I've been holed up in my room all day, my mind spinning in circles around the same damn thoughts, the same damn questions. I've cried until my eyes are sore, puffy, and swollen, and I feel like there's nothing left inside me but this aching void. I can still hear Liam's voice in my head, those cruel, dismissive words replaying over and over again, like a broken record I can't turn off."You were right, Mother. I was never meant to be with someone like Emma."I thought I knew him. I thought we had something real, something that could withstand whatever obstacles came our way. But now I see that I was just a fool, blinded by hope, by some stupid, naive belief that love could change things. That it could make people better.He played me. I don't know why, and that's what hurts the most. Was any of it real? Did he ever care, or was I just another pawn in whatever game he and his family were playing? I feel so stupid for believing in him, for thinking that we could build something together
I'm in my study at home, surrounded by piles of papers and files, each one more damning than the last. My father's old desk is barely visible beneath the stacks of documents I've accumulated over the past few weeks. Papers with names, dates, and transactions—every sordid detail of my family's legacy laid bare. And it's all connected to the Conti brothers. How did we get here? I think as I take a swig from the glass of whiskey in my hand, letting the burn steady me.I curse under my breath, my frustration building with every second. My mother. My family. This goddamn legacy I've inherited. It's all rotten. All of it. A cancer that's eaten away at my soul for far too long. And now, knowing what I know, the full weight of it feels unbearable. The Conti brothers...their disappearance, the secrets surrounding them. It's all tied back to us, to my mother, to this cursed family.Emma doesn't know. She can't know. Not about the Conti brothers, not about the part my family played in their disa
When I get home, it's late, and the house is dark and quiet. I drop my keys on the table by the door, my feet aching from a long day. I'm not in the mood for any more surprises, but as I walk into the living room, I see Liam sitting there, almost hidden in the shadows. He's got a glass of whiskey in one hand, his posture slumped, like the weight of the world is pressing down on his shoulders.For a second, I wonder if I should just ignore him and go straight to my room. I'm not sure I have the energy to face him right now, not after everything that's happened. But he notices me standing there and looks up, his eyes filled with something I can't quite read. It's like guilt mixed with exhaustion, but I can't tell what he's feeling guilty about."Emma," he says, his voice heavy and a little slurred from the alcohol. "We need to talk."I roll my eyes. "I'm not in the mood, Liam. I've had a long day, and I just want to sleep. Besides, you don't look like you're in any state to talk about a
I pounded my fist on the conference table, the sharp crack echoing through the room. The projector screen was still flashing its garbled data, but no one seemed to be paying attention anymore. Everyone's gaze was fixed on me, a mixture of fear and uncertainty in their eyes. My patience was gone, and my frustration was reaching its limit."Seriously?" I barked, my voice echoing off the walls. "We've been going around in circles for weeks. I'm tired of this. We need a real plan, not this disorganized mess!"The room fell silent. You could cut the tension with a knife. I felt like I was on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a chasm of stress and exhaustion. It wasn't just this meeting. It was everything—my work, my strained relationship with Emma, and the looming shadow of her father's disappearance two decades ago.Emma and I had been distant lately, but that wasn't the whole story. The real weight on my shoulders was the dark history connecting our families. Her father had disappeare
The call comes in at 3 a.m. Liam's name flashes across my screen, but it isn't his voice on the other end. It's some guy from a bar, sounding both annoyed and exhausted. "He's drunk off his ass," he says. "Never seen him like this. You need to come get him."I groan, rolling over in bed. Why am I doing this again? Every time I decide to be done with him, he finds a way to pull me back in. Still, something in the guy's voice makes my heart sink. Liam isn't a lightweight. If he's this far gone, something must be wrong.I throw on a hoodie and sneakers, muttering curses under my breath about my "stupid empathetic heart." The streets are eerily quiet at this hour, and I have a good twenty minutes to think about how pissed I am at him. But the second I pull up to the bar, all that irritation melts into concern.The bartender, a guy with a buzz cut and a look of utter exasperation, is half-dragging, half-carrying Liam toward the door. When he sees me, relief washes over his face. "Thank God
I've been thinking about everything that's happened. Everything I said. Everything Emma said. I've been thinking about it so much that it's driving me insane.Sleep doesn't come easily. I keep replaying Emma's voice over and over again, telling me to stop interfering in her life. The hurt in her voice is like a knife twisting in my gut. I was drunk and rambling, and all I managed to do was make everything worse. I keep pushing her away, even when all I want is to hold her close.Today, I can't focus on anything. Work feels like a blur, a series of motions I go through without really being present. I stare at my computer screen, but I can't make sense of the words.By midday, I can't take it anymore. I leave the office early and head home, my thoughts racing. The house is quiet when I get in, the silence pressing in on me. I don't even know if Emma's here or if she's gone out, but I need to do something. Anything. I head to the kitchen and decide to make dinner. Something special. Some
Odette's place feels like stepping into a chic Parisian daydream. Soft pastels, delicate lace curtains, and tiny porcelain knick-knacks perfectly arranged on dainty shelves. The walls are a light blush, and there's a faint scent of vanilla—probably from some fancy French diffuser she picked up on one of her trips back home. Everything about Odette is cutesy and delicate, from her taste in decor to her soft, melodic accent. I stand outside her door, my chest tightening with every passing second. I shouldn't even be here. I should be handling this on my own, trying to figure out my next steps. But right now, I just need a friend.I press the doorbell, and it chimes a sweet, lilting tune. Within moments, the door swings open, and there she is, Odette, looking as polished as ever in her neat sweater and pleated skirt. Her face is bright and welcoming, but it immediately shifts to worry when she sees the tears already welling up in my eyes."Emma, mon chéri, what's wrong?" she asks, her vo
The days pass, and I haven't heard a single word from Liam. No calls, no texts—nothing. I should feel relieved, but instead, it's like this gnawing emptiness, a reminder that maybe I meant even less to him than I thought. I don't know why I expected anything different. Finally, on the third day of silence, I made up my mind. I grab my phone, scroll to Liam's name, and hit "Block." I should have done this a long time ago. A clean break is what I need, and I'm not going to keep hoping for closure that will never come.Odette, sensing my need for a change of scenery, decides it's time for a little adventure. "Come with me to Paris," she says one morning, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "It will be good for you, I promise. A fresh start."I hesitate at first, but the idea of getting away from everything, even just for a little while, is too tempting to resist. "Okay," I agree, smiling for the first time in days. "Let's do it."Within hours, we're on a flight from Rimini to Paris, and