The next day was calm and lovely. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the weather was just right. I was enjoying the peaceful morning until my phone rang. Thaddeus. The moment his name appeared, my heart sank.
“I hear Gerrard is back from his trip. It's time you start getting us the information we need,” he ordered coldly. “I’m working on it,” I replied, trying to sound confident. “You’d better be, or your father will pay the price,” he warned before ending the call. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about my father. I cried into my pillow, feeling overwhelmed. But after a while, I told myself to stay strong. I got up, took a shower, and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. With the kitchen staff helping me, I decided to prepare one of Gerrard’s favorite dishes; Chilaquiles Verdes. “This looks smells and looks delicious, Miss Lily. Sir Gerrard will love it,” said Luke, the sweetest of the staff, said with a warm smile. He was the first to warm up to me, always eager to lend a hand.. "Thank you, Luke." I smiled, satisfied with the meal. Then I headed to the pantry to check on the fruits. "Where are the oranges? I asked for them yesterday." I turned to Brenda, the staff responsible for groceries shopping, and the sassiest of all the household staff. She shrugged. "Oops, I must've forgotten." "I'll go get them right away," Luke offered quickly. "I'll come with you. We need to get breakfast ready before Gerrard wakes up," I said, grabbing my coat. --- On our way back, Luke and I chatted casually. I tried to pry for information about Gerrard’s business, even flirting a little, but Luke didn’t seem to know much. He cracked a joke about Mama Rosa calling Gerrard a “pumpkin,” and we both laughed as we entered the house. The laughter stopped when we saw Gerrard sitting at the dining table, his face dark with anger. Luke quickly slipped away to the kitchen, leaving me to face him alone. "Is this what you do? Flirt with the staff instead of doing your job?" Gerrard snapped, his voice sharp. He raised his wrist, tapping his watch with a pointed finger. "It’s 7 a.m., and breakfast isn’t ready. But you have time to giggle like a schoolgirl?" “I’m sorry, I...” "Get the car ready," he barked at his driver, cutting me off. Then he turned back to me, his gaze was ice-cold. "I don’t tolerate incompetence. If this happens again, you’re out." The door slammed shut behind him, and I felt a crushing wave of disappointment. I wanted to impress him, to get close enough to gather the information Thaddeus demanded. But instead, I had only managed to get on Gerrard's bad side. “I’m sorry, Miss Lily,” Luke said gently behind, making me jump. “Sir Gerrard’s always grumpy when he misses breakfast.” I gave him a weak smile and nodded. --- An hour later, still at the dining table. I thought of my father. It was memories of him that gave me comfort at difficult times. I remembered how he used to bring me food at school whenever I skipped breakfast. The thought gave me a spark of determination. I decided to make things right. I’d bring Gerrard breakfast at his office to show him I could be reliable. I packed the food, dressed nicely, and took a taxi to the casino where Gerrard worked. Inside, the air smelled of smoke and perfume, and the sound of slot machines filled the space. I looked around for Gerrard, but I couldn't find him. Then I wandered toward the back, I noticed some men unloading boxes into a secured room. Curious, I stepped closer, hoping to catch a glimpse. “Hmmmm,” someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned and saw Antonio, Gerrard’s bodyguard, glaring at me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me away. I was taken to Gerrard's office, where he was in the middle of yelling at a man who was groveling at his feet. Gerrard’s face was cold, as he shoved the man to the floor in anger. “Get him out of my sight,” he ordered, and the guards dragged the man away. My heart clenched... this side of Gerrard reminded me of Sir Bruno, and my helpless father. In that moment, Gerrard looked terrifying. His eyes landed on me, and I froze. His face darkened even more. “What’s she doing here?” he demanded, his voice low but dangerous. Antonio stepped forward. “I caught her snooping around in the back.” Gerrard’s eyes narrowed as he turned to me. “What were you doing back there?” he shouted, his voice so loud it made me jump. My hands shook, and I felt so small under his sharp gaze. “I… I’m sorry,” I stammered, stepping back. As he moved closer, his shadow loomed over me, and I squeaked, thinking he might hit me. Gerrard stopped, his face softening just a little, though he still looked annoyed. He waved Antonio away. The door closed behind us, leaving us alone. “Lilly,” he said, his voice much softer now. “I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have to be scared.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you shouldn’t have come here.” I nodded quickly, trying to calm down, but I still couldn’t look him in the eye. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, sounding calmer this time. I held up the food basket. “You… you didn’t eat breakfast, so I brought some,” I said, my voice shaking but steady enough. Gerrard sighed deeply and sat down in his chair. “Alright. I’ll let this go, but don’t come here again. Got it?” “Yes,” I whispered, nodding. The room went quiet. I could feel his eyes on me, watching, as if trying to figure me out. My heart pounded in my chest, but I stayed still, holding the basket tightly. After a moment, Gerrard stood up and nodded for me to follow. “Come,” he said quietly. “I want you to meet some important people.”Gerrard drew in a breath. “About what happened in the past…” I lifted a hand gently, trying to spare him the weight of it. “Gerrard, you don’t have to...” “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Please. Let me clear this.” I nodded, quietly waiting. “I never stopped loving you,” he said. “Not for a second. Even after finding out the truth, about who you were, why you came, I was angry, yes. I was hurt, and I felt betrayed… but the love never left. When we found your father during the raid on the Santorini Syndicate, I… God, I just felt so much. I realized how much pain you carried all alone... I knew I couldn't blame you, you did what you had to to survive” He paused and took a breath, his voice catching a little. “But I was a coward. I couldn’t accept you, even though you accepted me, for all that I am.” My eyes brimmed before I could stop them. I opened my mouth to say something, but he kept going, his voice low and urgent. “And when you left, trust me, Annabelle, I wanted to hold
I stood at the edge of my kitchen floor, the polished tiles warm under my bare feet, and for a long, quiet moment, I just let myself feel it all. The clinking of glasses, the laughter floating in from the terrace, the soft jazz curling through the air like smoke. The scent of rosemary, butter, garlic, and slow-roasted dreams wrapped around me like an embrace. Rivera Cuisine. My restaurant. My soul. My home. Named after my father, Philip Rivera; the man who taught me how to peel garlic and how to stand tall in a room that tried to shrink me. I wanted his name to live on, not tied to sorrow, not as a footnote in someone else’s story, but as something that meant warmth, comfort, healing. Something beautiful. The sign outside caught the light just right, the gold cursive glowing softly against the evening. And inside, warm woods, soft lighting, clean lines. Nothing loud, nothing flashy, just honest, just me. I had done it. After a year of intense training at Le Cordon Bleu, lon
It had been a full year since I first walked into the Amari Grace Project building, nervous and unsure, with barely more than a suitcase and a cracked heart.Twelve months later, I was no longer the same woman.I had rebuilt myself, slowly, steadily. Piece by piece. No longer shaped by fear or control, but by freedom, by healing, and by choice.Therapy wasn’t easy. There were weeks I cried more than I slept, and moments I nearly walked out. But I stayed. And for once, I didn’t run.I learned how to breathe again. How to trust my own voice. How to say no without guilt. I began to dream, not for someone else, not to survive, but for myself.And somewhere in that journey, I found my passion again.Cooking.I had always loved it, the rhythm of it, the creativity, the way food could bring comfort when words failed. At the Grace Project, they noticed. I was encouraged to train, to explore it professionally.And I did.From catering the weekly women’s circles, to hosting community brunches,
That night, I went back to the hotel where I had stayed after Gerrard left me stranded on the roadside.Everything looked just the same, the dimly lit hallway, the soft hum of the air conditioner, the faint scent of old furniture and citrus-scented cleaner. But something inside me was different now.I curled into the unfamiliar sheets, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning.For the first time, I saw my life for what it had been.I had never really lived for myself. I’d been passed from one man’s will to another, used, shaped, controlled. Bruno, Gerrard, Sammie. Even my father, in the quiet ways he’d taught me to shrink and please and stay silent.I had never truly owned my story.But now… I would start.A small, brave smile crept onto my face.And for the first time in a long while, I slept in peace.---The next morning, I woke early, my heart steady with quiet purpose.I opened my purse and pulled out the business card I had kept tucked away for months.Dante Amari.I stared
When I got home, I couldn’t find Sammie at first, but his car was parked out front. The house was quiet, too quiet. Eventually, I found him on the rooftop, standing by the edge, a glass in his hand. He was staring down at the city below, still and brooding. He must have seen me come in. Without turning, he spoke. “You went to see Gerrard, didn’t you?” I didn’t answer right away. The wind carried the scent of his drink, whiskey, sharp and bitter. He turned to face me, eyes dark with frustration. “I’m doing everything for you,” he said, his voice rising. “Everything. But no matter what I do, you keep crawling back to the man who threw you away.” I stood still, jaw clenched. “You embarrassed me today,” he snapped. “You said no. In front of everyone. After everything I’ve done for you. I gave you a home, safety, love. I’ve been patient, I’ve waited—God knows I’ve waited.” I still didn’t say a word. I was too angry, too disappointed to speak yet. He took a step closer, his tone
I decided to pick up the pieces of my life. It was slow, achingly slow, but every morning, I got up. I tried. I brushed my hair, sat by the window, and breathed. That was something. There wasn’t much to do, though. Sammie wouldn’t let me. He hovered constantly, wouldn't even let me cook for myself. He treated me like something delicate, something on the edge of breaking. I knew he meant well, and part of me appreciated it. But another part, tired, restless, grew irritated. I wasn’t fragile, I had been through fire. I could handle my own life, and yet, here I was, tiptoeing around someone else's version of care. One afternoon, Sammie came home looking lighter than I’d seen him in weeks. “I’ve wrapped up the business with Gerrard,” he said, grinning as he loosened his tie. “We’ll be heading back to Germany soon.” I forced a smile. “That’s good news.” He walked over and kissed my forehead. “We’ve done everything we needed to here. It’s time to start fresh.” But something in me re