It's been two days since Paul and Gladys visited about the DNA stuff, and Mike and I are finally going to get our samples taken. Paul will be there too.I feel like it's a disaster waiting to happen.The morning sun hangs low, casting the world in a clinical light that feels eerily appropriate as Mike and I drive toward the hospital. The air between us is thick with unspoken words and half-formed thoughts, each mile adding to the weight of everything unsaid. Mike stares out the window, jaw clenched. He hasn’t said a word since we left the house, but I can feel the tension radiating off him. Every so often, he drums his fingers against his knee, as if he’s itching to say something but can’t quite muster the words. I’m not sure I can either. I keep my focus on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel a bit too tightly, because I know as soon as I let go, I’ll be forced to acknowledge what we’re doing—what this test might mean.As we pull into the hospital parking lot, I spot Paul le
We find a nearby café, one of those generic places with laminated menus and too-bright lighting. It feels absurd, sitting here with Paul and Mike, the hum of idle conversation around us as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed. And even though I’m trying to keep up some semblance of composure, I can feel the tension simmering just beneath the surface. Paul glances at the menu, his mouth twisting into a smirk. “So, what are we in the mood for? Salads? Sandwiches? Maybe a nice, refreshing DNA test special?” Mike snorts, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Paul raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What? Just trying to lighten the mood, kid. Isn’t that what you wanted?” I take a slow breath, fighting the urge to snap. “Not everything has to be a joke, Paul. Especially not this.” He leans back in his chair, folding his arms with a lazy grin. “Oh, come on, Caspian. You’ve always taken things too seriously. It’s just a test. Whatever it says, life goe
“Terrible influences?” Paul raises an eyebrow, grinning. “Kid, who do you think let you stay up late watching horror movies with popcorn when your old man here thought it was ‘inappropriate’? Who do you think taught you how to sneak out without getting caught?”“Which, by the way, you were terrible at,” I add with a chuckle. “You didn’t make it past the back gate without tripping on that pile of gardening tools.”“Oh, God,” Mike laughs, his eyes lighting up with the kind of boyish amusement I haven’t seen in years. “Yeah, that was all Paul’s doing. Every time I got grounded, I’d look out the window, and there he was, standing in the driveway, pretending he was innocent.”Paul puts a hand to his heart, feigning offense. “Excuse me, innocent is exactly what I was.”“Innocent?” I scoff. “If innocent means corrupting my son with your schemes, then sure. Innocent as a wolf in a henhouse.”Mike’s grin softens, and for a brief, blissful moment, everything feels easy, uncomplicated. We’re jus
Mike leans back, his arms crossed, but I notice the way his fingers tap against his bicep, a nervous tic. “I know what you’re thinking,” he says. “But it’s not that simple.”“Oh, isn’t it?” I shoot back. “She’s dragged you through hell and back, alienated you from your family, turned your life into her personal battleground—and you’re going to tell me it’s complicated?”He flinches, just slightly, but I can see it. He swallows, and the defiance in his gaze wavers, just for a second. “I thought I could handle her. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. Maybe that I could change her, or that she’d change on her own. But she’s—she’s smarter than I gave her credit for.”“Smarter?” I raise an eyebrow, biting back a laugh that’s anything but amused. “Mike, she’s a demon unleashed.”“She wasn’t always like this,” he says, almost pleading, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as me. “At first, she was… different. Charming. She made me feel like I was the center of her world.”“Yeah,
Another silence, tense and electric. Mike opens his eyes, looking at each of us in turn, and I can see the desperation, the pain, the exhaustion. But beneath all that, there’s a glimmer of something else—a spark that I haven’t seen in years. Determination. “All right,” he says finally, his voice steady, resolved. “I’m in.” And just like that, the storm cloud hanging over us begins to lift. It’s a fragile alliance, a tentative truce, but it’s something. And as we sit there, the three of us united in purpose, I can’t help but feel a flicker of hope. For the first time, I believe that we might actually have a chance. --- Desiree and I are on our way to her father's house. The low purr of the engine fills the heavy silence inside the car. Desiree sits beside me, her arms crossed and her gaze locked firmly out the window. She hasn’t said a word since we left, and the tension radiating off her is thick enough to choke on. The city lights streak across her face, highlighting the sharp
Desiree’s father’s house is exactly what I expected—small, warm, and completely unremarkable, in that way where everything looks too familiar, too lived-in. The kind of house where mismatched throw pillows pile up on a couch that’s seen too many family arguments, and the air smells faintly of old carpet and pot roast. It’s painfully domestic, a shrine to middle-class mediocrity that makes me feel out of place the moment I step through the door.Desiree moves stiffly in front of me, her heels clicking against the scuffed linoleum floor as she walks into the living room. Her entire body language screams tension—shoulders squared, chin slightly raised, and an expression that says she’d rather be anywhere else. I know that look. It’s her battle face. She’s not here to reconnect. She’s here to endure.“Des!” Her father emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. He’s wiry, with a face that’s weathered but kind, his shirt slightly rumpled as if he’s been too busy to bother tu
She hesitates, her eyes softening just slightly as she looks at him. “I didn’t come here to fight, Dad. But I’m not going to let her disrespect me.”“I understand,” he says. “But can we try again? Just… one more time? Without the comments. Please.”Desiree glances at me, and I nod. “Fine,” she says, though her voice is still cold. “But this is your last chance, Beatrice.”Beatrice says nothing, her face pale.The dining table feels smaller now, the air thicker as if the house itself is holding its breath. Desiree and I return to our seats, her shoulders rigid, her movements deliberate, as though she’s fighting the urge to storm out again. Her father, visibly relieved, begins clearing the tension like a man bailing water out of a sinking boat.“Thank you, Des,” he says. “For staying.”She doesn’t respond, just picks up her fork and pushes a green bean around her plate. I can feel the anger radiating off her like heat waves, but she’s holding it in for now. It’s a temporary truce, fragi
Outside, the air is cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere inside. Desiree leans against the railing of the porch, her hands gripping the wood tightly. “I can’t do this,” she says, her voice low and angry. “They’re useless.” “We’ll figure it out,” I say, leaning beside her. “We just need to be patient.” “Patient?” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Caspian, we don’t have time for patience. Mabel’s a step ahead of us, and we’re sitting here making small talk with people who don’t even like me.” “They don’t have to like you,” I say. “They just have to slip up.” She shakes her head, her jaw clenched. “This was a mistake.” “No,” I say. “It wasn’t. We’ll find what we need. One way or another.” She doesn’t respond, just stares out into the distance, her expression unreadable. And as the wind rustles through the trees, I can’t help but wonder if we’ve already lost the battle before it’s even begun. # The drive home feels endless, the road stretching into the dark l
I nod, my throat tight. “You better be.” The doors to the delivery room swing open, and suddenly, I’m surrounded by bright lights, the sterile smell of antiseptic, and the calm, authoritative voices of nurses. My mind is racing. My body, however, is focused on one thing: the relentless, excruciating contractions that feel like my insides are being wrung out like a soaked towel. “Breathe, Desiree. You’ve got this,” a nurse says, guiding me onto the bed. Caspian bursts through the door moments later, his hair disheveled, his suit jacket gone, and his sleeves rolled up. He looks like a man ready for battle. And, honestly, that’s what this feels like. “I’m here,” he says, taking my hand again. His grip is warm, solid, a lifeline in this sea of chaos. I glare at him through the pain. “You did this to me.” He leans down, brushing a kiss against my sweaty forehead. “I know, baby. And you’re doing amazing.” “Amazing? I feel like I’m being ripped in half!” I shout, my voice cracking wit
~~Months later~~ My best friend, Jessica, decided to organise a baby shower for me. She rented a penthouse. I know Caspian's involved in this. Who else is paying for the penthouse? The penthouse is everything Jessica promised and more—sleek marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows with a panoramic view of the city, and enough floral arrangements to make a florist weep. There’s an extravagant dessert table with a towering cake. And, of course, the unmistakable Caspian touch—a champagne fountain. I take it all in, my eyes narrowing suspiciously as I glance at Jessica, who’s currently trying to pass off the event as “modest.” Modest my ass. “You’re sure this wasn’t Caspian’s idea?” Jessica flashes her most innocent smile, which is about as believable as a politician’s promise. “I mean, he may have helped. But you deserve this! Come on, Dee, when was the last time we celebrated you?” I snort, adjusting the sash draped across my belly that reads Mom-to-Be. “You mean besides the
Desiree's POVWe're at a press conference.Cameras flash like lights at a club, and the buzz of reporters fills the air like a swarm of relentless bees. I hate it. Every second of it. But I stand tall, my hand resting in Caspian’s, my knuckles white from the grip. He doesn’t seem fazed—his jaw set, his eyes gleaming. He’s in his element.Me? I’m a bundle of nerves hiding behind a tailored dress and a painted-on smile.The tension in the room is obvious. Every gaze is pinned on us, every microphone is pointed in our direction. There’s no escaping it.Caspian steps forward, adjusting the microphone. His presence is magnetic. Commanding. He could announce the end of the world, and people would believe it was for their own good.He clears his throat, and the room falls silent.“For weeks now, CypherEdge Dynamics has been under siege,” he begins. “An individual named Mabel Blackwood infiltrated our company. She blackmailed board members, manipulated shareholders, and attempted to undermine
“Mr. Hart,” Aaron’s voice oozes through the line, smug and infuriating. “I trust you’ve been thinking about my offer.”“More like thinking about how to kill you,” I mutter under my breath, then louder: “I’ve considered it. But I need proof Desiree is alive. Now.”A pause. Then, Desiree’s voice, faint but there. “Caspian, please…”It takes everything in me not to lose it. “I’m here, Desiree. Hold on.”Aaron returns. “Satisfied?”“Barely,” I say. “You’ll get what you want. But not a second before I see her safe.”“Fine,” Aaron agrees. “Bring the drives to the location we’ll send you. Alone. And no tricks, Hart. Or she dies.”The line goes dead.Antonio is already moving, giving quick commands into his headset. “They’ll never see us coming,” he promises.I grip the phone. “They’d better not.”Because if they do, I’ll burn the entire city down before I let them take her away from me.---I park a block away from the designated warehouse, my pulse thudding in my ears. I sit there for a mom
The tone sends a chill down my spine. Calm, too calm, like this is a business deal and not—“Where is she?” I say. “If you’ve touched her—”“Tsk, tsk,” the man interrupts, almost amused. “Let’s not start with threats. You’re not in a position to make them.”I grip the phone tighter, my knuckles white. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”“Don’t I? Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Hart. Ruthless. Powerful. But none of that matters here.”My free hand balls into a fist at my side. “What do you want?”Finally, he gets to the point. “You’re going to deliver something to me. Two things, actually. First, the drives you took from Mabel’s mother’s house.”My mind races. How does he know about those?“And second,” he continues, “your shares in the company. Sign them over. All of them.”I laugh, sharp and humorless. “You think I’ll just hand those over? Do you know what they’re worth?”“Oh, I know exactly what they’re worth.” His voice drops. “I also know what she’s worth to you.”The a
Caspian's POVIt’s been over two hours since Desiree disappeared, and the hospital has called the police against my wishes.I’m pacing the waiting room like a caged animal, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead doing nothing to quell the pounding in my skull. Every passing second feels like an eternity, a loud and unrelenting reminder that she’s not here, that I don’t know where she is, that I failed to protect her.“Mr. Hart,” one of the officers starts, her voice too calm, too measured, like she’s asking about a lost cat. “Let’s go over this again. You’re sure your wife didn’t… leave voluntarily?”My fist clenches so hard my knuckles crack. I whip around, staring at her like she’s grown a second head.“Voluntarily?” The word leaves my mouth dripping with venom. “You think she just decided to disappear in the middle of a goddamn ultrasound?”The other officer, a man with a face so nondescript I could forget it in seconds, clears his throat. “We’re just trying to establish all possi
Desiree’s POVI wake up feeling like my head has been split in two.Pain radiates from the back of my skull, throbbing with every heartbeat. My mouth feels like I’ve swallowed sand, and the metallic tang of blood lingers on my tongue. I try to move, but my arms won’t budge. Cold metal digs into my wrists, and the sharp edge of panic slices through the fog clouding my mind.“Welcome back.”The voice is smooth, almost polite, but it sends a chill racing down my spine. I force my eyes open, blinking against the dim light until the blurry figure in front of me sharpens into focus.Aaron.He leans casually against a table, his arms crossed, a smug grin stretched across his face. He looks like a villain from one of those old spy movies—too polished, too composed, too damn pleased with himself.“What the hell,” I croak, my voice raspy. “What is this, amateur hour? I thought kidnappers were supposed to wear masks.”He chuckles, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring my sarcasm. “You’re in go
Caspian's POVDesiree has been gone for too long.I glance at the clock on the wall, tapping my fingers on the armrest of the chair in rhythm with my heartbeat, which is getting louder and faster with every passing second. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe this is one of those “pregnancy bladder” situations everyone warned me about. But how long does it take a pregnant woman to pee? Five minutes? Ten? I’ve lost track of time, but it feels like hours.I shift in my chair, trying to shake off the gnawing sense of unease creeping up my spine. The ultrasound pictures are still in my hand, slightly crumpled from where my grip has tightened.“She’s fine,” I mutter to myself. “She’s fine.”But the words don’t stick.Standing abruptly, I glance toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. The corridor feels longer than I remember, its sterile walls closing in like they’re mocking me. Every instinct in me screams that something isn’t right.Dr. William steps out of an adjacent room, looking surpr
Dr. William turns to us, his smile widening. “It’s a girl.”For a moment, the world stops. A girl. We’re having a daughter.“A girl,” I repeat, the words tasting foreign and magical on my tongue. Tears spill over before I can stop them, and I press a hand to my mouth, overcome with emotion.Caspian is silent beside me, his gaze fixed on the monitor. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, as if he’s struggling to keep his own emotions in check. “A girl,” he echoes. Then, with a soft laugh, he adds, “God help her if she inherits your stubbornness.”“Excuse me?” I glare at him, though the tears streaming down my face probably ruin the effect. “She’s going to be the perfect combination of both of us, thank you very much.”“Let’s hope she leans more toward your good looks than my temper.”“Let’s hope she doesn’t inherit your ego,” I shoot back, though my voice is choked with laughter.Dr. William chuckles, stepping back to give us a moment. “I’ll print out some pictures for you two. T