now everything was turned upside down. I passed Charles' body, stretched out on the bedroom floor, his eyes still open and empty, as if he were watching the ceiling without really see
Love Under Fire The next morning
NancyThe morning sun peeked through the trees in the Morton mansion's garden, its filtered light creating dancing shadows on the stone floor. My feet felt heavy as I said goodbye to Amber and Peter in the driveway. The cold winter air mixed with the warmth of a moment that I didn't know if I wanted to prolong or shorten. Peter's suitcase was already in the car, and he, always so excited, talked about all the things he wanted to do in New York."You're going to love New York, my boy," I said, bending down to his level. I adjusted his jacket and stroked his hair. He laughed a sweet laugh, so innocent and carefree about everything around him. I envied the simplicity with which he approached life."Yes, mom. It gonna be awesome! And I'm going to bring you gifts!" Peter replied, his eyes shining with excitement of the trip. The driver was already waiting, the car engine purring softly, ready to take them away.Amber, on the other hand, was different. I watched her sideways, waiting for th
Love Under Fire The wake
NancyI was leaning against the large window, watching Charles' wake unfold with a mix of relief and discomfort. Relief knowing that my children, Amber and Peter, were far from all that farce, in New York, and discomfort because, even without wanting to, I was there, in the middle of it all, witnessing every morbid detail of this performance. Nothing there seemed genuine. Charles Morton's death was a spectacle, and everyone played their roles perfectly.Bruce, of course, was at the center of it all. Dressed impeccably in black, he seemed to fulfill his role as a grieving son almost automatically. His serious but restrained expression, the way he received greetings and condolences—everything was so calculated. I watched him from a distance, recognizing the mechanical gestures of someone suffocated by responsibility but without allowing any emotion to escape.It was then that I noticed three young women approaching, wearing clothes that were clearly inappropriate for the occasion. Tight
Love Under Fire The culprit
NancyWinter had already covered everything with its icy blanket, and the air outside the great Morton mansion felt thick and sharp. The wind blew in gusts, carrying with it a damp cold that made even the stones on the path to the cemetery seem frozen. The branches of dry trees swayed in the distance, casting long, flickering shadows on the lawn that led to the family mausoleum. The snow, which had fallen lightly the day before, covered the ground in a thin layer of white, almost as if it was announcing the arrival of something dark and definitive.Inside, the wake had already gone on for hours. The heated air of the mansion was unable to dispel the oppressive feeling that hung over us all. The smell of mortuary flowers mixed with the expensive perfume of the women present created a suffocating atmosphere, as if mourning were just another formality among many others. Every person in that room seemed more concerned about being seen than actually feeling the loss. There was no genuine p
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