SARAHI froze mid-step, my heart skipping a beat as I nearly collided with Marco. He stood in the hallway, his broad frame filling the space, and his face was a mixture of annoyance and something else I couldn’t quite place. Relief? Concern? Either way, I smiled automatically, my nerves kicking in.“You’re back early,” I said, my voice lighter than I felt. “What’s the occasion?”Marco’s eyes narrowed slightly as he crossed his arms. “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing down here?”I blinked at him, playing innocent. “What do you mean? It’s just the kitchen.”“You know exactly what I mean, Sarah,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “If you needed something, one of the staff could’ve brought it to you. There’s no reason for you to be walking around.”I frowned, the tension in my chest flaring. “Marco, I’m pregnant, not a log of wood. I needed to stretch my legs and take a break from staring at the four corners of that room. Besides,” I added with a shrug, “I wanted t
SARAHI woke up feeling strangely disoriented. My body ached in ways I hadn’t anticipated, and as I stretched, I noticed the sheets tangled around me like a storm had passed through the bed. Blinking a few times to adjust to the soft light filtering through the curtains, I frowned. Why did the room feel so… off?My hands instinctively smoothed over the sheets, trying to piece together what had happened. It wasn’t until I turned my head and saw Marco sleeping beside me, his chest rising and falling steadily, that everything clicked into place.He was shirtless, his tanned skin illuminated softly by the morning light. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his expression was serene—almost unrecognizably peaceful compared to the intense, brooding man I was used to dealing with. For a moment, I froze, unable to process what I was seeing. Then, like a tidal wave, the memories from last night came crashing down.My face grew hot as I recalled the way he’d carried me to the room, his strong
SARAHI stood in front of the mirror, tilting my head slightly as I adjusted my earrings. My fingers brushed against the delicate pearls, the cool texture grounding me as a soft sigh escaped my lips. Tonight felt different. It wasn’t like the other nights we’d spent together—those moments marked by tension. This felt lighter, simpler. No obligations. No commands. Just Marco and me, stepping into something normal for once.I took a step back to admire myself in the reflection, smoothing the fabric of my dress. It was a deep red, a color I didn’t wear often but felt right for tonight. The material hugged my body in all the right places, the neckline bold enough to make me feel confident but still subtle enough to stay within my comfort zone. I turned slightly, letting the hem swirl softly around my legs, and smiled.“Not bad,” I murmured, tilting my head again.My makeup was understated, but I’d been careful with every stroke. A soft blush warmed my cheeks, a touch of eyeliner made my e
SARAHWhen Marco pulled into the parking lot, I practically jumped out of my seat, my excitement building. But as soon as we stepped out of the car and got a full view of the place, I froze.“Uh… Sarah,” Marco said, raising an eyebrow as he took in the massive neon sign above the entrance. “When you said chocolate spot, you didn’t mention this.”I followed his gaze, my cheeks heating up as I realized what he meant. “It’s… um… an amusement park? With chocolate?”He let out a sigh, shaking his head with a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Of course. I let you pick one venue, and somehow, we end up in a kid’s playground.”I pouted, crossing my arms. “It’s not just a kid’s playground. It’s… an experience.”Marco gave me a look, half-amused and half-exasperated. “An experience?”“Don’t act like you’re not intrigued,” I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the entrance. “We’re already here, so we might as well have some fun.”He chuckled, letting me drag him along. “You’re
SARAHI stepped out of the car, my heels clicking sharply against the pavement, each step fueled by my growing irritation. Marco was right behind me, his footsteps steady, but I didn’t care to wait for him to catch up. My focus was locked on Isabella, standing there like she belonged, her arms folded across her chest, her face a mask of indifference. That blank, self-righteous expression of hers was as irritating as ever. She looked smug and untouchable, as if she hadn’t caused enough chaos already.“What are you doing here?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended. “Here to cause another scene, Isabella?”She didn’t even flinch.I stopped a few feet away, my arms dropping to my sides as I glared at her. She just stood there, perfectly still, like a statue carved from ice, her silence deliberate and calculated. The audacity of it made my blood simmer.“I asked you a question,” I snapped, taking a step closer. “What are you doing here, Isabella?”Nothing. Not a word, not even a fl
SARAHIsabella’s words hit me like a brick. My head jerked back, and for a second, I could only stare at her, trying to process what I’d just heard. It couldn’t be true. It had to be a joke. A really bad, tasteless joke.“You’re joking,” I said, my voice sharp but shaky. “You’ve got to be joking. Pregnant? For Marco? Are you even hearing yourself?”Her smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew wider, like she was enjoying every second of my disbelief. “Oh, Sarah,” she said, letting out a light laugh. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but no, I’m not joking.”I shook my head, still refusing to believe it. “Stop it. Just stop. You’re not pregnant, and if you are, it’s not for Marco. Do you even hear how ridiculous you sound?”Isabella tilted her head slightly, her expression oozing false sympathy. “I know this must be hard for you to accept, but denying it won’t change the truth.”The laugh that escaped me was bitter and sharp. “The truth?” I scoffed. “The only truth here is that you’ll say
SARAHI slammed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment as I tried to catch my breath. My heart was racing, my chest tight with frustration. How had it come to this? Just this morning, Marco and I were fine—happy, even. And now, a woman stood at our door, claiming she was pregnant with his child. The thought made my stomach twist.I paced the room, running a hand through my hair. It didn’t make any sense. Marco had been different lately—better. He wasn’t the man he used to be. He’d been attentive, loving, even vulnerable at times. He was mine. I knew that. So how could Isabella show up with a claim like that?My mind replayed the entire ordeal. Isabella’s smug expression, the way she casually dropped her “news” like a bomb, as if she knew it would tear everything apart. The way she laughed at me, daring me to question her. And Marco—God, Marco. He just stood there, offering nothing but a weak denial.“Unbelievable,” I muttered to myself, clenching my fists at my sides.I c
SARAHIt had been a full day since Isabella’s dramatic arrival, and I was still holed up in my room. I muttered to myself as I tossed another pillow back onto the bed. I wasn’t exactly hiding—I just couldn’t stand the sight of her. Every time I thought about her waltzing in, acting all smug and self-assured, my blood boiled. And Marco… He hadn’t said much since, which only made things worse.I tried to shake off the frustration as I moved around, tidying up my room just to keep my hands busy. “Marco will deal with this,” I said under my breath, like a mantra. “He’ll send her packing today, and this nonsense will be over.”Still, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder how we’d gotten here. How did our lives go from peaceful—almost blissful—to this chaos? One day we were happy, planning our future, and the next, Isabella was barging in with her ridiculous claim.I sighed and headed into the bathroom. The cool splash of water on my face helped clear my mind a little, though not as much as
MARCOThe knife gleamed under the low light of my office, smooth and polished, stripped of the blood it had worn just few days ago. I turned it in my hand, inspecting the flawless steel. Clean now, harmless too but that would change soon. It always did.I reached for another, picking up the cloth beside me, running it slowly along the blade’s edge. There was something satisfying about it to me, the way a weapon could look so calm until the moment it was used. It was a deception I admired. A blade never needed to look dangerous. It only needed to be.La Paloma had been a massacre. The blood had dried fast, crusting against the ridges of the handle, settling in the fine lines of the steel. It took effort to wipe it away completely. A kill wasn’t finished until the weapon was ready for its next one.I moved to the next knife, then the next, until each one sat before me, shining like they had never been used. That was when I reached for the sharpening stone.A clean blade was one thing. A
SARAHI tried to focus on the yarn in my hands, but my fingers trembled too much to knit. The needles clicked together uselessly, slipping from my grasp, the pattern I’d started completely forgotten. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning, tangled in the mess of Aisha’s confession, each word cutting deeper than the last.Marco never cheated.The pictures were fake.Isabella was behind it all.I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t help. The truth slammed into me over and over, breaking apart everything I thought I knew. Everything I let myself believe.I should have known.After Isabella was caught lying about her pregnancy, after she was humiliated and exposed, I should have realized she wasn’t the type to let things go. That woman didn’t lose. She didn’t forget. She was like a viper, coiling in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to sink her fangs into my life and tear it apart.And I let her.I swallowed hard, but my throat was dry, aching with the weight of my own stupidity.Every
ISABELLAThe morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my private suite, casting golden light over the silk sheets of my king-sized bed. I stretched lazily, savoring the coolness of the fabric against my skin before reaching for the remote on my nightstand. With a press of a button, soft classical music filled the room, the kind that played in the background of the world’s most expensive penthouses. The kind that reminded me of power. Of control. Of exactly who I was.I slid out of bed, my bare feet sinking into the plush white carpet as I made my way toward the bathroom. Marble countertops, a freestanding tub, gold fixtures—everything hand-selected, everything perfect. I twisted the faucet, letting warm water spill into the sink before splashing my face gently. A morning cleanse, followed by an ice-cold jade roller against my skin. Every inch of my routine was precise, curated.Next came the serum. The kind infused with gold flecks, a favorite of European royalty.
MARCOSarah appeared at the top of the stairs, her eyes scanning the room, and the moment she took in the sight before her, confusion flashed across her face. Then something else. Something unreadable. Her gaze drifted from the blood pooling on the floor to the doctor hunched over Aisha’s body, his hands moving fast, his jaw tight with focus. My men stood around, tense, waiting, their shoulders stiff with the weight of what had just gone down. The air was thick, the kind that pressed against your chest. But I barely noticed any of it.All I saw was Sarah.I moved toward the staircase, instinct taking over, ready to guide her down, but before I could reach for her, she stopped me with a small shake of her head.“I’m fine,” she murmured. “I can walk.”I hesitated for half a second before stepping back, watching her carefully as she descended. Her hands gripped the railing a little tighter than usual, and I could see the way her breath hitched as she got a closer look at the scene. The b
MARCOBlood was everywhere. Thick, dark, warm against my skin. It soaked through my fingers, through Aisha’s torn clothes, pooling on the leather seat beneath her. The metallic stench filled the SUV, mixing with the acrid scent of gunpowder and burnt rubber. Her breaths came in ragged gasps, eyelids fluttering, skin sickly pale.“Stay awake,” I muttered, pressing my hand harder against the wound. “Don’t fucking pass out.”Her head lolled slightly, lips parting. “Can’t…”“You can,” I snapped. “You don’t get to bleed out here.”The Rossis were still on us, their engines snarling, the air filled with the rapid cracks of gunfire. Another window shattered. Glass sprayed across my arm, cutting into my skin, but I didn’t flinch. My focus was locked on Aisha and the goddamn blood leaking out of her too fast.Petrov yanked the wheel hard to the left, barely dodging a parked car. The SUV fishtailed, tires screeching, but he kept control, pushing forward.Tony was still hanging out the window, c
MARCOBang!Blood hit my face, warm and thick. The sound of Anton’s body slamming against the floor echoed in the room, his lifeless eyes still open, staring up at nothing. His mouth, which had been running nonstop just seconds ago, was frozen in shock. The pool of blood beneath him spread fast, the deep red spilling across the cracked tiles. The smell—sharp, metallic—filled the air, mixing with the lingering scent of gunpowder.I didn’t move. My chest was still tight, my breath locked in my throat. That bullet should’ve been for me.Tony stepped in, gun still raised, his eyes sweeping the room. He took one glance at Anton’s corpse, then at me. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Damn. Came in just in time, huh?”I exhaled slowly, feeling the tension still coiled in my muscles. My hand flexed involuntarily, the ghost of a gun still lingering in my grip. “Yeah… that was too fucking close.”Tony chuckled, sliding his gun back into its holster. “Close? Marco, you were done for.”I ran a hand ov
MARCOThe cold steel at the back of my head sent a sharp wave of irritation down my spine. Not fear. Irritation. Because I had checked. I had swept this place. I had been so sure I was alone in this room with Aisha. So where the fuck did this guy come from? How hadn’t I heard him move? No footsteps, no breath, no shift in the air. Nothing.I was still caught in that thought when the gun pressed harder against my skull.“What, you deaf?” The voice was deep, smooth, almost amused. “I said drop the gun.”Slow. Careful. I lowered my arm, fingers unwrapping from my weapon before I let it hit the ground. The second it did, the guy let out a short laugh.“That’s good,” he said, then I heard the scrape of his boot as he kicked my gun far out of reach.I clenched my jaw, but I didn’t move. My mind was already working, already cycling through every option, every opening, every mistake I had made to end up in this position.The man behind me let out another small chuckle, stepping closer.“Marco
MARCOThe second the lights cut out, my hand went straight for the knife. My fingers curled around the handle tight, the weight fitting into my palm like it was born there. I didn’t reach for the gun. Not yet. Guns made noise. Guns were for men who didn’t know how to move. I wasn’t here to spray bullets aimlessly and paint the whole place in blood unless I really had to.I moved low, sticking close to the wall. My breath steady. My heartbeat calm. The whole building was stirring into chaos — voices barking out orders, footsteps stomping around blindly in the dark. They didn’t know what hit them yet. The picture in my head stayed sharp. Every guard I clocked when I walked in. Every position. Every lazy hand resting too far from a trigger. I carried that image with me now as I crept through the shadows.The first two were exactly where I left them. By the columns. Flashlights flicking left and right, trying to cut through the darkness. Russian accents. I could hear the nervous edge in
ISABELLAThe room was drowning in silence — the kind that made your own thoughts feel louder than they should. The only sound cutting through was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.I paced from one end of the room to the other, heels clicking against the marble floor. My cigarette had burned out in the ashtray a long time ago, smoke still faintly curling from the filter. I hadn’t even realized I’d left it there.My eyes kept flicking to the phone on the table — screen black, still no calls. Every second that passed without a word from La Paloma only twisted the knife deeper in my chest.They should’ve called by now.I could feel it… that tight pull in my stomach. Something was happening.Marco was out there.Looking for her.I poured myself a glass of wine, but it barely made it halfway to my lips before I set it back down. My fingers tapped restlessly against the glass, my mind circling the same dark corner over and over again.If Marco found Aisha… if he got to her before w