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,
NancyI had already gotten used to Bruce's accusations. To him, everything that was wrong in our lives—everything that didn't follow the Mortons' perfect plan—was my fault. And at that moment, as he launched into the issue once again, blaming me for what Amber had become, I felt the weariness and anger building up inside me like poison."You raised Amber badly, Nancy. She turned into this angry girl because you never disciplined her properly!" Bruce's voice echoed through the room angrily, and his eyes fixed on me as if I were to blame for everything bad in his life.I looked down at the coffee he was pouring, my hands shaking slightly as I poured the hot liquid into the cups placed in front of him and Charles. We were in the living room, both of us sitting in leather armchairs in front of the fireplace, while I moved like a servant, obedient and silent."Amber has no respect for men. She doesn't have an ounce of submissiveness or modesty. Of course that's coming from you," Bruce cont
AmberI was there, smoking in the cold, hiding, trying to find some kind of relief in the smoke that rose and disappeared in the freezing Denver air. Everything has felt so out of control lately. The Morton family was falling apart before my eyes, and I, in the midst of this chaos, felt more lost than ever. Cigarettes had become a crutch, an escape. I knew it wasn't the best solution, but it was what I had at the moment.When I saw my mother approaching, my heart skipped a beat. Shit! She had seen it. I threw the cigarette on the floor, stepping on it, as if that would erase the evidence of my addiction. But there was no hiding it, not from her. I knew she noticed.I tensed, expecting some kind of scolding, or maybe even worse. Nancy was never a woman with sweet words, especially when she was hurt. And I knew I had hurt her deeply. What I did in the past—selling my own mother, betraying her trust—was unforgivable. But I had no choice – or at least that's what I told myself every night