SARAHI sat alone in the waiting room, tapping my fingers against the armrest of the chair. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, and the sterile white walls did nothing to calm my nerves. I tried to distract myself by looking around—at the posters on the walls about healthy eating, the muted television playing some medical drama, and the occasional nurse or patient walking by—but none of it worked. My thoughts were a mess.Marco had stepped out to speak with the nurse, leaving me here to stew in my own anxiety. I hated waiting like this, not knowing what was happening or what might come next. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my eyes darting toward the door Marco had disappeared through.Then, I heard voices. Faint at first, but as I strained my ears, I realized it was Marco and the nurse talking.“…nothing to worry about,” the nurse was saying.My heart quickened. I leaned slightly in their direction, trying to catch more of their conversation.“Are you sure?” Marco’s voice
SARAHI woke up feeling lighter than I had in days. Today was the day. The day we’d finally be free of Isabella’s twisted games. The DNA results would expose her lies, and Marco and I could finally move forward without her constant manipulations hanging over us like a dark cloud.I got out of bed and headed downstairs, eager to see Marco. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I spotted him near the door, pulling on his jacket. His face was calm, focused, the same determined look he always wore when he was ready to handle something important.“Heading to the hospital?” I asked, a small smile creeping onto my face.Marco glanced at me, his expression softening just slightly. “Yeah. It’s about time we put an end to this.”I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Good. I can’t wait to see the look on Isabella’s face when she’s caught in her own web of lies.”He chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t need to stress about this, Sarah. It’s not going to be that big a deal. Once the truth comes out,
SARAHThe moment the doctor uttered those words, my entire world tilted on its axis. I stared at him, frozen in disbelief, his voice ringing in my ears like an unrelenting echo.“The results of the DNA test confirm that Mr Marco is the biological father of the child.”My heartbeat quickened, pounding so hard I could feel it reverberating in my chest. I blinked, my eyes darting between Marco, the doctor, and Isabella, desperately searching for some sign that this was a cruel joke. But there was no humor here—only cold, stark reality.“This… this can’t be true,” I muttered, my voice trembling, barely recognizable. My hands clutched the edge of my chair, my knuckles white. “There has to be some kind of mistake.”The doctor adjusted his glasses, his expression calm but unyielding. “Ms. Sarah, I can assure you that—”“No!” I interrupted, my voice louder, almost desperate. “You must’ve gotten the samples mixed up. You—You have to check again.” I turned to Marco, who sat silent and motionles
SARAHI stormed through the gates, my entire body trembling with fury. The guards, who were always so polite and attentive, straightened as I approached. One of them opened his mouth to speak.“Ma’am, is Mr. Marco—”“Don’t!” I snapped, not even sparing him a glance. My voice was sharp enough to cut steel, and he instantly stepped back, his mouth shutting with a click. I didn’t owe anyone answers, not now, not ever.My heels clattered violently against the driveway as I marched to the house, every step fueled by the storm brewing inside me. I reached the front door, slammed it open with such force that it echoed through the entryway, and stalked straight toward my room.The staff turned to look, their faces filled with confusion and concern. I didn’t care. Let them look. Let them whisper. I was done holding it all together.When I reached my bedroom, I pushed the door open and then slammed it shut behind me, twisting the lock hard enough that it felt like it might break. The click was
*********Isabella closed the door behind her and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Her eyes scanned the room—the guest room, as they called it—but to her, it was so much more. This wasn’t just a room; it was her victory. A smile spread across her face as she walked toward the bed and sat down, sinking into the plush comforter.“I did it,” she whispered to herself, the words tasting sweet on her tongue. “I finally did it.”She leaned back on her hands, her gaze traveling across the walls and furniture. The room was simple, tasteful, but it lacked her personal touch. That would change soon enough. She wasn’t just a guest anymore; this was her territory now.“Finally,” she said aloud, a giggle escaping her lips. “This house, this life—it’s all coming together. And Sarah…” Her lips curled into a smirk as she thought of the other woman’s reaction earlier. “Poor, sweet Sarah. She hasn’t even seen the half of it yet.”The memory of the DNA test flashed in her mind. The way the doctor had read
SARAHI stood in the middle of my room, staring at the slight mess I’d made over the past few days. Clothes were draped over the chair in the corner, some hanging halfway to the floor, and a stack of books leaned precariously on my nightstand. It wasn’t a disaster, but it wasn’t neat either. Still, cleaning seemed like the best way to keep my mind from spiraling. Anything was better than sitting here and stewing over Isabella and her smug, self-satisfied attitude—or Marco, with his infuriatingly calm demeanor, like nothing in the world could touch him.I grabbed a shirt off the chair and folded it with a little more force than necessary, tucking it into the drawer. The movement was brisk, almost aggressive, but it felt good. At least this, I could control. Folding clothes, organizing, tidying—it was simple and didn’t come with strings attached.“The Isabella situation,” I muttered under my breath as I grabbed another shirt. That’s what I’d been calling it in my head. It sounded clinic
SARAHAs I walked down the hallway, the house felt different—like someone had been here, touching things that didn’t belong to them. It was subtle at first. A throw pillow on the couch was slightly off-center, its crisp lines disturbed. The vase I had carefully placed on the mini table in the living room was now perched on the corner of the mantle.I frowned, stopping mid-step to glance around. I hadn’t moved it. No one ever moved anything in this house unless I told them to. The staff knew better than to tamper with my things.Who was behind this?I shook my head, forcing myself to keep walking, but the unease stayed with me. By the time I reached the kitchen, I was determined to find some kind of distraction. I'd rather be hanging around in the kitchen than seeing him. Avoiding him right now felt far more important.Martha was there, wiping down the counters with practiced efficiency. She turned as I entered, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” she greet
SARAHI woke up feeling a little lighter, the tension from yesterday not completely gone but dulled enough to let me breathe. I stretched, letting the faint morning light seep into my room before heading to the bathroom. A warm shower was exactly what I needed to set the tone for the day.After drying off, I opened my wardrobe to pick out a dress, only to freeze. Something was off. The neatly arranged rows of clothes I’d spent time organizing were disheveled, with hangers out of place and garments folded in ways I would never fold them. My brow furrowed as I scanned the wardrobe again.“What the hell…” I muttered under my breath.I pushed aside a row of dresses, checking the back for anything missing. My eyes landed on an empty spot where one of my scarves used to hang. Confused, I stepped back, trying to recall the last time I’d used it. Shaking my head, I moved to the drawers and opened the one that held my jewelry.That’s when I noticed it—my bracelet was gone.I stared at the empt
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
MARCOThe city lights blurred through the tinted windows as we cruised down the highway. The engine hummed low, steady. Nobody was talking much, just the faint sound of the radio playing some old blues song under the noise of the tires slicing through wet road.I sat in the backseat, window cracked just enough to let the night air slip in. The blunt burned slow between my fingers — smoke curling up against the roof. I took a long drag, letting the smoke sit heavy in my chest before passing it forward.“Here… calm your nerves.”Tony snorted from the passenger seat, taking it without missing a beat.“Come on, Marco… what the fuck you think this is? First rodeo?” He puffed out a cloud, passing it straight to Petrov in the driver’s seat.Petrov grabbed it with a grin, eyes fixed on the road.“The man’s treating us like fresh meat.” He glanced at me through the rearview mirror, that crooked smirk tugging at his lips. “I ain’t been nervous since Danzo’s funeral.”I couldn’t help the faint s