MegraThe pain hits me like a tidal wave, crashing through my body and tearing a scream from my throat. It's like nothing I've ever felt before—sharp, overwhelming, and relentless. I clutch my stomach, the contractions squeezing me from the inside, leaving me gasping for air. My heart races with a mix of anxiety and fear. This is it. The baby is coming."Conor!" I scream, my voice high and frantic. I barely recognise the sound of my own voice. My breaths come in short, desperate bursts as another contraction seizes me. I can hear footsteps pounding up the stairs, and a moment later, Conor bursts into the room, his face pale and his eyes wide with concern."What's wrong?" he asks, rushing to my side. But he doesn't need me to answer. The answer is written all over my face, in my tears, and in the way I'm bent over in pain."The baby... it's time," I manage to gasp out. Without hesitation, Conor sweeps me off my feet, cradling me against his chest. He moves quickly, his arms strong and
MegraThe afternoon sun filters through the curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. I sit on the edge of the sofa, watching as my little girl, Mia, bounces around with boundless energy. Her red curls, so much like mine, spring up and down with each leap. Her laughter fills the air—a sweet, innocent sound that momentarily lifts the heavy burden on my heart. It's been two years since she was born, and while my life has been anything but perfect, she is my solace. The only bright spot in a world that has grown increasingly dark.Since the day Conor picked me up from the hospital, everything has changed. My life has become a series of endless days, each one filled with misery and a deep, aching loneliness. The isolation is suffocating. No phone calls, no contact with the outside world. Conor made sure of that after discovering I had called Nathaniel from the hospital. He was furious, and from that moment on, he tightened his grip on me, cutting me off from everyone I ever k
NathanielThe memory of Megra's voice haunts me every day. It's been two years since she called, and every day since then has been a relentless pursuit to find her. I can’t forget the desperation in her voice, the quiet resolve when she told me about our daughter. Every night, I relive that moment, hearing her whisper "Mia Rose Welsh" with a mixture of pride and heartbreak. That single call has been my lifeline, my only connection to her and our child.I find myself shouting into the phone, "I said you need to find them!" even though everyone on the other end is doing the best they can. The frustration eats at me. Every lead has gone cold, and every effort has felt like chasing shadows. I’ve poured my heart and soul into this search, neglecting everything else, including Anna and her twisted games.These past two years have been a nightmare. After Megra's call, I immediately flew to Europe. I traced her steps to the hospital, hoping for some clue, but found nothing. The staff remember
MegraI stare at my reflection in the mirror, barely recognising the woman staring back. My right eye is swollen shut, a hideous purple-black hue spreading around it. The pain is relentless, throbbing with every heartbeat. I dab makeup over the bruised skin, but the dark discoloration is impossible to fully cover. Each touch is a reminder of Conor's latest outburst—a fresh wave of anger and hatred rising within me.I hate him. I hate Conor and his entire twisted family. They all know what's happening to me, and yet they do nothing. They pretend not to see the bruises, the broken spirit, or the fear in my eyes. On days like today, they keep Mia away from me, using my own daughter as a weapon against me. The physical abuse has become a nightmarish routine, but the emotional torment is worse. Conor parades other women in front of me, flaunting his recklessness with a twisted glee. He brings them into what he calls our home, the bed he forces himself on me, and makes me to watch as they f
MegraAs we step out of the cab and onto the familiar streets of Stockton, a profound sense of relief fills me. The journey from Europe to America has been long and exhausting, but now that we're here, it feels like a sanctuary. The town looks just as I remember: quiet and peaceful, with its tree-lined streets and cosy houses. It's a stark contrast to the life we've left behind. I had missed this.I glance at Celia, who is taking in her new surroundings with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "This is it, Celia," I say with a smile. "Welcome to America. This is my hometown, Stockton. I know it's a lot different from Europe, but I hope you can adjust. It's quiet, but it's safe."Celia nods, her expression softening as she returns my smile. "I'm sure we'll manage. It looks like a lovely place." She reaches out to take Mia's hand, and I watch as my daughter toddles towards her, giggling. The sight of Mia's happiness lifts my spirits, if only for a moment.We quickly enter my small home
MegraI stand over Nathaniel, my heart aching as I watch him lie there, so still and fragile. His face, once so full of life and expression, now seems pale and unfamiliar. The steady beep of the machines is the only sound in the room, a constant reminder of his condition. I reach out, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, and my hand trembles. It has been three days—three days of me waking him up and him not remembering who I am.I tell him every day, and every day he forgets. It feels surreal to be here with everything that's happened. The joy of finally being back in the States, the rush of getting to him, and now this—a painful reminder of how much has changed and how much we've lost.A sharp, cold voice cuts through my thoughts, shattering the fragile moment. "What the fuck are you doing with my husband?"The words are like ice, freezing me in place. I turn slowly, my body stiff with tension, and there she is—Anna. Her eyes are hard, and her lips are twisted into a sneer. Her
NathanielIn the haze of my mind, I find myself in a dreamscape that feels achingly familiar yet just out of reach. The sky above is a soft blue, with cotton clouds drifting lazily. A warm breeze tugs at the edges of my awareness, carrying with it the scent of flowers and something sweeter, like vanilla. I see a figure standing a distance away, her red hair dancing in the wind like flames against the clear sky. She laughs—a sound that echoes with joy and lightness, wrapping around me like a warm embrace. My heart swells with an indescribable emotion, something pure and tender. I know, somehow, that I love her deeply, fiercely.A small child runs up to her, giggling, tiny feet pattering against the ground. The child’s laughter is like music, infectious and bright. I can't see the child's face, but I feel an overwhelming urge to reach them, to be with them. They are my world, my everything. The woman turns, her hair catching the sunlight, and she smiles down at the child. Her smile...it
NathanielA week has passed, and the days blend together in a hazy rhythm of recovery and fragmented memories slowly resurfacing. Every morning, I wake up feeling a little more like myself, the pieces of my past clicking back into place. The garden has become my sanctuary, a quiet place where I sit and try to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. The sun warms my skin, and the gentle rustling of leaves soothes me, but it’s not enough to chase away the growing dread in my chest.As I sit among the flowers, I see Anna approaching from the house. Her steps are measured, her expression a mask of concern that I’ve grown all too familiar with. But I know better now. Her concern is a facade, a carefully constructed lie to keep me in her web. As she draws closer, I steel myself for the conversation I’ve been rehearsing in my mind.“How are you feeling today?” she asks, her voice soft, almost caring.I look at her, my eyes steady. “Better than you’d want,” I reply, letting the
Epilogue MegraWe stand quietly in front of my mother’s gravestone, feeling the earth beneath my feet solid and cool, like an anchor to this moment. The air is still, the sky washed in muted shades of grey as though the world is holding its breath with me. My eyes trace the familiar letters etched into the smooth stone:**Iris Adams** **Loving Mother, Wife, Daughter, and Sister.**The words feel heavier than usual today, each title pulling me back into memories I’ve spent years trying to bury. There’s something so final about seeing her name like this. My mother. The one person who was always there for me, always strong, always protecting me. And yet, she carried so many secrets. I think about the life she left behind to raise me on her own—the family I only just found out about. All that time, it was just the two of us. She gave up so much, not for herself but for me.A gust of wind stirs the leaves around the graveyard, and I close my eyes, letting the cool air brush against my ski
MegraMusic floats in the air, soft and melodious, filling the room with a sense of calm and joy. I take in a deep breath, letting the sound settle into my bones, feeling its soothing rhythm steady my racing heart. It’s been a year—one long, tumultuous year since everything happened with Becca. A year of healing, of working to forget the chaos Nathaniel and I faced. A year of finding peace, of finding ourselves, of watching Nathaniel become the most wonderful father to the most beautiful daughter.I close my eyes for a moment, holding on to the feeling of peace. When I open them again, I’m staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes glisten with tears as I take in my reflection—my wedding gown flowing around me like a cascade of dreams. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen, pure white and delicate, with lace that trails down to the floor. I feel like a princess, like the heroine of a story I once dreamed about but never thought would come true.“Oh my gosh, Megra, you look amazin
MegraIt's been a few days since the fire, since Becca's death. I should feel lighter, like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but instead, there's a different heaviness inside me. I can't quite name it—grief, guilt, relief, maybe all of them tangled together. I stand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. Mia is perched on the vanity, watching me with her bright eyes. I meet her gaze in the mirror, offering a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach my eyes.I pick up a small powder puff and begin to dab it gently against my cheeks. The cool, smooth texture of the powder calms me slightly, a welcome distraction from the storm of emotions swirling inside me. Nathaniel is home now, his health restored, his body healing. I’m grateful for that. The newspapers have been full of stories about his heroics, praising him for his bravery. The police cleared his name after searching Becca’s apartment. They found her journals, her twisted plans. It’s all out in the open now.
MegraThe world around me is blurry, shifting in and out of focus. I blink slowly, trying to clear my vision. The ceiling above me is white, harshly bright against my eyes. I feel heavy, like I'm sinking into the hospital bed beneath me. My head throbs, my body aches, and every breath feels like it takes more effort than the last. I hear a steady beep—machines. I’m in a hospital.I remember flames, smoke, Becca's twisted smile. My chest tightens as I recall Nathaniel rushing into the fire. "Nathaniel?" I croak out, my voice barely a whisper, dry and cracked. Panic surges through me, tightening my throat. I try to sit up, but my body protests. "Nathaniel?"A familiar voice, gentle and soothing, cuts through the fog of my thoughts. "He’s fine, my darling." I turn my head slowly, and there she is—Liza, standing beside me. Her face is calm, but I can see the worry in her eyes.“Liza…” I manage, my voice weak. “Where is he? I have to see him. I have to know he’s okay.”She steps closer, ta
Megra“Nathaniel!” I scream, my voice tearing through the chaos as he bursts into the living room, Andrew right behind him. Smoke fills the air, thick and suffocating, and for a moment, all I can see are their silhouettes moving through the haze. My heart leaps with desperate, wild hope. They’ve come for me. They’ve come to save me.Becca’s laugh slices through the air, sharp and cold. Her eyes, wild with madness, flick from Nathaniel to me, and her lips curl into a sinister smile. “You see?” she snarls, her voice dripping with venom. “Even now, even in the face of danger, they run to you. Everyone runs to you, like moths to a flame. Well, then, they deserve your fate.”I watch, my breath catching in my throat, as she pulls a lighter from her pocket, the small flame flickering in the dim light. Fear claws at my insides. “Becca, no!” I shout, but she’s not listening. Her eyes are fixed on Nathaniel and Andrew, her hand steady as she holds the lighter.“Get back!” Becca screams, her voi
The Story of Becca Megra’s eyes are wide with fear, her lips trembling as she pleads. Her voice is a desperate whisper, filled with a panic that only fuels my resolve. She looks so small, so helpless, chained and bound. “Please, Becca,” she begs, her voice cracking. “Why are you doing this? Why?” I pause for a moment, staring at her. My eyes bore into hers, searching, dissecting. It’s like I’m looking right into her soul, seeing every little thing she’s ever taken from me, every single moment she’s made me feel small, insignificant, unwanted. I want her to feel that pain now to understand what she’s done. “I don’t think you should die just yet,” I say slowly, letting the words hang in the air, “without knowing the whole story.” I grab a wooden chair from the corner, dragging it across the floor with a slow, deliberate scrape that echoes through the room. I’m savouring the moment, relishing the fear in her eyes. I set the chair down in front of her and sit, crossing my legs calmly,
The Story of Becca.I watch as Megra cautiously approaches the front door of her Stockton home, her eyes darting around as if she knows someone is watching her. She’s always been so paranoid, always looking over her shoulder. But today, her vigilance won’t save her. Today, she’s all mine.From my car parked across the street, I can see her every move. My heart races with excitement, my breath quickening as I prepare for what’s to come. I’ve waited so long for this moment, planning every detail. She has no idea what’s waiting for her. She thinks she’s safe here, in her own home. How wrong she is.I smile, a dark, twisted smile. She deserves what’s coming to her. After everything she’s done, after everything she’s taken from me, she deserves this. I glance at the metal rod on the seat next to me, my fingers itching to grab it and feel its weight in my hand. I can’t wait any longer. I need to do this now.“She made me do it,” I whisper to myself, my voice filled with venom. “She made me k
NathanielI squeeze Anna’s hand, feeling the coldness of her skin against my own. Her eyes are glassy with pain and fear, but there’s a spark of clarity in them. Her usual well-maintained red hair in knots. She’s been through hell, but I need answers. "Anna," I say softly, leaning closer, "do you know where Becca took Megra?"She shakes her head, her breath coming in shallow gasps. "No," she whispers, her voice trembling. "I don’t know where she took her. I… I wish I did."I swallow back the frustration rising in my throat. "How did you find out it was Becca?" I press, hoping she has more information, something that could help us.Anna closes her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her strength. "I started having my suspicions after I saw the newspaper article," she begins slowly. "The one calling you an adulterer. Only you, Megra, and I knew about… about the divorce, about all of it. But I told Becca, I confided in her… Nathaniel, I thought she was my friend, but now I am sure she leak
NathanielI rush through the hospital doors, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I have to find out if what happened to Anna has anything to do with Megra's disappearance. I can't shake the feeling that everything is connected—that Megra is in danger, and time is running out."Andrew!" I shout, scanning the crowded hallway, pushing past people as I move further inside. My voice echoes off the sterile walls, blending with the noise of the busy hospital. I see him standing by the nurse's station, his face pale and tight with worry. When he hears me, he turns, and his eyes widen. He rushes over, and I can see the tension in his every step."What the fuck is going on, Nathaniel?" Andrew demands, grabbing my arm, his grip tight, almost bruising. What the hell is happening?""I don't know," I snap, pulling my arm free, my breath coming in ragged bursts. "But that's what I intend to find out." I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "Megra got a phone call," I explain