The next day…The clock in my office ticked incessantly, a stark contrast to the silence engulfing the room. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the image of Leon—no, Richard—over and over. The man’s indifference, his sharp denial, the introduction of his wife. Each detail felt like a dagger twisting deeper into the raw wound in my chest.I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think. And I certainly couldn’t let this go.William’s words echoed in my mind: If Leon were alive, why wouldn’t he have come back to you? It was the most painful question because it was one I couldn’t answer. What could keep him from me?As much as I wanted to storm after Richard and demand answers, I knew I had to approach this carefully. For now, I needed information.The following morning, I called on William and our head of security, Greg. Both of them stood across from me in my office, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.“I need your help,” I began, my voice resolute d
The phone rang twice before Aunt Lou’s warm voice came through the line.“Margarette, darling! What a surprise,” she said, her tone immediately soothing the storm that had been raging in my chest since last night.“Aunt Lou,” I began, my voice trembling despite my attempts to sound composed. “I need to talk to you.”There was a pause, and I could almost picture her setting down whatever she was doing to give me her full attention. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”I swallowed hard, staring out the window at the city skyline. “I saw him. I saw Leon.”The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal.“Margarette,” Aunt Lou said carefully, her voice laced with concern, “Leon is… you know that’s not possible.”“I know what I saw,” I insisted, my grip tightening on the phone. “He’s alive, Aunt Lou. He’s calling himself Richard Ledesma now, and he’s claiming he doesn’t know me. But it’s him—I’d stake my life on it.”There was a long silence on the other end before Aunt Lou spoke again, her voice soft
The next morning, I woke up with the determination to move my investigation forward. I couldn’t allow myself to second-guess anymore; I needed to confront my doubts head-on. After receiving a late-night message from Greg confirming that the private investigator was analyzing the photos I’d taken, I knew my next step: I had to keep close to Richard without raising suspicion.My phone buzzed with another message—this time from Sarah, Richard’s wife.“Ms. Margarette, it was lovely meeting you at the gala. Richard and I were discussing the possibility of collaborating with your resort. Let’s schedule a meeting.”Her text was polite, professional, and unnervingly convenient. Was this an opportunity or a trap?Later that day, as I sat in the conference room of the casino’s business wing, I prepared myself for the meeting. Sarah had brought the proposal for her travel company to integrate luxury packages with Montefalco Casino Resort. It was a lucrative concept, but my focus was on the man s
The dinner concluded without any more noticeable tension, but the unease in my chest lingered. I felt as though I was navigating a labyrinth, with Richard—or Leon—deliberately placing roadblocks at every turn. His calculated demeanor only fueled my determination to uncover the truth.The following day, Greg sent a cryptic text: I’ve found something. You’ll want to see this.We met in a secluded café downtown. Greg was seated at a corner table, his laptop open and his expression grim.“What is it?” I asked, sliding into the chair across from him.Greg turned the screen toward me. “I dug into Richard Ledesma’s background. His records only go back three years. Before that, it’s a dead end.”I frowned. “That doesn’t prove anything. People can start fresh.”Greg smirked, shaking his head. “I thought the same, but then I checked immigration records. He entered the country three years ago under the name Richard Ledesma—on the same day Leon Montefalco was declared dead.”My heart stopped. “W
The air between us crackled with tension as Richard—or Leon—stood there, his face shadowed under the chandelier's light. My breath caught in my throat as every nerve in my body screamed at me to demand the truth.But his expression stopped me cold. There was something different about him. A determination, a vulnerability I hadn't seen in Richard before. It was hauntingly familiar, like the Leon I had known, but more guarded.“Margarette,” he said softly, stepping closer. “Please, we need to talk. Privately.”I folded my arms tightly across my chest, willing my voice not to betray the storm raging inside me. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here after everything, don’t you think?”He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know how this looks. But I need you to hear me out.”“Do you?” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. “Do you need me to hear how you let me think you were dead for over a year? How you’ve been parading around as someone else with a new wi
The moment Richard walked into my house, the tension between us was palpable. I stood by the window, arms crossed, gazing out at the city lights, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. His footsteps were deliberate, measured, as if he wasn’t sure whether to sit or stand."Margarette," he began softly, "we need to talk."I turned to face him, meeting his steady gaze. For a second, my heart betrayed me, skipping a beat at the sight of him—so familiar yet so distant. But the pain of his denial and rejection quickly replaced any warmth I felt."We've been talking," I said coldly. "And all you've been doing is denying who you are, Leon. Or should I say Richard?"He flinched slightly at the name, his jaw tightening. "I came here because I need you to stop," he said firmly. "You’re not just hurting yourself; you’re hurting me. And Sarah."At the mention of her name, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Sarah? Of course. Why wouldn’t she be the center of your world now? She’s the reason you’r
Perhaps the weight of the conversation made the phone feel heavier than usual against my ear.“Do you understand, Greg?” I spoke, attempting to maintain a steady tone. “I need everything about Richard Ledesma—his past, his present, and any connection he might have had to Leon.”“Yes, Ms. Margarette,” the investigator replied on the other end of the line. “I’m already on it. I’ve found some leads that suggest Richard’s timeline before meeting Sarah isn’t as clear as he claims. I’ll update you within the next few days.”“Good,” I murmured, my grip tightening on the phone. “Keep me posted.”I ended the call and stared at the device in my hand, my heart pounding. There was progress, but it still wasn’t enough. I needed more. I needed something solid—something undeniable—to expose Richard for who he truly was.Just as I placed the phone on the table, I felt the couch shift beside me. Turning my head, I found William sitting down, his face calm but his eyes carrying a weight I hadn’t notice
Guilt had a way of lingering, clinging to the edges of my thoughts like a shadow I couldn’t shake. Ever since my conversation with William yesterday, his words had played on a loop in my mind: “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m just a placeholder until you find what you’re really looking for.”I hated how true those words felt. William had always been there for me, patient and supportive, even when I was consumed by my search for answers about Leon—or Richard, as he now called himself. But in my quest for the truth, I’d been blind to the toll it had taken on the one person who stood by me unconditionally.Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee growing cold in front of me, I decided I needed to make things right. I couldn’t erase the hurt I’d caused, but I could try to show William how much he meant to me.By late morning, I was on my way to William’s office. I’d packed a small box of his favorite pastries and coffee from the café he loved, hoping it would serve as a peace offering
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains as I stood in the kitchen, preparing Lucas’s favorite breakfast. William had already left early for an urgent business trip, his goodbye kiss a fleeting moment before he disappeared out the door.“I’ll only be gone for three days,” he had reassured me. “But if anything comes up, call me immediately.”“Don’t worry,” I had replied, mustering a smile. “Lucas and I will be fine.”Now, as I watched Lucas happily munch on his pancakes, his little legs swinging beneath the table, I felt a pang of longing for the normalcy of William’s presence. But Lucas’s giggles quickly distracted me.“Mama, can we go to the park later?” he asked, his big, hopeful eyes lighting up his cherubic face.“Maybe,” I said, ruffling his hair. “Let’s see how the day goes.”By mid-afternoon, however, something was clearly wrong.Lucas, who had been running around the living room playing with his toy cars, suddenly sat down, clutching his stomach.“Mama, I don’t feel
A few days had passed since that unsettling encounter at the park. Life had returned to a semblance of normalcy, but the sight of Richard and Sarah had left an indelible mark on my thoughts. William, ever protective, had brushed it off as a coincidence, but deep down, I knew it was more.I tried to distract myself with routine tasks, one of which brought me to the local supermarket late in the afternoon. Lucas was at home with William, and I had planned to grab a few groceries before heading back. The fluorescent lights of the store buzzed softly overhead as I wandered through the aisles, mindlessly adding items to my cart.Turning a corner, I stopped abruptly.There he was—Richard.He was standing in the produce section, examining a bundle of kale with the kind of intensity one might reserve for life-or-death decisions. For a moment, I considered backing away before he noticed me, but it was too late.His gaze lifted, and our eyes met.“Margarette,” he said, his voice low and steady.
The air in Vancouver had grown crisp, the kind of chill that hinted at the coming winter. William, Lucas, and I had settled into a comfortable rhythm over the past weeks, rediscovering what it meant to be a family. There was still tension at times, unspoken questions and lingering wounds, but for the most part, we were healing.Today, we decided to take Lucas to a park near the bustling city center. It was one of those sprawling urban green spaces, with wide paths for walking, a sparkling lake with ducks, and a playground teeming with children. Lucas had been ecstatic about the idea, and his excitement was contagious.“Mommy, watch me!” Lucas called, his voice brimming with joy as he climbed the ladder of a play structure. He waved enthusiastically before sliding down, his laughter filling the crisp autumn air.William chuckled beside me. “He’s got your energy.”“Or your determination,” I replied with a small smile, watching Lucas dart toward the swings.As Lucas played, William and I
The morning light spilled across the cottage floor, warming the wooden planks and bathing the room in a golden glow. I sat at the kitchen table, a steaming mug of coffee in my hands, watching the sun rise over the grove of trees outside. The smell of freshly baked muffins wafted from the oven, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt at peace.Lucas’s laughter carried from the living room, where he and William were busy constructing a makeshift fort from blankets and chairs. Their bond had strengthened over the past few weeks, and seeing them together filled me with a bittersweet mixture of relief and longing.Relief that Lucas was happy again. Longing for the kind of connection William and I had once shared.“Mommy!” Lucas’s voice rang out, pulling me from my thoughts. He peeked around the corner, his face flushed with excitement. “Come see our fort! Daddy William says it’s the best one yet!”I set down my mug and followed him into the living room, where William st
I stayed in William’s arms for what felt like forever, the warmth of his embrace slowly thawing the coldness I had built around my heart. His steady heartbeat against my ear was a quiet reminder of all the moments we had shared, the trust we had once built, and the love that still lingered between us despite the pain and misunderstanding.When I finally pulled away, I wiped my tears, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief. William’s hand lingered on my shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin.“Margarette,” he began softly, “I’ll spend as long as it takes to rebuild what we’ve lost. But I need to know…do you think we can try again? Not just for Lucas, but for us?”I met his gaze, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself really look at him—not through the lens of doubt or fear, but with the eyes of the woman who had fallen in love with him in the first place. He looked tired, but his expression was open and raw, filled with an honesty I couldn’t ignore.“I don’t kno
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the Vancouver skyline in hues of orange and pink. The warmth of the day lingered in the air, but my thoughts felt as cold as a winter wind. I sat in the living room, absently watching Lucas build a tower with his wooden blocks. His little giggles filled the room, but my heart was heavy with the burden of unresolved emotions.Aunt Lou was in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared tea. The tranquility of the scene was disrupted by the buzzing of my phone. My heart sank when I saw the name flashing on the screen: William.I stared at the phone, debating whether to answer, but ultimately let it go to voicemail. I had made it clear I needed time. Yet, a part of me wondered if I was avoiding him not because of anger, but because of fear—fear that his explanation might force me to confront the possibility that I’d been wrong.The next morning, as sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, Aunt Lou set down two steaming mugs of coffee and sat
The following day dawned with a heaviness that I couldn’t shake. Aunt Lou’s advice lingered in my mind like a persistent whisper: Start with yourself. But how could I, when the weight of everything felt so unbearable?I stood in the kitchen, idly stirring a pot of oatmeal for Lucas. He sat at the table, coloring a picture of what he proudly told me was “Mommy and me at the park.” His innocent smile tugged at my heart, reminding me that no matter how chaotic my life felt, Lucas deserved a mother who was present and strong.As the oatmeal bubbled, Aunt Lou appeared in the doorway, holding a newspaper in one hand and her ever-present mug of tea in the other.“Good morning, dear,” she said, setting the paper on the counter. “How are you feeling today?”“Same as yesterday,” I admitted, sighing. “Confused, tired, unsure about everything.”She nodded knowingly. “It’s a process, Margarette. You’re doing the best you can, and that’s all anyone can ask.”Lucas looked up from his drawing. “Mommy
The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Aunt Lou’s cozy living room, casting soft patterns across the wooden floors. I sat cross-legged on the couch, a mug of tea warming my hands. Across from me, Aunt Lou watched me intently, her eyes full of concern and patience.“It’s been days, Margarette,” she said softly, breaking the silence. “You’ve barely talked about what’s going on.”I sighed, staring into the swirling tea. “There’s not much to say,” I murmured, though the knot in my chest told a different story. “I saw William with that woman, Aunt Lou. She was fixing his tie, laughing like they shared some private joke. And William... he didn’t even look guilty.”Aunt Lou leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “But did you hear his explanation? Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like.”I shook my head. “I left before he could say anything. And now, the more I think about it, the more I feel like no explanation would change how I felt in that moment. My gut tells me so
The evening air was heavy with the scent of cedar as I stepped into my house in Anacortes. The soft yellow glow of the lamps couldn’t ease the turmoil inside me. My hands trembled as I closed the door behind me, my heart still racing from everything I’d witnessed earlier at William’s office.“Lena?” I called out, my voice wavering as I made my way down the hallway.“In here!” came her cheerful reply from the living room.When I stepped inside, Lena was lounging on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees. She looked up at me, her face immediately clouding with concern.“What’s wrong?” she asked, setting her laptop aside and standing.I didn’t have the energy to answer her question directly. Instead, I blurted out, “I need your help packing.”Lena’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Packing? For what?”“I’ve booked a flight to Vancouver tomorrow morning,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “We’re going home.”Lena stared at me, wide-eyed. “Wait, what? Home? Why? What’s going on?