[Arella] I wake up to a strong arm wrapped around my middle, warmth seeping through my back. Sighing and still sleep-laden, I curl deeper into the warm embrace. It’s so comforting, so safe, that I almost don’t want to leave the moment. The arm around me tightens, pulling me closer, and I feel a flutter in my chest. "Don't move around more, Arella. I'm having a hard time controlling myself." I stiffen immediately, and that's when I notice something hard pressed against my backside. My body warms immediately at the realization, a rush of heat flooding my face. "S-sorry," my breath comes out shaky, and Lincoln chuckles, the deep sound rumbling through his chest. "You need to stop apologizing for every little thing, Ella," he says in that deep, morning voice of his, making my heart race in response. My nod is immediate, but he groans, and the next second, I’m flipped onto my back, a startled gasp escaping me. His eyes are intense, hungry with something I can’t quite nam
[Lincoln] Her fear shifts into fierce anger as she stands, her movements sharp. Her fingers curl into fists, trembling slightly as though the anger is barely contained. “I need to go see Deric.” My stomach drops, the light mood from lunch vanishing like smoke. Her hands shake as she clutches her phone tight, but her face is blank—too blank. I catch the faint shimmer of unshed tears clinging to her lashes, but she blinks them away. “I’ll have the driver prepare the car,” I say, rising to my feet. My voice is steady, though tension coils tight in my chest. She shakes her head quickly. “No, no, I’ll handle it on my own.” Her rejection stings, a sharp jab to my pride. Without hesitation, I grab her hands, their chill against my skin startling. I lift one hand to my face, holding her gaze. “Who am I?” My voice is low, unyielding. Her breath catches, and her response is soft, barely a whisper. “My husband.” The words land like a balm on my soul, flooding me with glee. It’s
[Deric]Did Lincoln just say wife? He married Arella? He married that vile woman?!But how—and why? My head throbs as I wince, picking myself up from the cold, unforgiving floor. The faint scent of coffee lingers in the air, but it does nothing to soothe the sick feeling pooling in my chest. The thought of that wench married and happily pregnant is a bitter pill to swallow.Running a hand through my hair, I pick up my rumpled jacket. My face stings, each throb a sharp reminder of the punches I endured. The ride back to my place feels endless, the city flashing by like ghostly taunts. I'd driven alone, hoping to get rid of that wench and get back to my sweet Vivi on time, but it looks like fate has other plans.Dread claws up my spine. Nobody messes with Lincoln Sawyer and gets away scot-free. Behind his gentlemanly behavior lies a beast, just waiting for the right opportunity to shred his opponent to pieces.The familiar warmth of my apartment does little to comfort me when I st
[Arella]The dining area is bathed in soft sunlight pouring through tall glass windows, reflecting off the polished marble floors. I sit at the expansive wooden table, its surface gleaming under the light, with a small plate of sliced apples in front of me. I'm alone at the table, Lincoln had told me last night that he wouldn't make it for breakfast because of a board meeting.My stomach feels hollow after throwing up–yet again, and I bring a an apple slice to my mouth, hoping its sweetness will settle me.The butter–sweet, tangy taste soothes my taste buds, momentarily easing the nausea twisting in my gut. It’s still my first trimester, so tell me why the only thing I can enjoy in the morning without throwing up is mayo-covered apple slices. Heaven knows what my weird cravings will be like as the months come along. “Need more apples, my dear?” Rita’s warm, maternal voice floats over from the kitchen area. She moves toward me with a concerned smile.I shake my head, rubbing my tu
[Arella]“Oh please, you don’t have to call me that,” Bridget giggles, her voice light and melodic as she leads me to our favorite spot at the back. The warm, familiar ambiance of Morty’s wraps around me like a cozy blanket.I wonder if Morty, the owner, still works here. He was already quite old back in college, with a twinkle in his eye and stories that could fill a library.“But I do, Your Highness,” I tease, lips curving into a playful smirk, and Bridget just shakes her head, her cheeks flushing faintly.I’m not joking, though—Bridget is a real-life princess of a small Scandinavian country in Europe, though she’s always been more down-to-earth than royal.We sit, settling into the worn but inviting leather booth. Our orders are taken by a cute little girl on rollerblades. Cliché, I know, but it’s charming, like something out of an old movie.Feeling my hands being clasped by Bridget’s soft, slightly cool fingers, I look up. Her baby-blue eyes glisten with unshed tears, reflecti
[Lincoln]“Welcome home, Mrs. Sawyer,” I say, my voice calm yet firm, startling Arella as she turns to see me seated on the dark leather couch, illuminated only by the soft amber glow of the fireplace. The large living room seems even bigger in the dim light, with the fire casting moving shadows on the marble floor.The staff retired to their quarters early today because I wanted to spend some quality time with my wife.Imagine my shock when I didn’t see her home—no texts, no calls. I went a little paranoid—not that she needed to know that, though.“Heyy…Lincoln,” she replies in an awkward voice, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the strap of her handbag.My lips twitch, and I fight back a smile.I’m supposed to be angry, but I guess I can’t—not when she looks like an adorably stunned hamster, her wide eyes shimmering under the soft light.Keeping my voice flat, I continue with a practiced stoic face, “The driver tells me you declined his offer to take you out.” My tone is even,
[Arella]The dim light from the bedside lamp fills our cozy bedroom with a soft, golden glow. The air smells faintly of lavender from the candles on the nightstand filling the silence between us. Lincoln’s shoulders slump, and my heart drops for some reason."I'm sorry," the words come out as a whisper, barely audible."You don't want to work with me?" His voice is low, tinged with disbelief.Deciding against lying, I nod truthfully, and he chuckles sadly, the sound hollow and distant."Can I at least have a reason? You declined it without going through it all" His gaze is steady."It's not what you're thinking, Lincoln. It's just that…it wouldn't be right handing me the position of Chief Officiating Officer of Sawyer Group," I explain, feeling my fingers tremble slightly."With your numerous qualifications, nobody would say a word even if I make you the CEO, Arella. Tell me the real reason." His voice tightens just enough to make my chest constrict.I swallow, reaching out to hold
[Lincoln] "I wanted to see my wife," I reply, unashamed. Arella rolls her eyes. "You saw me this morning," she retorts, her tone clipped but playful. I shake my head slowly, holding her gaze. "Doesn't matter. Had lunch yet?" She flushes, her lips twitching with guilt. "Would you believe a yes?" "I wouldn't," I reply, my jaw tightening at her carelessness. "Get in," I command firmly, my voice leaving no room for argument. "What? Now? I’m at work, you know," she protests, exasperated but already moving toward the car. I give her a pointed look. With a resigned sigh, she slips into the passenger seat, smoothing her skirt with jittery fingers. Reaching into the back seat, I grab the small flask of food and place it in her hands. Her eyes brighten instantly, a spark of joy softening her tense features. "You got me food?" she asks, her voice rising with surprise. "Hmm." I hum, savoring her reaction. Before she can say more, I grab her chin with controlled intensity and press my li
Wow. What a journey it’s been, right? Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with me through this wild, emotional journey. Arella and Lincoln's story has been so close to my heart, and I hope it’s touched yours too. Your support means more than words can say, and I’m so grateful for every single one of you, you guys are the real MVPs. ❤️ P.S. If you loved this story, I’d be over the moon if you gave my future books a read. Trust me, more heart-tugging, exciting stories are coming your way!Until next time, Tarina (◠‿◠)—☆
[Arella]I whip around, eyes widening as I practically leap off Lincoln's lap in surprise."You're here!" I blurt, caught off guard but grinning. "I thought you said you couldn’t make it."Standing there, looking sheepish and a little road-worn, is Deric. He scratches the back of his head, wearing that same awkward, harmless smile he has these days."I wouldn’t have made it," he admits, voice a little raspy from travel, "but my flight was delayed... so I thought, what the hell, why not crash the party anyway?""Deric," Lincoln says, stepping up beside me, his hand still resting easy at my waist."Lincoln," Deric replies with a short nod, his voice even.There's a brief pause—more out of old habits than real tension—before Deric extends his hand. Lincoln studies him for a beat, then accepts the handshake without hesitation, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, civil smile.The tightness I hadn't even realized was clenching my chest slowly eases."This is, uh, for your son," Der
3 MONTHS LATER[Arella]"Grandpa really outdid himself this time, Mila," I laugh under my breath, wide-eyed as I take in the mansion decked out like something straight out of a storybook. I should’ve known better when he said he’d ‘take care of everything.’ With Grandpa, that’s just secret code for ‘go big enough to make even fairy tales jealous.’Mila giggles, but then her face goes pale. "Well, we all know how–"She cuts herself off, rushing to her son, who’s happily stuffing his face with edible flowers."Oh my God, Wayne! Spit that out!" she yells, running after him."No no! Cakeee!" he laughs, trying to run away.I roll my eyes and snatch the small board of tasks from her hands. "Looks like you’ve got your hands full already with this little turd," I mutter, pinching Wayne’s chubby cheeks. He sticks his tongue out at me, playful as ever. I shake my head and take the board from her, walking around the room, coordinating with the staff to make sure everything’s perfect.****"Why a
[Arella]TWO MONTHS LATERThe courtroom is cold, Not physically—but emotionally. It's almost too quiet.My hands sit frozen in my lap, unmoving for the past five minutes. A dull, anxious ache hums beneath my skin, but I can’t bring myself to shift. Lincoln sits beside me, our fingers tightly laced, grounding me. His other hand works swiftly over his phone, typing out what I’m sure are urgent work emails.Work had only gotten busier since he resumed.You’d think having two CEOs would make things easier. It only doubled our workload.I had tried to argue my way into stepping down, maybe becoming his VP or something less suffocating—but Lincoln wasn’t having any of it.Apex Conglomerate was clawing its way into the world’s elite, growing bigger, louder, more powerful by the day—and Lincoln made it crystal clear he wouldn’t let me miss a second of it.I blink myself back to the present as the judge adjusts his glasses, his stern gaze dropping down to the man standing trial.The man who a
[Lincoln]The car pulls up to Witmoore Gardens, a private area owned by the Sawyers for intimate family events, tucked away from the noisy chaos of the outside world. The afternoon sun kisses the neatly trimmed hedges and the white blossoms that line the entrance sway gently in the breeze.I can't help the heavy thump of my heart at the thought of seeing my family again. A real, physical ache throbs inside my chest as the driver cuts the engine and we step out.We exist the car and take a slow walk down the stone-cobbled path, the soft crunch of gravel beneath our shoes filling the warm, floral-scented air. Arella’s hand is securely locked in mine, her presence grounding me even as my nerves threaten to tangle my steps."Your palms are sweaty, Linc. Are you nervous?" she teases softly, giving me a look so warm and tender it makes my heart trip in my chest like a reckless drum."Maybe," I reply, my voice coming out lower and raspier than intended.Her grin only grows. "Aww, they don't
[Lincoln]I mean, sure, Arella and I appeared on TV a few days ago when the Mayor of Chicago wanted to publicly appreciate our efforts, and I knew—rationally—that everyone must know I'm alive now. But I didn't expect this.I didn't expect the entire airport to already be flooded like a damn concert just to catch a glimpse of us. The jet had barely touched the runway, the tires still hissing from contact, and yet-it’s like the whole damn city of San Diego decided to show up for a party.From the distance, the sharp staccato of camera shutters echoes through the thick, humid air, flashes popping like fireworks across the runway. The chaotic chorus of reporters shouting questions and calling our names roars louder with every step we descend.A cheeky, loopsided grin spreads across Arella’s face as we start down the stairs of the jet, her hand still tightly locked with mine, her spirit practically buzzing with unbothered amusement. Her entire energy screams: I own this moment."You're lov
[Lincoln]I never thought I’d be lucky enough to marry a superheroine, but here I am, with the most incredible woman by my side.The night wraps around us like a soft, comforting robe. The jet hums beneath us, its quiet rhythm like a lullaby carrying us away from the chaos. We’d spent another three, exhausting days in Chicago, collaborating with the police and drug enforcement agencies to dismantle one of the city’s most dangerous syndicates, ensuring every production of that deadly injection was stopped in its tracks. But now, as I watch my wife sleeping peacefully-her face bathed in the gentle glow of the cabin lights—a rush of emotions fills me. It’s more than warmth. It's something deeper, something that settles in my soul and touches every fractured part of me. It feels like a healing, like a light that’s always been missing inside me, now shining so brightly it threatens to overflow. Heaven knows, if the roles were reversed, if I’d been the one forced to raise a child alone f
[Arella]“Fuck you, Lincoln Sawyer!” Thompson’s voice tears through the air, cracked and furious, soaked in desperation as he launches backwards with one final burst of rage. His boot slams into Lincoln, sending him staggering back a few steps and before I can even think, he’s charging at me—wild-eyed, unhinged, like something that’s crawled straight out of hell and decided it wants to drag me back with it.But Lincoln doesn’t go down easy.He moves like something deep inside him just snapped back into place. One moment he’s stumbling, breathless, the next he’s lunging like a damn freight train, grabbing Thompson mid-sprint and twisting with enough force to rattle the concrete under our feet. Thompson’s body slams into the ground with a sickening thud, the gun flying from his hand and skittering across the floor with a metallic scream as the punches from Lincoln connects with his face.“Arella!” Lincoln’s voice cuts through the chaos, raw and real.With thinking anymore I run to him,
[Arella]“No no no!” Lisa screeches, stumbling back like the floor beneath her just cracked open. “H-how did you find us?!”Her voice pierces the air like shattered glass, high-pitched and filled with the kind of desperation only obsession can birth. She's shaking now, her wild eyes darting from me to the little vial still pinched between my fingers.“You conniving bitch!!” Thompson barks, his neck veins bulging as his gaze swings to Vivian.His hand trembles violently as he points between us, rage bleeding into fear. Then he sees Deric. And he pales.“It was only a matter of time before I found you, Thompson,” I say, calm, steady, like the reaper arriving with a smirk. “I’m sure you knew that too.”He begins to back away, every inch of arrogance fleeing his body like air from a punctured balloon. He stumbles until his back hits Lincoln’s bed—and that’s when everything freezes. My blood stops in my veins as he suddenly swings a gun out of his pocket, his hand shaking but deadly, and p