Serena sat in her spacious office at Rocky’s Designs, the cool hum of the air conditioning filling the silence as she focused on the financial reports displayed on her laptop screen. The numbers and projections were clear—her company was thriving, but the recent scandal still loomed like an unwanted shadow. She had spent the morning watching the media burn with speculations. The scandalous picture was everywhere, but so far, the media had yet to unmask the culprits. She smirked. Not yet. A sharp knock at her door pulled her from her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, expecting Emma. And sure enough, Emma stormed inside, her tablet clutched tightly in her hands, her expression a mixture of urgency and excitement. “They must have seen the trending pictures by now,” Emma blurted out before even taking a seat. Serena raised an eyebrow, shutting her laptop. “Who? Be specific Emma. I’m too exhausted with work to start trying to wrap my head around what you’re saying.” Emma rolled he
The ballroom of Rocky’s Designs was nothing short of magnificent. Every detail, from the shimmering crystal chandeliers to the lavish floral arrangements, had been carefully curated to exude elegance, power, and prestige. Tonight was a night of celebration—or at least, that was what the guests believed. For Serena, however, this was a night of reckoning. Everything had been planned meticulously. Every step had been carefully calculated. And the final piece of the puzzle? Ryan Winters. Serena adjusted the diamond bracelet on her wrist, glancing at the grand entrance just as Ryan walked in. Her breath hitched for a brief moment. Ryan Winters was many things—cold, calculated, powerful—but tonight, he looked different. Dressed in a tailored black tuxedo, his presence commanded attention the moment he entered the room. His hair was neatly styled, and his dark eyes carried their usual unreadable expression. But there was something else there tonight. Something unsettled. Perh
Margaret Winters sat in the dimly lit lounge, sipping her evening tea as the fireplace crackled softly in the background. The mansion was unusually quiet tonight, with most of the staff having retired to their quarters. She exhaled, enjoying the rare moment of peace. Her phone vibrated on the table beside her, the screen lighting up with Eleanor Harrington’s name. A small frown formed between Margaret’s brows. It was late. Eleanor never called at this hour unless it was something urgent. Setting her teacup down, she reached for the phone and answered. “Eleanor? It’s quite late. Is everything alright?” There was a pause on the other end. Too long of a pause. Then, a sigh. “Margaret…” Eleanor’s voice was careful, hesitant. “I— I don’t even know how to say this to you.” Margaret’s frown deepened, a strange feeling creeping into her chest. “What’s wrong?” Another silence. Then, Eleanor finally spoke again. “Have you… seen the news?” Margaret glanced toward the clock on the wa
The moment Thomas was left alone in his study, he shoved everything off his desk in rage. Papers flew into the air, a glass cup shattered against the wooden floor, and the lamp crashed onto the side table. His breaths were ragged, his fingers clenched into tight fists as he processed what he had just seen on the news. The video had played at Serena’s company dinner—right in front of business elites, investors, and influential figures. There was no denying it now. It was confirmed. Serena was behind it all. His nostrils flared as he ran a hand through his hair. He should have known. That woman was too smart, too cunning. She had carefully planned this and executed it at the perfect moment, completely blindsiding him. But he wasn’t going to let her win. Not now. Not ever. He grabbed his phone from the desk and swiftly dialed a number. The line rang twice before a gruff voice answered. “Mr. Winters?” Thomas didn’t waste a second. “I have a job for you tonight. I’ll send you
Thomas woke up with a deep scowl on his face. He had barely gotten any sleep, tossing and turning in the guest room, knowing all too well that stepping into the master bedroom was out of the question. Mrs. Winters had made her stance clear—she wanted nothing to do with him, and after what happened last night, he didn’t blame her. As he walked into the dining room the next morning, the air was thick with silence. Mrs. Winters was already seated at the table, staring down at her untouched breakfast. Her eyes were swollen, her face pale, the evidence of a sleepless night and endless tears written all over her. Thomas sat down across from her, carefully picking up his fork. The weight of his gaze was heavy on her, but she didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t say a word.h The clinking of silverware filled the room, but it only made the silence between them more unbearable. “You should eat,” Thomas said after a long moment, though his voice lacked its usual authority. Mrs
The warehouse was dark, damp, and smelled of rust and old oil. The faint hum of a generator in the distance was the only sound cutting through the eerie silence. A single flickering bulb cast harsh shadows against the stained concrete walls, making the place look even more sinister than it already was. Thomas Winters stepped inside, his shoes echoing against the floor as he moved toward the center of the room. His eyes were cold, filled with an unrelenting fury that burned deep inside him. His entire life had fallen apart overnight, and there was only one person to blame—Serena Winthrop. And tonight, she would pay. At the far end of the room, tied to a rusted metal chair, Serena sat slumped forward, her long dark hair cascading over her face. Her body ached, her wrists raw from the thick rope cutting into her skin. The cold bit into her, her thin dress offering little protection from the freezing air. Beside her, little Amy was curled up on the filthy ground, her tiny body
Ryan had no recollection of how he had gotten home last night. The entire evening had been a blur, the memories hazy with alcohol and rage. He barely remembered leaving the dinner, barely remembered storming out of the hall after witnessing the most humiliating moment of his life—his fiancée and his father, together. The video had played for everyone to see, a grotesque display of betrayal that had stripped him of every ounce of control. He had staggered into his car, driven blindly through the city, his mind spiraling in disbelief and fury. Somehow, he had made it home, but after that… nothing. Now, as morning crept in through the large windows of his penthouse, Ryan lay sprawled on the floor of his living room. Empty bottles surrounded him, the sharp scent of whiskey thick in the air. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair a disheveled mess, and his knuckles were bruised—probably from punching something in his drunken state. The pounding on his front door barely registered in
Ryan’s car screeched to a halt outside Rocky’s Designs. He barely remembered the drive here, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. The moment Emma had told him Serena and Amy were missing, a deep, primal fear had settled in his chest—a fear unlike anything he had ever felt before. Throwing the car door open, he strode toward the building, his pulse thundering in his ears. His gut told him this wasn’t a coincidence. Serena wasn’t the kind of woman to disappear without a word, and she sure as hell wouldn’t take Amy out of school without a reason. Something was very, very wrong. As he stepped into the lobby, the receptionist immediately recognized him, her eyes wide with unease. “Mr. Winters—” “Where’s Emma?” Ryan cut in, his voice sharp, leaving no room for pleasantries. “She’s in Ms. Winthrop’s office.” Ryan didn’t wait for further directions. He stormed to the eleventh and when it dinged, he wa
Ryan’s heart was pounding in his chest, but he forced his feet to move. He had stood frozen for too long. Serena still hadn’t seen him. She was focused on breathing through her contractions, her hand gripping the railing as she took slow steps forward. His throat was dry. His palms were sweaty. But he couldn’t waste another second. “Serena.” The moment he spoke, she froze. Her body tensed, her grip on the railing tightening. Slowly—so slowly—she turned her head toward him. Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. “Ryan?” Ryan exhaled sharply. God, she was beautiful. Even in a hospital gown, with exhaustion written all over her face, she looked like the most stunning thing he had ever seen. His chest tightened. She was about to give birth to his child. And she had tried to keep it from him. “Why?” His voice was hoarse, raw with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Serena immediately turned away. “Not now, Ryan,” she muttered, trying to keep walking. But Ryan wasn’t le
The cold air of the ice rink bit at Ryan’s skin as he skated across the smooth surface, his breath coming out in white puffs. The crowd was cheering, the sound of sticks hitting the puck echoed through the large arena, and his teammates were yelling for him to pass the puck. But none of it registered. His mind was somewhere else. Or rather, with someone else. Serena. The moment Amy’s innocent little voice had blurted out the truth over the phone, Ryan had felt the world shift beneath his feet. She had been carrying his child for nine months. Nine months. And she hadn’t told him. The thought kept slamming into him like a freight train, making his grip on his hockey stick tighten, his movements stiff and uncoordinated. “Ryan, focus!” Ethan’s voice rang from behind him. Ryan barely heard him. Ethan must have noticed, because the next thing he knew, his best friend skated up beside him and knocked him hard on the shoulder. “Dude, what’s wrong with you? You look like you jus
The Christmas lights twinkled softly in Serena’s living room, casting a warm glow over the space. Snow was falling gently outside, covering the city in a soft white blanket. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla filled the air, courtesy of the cookies Emma had baked earlier. It was supposed to be a peaceful evening. But Serena was anything but peaceful. She sat on the couch, one hand resting on her very pregnant belly, while the other rubbed her forehead. She was exhausted. Nine months. She had managed to keep her pregnancy a complete secret for nine whole months. It hadn’t been easy—working from home, avoiding public appearances, making sure no one suspected anything. Emma had done an amazing job shielding her from the world. Even now, as her due date crept closer, Serena still wasn’t ready for the world to know. And most importantly, she wasn’t ready for Ryan to know. She sighed, leaning back into the cushions. Amy was sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, her li
Emma had just stepped out of the shower when her phone started buzzing on the nightstand. She wrapped a towel around herself, quickly reaching for the device. A small smile tugged at her lips when she saw the name flashing across the screen. Ethan. She answered immediately, pressing the phone to her ear. “Hey, babe.” Ethan’s deep, familiar voice came through the line, warm and teasing. “Hey, beautiful. Busy?” Emma chuckled, settling onto the bed. “Not really. Just got out of the shower. Why? You sound suspiciously sweet today.” Ethan laughed. “Can’t a man be sweet to his girlfriend without suspicion?” “Not when that man is you,” Emma teased, shaking her head. “So, what’s up?” “Clear your schedule tonight,” Ethan said smoothly. “I’m taking you out.” Emma raised an eyebrow. “Out? Like… dinner?” “Dinner, yes,” Ethan confirmed. “But before that, I’m taking you shopping. You need something special to wear for tonight.” Emma’s heart did a little flip. “Ethan, you know I can pick
Serena had been feeling off for weeks. It had started with the constant nausea, the exhaustion that no amount of rest could fix, and the strange sensitivity to smells that had her gagging at the most unexpected moments. At first, she dismissed it as stress. Her life has been a whirlwind of events lately—Philip being exposed, Ryan trying to win her back, the scandal that nearly destroyed her company, and the overwhelming relief of regaining her reputation. It wasn’t surprising that her body was reacting to all of it. But when she could barely keep food down for three days in a row, Emma had stepped in. “You need to go to the hospital, Serena,” Emma had said firmly, standing in her office with her hands on her hips. Serena, who was slumped over her desk, groaned. “It’s just stress.” Emma arched her brow. “Stress makes you tired, moody, and maybe gives you headaches. Stress doesn’t make you throw up every morning for two weeks straight.” Serena sighed, pinching the bridge of her n
Serena sat in her office, staring out the large window at the city skyline. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the buildings, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the mess of emotions she had been avoiding for weeks. Everything had changed. The truth about Philip. The revelation that Steve—the man who had helped her rebuild her life—was actually Ryan’s father. The scandal that had almost cost her everything. But most of all, Ryan. His presence in her life had once been something she had accepted begrudgingly. Their nights together, their moments of passion—it had all been something she had allowed herself to indulge in, telling herself that it didn’t mean anything. She had convinced herself that it was just sex. That her heart wasn’t involved. But now, as she sat alone in her office, she realized that Ryan had always been a storm in her life. And she was tired of storms. She exhaled, leaning back in her chair. She had fought so hard to re
The news spread like wildfire, dominating every media outlet, news channel, and social platform. It was a scandal unlike anything the city had ever seen. The man the world had known as Thomas Winters was not Thomas at all. Every major newspaper, every television station, and every online gossip site ran with the same shocking headline: Philip Winters—Imposter Billionaire! Not the Real Thomas Winters! Billionaire Steve Jacob is Actually Thomas Winters! The revelation shook the entire business world. For years, the Winters family had been seen as one of the most powerful and influential families in the country. But now? Now, the truth had shattered their reputation in ways no one could have ever imagined. And Kate’s involvement? That only made it worse. Reports detailed her role in the conspiracy—how she had aligned herself with Philip, how she had worked against Serena Winthrop, how she had helped orchestrate attacks on Serena and her daughter. It was a complete disaster for
Kate sat on the floor of Rolly’s living room, her hair disheveled, eyes wild with frustration. The walls seemed to close in on her, suffocating her as her thoughts spiraled deeper into madness. The only sound in the dimly lit apartment was the low hum of the television, where a news report was still playing clips of the scandal that had ruined her life. The footage of her and Thomas—no, Philip—played over and over again, reminding the world of her shame. She clutched her phone tightly, her nails digging into the glass screen as she dialed Ryan’s number again. One ring. Two rings. Straight to voicemail. Kate let out a ragged breath, her pulse hammering in her ears. She had called him more than a hundred times. Had sent him texts, voice messages—begged him to at least talk to her. But there was nothing. He had cut her off. Completely. A scream of rage ripped from her throat as she threw the phone across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack, pieces scattering onto the floo
The room was filled with a suffocating silence as Margaret Winters’ sharp gaze swept over her husband. She squared her shoulders, her expression unreadable. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply,” she said coolly, her tone sharp and unwavering. “But I’m looking at my husband, Thomas Winters, right now. There’s nothing off about him.” Ryan’s breath hitched. His gaze flickered between his mother and Steve, waiting for some kind of reaction—a hesitation, a flicker of doubt. But Margaret remained completely convinced that nothing was wrong. Steve smirked, shaking his head slightly. “Well, Philip,” he said, his voice laced with amusement as he looked at Thomas. “Are you going to start confessing? Or should I spill the truth myself?” A brief shadow crossed Thomas’s face—a flicker of confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped, his tone edged with irritation. But Ryan caught something beneath it. Fear. Steve sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You’re r