AveryWhen Jake finally opened his eyes, it was as if the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders again. His expression, as he regained consciousness, said it all. There was no joy in being alive, no sense of relief at having escaped death. On the contrary, it seemed like his soul was in pieces, shattered by what had happened.I watched him in silence for long minutes as he looked around, trying to understand where he was and what had happened. He didn’t ask anything right away, but his eyes searched for answers, and I knew that soon enough, he would face the harsh reality.“You’re safe, Jake,” I said softly, my voice barely a whisper. I didn’t want to scare him, not at that fragile moment. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, as if trying to absorb everything. He didn’t respond, just letting the silence between us grow.For weeks, Jake had been there, in that makeshift bed, unconscious. I didn’t know if he would survive, but I refused to give up. I couldn’t let
Months laterAmberI've never been a big fan of Christmas. Those cheesy songs, little lights flashing everywhere, and that air of "forced joy" always irritated me deeply. And of course, after everything that's happened in the last few months, my contempt has only increased. Kris was dead. My father... well, I still couldn't even think about him without feeling a shiver of disgust.But there I was, months later, returning to Denver, where the snow insisted on covering everything with a cold, white layer. I spent days trying to pretend my life was normal — posting happy photos on social media, buying new clothes, and publishing as if nothing had happened. But inside, I was devastated. Guilt followed me like a shadow, and the antidepressant was the only thing that allowed me to put one foot in front of the other.I couldn't run away forever. It was Christmas, and, as always, I had to make my grand appearance at my parents' house. Even though every fiber of my being wanted to stay in New
AmberI knew from the moment I walked into that house that things would never be the same. The mansion had always seemed so imposing, but now, every detail of the marble walls and crystal chandeliers felt like an extra weight on my shoulders. The soft rug I had always loved, so pure white it seemed untouched, reminded me that there was nothing pure about me. The endless corridors, decorated with works of art that I had personally chosen, no longer brought the same comfort. It was as if the house, so perfect on the outside, reflected my life—a shining void.My mother was there, sitting on the sofa in the main room, when I entered. Her body was there, but her soul, her affection, had abandoned me. She glanced at me, quick enough to let me know she'd seen me, but without giving me the slightest bit of notice. As if I were a painting that she was already tired of looking at. The silence between us was suffocating, heavier than the cold December air that invaded through the huge windows. S
Glory Over the past few months, my life has turned into a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. The Morton house, which once seemed a symbol of power and wealth, was now just a theater of pain and despair, where the farce of happiness and stability played out before everyone. The "soap opera" of the three lovers, as I called it in my mind, was increasingly unbearable. And I, trapped in that plot, could barely breathe. Charles, the man I had married out of pure interest, continued to treat me with contempt, as if I were nothing more than his possession, something he used at his convenience. I remember how it all started. My choice to marry Charles, a powerful and influential man, had been driven purely by greed. The glare of money, status, and power – it all clouded my vision. But now, as time passed, I deeply regretted every decision I had made. Not a day went by without me wondering what would have happened if I had chosen Harald, the only man I ever truly loved. However, I left H
GloryI continued to notice Candace and Harald, who seemed closer than ever, and this closeness did not go unnoticed by anyone in the room, especially me. I felt a slight nausea at the way they leaned into each other, almost as if the rest of the room had disappeared. It was painful to watch. But what bothered me most was my inability to react. All I wanted to do was scream, get up from that table, and confront them. However, I knew it wouldn't change anything. What would I do? Would I reveal our secret to everyone? The consequences would be catastrophic for all of us, including me.As the food was served, I tried to focus on what was on my plate, but my appetite was nil. Candace's perfume reached me, mixed with the aroma of roast turkey, and her shrill laughter echoed in my ears like sonic torture. With each laugh, it seemed like she was reinforcing her victory—the fact that Harald now belonged to her, not me. How did I let this happen? When did I lose control of the situation?Haral
HaraldAs we all sat at the dinner table, I couldn't help the feeling of discomfort that washed over me. It was as if the pressure was increasing with each passing second. The atmosphere was tense, almost suffocating, and I knew that, at any moment, something could collapse. The truth is, I've always felt this way around Charles and Bruce. No matter what I did, it never seemed to be enough.And it was at that moment, as I looked around, that something inside me began to boil. I don't know if it was the arrogant way my father looked at me, as if I were inferior to him, or Bruce's sarcastic laugh, always waiting for me to fail. Something broke, and before I could control myself, the words were out of my mouth."Dad," I began, my voice firmer than I expected. "Why did you always look down on me? Why did you always treat me like I was nothing, while you glorified Bruce? What did I do to deserve this?"Charles stopped cutting the meat on his plate and looked up at me, as if surprised by my
GloryI sat there at the table as chaos began to unfold before me. I knew that discussion was inevitable. Ever since Harald decided to go his own way, away from Charles's oppressive shadow, I knew everything would blow up. Still, I wasn't prepared for the whirlwind of emotions that hit me at that moment.The sharp, cutting words that Charles spoke to Harald always bothered me. Although I never had enough courage to face my husband, as Harald did now, my heart sank whenever Charles belittled his own son. Even with all the resentment I felt towards Harald for ignoring me and being completely enchanted by that slut Candace, I couldn't deny that he deserved, at the very least, respect that was never given to him. And there, at that moment, she was defending him, not me. Candace was standing up to Charles, something I had never had the courage to do.I looked at Harald. His eyes were fixed on Candace, shining with admiration. I couldn't help but feel a lump in my throat. He never looked at
NancyAs I watched the Morton family disintegrate before my eyes, I remained silent, appearing to be the submissive, irrelevant wife everyone expected me to be. But inside, my mind was buzzing with satisfaction. Finally, those masks were coming off. Seeing those dogs fighting each other as if they were beasts trapped in a cage was what I always wanted. Every hateful word and every look of contempt between them was a gift to me. My wish, always hidden, was that they would all fall and that they would destroy themselves with their own hands.Sitting there, with my face impassive, I watched the pathetic spectacle unfold. When Harald stood up and left with Candace, I felt a twinge of something that could almost be described as admiration. Not for Candace, of course. But Harald... there was something about him that set him apart from the others. He wasn't a real Morton, not like Bruce or Charles. And that always put him in a different position, one that Charles would never accept.Charles,