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?
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 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 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
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 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
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
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.
I stood barefoot on the damp sand, the wind weaving through my hair like invisible fingers, the sea humming a lullaby that had become the heartbeat of our peaceful island life. Leon stood beside me, his hand resting on the curve of my growing belly. It had become our evening ritual, watching the sunset together, our two kids—Isla and Theo—laughing somewhere behind us, chasing each other with sticks and seashells.I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the sound of the waves steady my heart. This place—this little paradise Leon bought for our third child—had become more than a retreat. It was a dream he turned into a promise. But even dreams, I had come to learn, were fragile."She kicked again," I said softly.Leon turned, his eyes lighting up. He dropped to his knees and pressed his ear against my belly. "Hey, little one. You trying to tell us something?"I laughed, running my fingers through his hair. We had built a world here—away from pain, betrayal, and danger. For nearly a year,
The next twenty-four hours unfolded like a twisted thriller novel—one where every moment felt more surreal than the last.Leon doubled the patrols and locked down the main house with a level of precision that made me feel both safe and deeply unsettled. We weren’t just protecting Angela and Riley anymore; we were protecting our entire family, our children, and the unborn life growing inside me. I absentmindedly touched my belly throughout the day—our third child, already making their presence known in subtle kicks and flutters.Leon noticed, of course. He always noticed.“You okay?” he asked quietly that afternoon, his arm curling protectively around my waist as we stood by the nursery window, watching Isla and the twins playing with their nannies in the garden below.“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I want to be. I should be. But Victoria… she’s like a shadow. I can feel her even when she’s not there.”Leon didn’t speak right away. Instead, he pressed a kiss to my temple and rested his h
Days passed in a blur of uncertainty. Leon worked late into the night, organizing security measures, making phone calls. He reached out to his contacts in Anacortes, hoping to get a lead on the source of the letter. Meanwhile, I tried to keep things normal for the children. I kept the island life as idyllic as possible, determined not to let the shadow of the unknown consume us completely.But the truth was, I couldn’t ignore it. Not anymore.It wasn’t just Riley and Angela we had to worry about—it was us, too. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far worse.The morning the helicopter arrived, I knew something had changed.Leon had arranged for a private security team to monitor the island, just in case. The sound of the helicopter’s blades cutting through the air had become an all-too-familiar noise. But this time, when it landed, it wasn’t just the usual security team.It was Riley and Angela.And they didn’t look like the carefree couple th
The days that followed Victoria’s arrest felt like exhaling after holding our breath for far too long. Riley and Angela stayed on the island for a while longer, though it was clear they needed to forge a new chapter of their own. Angela had begun smiling again, truly smiling—without fear shadowing her eyes. Riley, too, softened. He built sandcastles with Liam and Lila, cooked with Leon, and talked with me late into the evening, often about forgiveness and starting over.And just like that, they left. Quietly, one morning, before the sun rose. A handwritten note on the kitchen table read:"Thank you for giving us this time, this place, and this chance to be free again. We’ll never forget it. Love, Riley & Angela."I folded the note and placed it in the drawer beside my bedside table, next to the ultrasound photo of our third child.Yes, our third. I was five months along by then—round and glowing, Leon would say, with that teasing smirk of his. Truthfully, I felt more like a sleepy, wa
One Month LaterPeace. Real, actual peace.It settled on our shoulders like a soft shawl, wrapping us in warmth we’d long forgotten existed. Riley and Angela decided to stay on the island for a few more weeks to heal, but soon they were talking about moving to a quieter part of Europe to start fresh. With Victoria behind bars and no more shadows to run from, they deserved that clean slate.As for us… we were starting to dream again.Life slowed into soft routines. Mornings began with giggles from Liam and Lila as they climbed into bed with us, demanding pancake breakfasts and treasure hunts on the beach. Isla—our tiny, perfect miracle—was thriving, always cooing and gurgling, her smile lighting up the room.And then came the moment.I was standing in the garden behind the cottage, barefoot on the grass, Isla napping in a basket under the shade while the twins dug in the sand nearby. Leon came out, holding something behind his back.“Close your eyes,” he said, grinning.I rolled mine a
Life on our secluded island had settled into a serene rhythm. Leon and I spent our days basking in the joy of raising our three children, the twins—Liam and Lila—and our newborn, Isla. The island, a paradise of golden sands and lush greenery, had become our sanctuary, far removed from the chaos of our past lives.One tranquil afternoon, as I lounged on the veranda watching the twins play by the shore, a distant speck on the horizon caught my eye. Squinting against the sun's glare, I realized it was a small boat, rowing frantically toward our island. My heart quickened. Visitors were unheard of here. Leon, noticing my unease, emerged from the house and followed my gaze.The boat drew closer, revealing two figures aboard. As they reached the shallows, a man leaped out, pulling the vessel onto the sand. He turned toward us, and recognition struck me like a bolt."Riley?" I called out, disbelief evident in my voice.Riley's face was etched with exhaustion and fear. Beside him, a woman
The next few days were filled with packing and preparations for the move. The kids were excited about the idea of living in a new place, and their enthusiasm helped ease some of my doubts. I watched them run around the house, laughing, playing, as Leon and I sorted through our things. They were so innocent, so unaware of the complexities of the world we lived in. I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.By the time we were ready to leave, I felt a sense of peace settle over me. It wasn’t about abandoning anyone—it was about creating a future for us, a future where we could heal, grow, and be free from the shadows of our past.The private jet that Leon had arranged for us was waiting, and the twins couldn’t contain their excitement as we boarded. The journey felt surreal, like something out of a dream. We were starting over, building a new life, and for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful.When we finally arrived on the island, it exceeded all our expectations.
We visited Havenmoor two weeks later.The air was different there—salt-kissed and vibrant. The island’s green heart stretched wide with wild palms and flowering trees. A gentle wind rustled the leaves as we stepped onto the sand. Liana and Mateo were already running toward the waves, laughing as the tide splashed their feet.Leon held my hand as we walked up a narrow path toward the bluff where our future home would be built.“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, unable to hide my awe.“It’s yours,” he said. “Ours.”A local contractor met us at the site, showing us the blueprints. I could already picture it—Liana perched at the window seat with a book, Mateo in the garden chasing butterflies, the sound of waves echoing through our open windows.“This room will be for the baby,” Leon said, his voice lower now, reverent. “Facing east, so the sunlight comes in every morning.”I didn’t speak for a moment. Instead, I turned to him, tears threatening to spill. “You thought of everything.”He brush
The smell of cinnamon and warm bread wafted through the air as I stood in the sunlit kitchen, stirring a pot of soup with one hand and resting the other protectively over my growing belly. Outside the window, the sound of laughter echoed from the garden where Leon chased after our two children—Emilia, now three, and our spirited one-year-old, Julian. Their giggles bounced off the walls like music.Peace.For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I could breathe.It had been a year since Elise’s arc ended—since we put an end to the nightmare that stole my parents and nearly took my life. The trial that followed felt like a bad dream, and with Dorian’s testimony and the evidence from my father’s study, Elise’s crimes—along with her father's legacy of corruption—were buried with their conviction.Leon and I moved on. We rebuilt our lives, one moment, one breath at a time.And now, as I stirred soup with the ease of a mother content in her routine, I was preparing to share somethin