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2025-04-29 19:17:33"Mom, if you keep messing with my cap, my hair's gonna be this way for weeks." Liana's words were muffled through the fabric, her graduation gown wrinkling as she shifted.
Amara's fingers stopped their motion, her face in the mirror unfocused through tears. "Sorry. Habit." Leo appeared in the doorway, his own eyes inexplicably wet. "Someone's gonna have to climb a ladder to reach the podium at this rate." Liana pushed the door open, smiling, her smile contagious. "Says the guy who still weeps during Pixar movies." The stadium buzzed with the hum of a thousand voices, the sea of caps and gowns a patchwork of possibility. Amara clutched her program, the creases already worn from nervous folding. "Where is your dad?" "Getting us great seats," Liana said, her voice steady but her hands betraying her as she turned her tassel. Leo appeared with two folding chairs, their metal legs clattering against the bleachers. "Front row. Bribery involving a granola bar and a threat to expose my AA meetings." Amara laughed, the sound catching in her throat. "You’re a genius." He handed her a tissue packet. "Preemptive strike." As the procession began, Liana’s face lit up like a beacon, her eyes scanning the crowd until they locked onto her parents. Amara waved, her breath hitching as the truth descended—this is happening. The speeches were indistinct, but when Liana stood behind the podium, the world's attention was riveted on her voice. "Today is about the people who came even when they didn't know the answers," she said, her gaze sweeping across her parents. "To my mom, who taught me that 'I'm sorry' isn't a weakness. To my dad, who showed me that 'I'll try' is the bravest thing you can say. And to all of you here—love isn't perfect. It's just… present. And sometimes, that's enough." Amara's vision blurred. Leo's shoulder shook. As Liana descended the stairs, Amara enveloped her in a hug that said more than words ever could. Leo's laughter was a muffled one as he scooped them both up in a group hug. "Someone's gonna need a tissue factory at this rate." Later, as they were walking out to the car, Liana paused, her hand brushing against the Polaroid in her pocket—the one Grandma took, three days before the funeral that never took place. "Everything okay?" Amara's voice was soft. Liana paused, then shoved the picture deeper into her pocket. "Just thinking about next year. Paris… and Portland." Amara's breath hitched. Leo's grip on Liana's shoulder tightened. But Liana smiled, her eyes sparkling. "We'll figure something out. Together." The sun set low, painting the sky in stripes of gold and red, the kind that made you think of beginnings. "Are you okay?" Amara whispered, wiping Leo's tears away on the back of her hand. Leo sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. "When do I ever cry at graduations?" Liana rolled her eyes, but a smile danced on her lips. "Since forever, Dad. Since forever." The stadium lights went down into the night, their laughter echoing like a promise. ------ "Mom, if you just stare at that manuscript some more, the characters will start talking back." Liana's voice drifted in on the open window, her violin case next to her on the porch steps. Amara lifted her head from her laptop, sunlight glinting off the silver in her hair. "They're giving me trouble." "Still?" Leo came out with two iced coffees, the condensation running down the sides. "Tell them to nap. Or hike." She accepted the coffee with a grin. "Easy for you to say. Your students adore you." "Love's a strong word." He sat down next to her, his shoulder against hers. "Mostly, they tolerate my awful puns." Liana snorted. "Newsflash: everyone tolerates your awful puns." Amara's smile was warm. "Discussing puns… your gallery night's tonight. Ready to face the critics?" Liana's grin was relentless. "Ready to face the free wine. Critics can… criticize themselves." The gallery was alive with activity, the mellow tones of a jazz quartet blending with laughter. "Ms. Torres!" The curator hastened over, her heels clicking on the refinished floor. "Your installation's tremendous. The way the light… it's like…" "As the mess we make trying to corral life," Liana finished, her eyes locking with Leo's across the room.He winked.
Liana's heart swelled as she escorted a group of suitors through the terrariums, her speech bubbling with excitement as she told them about the dry succulents and the time-lapse revival.
Later, on the balcony overlooking the city, Amara found Leo looking out at the skyline. "Remembering the good old days?" she asked, looping an arm around his waist. He leaned against her, the wedding ring on her finger cold against his skin. "Wistful for how we didn't ever need a label to be us." Her thumb drew over the scar on his palm. "Labels were just. safety nets." He kissed her temple. "Safety nets for when we forgot how to fly." At the party later on, Liana cornered them with a mischievous glint in her eye. "So… when's the next family therapy session? I heard the clinic's got a new therapist who's an expert on 'happy families.'" Amara feigned being aghast. "Trauma bonding's a lifetime investment." Leo made a dismissive sound. "Tell that to the granola bar that lived through my cooking last week." Liana's laugh was a bright note in the evening air. "Love you guys. Even when you're insufferable." Amara’s vision blurred. Leo’s hand found hers, steady and warm. As the city lights pulsed around them, Amara realized they’d finally learned the secret: love wasn’t a destination. It was the road they traveled together, scars and all. “You ever think we’ll mess up again?” Leo’s voice was soft, his breath warm against her ear. Amara smiled, her fingers lacing through his. “Daily. But now… we’re better at picking up the pieces.” Liana's laughter echoed through the gallery, a melody that promised all would be well. The city stretched out before them, a canvas of promise. No labels. No guarantees. Only them.
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Seduced by His Touch 79
YEARS LATERSomething happened, but let not jump to it, in some stanze, my family name was changed after my father got something in a wealth deeplinx and l have be using itMorning sunlight poured through gauzy curtains in the Coleman home, painting wispy shadows across gleaming oak floors. Eighteen-year-old Liana Coleman had known from an early age that introductions could bite with the intensity of possibility. This morning had been one such day—a just-washed crisp sheet on which she would write her adulthood.Liana teetered on the edge of her mother's closet, deciding between the ivory silk gown and the emerald green sheath. Ruth Coleman, ever the picture of serene composure, watched her from the mirror over the dressing table, lips curled into a gentle, knowing smile."The ivory will bring out the sparkle in your eyes, sweetheart," her mother coaxed, fingers brushing a curl of Liana's chestnut hair behind her ear.Liana raised the gown—a filmy promise of elegance—but faltered. "Em
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Morning sunlight poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Sterling Tower boardroom, casting prisms on the polished mahogany table. Liana Coleman took her seat, the silk of her teal blouse whispering softly against the leather. Her mother, Ruth Coleman, was seated across from her, stacking documents into neat, confident piles, while Leo Hartmann—her mother's business partner—scrolled through financial projections on his tablet, his jaw tight with anticipation.Liana inhaled the faint aroma of fresh-brewed coffee and leather-bound papers. This meeting would determine whether the Coleman-Hartmann Foundation's vision of environmentally friendly urban dwellings would acquire a powerful ally—or experience an embarrassing setback. Today, she was here not as a sheltered debutante but as a representative of her family, prepared to speak when the moment arose.The door opened with a gentle click. Liana felt a familiar charge in the air before she saw him: Alexander "Alex" Cole ente
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The last flickers of light penetrated through the veins of the Coleman-Hartmann house, creating long, somber shadows along the parquet floors. Inside, the house hung in stifling silence, as if waiting for the ghosts of the past.Liana took off her heels in the mudroom, the soft click echoing down the hallway. Her mother's lavender sachets clung to the air, filling it with sweetness, mixed with the smells of old leather and wood polish. She remained standing, listening. In the drawing room, there was the muted hum of a late-night television news program—her father on the television, his voice measured but strained.She did not enter. She leaned against the archway, arms crossed, watching the light fade. Evening's stillness felt dense, as if walls themselves mourned unseen hurts.Ruth Coleman and Leo Hartmann sat on opposite sides of the ivory settee in the drawing room, their posture as rigid as chiselled statues. Between them, on the coffee table, stood an untouched bottle of fine old
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A stillness fell over the Coleman-Hartmann boardroom as late-afternoon sunlight slid beneath the horizon. The morning-polished table, once so reflective of its shine, now was under stress from anxious faces and flickering laptop screens. At the end of the table, Leo Hartmann's normally calm demeanor had unraveled; his fingers drummed out a frantic rhythm on the mahogany. "Our mainframe has been breached," he said, his voice strained. "Investor confidence is plummeting by the hour.".Ruth Coleman was seated opposite him, her chin set, the crinkle of her silk top blouse as she leaned forward. But all eyes dropped to the door as Alexander Cole entered—dark suit neatly pressed, face unreadable. He had a sense of calm, the same man who had blown apart their timelines just days before. Behind him came Liana, holding her tablet like a shield. The hum of the boardroom filled the air as she sat down directly across from Alex, their chairs almost touching, the air between them crackling with an
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Twilight fell over the city in shades of lavender and rose as Liana settled into the passenger side of Alex's gleaming electric sedan. The adrenaline of the evening still coursed through her veins, a residual hum of the crisis they had just averted. Alex's hand rested close to the center console as he closed the door, his fitted suit jacket shifting against the leather of the seat. They simply regarded each other for a moment in easy silence.Thanks for the ride," Liana said, fastening her seatbelt with measured composure. She sensed the shock of electricity as the car roared to life—more a machine's heartbeat.Alex nodded, his eyes flicking up to meet hers in the muted glow of the dashboard. "Least I could do," he said, his tone softer than she'd ever heard him speak before. "After.all that stuff tonight.".She smiled at him, surprised by the warmth of it. "We made a good team." The words burst out before she could censor them. The confession was intimate, a secret beneath the canopy
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A cold wind rattled the lace curtains of Liana’s bedroom window as dusk settled over the Coleman-Hartmann estate. She swiped her phone for the umpteenth time, scrolling through emails and messages from the day’s meetings, when a new text pinged unexpectedly. The screen glowed with an unknown number:Stay out of your father’s business—or you’ll regret it.Her heart pumped erratically. She frowned, thumbs suspended before she fired a curt reply: Who is this? There was near-instant reaction:You know what I mean.Liana's breath had been taken away. Her practical mind dismissed it—a prank, or a mistaken effort to scare her. Yet as the outside streetlamps flickered, a shivering cold coursed down her neck. She shut her phone with a snap and put it beside her on her nightstand, determined not to let some crass, threatening message disrupt her. Tomorrow morning, she'd show Leo and Ruth the message—and laugh. That would put an end to it.Downstairs, the library light remained late. Leo Hartman
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The ballroom of the Marlowe Hotel had been transformed once again into a resplendent tapestry of silk, crystal, and candlelight. It was a week since the hacking debacle—long enough for the city's upper echelons to have forgotten the previous one that had threatened to topple the Coleman-Hartmann alliance, but not long enough for its ghosts to have vanished. Liana Coleman strode through the double doors in a midnight blue velvet gown that fell to her ankles, the material rustling around her legs like a secret whispered. She paused as strings from the orchestra filled the air, the music pulling an undertone of tension that reverberated within her chest.Her mother, Ruth, had insisted Liana accompany her as a demonstration of strength. But tonight, beneath the practiced shine of her smile, Liana carried a package of worries: the featureless threat that haunted their family, Leo's sleeplessness, and the glimpse of fear she still felt every time her phone rang in the dead of night. She too
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The coffee shop was nearly deserted when Liana Coleman and Alexander Cole slipped through the thin door, the bell above muffled by the hum of the late-night street. A solitary waiter was buffing the counter under the glow of Edison bulbs, their filaments casting honeyed light over the worn oak tables. The scent of espresso and vanilla lingered on the air, drifting between creased leather banquettes.Liana folded into a corner chair, shoving a renegade curl back behind her loose bun. The evening strategy session had taken longer than expected; papers filled the tabletop—copies of the supplier agreements, firewall practices notes, photos of Voss Industries' shell companies. Alex folded himself facing her, his fitted blazer draped over the back of the next chair, sleeves rolled up to reveal a starched white shirt lightly rumpled from late nights.The waiter hovered briefly before retreating, leaving them in a hush broken only by their soft voices and the distant hiss of a coffee machine.
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Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 132
The sun late last morning seeped in through the lace curtains of the Hart dinner room, lighting up the honey-colored light on the lengthy oak table. Roses and hydrangeas—Maria's new discovery at the greenhouse—seasoned the table in soft blues and pinks, their petals vibrating like the softness of applause. At the head sat Leo, his silver hair shining with the light, a satisfied smile tempered with the ache of remembrance. At his side, Maria put a hand on her swelling belly, eyes aglow with expectation for the daughter soon to be in her arms. The room vibrated with muted anticipation as family and very close friends gathered, each chair holding a sprig of lavender for Ruth—a soft reminder of the sister and mother whose absence had been as keen as her presence had ever been.Liana arrived in a dove-gray chiffon dress, the fabric streaming around her ankles like a promise. Her engagement ring, a white gold and moonstone thin band, shone on her left hand. Alex stood to greet her, his navy
Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 131
The air was crisp with promise for new beginnings as Liana walked onto the velvety lawn of Leo and Maria's garden, now transformed into a wedding pavilion beneath the limbs of an ancient acacia. Fairy lights were enmeshed in the boughs, their gentle radiance intertwining with the break of dawn. The scent of jasmine floated over the guests—friends and relatives who had traveled from distant continents to witness this simple, tearful ritual. White folding chairs lined the aisle, one atop the other, each covered with a lone sprig of lavender, the favorite of Ruth. At the aisle's far end, a simple arch of driftwood adorned with roses and wildflowers awaited the vacant altar.Liana stopped at the edge of the seats, her heartbeat vibrating through the pool-blue silk of her dress. She smoothed out the silk, fingers against the soft sheen as she gazed about. The grass sloped down slowly to a wandering stream, where lilies floated like gentle sentinels. On the other side, the profile of the es
Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 130
Liana woke to the ever‐present hum of morning traffic filtering through her apartment building's floor‐to‐ceiling windows. Glass skyscrapers glimmered in the predawn light: sentinels stabbing the sky in a troubled world. She stretched, letting the familiar pounding pain of a morning after late‐night planning sessions seep into memory. Twenty years old, Liana Coleman had built a life forged by purpose. Her social enterprise—BrightPath Collaborations—had grown from an embryonic idea into a successful network of artisan cooperatives and survivor mentorship programs on three continents. Daily, there were fresh requests: online meetings with Accra-based partners, sustainability packaging design revisions, negotiations to reduce carbon signatures with shipping partners. But beneath the whirlwind activity, she felt grounded in the knowledge that each decision was affecting real people's lives.She padded across the living room to her computer, where Skype's gentle glow awaited. The screen di
Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 129
Sunbeams streamerd through floor-to-ceiling windows of their beachside apartment, illuminating white walls with gold. Liana folded her legs across the divan, piles of crisp, neatly folded paper résumé clustered about her like sailors on seas untroubled. The salty air poured through open doors from the balcony, and Liana breathed, her gaze wandering to a flock of wheeling gulls against pale blue. And today, all that was waiting: the world poised to halt in its tracks to ask: next, where?Alex emerged from their bedroom, his hair rumpled from sleep and eyes aglow with curiosity. He carried two cups of coffee-dark roast, no sugar, the way Liana liked it on challenging days. He knelt beside her, extending one of the cups. "So what's the diagnosis?" he whispered, tracing his fingers over the ceramic to warm them.Liana cradled the cup and watched the steam swirl. “I’ve been offered two paths,” she said, voice measured. “One is to return home, help Leo steer the family business. The other…
Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 128
Sunbeams streamed down the high ceilings of the convocation hall through the tall windows, bathing its polished oak benches in a warm golden light. Tiers of graduating students, radiant in midnight-blue gowns and tasselled silver mortarboards, sat in stifled anticipation. Liana's heart pounded wildly like a caged bird when she smoothed out her gown, fingernails brushing the university seal embossed on her programme. Today she would stride across this stage proudly—Latin honors whispered on invitations, welcome messages, and all-nighters spent reading. But beneath all her pride a river of feeling ran: memories' pain, the absence of her mother's hand on her shoulder, and the knowledge that Ruth's presence haunted every still corner of this auditorium.Alex stood at the back, his lanky frame unwavering amidst the swirling tide of family and friends. He had driven down the night before, trading business meetings for a beach weekend, all for the privilege of witnessing this moment. His cha
Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 127
Liana woke up before sunrise, the beam from her desk lamp illuminating neat rows of books and spread-open notebooks containing notes in colors coded by topic. Outside her dorm window, a faint crescent moon sat high above spires of ivy-covered brick, as if to keep watch over her solitary sentinel. She pinched her palms into her eyes, fatigue tilting into the curves of her cheeks, and reminded herself: it was her brilliance that kept her safe from the glooms of loneliness. With a soft sigh, she settled into her chair, fingers finding their beat on the keyboard.Her college years were a blur of political theory classes, marathon study sessions in the giant library, and seminars in which she dispelled assumptions with Ruth's quiet intensity. Professors praised her analytical skills; students asked her advice on research papers. But each prize came with the shadow of a guilt—Ruth was gone, no longer there to witness this ascension, and each triumph was bitter with a pain so jagged it made
Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 126
Morning light streamed through colored-glass windows in the foyer of the Hart estate, creating rainbows on the marble floor. Liana stood next to the towering oak door, hand on the brass doorknob that had been warmed by a thousand of her mother's hands. Behind her, each portrait of ancestors, every molded strip under the ceiling, whispered history. She found one white rose on a small table next to her trunks—a dawn gift of Alex wrapped in silken tissue paper. She breathed the combined scents of lavender and varnished wood as she closed her eyes, observing every small thing.Before she left the estate, Liana had slipped into her childhood bedroom again, where the wallpaper still had the old design of golden lilies. She stood beside her old dresser, runes of her own childlike script under a few mirror scratches. Her beloved hand-me-down porcelain doll stood leaning on the windowsill, dress sun-faded from years of sunlight. Liana picked it up, held it for a moment, and put it back as if s
Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 125
Morning sunlight streamed through the high windows of the Hart estate library, casting a warm glow on the carved oak bookshelves. Dust motes twirled in the sunbeams, each tiny speck glinting like a promise. Liana stood outside Ruth's office door, her heart pounding with equal measures of hope and fear. This room—once her mother's retreat—had been transformed into the center for operations of the Roselyn Hart Memorial Scholarship, its name etched on a polished brass sign over the door. Ivy creepers wrapped themselves around the doorpost, their green fingertips a testament to life flourishing in the aftermath of loss.The door creaked open to show Ruth seated at her desk. Charts and application papers lay out before her, tidily spread out. A framed photograph of Roselyn in her mid-laugh stance was placed alongside a vase of wildflowers. With her gentle knock, Ruth stood from the chair, her eyes softening and warming. Not needing to say a thing, Liana opened the door and wrapped Ruth in
Seduced by His Touch CHAPTER 124
Liana awoke to the sunlight filtering through the alabaster curtains, painting the walls of the spacious bedroom in stripes of gold. Her nineteenth birthday had arrived in quiet splendor, and even the roses set in the silver vase on her nightstand seemed to lean toward the light in celebration. She lay for a moment, listening to the subtle hum of the house: the distant clink of crystal glasses being set in the dining hall, the muted whisper of servants setting floral garlands on the stairs, and beneath it all, a steady thrum of anticipation.Slipping from beneath the ivory sheets, Liana padded to the window, toes skimming the cool marble floor. Outside, the courtyard had been transformed overnight: pearled linens on the tables, bunches of peony and lavender flowers tangled in wrought-iron chairs, lanterns suspended from the ancient oak, their glass coverings sparkling like fireflies captured. Guests would arrive at noon—family, near friends, and mentors from the foundation—but for now
