Mia pushed the door open to her house, the silence greeting her like an old acquaintance. It was late, too late to hope for a proper conversation with her mom. She had come visiting without notice and it had been almost two months, yet she hasn’t mentioned returning to her residence. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not right now when she was about to round things up with Xiang. As expected, her mother, Sarah, was already dressed, looking elegant and put together, as if everything in their lives was perfectly in order. “Oh, Mia,” Sarah said, glancing up briefly. “You’re back. How are you?” “I’m fine,” Mia replied, her tone clipped, betraying none of the turmoil within. Deep down, she wasn’t fine, but saying so wouldn’t change anything. Her problems, after all, had roots she couldn’t simply pull out—roots her mom had unknowingly planted. Sarah adjusted her scarf, her eyes already on the door. “I’m off to Bible study. Samantha still isn’t back, is she?” “No,” Mia said, her chest
“Mia, get up and do something—at least try some clothes on, for heaven’s sake! You’re a mess.” Samantha came out from her room with both hands on her hips. “There’s so much to do, and there’s barely enough time to finish your makeover!” Mia lay sprawled across the couch, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression. She didn’t even have the energy to think about what to wear. Despite it feeling like a once-in-a-lifetime experience for her, she had a feeling she might look out of place. She stretched out, throwing an arm over her eyes. “You worry too much, Sam. I’ll probably just sit in a corner all night.” Samantha immediately stormed into the kitchen, grabbed a spatula from the counter, and marched back into the living room. She waved it in front of Mia like a magic wand. “Enough of this pity party! You sound like you’re attending for just the fun of it. I, Samantha, your self-appointed fairy godmother, will not just get you to the party, I’ll make sure you steal the show.
The cab pulled up to the Grand Kew Hotel, its sleek exterior gleaming like a polished jewel under the evening lights. Mia stepped out, gripping her VIP pass with a steady hand as her heels tapped against the pavement. The buzz of the crowd and the clicking of cameras created a vibrant energy, but her focus remained sharp. At the gate, guests were thoroughly checked, some being turned away if their names didn’t make the list. She watched as many uninvited guests were bounced back, their complaints fading into the busy evening. Mia adjusted her mask—customized, light, and carefully designed to frame her face perfectly. Her friend had called it “mystique,” and it added an air of allure to her entire outfit The entrance was lined with TV hosts and photographers, their cameras snapping away at the arriving guests. Most guests wore masks—some opted for traditional Venetian designs, others chose handheld masks, while a few decided not to wear any at all. The temporary steel fence sepa
Mia blinked, still processing his words, especially with that look in his eyes. “Zac, I… I suck at dancing.” “That shouldn’t be your worry. Just follow my lead,” he replied, his voice still gentle but firm, leaving no room for her to refuse. “What about Bella?” she whispered, the words fragile as they left her lips. But even as she spoke, her hand had already slipped into his. “Shhh,” Zac hushed her with a disarming smile. “Unless you’re planning to take off your mask and tell her yourself, I’d suggest you relax.” His voice held a teasing edge as he led her to the center of the ballroom. Suddenly, the lights dimmed, casting a golden glow across the room. The crowd around them faded into a blur, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of them. As the opening notes of ‘Careless Whisper’ began to play, Zac stopped, turning to face her fully. He softly rested his hand on her lower back, the warmth of his touch against her bare skin causing her heart to ra
Mia’s heart pounded as she walked behind Zac, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the quiet hallway. The party had nearly ended, but Zac had pulled her away from the crowd, leading her in a new direction. “Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” Her voice had a trace of doubt, even though the buzz from the party still lingered around them. Zac glanced back at her, flashing a casual smile. “My grandfather owns this hotel as well. So…yes, I know my way around.” Mia blinked, surprised. They own the hotel? Zac has this way of talking about things so casually, like it’s not a big deal or there’s no real value to it.” Still, an uneasy feeling settled in her chest. There was something different about him tonight. Even after all their time working together, he was always unpredictable. They reached a set of grand double doors, and Zac turned to her, his face neutral. “Close your eyes.” Mia hesitated, confusion furrowing her brow. “Why?” “Just trust me,” he said softly, the ca
“What just happened here, Zac?!” Bella demanded, her voice sharp as she glared at him.She had marched into the courtyard, with so much fury in her eyes—a blend of frustration and urgency. She had hoped to confront the woman standing next to Zac, but to her surprise, Mia was already gone.“Excuse me?” Zac raised an eyebrow. “Wait, what the heck are you even doing here anyway?”She didn't speak a word. Instead, her eyes shifted beyond him, focusing on the path Mia had taken.Without hesitation, she started toward the path, but Zac’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist.“Let go of my hand,” Bella demanded, her voice sharp as she looked at him.Zac’s grip didn’t loosen. Instead, his eyes darkened as he warned, “Don’t you dare, Bella. Or else… I’ll make you regret it.”There was a cold finality in his tone as he released her. She yanked her hand back, twisting her face in rage.“Really? Because of… that woman? Who is she? What’s her family name, anyway?” Bella spat, her voice dripping with
Mia paused, her gaze still fixed on Zac, uncertain whether to believe him. Then, out of nowhere, Zac’s expression shifted. His lips twitched before he burst into laughter. “You should see the look on your face,” Zac said, his voice light and amused. Mia blinked, her mouth slightly open. “That’s… not funny, sir,” she replied, shaking her head, though a hint of a smile crept onto her lips. Zac chuckled and pulled a second key from his pocket. “Relax. I was just kidding.” She exhaled sharply, finally allowing herself to smile. “What a bad joke,” she muttered. Zac grinned, unfazed, as the hotel porters approached with their luggage. They moved efficiently, unloading the bags and arranging everything for their respective suites. When the porter led Mia to her room, she followed with curious anticipation. Zac's suite was certainly luxurious, the finest that the hotel could provide. However, when she entered her own room, she was astonished. The suite was much more lavish than she ha
Back in New York, Charles Cornell sat in the living room, staring at the blank wall. A cup of green tea sat on a table, cold and forgotten. The room was eerily quiet, save for the soft ticking of the clock. His face was stoic, but his mind churned with relentless thoughts that never reached his expression. The door creaked open, and Seth stepped inside. His gaze swept the room before settling on his father. A sly smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Father,” Seth said, breaking the silence with a mockingly casual tone. “Don’t tell me you’re still dwelling on Zac’s cheating scandal.” The old man didn’t turn, his gaze fixed on the wall. “I still can’t believe it,” he muttered. “We need to clear this up immediately. How can Zac be so careless about something this important?” Seth poured himself a glass of whiskey, taking his time. “Careless?” he echoed, his tone sharp with sarcasm. “Father, that’s an understatement. I warned you. Zac’s not ready. He hasn’t even taken over the
Mia arrived at Zac’s condo, not waiting even a moment before leaving the car. She did not need approval for entry—she’d been here before, and beyond this, she was his fiancée. She could not be denied entry by anybody, not even the bodyguards who had been instructed not to disturb him. They only exchanged knowing glances as she passed by. Her pulse pounded against the side of her head when she stepped into the hallway. She headed for his door and punched the password into the security panel. “Zac?” she called, pushing the door open, but no one responded. The living room carried the remnants of his presence—a bottle of whiskey lying open on the table, the glass next to it only halfway filled. She moved farther, into the dining room, where a food tray rested untouched, gone cold. A frown curled over her brows. He hadn’t been here long. Or maybe he’d gone back to his penthouse? Just as she was about to check his bedroom, the sound of a soft cough reached her ears. She turned ar
“Good morning, Grandpa.” Mia stood the moment Charles Cornell stepped onto the terrace. His face was bright, as though he’d been up for hours. He was simply dressed in straight pants and a button-down shirt, with his sleeves neatly folded to his elbows. “Oh, Mia, please, sit,” he said, motioning toward the chair beside him. “Come inside, or are you comfortable out here?” “This is fine,” she assured him. “Actually, this is my favorite spot.” Charles sat with a satisfied nod. “How long have you been waiting?” “Not too long,” Mia said lightly. The Chief of Staff, standing nearby, bowed slightly. “She has actually been here for over an hour, sir. She was standing by the gate.” Charles’s expression shifted instantly. “What?” His voice carried a quiet authority. “And they didn’t let her in?” “They were just doing their job,” Mia interjected quickly. “It was an innocent mistake.” Charles exhaled through his mouth. “Who was on duty?” He turned to the Chief of Staff. “How could they
The next morning, well before the sun had fully risen, Mia stood in front of the gates of Charles Cornell’s mansion—a quiet, secluded place with restricted access. The cab driver pulled up to the security entrance, waiting for her to obtain an access pass so they could drive through. Mia adjusted the strap of her bag, staring at the towering gates. She was simply dressed in a skirt that fell just above her knees and a plain chiffon top. She looked nothing like what one might expect from a billionaire’s fiancée. No designer labels, no extravagant jewelry—just a simple, refined sense of style. If anything, she fit in a little too well, like any other visitor rather than someone who belonged there. The guards noticed her immediately, and one of them stepped forward, eyeing her with the same wary expression reserved for an unwelcome guest. “How can we help you, Miss?” one of them asked, his tone tinged with impatience. “I’m here to see Sir Cornell,” Mia said, standing her g
A couple of hours later, after dropping Samantha off, Mia found herself in the quiet luxury of a private theater with Angelo. The service was outstanding, the atmosphere cozy—exactly the kind of experience most people would cherish. She took a slow sip of her drink, her eyes absentmindedly glued to the screen. Of course, the movie was good, the food even better. But that didn’t stop her mind from drifting, no matter how she tried to push it away. She turned slightly, glancing at Angelo beside her. He was clearly enjoying himself, laughing at some scenes, tossing popcorn into his mouth, and casually passing her some snacks. His energy was effortless and natural. “Everything okay?” Angelo asked suddenly, his voice low as he stared at her in the dim light. Mia blinked, then nodded quickly. “Yeah. Sure.” His jaw tensed slightly before he let out a small chuckle. “We can switch to something else if you don’t like this one, you know.” Mia smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “No…
Mia let out a quiet scoff, shaking her head as she turned back to the mirror. “Feelings? Come on, Sam. You’re exaggerating. I’m just—” She paused, adjusting her necklace, pretending to be focused on something else. “I’m just concerned, you know. Maybe something happened to him or maybe not. Besides—” “Go on,” Samantha cut in smoothly, her tone dripping with amusement. Mia exhaled, gripping the edge of the dresser a little tighter. “I don’t think he’s capable of—” She hesitated, catching herself before she said too much. Her fingers loosened, but she didn’t turn around. “I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think Zac is like that.” Samantha tapped her fingers against her thigh, clearly impatient. “Mia, you’re in a safe space, okay? Just spill the tea.” “Like someone who—” She waved a hand vaguely, as if searching for the right words. “Feels things that deeply. He’s focused on work. That’s all.” Samantha gave a slight smirk. “And yet, here you are, trying so hard to convince yourself of t
Shirley sat in the leather chair, her hands resting on her lap, but her fingers curled tightly into fists. Seth’s house had always been like this, untouched by warmth, too large for a man who lived alone. His children were gone, spread across different corners of the city, and the only ones here—aside from himself—were the staff who knew better than to intrude. It had been twenty-eight years since she had last been this close to him. Back then, she had been young, head over heels, caught in the effortless charm of a man who knew exactly how to wield his words. How could she not have fallen? He was handsome, compelling—his voice alone was an invitation, a promise. And she had believed in a promise of forever. She had loved him, blindly, foolishly—until the day he announced his engagement to another woman. By the time she realized she was carrying his child, Seth had already married into a powerful family, leaving her no choice but to walk away. But fate had been kind. A widower w
Sarah’s expression shattered, with tears streaming down her face as she dropped to her knees. “I’m sorry, Mia.” Mia exhaled sharply, her hands clenching into fists. “Mom, how could you? After everything we’ve been through?” Her mother shook her head, her eyes pleading. “Mia, your father reached out to me… he… he came begging. He said he wanted to make things right.” Mia let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and sharp. “Make things right? He left us, Mom. You have no idea what I went through because of him. And now you think a simple apology is enough?” Sarah wiped at her tears. “Mia, please. I know how hard this must be. We all make mistakes—that’s what makes us human.” “Forgiveness is not in my book anymore,” Mia shot back, her voice shaking. “I can never forgive him. And you—you gave him a chance without even telling me?” “I thought—” Sarah hesitated. “I thought it was the right thing to do, my child. Without a father figure, what would our in-laws say? You know how it loo
Outside, by the rear wing of the mansion, Zac and Mia walked along the lawn. The cool night air cut through the quietness, and the sound of a water fountain flowed beside them. Mia took a deep breath, letting the crisp air calm her nerves. “You knew exactly what I needed,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost vulnerable. She tilted her head with a genuine smile. “Thank you, Zac.” Zac nodded, giving her a quiet smile in return. “You’re welcome.” “First of all, I’m so, so sorry about my dad,” Mia admitted, her words slipping out with quiet frustration. “I had no idea he’d—” She stopped, her voice shaking as unshed tears threatened to break through. Zac observed her closely, sensing the strain in her posture. He didn’t waste any time before opening his arms wide. “Come here, you.” Mia tilted her head to meet his eyes, her emotions caught in a storm. Without a second thought, she fell into his arms. For the first time in a long time, she didn’t need to hide her feelings, nor were
Mia had barely touched her meal, but the second she saw her father step inside the dining hall, she froze. Fred Williams—the man who had walked out of their lives five years ago without a second thought—strolled into the room like he belonged there. No hesitation, no shame. Just a wide grin, as if he were some special guest. Her chair scraped against the floor. “How did you—,” she muttered, halfway to standing but a firm hand closed over hers, stopping her. It was Zac’s. His grip wasn’t forceful, just steady and anchoring. His grey eyes found hers, a silent message passing between them—Stay. Mia didn’t want to. She wanted to get up, walk out, escape the spiral of emotions crashing into her. But that would make things worse. So, she did what she knew best—pretended: Pretended everything was fine. Pretended that man wasn’t her estranged father standing there. Slowly, she eased back into her seat, but her focus was still locked on him. Sarah, seated next to Samantha, had