REBEL The sunlight slants through the tall glass windows, brushing gold over my bare skin. My head is pounding like a war drum, and my mouth tastes like regret. My body aches in places I’ve ignored for years—emotions I’d locked up, now clawing at the surface with wicked fingers. Daniel's sleeping beside me, arm thrown across my waist like he has a right to hold me there. I look up at the ceiling, not trusting myself to inhale too heavily. Because the second I breathe in too much, it all comes crashing back. The fight. The kiss. The bed. His teeth against my skin like I belonged to him. And the worst part? I let him. I swing my legs over the bed and stand up, slowly. Carefully. As if perhaps I might avoid the reality of last night if I just moved slowly enough. I find my dress rumpled on the floor and smooth it back on over shuddering fingers. I need air. Slipping out of the room, I don't even pause. I don't leave a note. Don't glance back. I just run. — I don't know how
KLAUS It was a still night, but still had never been quiet for me. Not anymore. Not since the day Rebel went missing from his life, not since the day her scent went missing from every corner of his universe. And now, seven years later, silence fell heavy with ghosts. My ghosts. Our ghosts. I stayed at the balcony, clutching a glass of whiskey that I did not drink. I no longer drank it—the bitter liquor had ceased to sear the day she died. But the glass was still in my hand, out of habit. As with the stump-like ache of a lost limb so many years before, I kept holding things I could not let go of. When I next heard her name, I thought my brain was pulling its most vicious trick yet. But Daniel had sworn to it. Rebel was alive. Rebel had been alive all this while. And she had sons. Michael and Mex. Twins. I wasn't their father, but the way those boys stood in front of me, guarding and snapping, gave me all I needed to know. They belonged to them. She'd raised them into miniature ve
ROBERT The air in the evening smelled of gasoline and rain, the kind of smell that had you believe something was going to happen. My phone buzzed once against the old wooden desk, and I already knew. News like that didn't take till morning. "Rebel's back," the message read. Two words, enough to make my fingers lock on the glass of whiskey I'd been drinking. I stood up, working the kink out of my back, and walked across the apartment to where Louisa was curled on the worn leather couch. She glanced up from her book, her eyes sharp despite the softness of her face. Rehab hadn't killed the edge in her, just muted it long enough for me to haul her out. "You okay?" she'd ask, each time something twisted behind my eyes. "Rebel's back," I said, and the name itself made her stand up straight. She knew better than to think the rest, even if she didn't know the story. A knock preceded her finishing the sentence. Even. Measured. I opened the door to find Viktor standing in the doorw
REBEL After leaving Mex and Michael back home with Klaus, there was no conversation about the ordeal that didn't catch my attention The rain started before the lie did. Daniel had been calling incessantly but I just didn't pick up. I stood in the shade of the awning on the old café where I was to meet my mother and see the downpour cut the street into halves. The air had a strong smell of asphalt and forgotten memories. My phone tingled in my hand for the fifth time in two minutes or less. Unknown Number. I did not answer. I didn't need to because I know who the caller is. But then a shadow fell over me, dark and high enough to strike a hard pang twisting into my chest. Daniel. Suit crisp, tie loose, and eyes softer than I was expecting. "You weren't going to call me," he said, not a question. I shrugged. "I didn't think I had to." He stood there, jaw working, rain dripping off his hair. "You do now." A black SUV skidded to a stop across the street. Doors slammed o
LOUISA The night was quieter than usual. I sat cross-legged on the arm of the posh leather couch that Robert had christened his throne, listening to the dark TV as the jumping light danced over the walls of the living room. He was across the room, bent double over some papers, his desk lamp casting the prominent planes of his face into relief. A face I once thought was that of my savior. A face that I couldn't help but hate and love recently. "You know, I never asked you why," I breathed, but it was sufficient to make him tense in his chair. His pen hung in mid-air. He didn't turn around, not yet. "Why what, Lou?" "Why me?" I swallowed a lump. "Why did you save me eight years ago?" The words burst out before I could take them back. Silence. The air grew heavier, more oppressive with each passing second he didn't react. I hated that. I hated him for rescuing me. For granting me this half-life. For pretending the past was a locked box we both gagged on. When he finally turned, the
REBEL The loud, chaotic streets of Cali were loud and chaotic, but I had mastered tuning out the noise. Sharp as a razor, I could cut through a crowded marketplace with precision. My small, dirt-streaked hands moved in and out of pockets and bags with the specificity of someone far older, plucking wallets and coins without the faintest ripple of suspicion. I was a ghost, unseen and unnoticed, at six years old, and the movements developed my instincts for survival. As I walked, I could feel eyes on me, but when I turned back, there was no one watching, so I plough on. MICHAEL Michael leaned against a lamppost on the edge of the market, his piercing gaze following the little girl's every move. He'd been watching her for three days now, curiosity growing with each passing hour. Most kids her age had families, or at least a group to cling to in the streets. Not her. She was utterly alone, moving with a silent efficiency that spoke of both talent and desperation. Today, though, it
DANIELThe fatigue descended upon me like a blurred mist. I was exhausted from hours of exhausting meetings and desperately wanted to go home and have some much-needed alone time. Before Klaus, my best friend and business partner ruined the dream, my mind had already begun to imagine a peaceful evening—scotch, stillness, perhaps a book. His voice had pierced my brain's static with its forceful tone."You must attend the gala, Daniel. This is your gala. Are you aware of the consequences of your absence? He was aware that it was one of those debates I couldn't win. I was stranded in a glittering ballroom that felt more like a cage, all decked out, with incessant small talk andKlaus was a perfectionist; he nipped at me like a father at his son's ear. "Smile," he complained, nudging me. "You look like you're at a funeral." "Come on. It's one night. Show the donors you're human, not some stoic, untouchable CEO. At least try to look approachable." I forced my lips into what I hoped was a s
REBEL The dance floor was flooded with soft, golden light. The air was filled with the elegant melodies of a string quartet. The dancers moved in unison as if they were performing a single, intricately planned performance. I pretend that I don't see him staring as I dance with this stranger, but even as I smile and engage in manly small talk with this uninteresting person, I can feel his eyes boring into me. I didn't realise that this entire event had been held in his honour, and I didn't recognise him for the billionaire he is. Abruptly, he approaches us and interrupts. My heart was racing for the life of me when he started dancing with me again. My heart was racing for the life of me when he started dancing with me again. He murmured into my ears, "What is your name?". As though the offer was more of a game than a gesture, my lips formed a slightly confused smile. "What?" I mumble back into his ear as I sexily wrap myself around him. "Your men can't find anything about me, Daniel?
LOUISA The night was quieter than usual. I sat cross-legged on the arm of the posh leather couch that Robert had christened his throne, listening to the dark TV as the jumping light danced over the walls of the living room. He was across the room, bent double over some papers, his desk lamp casting the prominent planes of his face into relief. A face I once thought was that of my savior. A face that I couldn't help but hate and love recently. "You know, I never asked you why," I breathed, but it was sufficient to make him tense in his chair. His pen hung in mid-air. He didn't turn around, not yet. "Why what, Lou?" "Why me?" I swallowed a lump. "Why did you save me eight years ago?" The words burst out before I could take them back. Silence. The air grew heavier, more oppressive with each passing second he didn't react. I hated that. I hated him for rescuing me. For granting me this half-life. For pretending the past was a locked box we both gagged on. When he finally turned, the
REBEL After leaving Mex and Michael back home with Klaus, there was no conversation about the ordeal that didn't catch my attention The rain started before the lie did. Daniel had been calling incessantly but I just didn't pick up. I stood in the shade of the awning on the old café where I was to meet my mother and see the downpour cut the street into halves. The air had a strong smell of asphalt and forgotten memories. My phone tingled in my hand for the fifth time in two minutes or less. Unknown Number. I did not answer. I didn't need to because I know who the caller is. But then a shadow fell over me, dark and high enough to strike a hard pang twisting into my chest. Daniel. Suit crisp, tie loose, and eyes softer than I was expecting. "You weren't going to call me," he said, not a question. I shrugged. "I didn't think I had to." He stood there, jaw working, rain dripping off his hair. "You do now." A black SUV skidded to a stop across the street. Doors slammed o
ROBERT The air in the evening smelled of gasoline and rain, the kind of smell that had you believe something was going to happen. My phone buzzed once against the old wooden desk, and I already knew. News like that didn't take till morning. "Rebel's back," the message read. Two words, enough to make my fingers lock on the glass of whiskey I'd been drinking. I stood up, working the kink out of my back, and walked across the apartment to where Louisa was curled on the worn leather couch. She glanced up from her book, her eyes sharp despite the softness of her face. Rehab hadn't killed the edge in her, just muted it long enough for me to haul her out. "You okay?" she'd ask, each time something twisted behind my eyes. "Rebel's back," I said, and the name itself made her stand up straight. She knew better than to think the rest, even if she didn't know the story. A knock preceded her finishing the sentence. Even. Measured. I opened the door to find Viktor standing in the doorw
KLAUS It was a still night, but still had never been quiet for me. Not anymore. Not since the day Rebel went missing from his life, not since the day her scent went missing from every corner of his universe. And now, seven years later, silence fell heavy with ghosts. My ghosts. Our ghosts. I stayed at the balcony, clutching a glass of whiskey that I did not drink. I no longer drank it—the bitter liquor had ceased to sear the day she died. But the glass was still in my hand, out of habit. As with the stump-like ache of a lost limb so many years before, I kept holding things I could not let go of. When I next heard her name, I thought my brain was pulling its most vicious trick yet. But Daniel had sworn to it. Rebel was alive. Rebel had been alive all this while. And she had sons. Michael and Mex. Twins. I wasn't their father, but the way those boys stood in front of me, guarding and snapping, gave me all I needed to know. They belonged to them. She'd raised them into miniature ve
REBEL The sunlight slants through the tall glass windows, brushing gold over my bare skin. My head is pounding like a war drum, and my mouth tastes like regret. My body aches in places I’ve ignored for years—emotions I’d locked up, now clawing at the surface with wicked fingers. Daniel's sleeping beside me, arm thrown across my waist like he has a right to hold me there. I look up at the ceiling, not trusting myself to inhale too heavily. Because the second I breathe in too much, it all comes crashing back. The fight. The kiss. The bed. His teeth against my skin like I belonged to him. And the worst part? I let him. I swing my legs over the bed and stand up, slowly. Carefully. As if perhaps I might avoid the reality of last night if I just moved slowly enough. I find my dress rumpled on the floor and smooth it back on over shuddering fingers. I need air. Slipping out of the room, I don't even pause. I don't leave a note. Don't glance back. I just run. — I don't know how
DANIEL She resists for while but I'm too far gone to listen. She whispers "Stop" but I don't stop. My fingers finds their way to her clit, stroking her till she climaxes before slamming into her continously, leaving her no room for rejection, like a starved beast raging into her with no breaks, going at it for hours continously, orgasm after orgasm, like life would end if I wasn't in her because truly for me life ended without her. The silence in the suite isn't peaceful—it's tempestuous, the kind that's waiting for it to burst all over again. She won't speak. Not even look at me. Her back is facing me now, the elegant shape of her spine stiffening in defiance. I can still feel her lips on mine, the memory of her heat pressed against my face. And she's already elsewhere. Rebel.It was like existing in a world of grayscale without Rebel. The days blurred together—meetings, deals, conversations faceless—but each instant felt empty. I had power, riches, control. but it was all meani
REBEL Daniel gets mad but has no reason to; he was in the wrong, he will have to get used to seeing the reality and aftermath of what he did. "I've got nothing to say to you, Daniel." He dismisses me. Rather, he gets down to Michael's level, speaking softly. "Mike, your mom and I will go out to eat to talk. Klaus will take you home. Say goodbye to your grandparents. There are others relocating Mex as we speak—medical staff are already at home waiting for him." Michael nods. "Okay, Daddy." That title—Daddy—catches me off guard like a wall of bricks. My lips part but nothing emerges. I'm shocked into silence. My mother tries to speak, her lips trembling with words she must not say, but I headshake. It's not time now. Daniel doesn't look back as he takes my elbow in his and leads me off like some prisoner in his court. He doesn't even request permission, doesn't ask—it's the same sort of dominance I once found thrilling and now find… perilous. He opens the car door, waits until I
REBEL I folded my legs, arms wrapped around me, perched in the quiet corner of the hospital corridor as white walls closed in with a cold clinicalness I could not help but be trapped by. The antiseptic burned at my nostrils, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside me. Michael and Mex. My twins. My boys. Twins, and the world would never mistake one for the other. Michael, my seven-minute firstborn, had always ruled. Conscious. Sharp as a honed blade. There was something about his presence that deflated people—a deportment not acquired, a power not usurped. He did not walk; he made way. And his speech? Calculated. Pinpoint. Like his dad. And then there was Mex. Authoritative in his own right, but with a gentleness that disarmed more deeply. Where Michael cut through silence, Mex drifted into it. He smiled more broadly, laughed more easily, held the gaze longer. He didn't need to claim anything—he just was in a place of peace I never understood. Until this moment. When peace
DANIEL Eight years is a long time to be silent. The kind that squishes against your lungs and throat in the mornings, in the evenings, and refuses to allow you to breathe normally. I lost everything that day she left—the unborn child, her, and pieces of me that I never knew I had until they were gone. Now, the only thing I can hold on to is bitterness. Bitterness and duty. At first I was sad yet now I'm pissed at the whole world. Klaus and I barely speak to each other anymore. Whatever brotherhood we had was murdered the day Catya was eliminated on my orders. I didn't regret it—not when the woman I loved' blood tainted every corner of my memory. His silence was the cost he paid for her devotion. I sit here at this family gathering my parents insist I attend, surrounded by the pretenses of smiles and champagne flutes, watching others pretend their worlds are not as broken as mine. It's all a facade—this whole atmosphere. And I'm powerless to get lost in it. The music trails