That night, Damien’s mansion feels more like a fortress. Security guards patrol the grounds, their sharp eyes scanning for any signs of danger. Cameras monitor every corner, capturing every rustle of the trees and every shadow that moves. Yet, unease clings to the air like a storm waiting to break. Despite the mansion’s security, Damien can’t shake the tension in his chest. His mind refuses to rest. He knows Diego Granger is desperate enough to stop at nothing, but the thought of anyone threatening Carol and their unborn child sets his blood boiling. Carol, too, finds no solace in sleep. Her thoughts race, circling around Dr. Linsey’s betrayal and Diego’s sinister motives. The fear mingles with a growing anger. How could someone stoop so low as to harm her and her innocent child? Sitting up in bed, she exhales sharply. Her frustration surges, and she swings her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool floor. She walks to the window, staring out at the snow-
The lawyer, Mr. Bennett, wastes no time organizing the damning evidence Damien and Carol have amassed. He meticulously arranges the documents in chronological order, his practiced eye picking out details that can deliver a decisive blow to Diego Granger and the Crawley family. “This contract,” Bennett says, holding up the document Carol uncovered, “is our cornerstone. It proves a financial relationship between Diego and the Crawleys, stretching back years. We can leverage it to establish intent and conspiracy. But to make this airtight, we need more—communications, witness testimony, and detailed financial records.” Carol, sitting beside Damien, leans forward. “I’ve already sent Damien everything I found in Diego’s system. Bank statements, emails, even his calendar. He has meetings logged with my grandfather and his parents as recently as last week.” Bennett’s eyes gleam with approval. “That’s excellent. It establishes an ongoing connection between the parties. If we can link th
Carol sits in the living room, her hands resting protectively over her belly. Everything feels surreal. Just a week ago, the doctor confirmed she wasn’t 38 weeks along but only 35 weeks. The cryptic nature of her pregnancy and her health issues had made it difficult to track her progress, but the baby is thriving and could arrive as early as 37 weeks. She shifts carefully on the couch, mindful of every movement. The anticipation of labor starting any day now keeps her alert and slightly anxious. Damien has stationed extra security and instructed everyone in the house to prioritize her safety. Damien enters the room with a warm smile, his gaze immediately softening when it lands on her. “How are you feeling, love?” “I’m fine,” Carol says with a small smile. “Just a bit restless.” “Well, I have a little surprise for you.” Carol raises a brow. “Surprise?” He grins and sits beside her, taking her hand in his. “I thought you could use some company, so I called Eunice, Sarah, Ka
The first rays of sunlight stream through the curtains of Carol’s bedroom, softly illuminating the room. Eunice, already awake, moves quietly around the space, fluffing pillows and setting up breakfast on a tray. Carol stirs in bed, blinking against the light. She stretches gently, cradling her belly as she sits up. “Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep. Eunice turns with a bright smile. “Good morning! I brought you oatmeal with fresh fruit. You need energy, Momma.” Carol chuckles softly, adjusting her pillows. “You’re spoiling me, Eunice. But I’m not complaining.” “That’s the point,” Eunice says, bringing the tray over. “Now eat up before Damien swoops in and lectures us both about nutrition.” Carol grins, picking up her spoon. “You’re a lifesaver, Eunice. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Eunice sits on the edge of the bed, watching her eat. “You’d survive. But I’m here to make sure you thrive.” Meanwhile, Damien sits in his office, poring over d
The bright lights of the shopping mall reflect off the polished floors as Carol and Eunice stroll through the aisles, their arms laden with shopping bags. Carol wears a loose maternity dress, her hand occasionally resting on her belly. Although her belly doesn't stand out but the baby's movements are very active recently. She can feel the weight of the baby sometimes. “This place has everything,” Eunice says, holding up a baby blanket. “Look at this—soft and perfect!” Carol chuckles. “You’re spoiling the baby already.It’s cute.” ” I am going to be Godmother!" Eunice says while her eyes sometimes stealing glances at James who decided to join them at last minute. Carol knows that they're having some problems. So, she called him secretly to join them from the beginning. " I think it's enough today!" Carol says, feeling a bit exhausted. Her back is killing somehow. " Okay!" Eunice grabs a few shopping bags and gives it to James, " Put them in our car!" She rolls her eyes, though
The sterile smell of the hospital room is overwhelming. Damien paces back and forth, his shoes squeaking faintly against the polished floor. He glances at the clock—three hours have passed since Carol’s labor began, but still no baby. His heart races with every groan or gasp from Carol. Carol lies on the hospital bed, her face pale and strained as another contraction grips her. Sweat beads her forehead, and she clutches Damien’s hand tightly. She groans in pain, clenching her eyes shut. “Carol, I’m here,” he whispers, brushing her hair back gently. “You’re doing so well.” She groans, barely able to respond. “I… can’t. It’s too much, Damien. It feels like my spines are breaking” His heart twists, and he kneels beside her, his voice thick with emotion. “You can. You’re the strongest person I know. I’d trade places with you if I could.” Her lips twitch into a weak smile. “You… wouldn’t last five minutes.” Damien chuckles, though his eyes glisten with unshed tears. “You’r
The soft light of late afternoon streams through the hospital window, casting a warm glow over the room. Carol reclines against the pillows, her newborn daughter snuggled against her chest. Damien sits beside her, his fingers brushing her arm as he watches them both with a tenderness that makes her heart flutter. “You know we can’t keep calling her ‘Baby Girl,’ right?” Carol says, her voice playful but weary. Damien grins. “I thought we settled on Princess Buttercup Moonbeam Sparkle?” Carol groans, rolling her eyes. “Damien, be serious. She needs a name. And it has to be perfect.” “Alright, alright,” Damien relents, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been thinking about this for nine months. Hit me with your best idea.” Carol looks down at their daughter, her tiny fingers clutching at the edge of the blanket. “She’s so beautiful,” she murmurs, her eyes misty. “She needs a name that’s… elegant. Timeless.” Damien nods, his expression softening. “Okay. How about Grace? Simple,
Damien steps out of Carol's favorite bakery with a box of freshly baked cake in his hands, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The cake, a delicate creation adorned with soft pastel frosting, is for Carol. It’s a small celebration, a way to mark another milestone in their journey. He can do anything but refuses to fulfill her smallest wishes. As he walks down the bustling sidewalk to his car, his thoughts are focused on Carol, Aria and their new life together. But then something catches his eye as he passes a small boutique window. Red shoes. Tiny red shoes, perched on a shelf in the display. His heart skips a beat as he stops in his tracks, staring at them. They’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. He steps closer, peering through the glass. The shoes are small, far too small for Aria’s little feet at this moment, but something about them pulls at him. They’re bright red, soft leather, with tiny laces tied in a neat bow. Despite knowing they’ll likely be t
It’s late evening, and the house is quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner. Everyone left except Carol. She just put Aria in her bed after a long day. Carol is curled up on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through her phone, catching up on the day’s events. The soft glow from the screen lights up her face, and she can’t help but smile as she reads a message from her best friend, Eunice. After what felt like a long stretch of tension and uncertainty, Eunice and James have decided to try again—James is back, and it seems like they’re working things out. Carol’s heart swells with happiness for her friend. Just as she leans back, stretching her legs on the couch, the front door opens, and Damien walks in. His shoulders are hunched, his tie slightly loosened, and he looks exhausted. The stress from his day is evident, and he doesn’t even bother to take off his shoes before walking towards the living room. Carol raises an eyebrow, putting her phone down and watching
Aria sits quietly on the couch, her little body curled up into a ball, her plush carrot tightly held against her chest. Her small face is scrunched up, a mixture of confusion and sadness overtaking her usual lively demeanor. She can’t stop thinking about what happened with Julian earlier, and it's hurting her innocence heart more than she’s willing to admit. She is confused why Julian wants to play with someone else when she is playing with him. Damien, noticing his daughter’s silence, looks over at her from the kitchen, where he’s sipping his coffee. His heart clenches at the sight of her pouting face. Aria usually bounces around the house with boundless energy, but today, she’s a shell of her usual self. He places the mug down on the counter and walks over to her. “Hey, kiddo,” he says softly, sitting beside her on the couch. He gently pulls her onto his lap, his big hands rubbing circles on her back as he tries to comfort her. “What’s wrong, princess? Why the long face?” Aria d
The apartment is filled with the sound of the faint rustling of clothes and the occasional thud of a box being moved around. It’s quiet in a way that feels almost suffocating, the air thick with the unspoken tension that has been building for weeks. Since James hasn't been in his company, I couldn't ignore the situation. He wants to stay a few days to travel around the city. However, he has been getting lots of calls from his assistant. I can't let him slack off all day like a lazy ass. I sit cross-legged on the bed, staring at the half-packed suitcase in front of me, my fingers mindlessly folding the clothes I’ve laid out. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, as usual, filled with a thousand things—mostly about what’s coming next, about leaving and starting over, about the future that feels uncertain. But there’s one constant. One person. James. I can feel him watching me from across the room, where he’s leaned lazily against the dresser, arms crossed, his gaze locked onto me
Although I couldn't secure a position in the American branch of my company, for our best interests, James has asked me to work for him in his company. Although it's a new company, Damien has been helping him with lots of projects. We will leave soon. I have resigned my position. The bar is alive with music, the low hum of conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter as glasses clink together in celebration. The air is thick with the scent of alcohol, fried food, and something bittersweet that lingers beneath it all—farewells. My farewell. I should be celebrating. This is my night, after all. A send-off from colleagues who’ve become friends, from a place that’s been my home for years. A place I fought to leave, worked tirelessly to outgrow. But as I sit at the bar, nursing my fourth—or maybe fifth?—drink, there’s a hollow feeling settling deep inside me, like something slipping through my fingers no matter how tightly I try to hold on. Maybe because I acknowledged th
The apartment is unbearably quiet. I sit curled up on the couch, knees drawn to my chest, staring blankly at the dark ceiling. The only sound is the faint hum of the refrigerator, but even that feels distant—like the world outside this room no longer exists. James’s message from last night is still on my phone, the words burning into my mind. "Staying at a hotel tonight. Don’t wait up."He didn’t call. Didn’t ask to talk. Didn’t even ask why. I clutch the blanket around me, my fingers tightening in the fabric. The weight in my chest is suffocating, pressing down like a stone. Sleep never came, only hours of staring at the walls, thinking about the moment he found that ticket—how his expression darkened, how he left without another word. He knows. And I hurt him. The sky outside turns from black to gray, signaling morning, but it doesn’t bring relief. The ache in my chest only deepens. I can’t sit in this silence any longer. My hands tremble as I pick up my phone and d
Eunice, The morning sunlight drapes across the living room, casting a golden warmth over the space. Everything feels too still, too peaceful, as if the world itself is oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. James moves around the kitchen with ease, sleeves rolled up, flipping pancakes like it’s second nature. I watch him, mesmerized by the way he hums under his breath, his presence so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. It should be comforting—this domesticity, this quiet moment between us. But instead, my chest tightens, because I know that soon, everything will change. Since we have returned home, I have been fighting with myself for a decision that I thought was simple a month ago. However, his appearance, me falling in love with him again made that simple decision one of the hardest decisions ever. I haven’t told him yet. “You’re staring,” James teases, his voice smooth, pulling me out of my thoughts. He glances over his shoulder, flashing that boyish grin that u
With a long-suffering sigh, he nods. “Fine. I promise.” Aria beams, hugging him tightly. “Yay! My Julie forever!” Irene smirks, crossing her arms. “We’ll see about that.” Julian groans, rubbing his temples as Aria and Irene continue their tug-of-war over him. He has had enough. “Can you both just stop?!” He snaps finally, his patience finally breaking and wearing off. Especially to Aria who is clinging onto him like a slime. Silence falls. Aria blinks, her grip on his shirt loosening. “J-Julie…?” Her voice is small, uncertain. Julian exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Irene, you always mess with me and now her, and Aria, you act like a spoiled kid whenever I talk to anyone else!” His voice is firm, frustrated. “I can be friends with other people! You don’t own me, Aria!” His sharp cold eyes shudders Aria who looks confused with Julian's cold and indifferent gaze. The room suddenly feels too quiet. Aria’s fingers tremble as she stares at him,
Julian narrows his eyes before walking towards the door, " What's their name!?" He asks. " Julie! You got friends. What about me?" She follows him hugging her plush. " I don't know her name but she is here to play with you!" Julian walks downstairs while Aria skips the staircases one after one. " Why do you have friends? I don't have friends. I want to be friends with your friend!" She keeps whining while running towards Julian. " Hi! Julian!" A girl wearing a beautiful dress shyly waves her hand. " I am here to play." " Irene! Why are you here?" Julian asks, frowning a bit. " To play -!" Julian barely takes two steps forward before Aria latches onto his arm, her plush carrot squeezed against her chest like a battle shield. Her big, round eyes lock onto the girl standing before them, her lips pursed in a deep frown. Irene blinks, then smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Is this your little sister, Julian?” Aria gasps dramatically, releasing Julian just to s
Two days ago, Julian told her that he hated her for touching his homework. Now she is yet to get over from that shock. Julian barely stirs under the warmth of his blanket, his face half-buried in his pillow. The room is quiet except for the faint rustling of fabric as he tries to sink deeper into sleep. But Aria stands frozen at his bedside, her tiny fists clenched, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "He said he hates me…" Her lips tremble, but not from sadness—from determination. She knows Julian better than anyone. He can say all he wants, but the moment she starts crying, he’ll melt like an ice cream cone in the sun. Taking a deep breath, she clenches her plush carrot and prepares for battle. She sniffs. Loudly. A little whimper escapes her lips, followed by another dramatic sniff. Then, with precise control, her lower lip wobbles as she blinks rapidly, allowing fat, glistening tears to pool in her big eyes. Julian shifts slightly under the blanket. She s