"You did this?" I asked, still in disbelief at the sight in front of me."Well, I didn’t make it myself," Emerson replied with a shrug. "I just gave them an idea of the office you wanted, the colours you loved, and let them pick a design to surprise you. So, tell me... do you like it?""Do I like it?" I spun around, taking in the entire room. "I love it! You know how much I love orange and purple, my favourite colours,”“ just like the woman," he teased with a wink.I smiled at him, warmth spreading through me. "I love it," I said, as my fingers trailed over the bookcases and the desk. There was something about the way it had been put together—stylish, but also cosy and inviting.I walked towards the large window and looked outside. The lush garden stretched out before me, vibrant with greenery and flowers, the sunlight filtering through the trees. It was breathtaking."It's amazing," I said, my voice soft, turning to face him. "I absolutely love it.""That’s all I wanted," Emerson sa
We both turned our heads toward Thomas, who was now standing there, and I was taken by surprise by the look on his face. I had never seen Thomas angry before. He was always the quiet one, the one who smiled, took instructions, and kept to himself. He never got involved in household matters. So seeing him like this was a shock, but it also made me pause.He shut Rose down with a single look, his voice a little too cold. "Know your place in this house."Without another word, he walked toward me, opening the door to the back garden. "Miss, they’re out there," he said quietly, gesturing toward where Emerson and Madeline were. I could tell Thomas wanted a moment alone with Rose, so I shot her one last look and stepped outside, letting the door close behind me.As I walked down the garden path, I tried to shake off the strange feeling from earlier, but something was still bothering me. The tension was high, not just from Rose’s words but from the whole atmosphere in this house. And yet,
"Someone wrote the word BITCH here. I’m telling you, I saw it with my own eyes. They wrote it here. It’s just here." I pointed insistently. "Am I supposed to have just eliminated it? I’m not making this up. Why would I make it up? It was written right here. B-I-T-C-H. In small little capital letters, right here at the corner."I looked toward Emerson, but there was no reaction on his face. "Emerson, seriously, why would I make this up? And why would someone scratch it? You told me it’s brand new. So, are you telling me I just scratched it by myself? Who scratched it?""Calm down," Emerson interrupted softly, stepping towards me with his usual calmness. He placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. "Calm down, Mia. Take a deep breath. Just breathe."I exhaled slowly, watching him, needing him to believe me, to believe what I saw. And finally, he said, "I believe you."I sighed with relief. "You would never do that.“ Emerson continued, “It’s not in your behaviour, not in your character.
"Yes, Miss, I understand you perfectly, and it won't repeat itself again," Rose bites out each word, her tone barely masking the resentment beneath her facade. She doesn’t want to do this, I can see it in her face, and feel it in the way each syllable is pronounced. But as long as she stays in her lane, I really don’t care.“You can go now,” I tell her dismissively.She looks down, then turns and walks toward the door, dragging her feet. As soon as she closed it, I let out a deep sigh of relief. When I came into this house, I expected things to go smoothly. I knew everyone here already, after all. I thought this would be a small, quick transition, that everyone would remain as cordial as they’d always been. But everyone’s different now, except for Thomas, who keeps to himself as he always has. He just gets the updates, nods, and goes on with his day.My relationship with Madeline seems to have gone down the drain. We were once close, and now… it’s like there’s a wall between us. Ros
I laugh, even though we both know he’s joking. "Maybe I should start my own business," I joke.But then, I see his face turn serious like he just heard something incredible."Yes," he says, a smile spreading across his face. "You should open your own company. I believe in you, and I know how brilliant you are. You’d be amazing. You should start thinking about it right now.""Are you serious?" I ask, surprised. "Because I only said it as a joke.""Of course I’m serious! Are you kidding?“ “Looking at how excited you are already. I’m starting to get excited too!"His enthusiasm catches me off guard. I can’t help but smile. "I mean, I guess since I already have the money, I wouldn’t need to worry about getting capital or investors.""Exactly. And while it wouldn’t hurt to have some backing from a company like the Blackwinds, it’s entirely up to you.""Oh, please," I say, rolling my eyes. "You’re not serious.""I am." He nods earnestly. "I’ll give you the funding to open the company. And
By the time evening comes, I have spent the day lazying in bed. I haven't eaten anything. Ever since I had brunch with Emerson this morning, I haven't even had an appetite. But as I get out of the house and walk around the garden, I suddenly get an idea. I'm going to surprise Emerson with food. Yes! When...he comes home tonight. How should I surprise him? Hmm... Yes. I'm going to make him a surprise dinner, and maybe tonight we can change our relationship and the rules he has tried building when I got here, although they never worked anyway, because I still remember the heat in his eyes this morning in Eric's office.That decided I go into the kitchen. I'm not a very good cook or not a bad one either. I used to cook when Eric and I were living together, so I think I can cook something decent. Plus I'm sure that Emerson would enjoy the gesture and enjoy the effort. I go into the kitchen and find Madeline.“Hi!” I say to her.“Hi,” she responds, but right now, our relationship seems l
I go into my bedroom and start choosing my night dress. I choose the skimpiest, most seductive nightdress I own, something I know will catch Emerson's attention. The fabric is delicate, hugging me in all the right places. I pair it with a light, elegant robe on top so I can comfortably go downstairs without drawing too much attention, at least not from anyone but him.With a deep breath, I glance at myself in the mirror, feeling a rush of confidence. Tonight, I’m setting the stage. Whatever chaos surrounded us earlier, I’m determined to make this evening something memorable.I take a long bubble bath, letting the warmth soak away the tension of the day as I prepare myself for the evening. Afterwards, I smooth on my favourite lotion, enjoying the light fragrance as I spray a hint of perfume. I put effort into every detail—my hair is styled in a loose, elegant bun, with a few strands framing my face. A little makeup completes the look, just enough to enhance my features without overdoin
I looked up at Emerson, breathing hard, meeting his intense gaze as I ran my hands across his chest, feeling the firmness beneath my fingers. He shivered at my touch, his eyes following my every move, and I whispered, “You want me to stop?”For a second, his face tightened, and he nodded slowly, almost reluctantly. “Why?” I asked, my voice a gentle whisper, feeling the vulnerability in him. My hands roamed over his body, and as I leaned in, I placed a soft kiss on the left side of his chest, just over his heart. He inhaled sharply, catching my hand as if to steady himself, as if he couldn’t hold back.“What?” I murmured, raising my gaze to his face, searching his eyes for answers he wouldn’t say. But the hesitation was fading, replaced by a raw want that he could no longer hide.Standing on my tiptoes, I brushed my lips lightly against his, first a soft peck, a gentle nudge that grew as I kissed his cheek, then his jawline, tasting the warmth of his skin. When I finally pressed my
As Emerson's voice continued on the phone, offering words of comfort, trying to calm me, I felt my tears flow faster. I couldn't hear him clearly anymore over the noise in my head, the panic, the certainty that I was going to die. I just listened to him, letting his voice be a thread tying me to something.Then, the banging stopped.I hadn't even realized it.Instead, a knock. A soft, reassuring knock."Mina, Mina, come on, open the door," Emerson's voice came through the phone, clearer now.I still didn’t understand what was happening. My mind was so clouded by fear, but hearing his voice… it soothed me in ways I couldn’t explain. I was barely aware of his words, just the sound of him calling my name, telling me it was okay."Emerson, is that you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper."Yes, it's me. Open the door, Mina."The reality of it hit me. I had been trapped in a nightmare, my heart frozen with terror, bu
I started scribbling on the piece of paper.[I can't do this anymore. I'm going to kill myself.]I set the pen down and exhaled. "Okay, I'm done."Madeline narrowed her eyes. "What did you write so fast?"She stalked toward me, snatched the paper out of my hands, and read it. Her expression darkened, and before I could brace myself, she slapped me hard across the face. The force nearly knocked me out of the chair.A sharp sting spread across my cheek, my vision blurred for a second. My entire face tingled from the impact, and I gritted my teeth, refusing to let a single tear fall.Who knew I would ever be in this situation? Kidnapped at gunpoint. Forced to write my own suicide letter.Madeline took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. Then she smirked."You're smart, Mina. We can argue about a lot of things, but not that. You're a smart little thing, a devious little thing. That’s how you got Emerson i
Madeline’s grip on my arm became almost painful. I could feel the gun on my side, like a silent, invisible threat.I forced a laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, you know... My condition." I gestured vaguely at myself. "It’s still hard for me to get up, takes a while to get out of bed. I was sleeping."Tom stared at me, his eyes searching my face as if he was trying to read through my words.Then, finally, he gave a slow nod. "Okay."But he still didn’t leave."Can I come in?" he asked. "I can give you some company.""No!" The word shot out of my mouth too fast, too loud, too desperate.Madeline pressed the gun against my side, a silent threat, a warning that made my blood turn cold.Tom’s frown deepened.I forced another smile, shaking my head quickly. "I mean—no, it’s okay. I was sleeping. I don’t need company right now."I gave an awkward laugh, motioning toward the inside of the apartment. "If you came in, you’d just be sitting alone because I’m going back to bed."Tom didn’t look conv
"I'm sorry, Madeline, I swear I didn’t—""Just tell me why!" she shouted to my face, her voice filled with frustration.I was shaking, my throat dry, my mind running a mile a minute. "I don't know, okay? Maybe because he was there. He was nice. He was understanding, and he made me feel safe. He made me happy. He made me feel like I could be the person I wanted to be." My voice cracked, and I rushed to explain, desperate for her to believe me. "It was never about his age, Madeline. I always thought he was cute, you know? I always thought he was really handsome. And then when we slept together, I realized I could have everything I ever wanted with him, okay? I'm sorry. I really didn’t know—"She let out a cold laugh, cutting me off. "You're not sorry. Stop trying to act like some innocent girl who thought he was ‘the one.’"Her voice was mocking, twisting my words into something dirty."You don’t even love him. Not really. You love the things he represents." She took a step closer, he
"I'm not going to say anything, Madeline," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I swear, I won’t tell anyone anything. Please, nobody even knows."She laughed again. A slow, mocking laugh that sent chills down my spine. Then, she moved closer, sitting right beside me on the bed."Do you think I’m stupid?" she asked, her voice eerily calm."No," I said quickly, shaking my head.Without warning, she pulled out a pocket knife and flicked it open. The sharp blade glinted under the dim light. My breath caught in my throat as she dragged the cold metal slowly across my face, tracing the curve of my cheek.I shut my eyes tight, bracing myself for the sharp pain, for the knife to sink into my skin. But then, just as quickly as she started, she pulled it away.I opened my eyes cautiously and saw her snap the pocket knife shut, slipping it back into the pocket of her black jeans.She smirked. "What do you think, Mina?"I swallowed hard. "I—I don’t know.""Of course, you don’t."Her tone turned tho
Mina"Emmerson," I asked again the figure at the door, hoping more than anything that Emmerson answered.But Something felt wrong. A prickle ran down my spine. As I sat upright, trying to shake off the feeling, the person at the door walked toward me. My instincts screamed at me to move, to get up and run—but before I could, they were already on me.Strong. Overpowering.A forceful shove sent me back onto the bed. Panic ran through me, but before I could react, something soft and heavy pressed down against my face—a pillow. I gasped, but no air came. I struggled, flailing my arms, trying to claw at the hands pinning me down. My fingers grasped at nothing.The suffocation was instant.I didn’t know what they had put on the pillow, but it was making it worse. My lungs screamed for oxygen, my body bucking as I fought against the weight crushing me. I twisted, but my hands were suddenly pinned together. A rough sensation—something tight—wrapped around my wrists.This was it. This person w
EmmersonI exhaled sharply, my patience thinning. “Let’s just go inside.”Without another word, I turned and walked back into the room. Eric followed behind me.The moment Rita saw him, her entire face lit up.“Eric,” she called softly, reaching for him.He forced a smile and moved toward her, taking her hand in his.Kristen was the one holding the baby. I turned to her. “Can I hold him?”She hesitated for a second before nodding and carefully placing the tiny bundle in my arms.The baby was small but chubby, wrapped snugly in a white hospital blanket. His face was peaceful, his tiny hands curled into fists. He was an adorable little thing, though, like most newborns, he had that same squishy, undefined look.I realized then that we had all held the baby before Eric had. The baby's father.“Eric,” I said, shifting the baby slightly. “Come take a look at your son.”He stepped closer, peering at the Babby. For a moment, I thought he was going to take him into his arms. But he didn’t.H
EmmersonI made my way toward the hospital, still trying to call Eric, but he wasn’t picking up. Frustration tightened my grip on the phone as I dialled again. Nothing.I had no choice. I instructed Tom to use his people to track him down. It didn’t take long before they confirmed his location—he was at home. Just sitting there. Ignoring my calls.I exhaled sharply and changed direction, instructing the driver to take me to his house instead. As we pulled up, I noticed how dark and lifeless the place seemed. The entire house was pitch black. Not a single light on.A cold feeling settled in my chest.I stepped out of the car and made my way inside, calling his name. "Eric!"No answer. I tried again, louder this time. Still nothing.A bad feeling crept over me as I moved further inside. The silence was too thick as I headed to the master bedroom.And that’s where I found him.Slumped against the bed, a half-empty bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers. The room reeked of alcohol.
"So, what do you want me to do, Mina?" Emerson asks, his voice tight with frustration. "What would you have me do when you say you don't want to go back home?"I take a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. "For starters, you can start investigating her," I say firmly. "Find out if these allegations are true. Because if this poor girl is inside there and she didn’t do this, it’s not fair. She's still young. She still has a bright future ahead of her."" It’s not right to accuse someone if we don’t have all the facts." He stares at me, his expression conflicted. "And what if Madeline didn’t do it? What if we go accusing Madeline of all of this, and she had nothing to do with it? Think about how she’s been there for me, for you, for our family. She’s practically family now. If we accuse her of this, what will happen?"I shake my head. "So what do you want me to do? Go back into that house with a woman who wants to kill me?"