The stillness between us stretched so thin I felt it may crack. Williams was still standing in the doorway, staring at the letter I was holding. Something raw and illegible was replacing the polished veneer he normally wore. "Where was that found?" I could hear the tension beneath his steady, low voice. With caution, I raised the letter like a white flag and said, "In the library." "It was concealed among the books." Sharply, he took two steps across the room and snatched the letter from me. With each word, his jaw tensed as he read it rapidly. His face was unreadable as he turned to face me again, but his eyes—they were haunted. After folding the letter and putting it in his pocket, he stated curtly, "This doesn't concern you." "If it involves me, it does," I firmly asserted. “What does it mean, Williams? Who penned it? And who’s the child?” He shook his head and laughed without humour. "You believe I know everything? You wouldn't believe how many secrets this family has,
Early that morning, before the sun had fully risen, there was the first indication of disaster. Expecting a calendar reminder or a message from Williams, I weakly reached for my phone when its gentle ding roused me from a restless slumber. I was met with a deluge of messages, including missed calls, emails, and texts. Then came the press releases. ‘A scandalous arrangement or a socialite marriage? Freda Adams' Horrifying History Is Out!’The sheets coiled about me as I sat up quickly. As the data appeared in sharp, bold letters, my pulse raced as I looked across the screen. Marcel hadn't remained silent. He had somehow obtained my childhood documents, including the foster homes, the charge that I had stolen from one of my foster families (which was later shown to be untrue, but the harm persisted), and even a picture of me at sixteen, wearing a waitress costume at a seedy diner. An opportunistic woman with a bad history who is trying to move up the social scale was depicted in
The Harrington estate was at its breaking point in terms of tension. Every encounter felt like balancing on a tightrope over an enormous abyss. Marcel was waiting for the right opportunity to attack again, circling like a predator as usual. I kept my head down, trying to make sense of the scandal that was still circling me. However, it didn't stop the staff members' sidelong stares, the whispering getting louder, or my phone ringing nonstop with more reporter questions. I strolled into the sunroom one afternoon in an attempt to get away from the chaos and find some serenity. Rather, I discovered Marcel reclining on one of the couches, a smug grin on his face and a tumbler of amber drink in his hand. He looked up and down at me and drawled, "Ah, Freda." "Thank you for coming along. Just now, our little...media sensation was on my mind."I tensed up and balled my fists. "Marcel, what do you want?" He idly swirled his drink. "Obviously, to comprehend. To understand how a person s
When neither side feels secure in their stance, a certain calm falls over them. It's significant, nearly tangible, and might be cut with a knife. That was the kind of silence that had recently settled between Williams and me. It was a matter of something far more baffling than hostility. Whenever I looked at him, something made my heart quicken and my thoughts swirl. I couldn't exactly explain it, but the more time I spent with him, the more I began to doubt all of my preconceived notions about this marriage contract.Initially, it was simple. It had a certain clarity, a tidy little box that I could file away in my mind and declare, "This is what it is, no more, no less." A deal. A win-win situation. I was never meant to fall in love with the man beneath the aloof, businesslike exterior. His faint grins and the fleeting moments when his eyes softened as he regarded me across the room were never meant to matter to me.Nevertheless, I found myself looking at him more than I wanted to a
The photograph Marcel held out was like a ticking bomb. Even from a distance, I could see it wasn’t just any picture—it was a weapon. His smirk deepened as he moved closer, the glossy image catching the faint light of the hallway outside the gala. “What is that?” I questioned, my voice firm despite the anger growing inside me. Marcel chuckled, slow and deliberate. “Ah, Freda. Always so curious. This little gem might answer a few of your burning questions—or maybe spark a few more.” Williams stood in front of me, his big form obstructing Marcel’s path. His voice could have broken glass. "Marcel, what are you up to?" Marcel cocked an innocent-looking head. “I'm merely attempting to assist dear Freda in discovering the truth. That's why you married her, isn't it? to conceal from her the *true* history of the family?” My chest roared with my heart. Marcel waved the picture tauntingly, as if the room were closing in on me. I stepped around Williams and demanded, "Let me see it."
The Harrington Estate was a gilded maze with expansive marble floors, glistening chandeliers, and an air of riches that seemed to emanate from every nook and cranny. I felt like an imposter wearing someone else's flesh as I stood at the base of the grand staircase and looked up at the hundreds of faces that had arrived for tonight's soirée. Williams said next to me, his hand grazing mine, "Just breathe." Despite his apparent comforting presence, the issue just became more pressing. I muttered, "I don't belong here," as I adjusted the diamond bracelet that was a tad too dazzling on my wrist. He reminded me, "You're Mrs. Williams Harrington now." "You do, then." However, his statements seemed vacuous. As we walked into the room, I could feel the looks and the murmurs that followed. I was a stranger who had suddenly become the centre of attention in their elite world, and to them, I was nothing. A flurry of small conversation and introductions characterised the evening. William
The tension in the air was oppressive, but the Harrington mansion was surprisingly silent. I sensed it as soon as we entered the expansive foyer, with Williams taking deliberate steps in front of me. I had learnt to identify the harsh glint in his eyes and his set jaw as the quiet before the storm. "Remain here," he remarked in a hurried tone. "Why? What is happening?” He answered, "It's family business," but his refusal to let me alone was evident from the way his fingers lingered on my arm. I started to protest, but he had already left, vanishing into the opulent study at the end of the hallway. Behind him, the big oak doors slammed, and soon after, the muffled sound of heated voices came. After a brief moment of hesitation, I walked down the hall and pressed my ear to the door. "You're allowing her to sabotage everything!" Anger was evident in Marcel's piercing voice. With a dangerously low tone, Williams retorted, "Freda has nothing to do with this." "Marcel, this is
The Harrington Estate Library was an architectural masterpiece, featuring towering shelves that appeared to stretch infinitely upward, filled with books so ancient they seemed poised to crumble into dust. A solitary, flickering light on the large wooden desk at the center of the room provided the sole source of light. I glanced at my watch. 11:58 PM The enigmatic message of the note echoed in my mind constantly, burning in my pocket. *The truth will set you free.* Whose truth, though? Why now, too? I encircled myself with my arms in an attempt to stay warm as the room's coldness crept into my body. At the exact moment of midnight, a shadow appeared in the doorway. "Who is there?" My voice was sharper than I meant when I cried out. A wiry man in his sixties with a severely creased face and grey hair slicked back emerged as the person moved into the light. He exuded a sense of authority that seemed strangely familiar. "Ms. Freda," he uttered softly. "I've known about you for a
The tension in the Franklin penthouse was suffocating. The aftermath of the trap at the warehouse lingered like a dark cloud over everyone. Emma had managed to get me out of Daniel’s clutches, but the guilt and betrayal in her eyes haunted me. I had no idea if her intentions were genuine or part of some larger scheme, but for now, she had bought me time. Williams paced by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his jaw tight, fists clenched. “They’ve escalated. This isn’t just family politics anymore—this is war.” “They’re not going to stop,” Alex said, his tone grim. “Daniel wants complete control, and Sophia thrives on chaos. And then there’s Margaret…” At the mention of Margaret Harrington, my chest tightened. The matriarch’s reach was everywhere, her power a constant shadow over my every move. “They think they can pressure me into submission,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt. “But they’re wrong. I’m not backing down.” Williams stopped pacing, his gaze locking onto mine. “Freda
The atmosphere in the room felt stifling. The documents and maps laid out on the table, detailing the rescue strategy for James, appeared to be a delicate hope amid the impending storm approaching us. Every detail was important, but I still couldn't help but feel that something—or someone—was slipping away unnoticed. Williams’ voice cut through my thoughts. “We’ll split into teams. Grace, you handle surveillance. Alex and I will cover the docks. Freda, you stay here—” “No,” I interrupted, my voice firmer than I expected. “I’m coming with you. This involves all of us.” He gave me a hard look but didn’t argue. He knew better than to waste time on a debate. Before anyone could react, the door burst open, and Emma emerged, her complexion white and her hands shaking. "I need to speak with you," she stated, her voice trembling, her gaze fixed on me. “Not now,” Williams said sharply. “We’re in the middle of something critical.” “It’s about James,” Emma said, her voice rising. “And D
The tension in the room was palpable as I sat across from Grace, the soft hum of the city outside a stark contrast to the storm raging inside my mind. She had just delivered the bombshell: Daniel Harrington, Margaret’s estranged son, had returned. “Why haven’t I heard of him before?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. Grace leaned forward, her tone measured. “Because Margaret erased him. He was exiled from the family years ago. Some say it was because of his temper; others say he got involved in things that could ruin the Harrington name. Whatever the reason, he’s back now, and he’s not happy about you.” I frowned, trying to process this new information. “And you’re telling me this because...?” “Because Daniel isn’t like Marcel,” Grace said, her gaze steady. “He’s dangerous in ways you can’t imagine. He doesn’t play games. He destroys it.” Later that night, I ended up at an upscale cocktail bar, taking a cue from Grace. The bar was softly illuminated, its luxury subt
“Don’t move,” the masked figure barked, their gun trained on me. The room fell into a suffocating silence. Evelyn let out a choked gasp, clutching Charles’s arm, while Charles froze, his expression a mix of shock and calculation. My mind raced. The weight of everything—Marcel’s threats, my adoptive parents’ betrayal, and now this—pressed down on me like a vice. Yet, amidst the chaos, a strange calm settled over me. “What do you want?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through me. The intruder’s gaze flicked toward me, their eyes cold behind the mask. “You. You’ve become a complication, Freda. Someone very powerful wants you out of the picture.” My heart pounded, but I forced a smirk. “Is that so? And what’s the plan? Eliminate me here, in front of witnesses? That’s sloppy work for someone hired by the Harringtons.” The figure faltered, just for a second, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. Charles stepped forward, his voice sharp. “If you touch h
It felt oppressive to be in the sterile, cold living room of my adoptive family's home. I sat rigidly on the velvet couch, feeling as though the walls, lined with sterile portraits and antique furniture, were closing in on me. Charles, my adoptive father, was standing across from me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his piercing eyes staring right through me. Evelyn, my adoptive mother, was standing next to him, wearing her usual mask of fake worry."Freda," said Charles, calmly but with a hint of menace, "this is not a request. It is a duty to the family.My knuckles were white as I held onto the couch's edge. "I’m not doing it."Evelyn sighed, as if I were a whiny kid who wouldn't do her chores. "You don't realise how serious this situation is, darling. The Harringtons have the ability to either ensure or ruin our future. You have a special chance to guarantee our family's position among them."Your family," I snapped back. "Not mine."Evelyn flinched, but Ch
The tense atmosphere in the room was oppressive. Williams was standing by the window, staring at the city skyline with his hands balled into fists at his sides. His words could never have been as unsettling as his silence. I positioned myself close to the door, my arms encircling me as though they would protect me from the impending storm between us."How long?" Finally, his low, piercing voice broke the silence.I scowled. "How long what?"His dark eyes blazed with rage as he turned. "You've been a Harrington for how long? For what duration have you been deceiving me?”The charge was a slap in the face. I moved forward, defending myself with a raised voice. "I had no idea! Do you believe I desired this? Do you think I was interested in discovering that my whole existence was a lie?”He paced like a predator circling its prey and said, "Convenient," with a bitter tone. "You didn't consider bringing up the hints we've been finding? The pictures, the letters? Or did you wish that I woul
My mind was racing, and the rhythmic sound of the rain beating on the penthouse windows did little to slow it down. With a glass of whisky in his hand and an unreadable face, Williams sat across from me and looked at the picture we had found the previous evening.In a low voice, he finally stated, "We need answers." "And I have finished waiting for them to reach us."Grasping the folded envelope in my lap, I nodded. I kept thinking about the note's dire warning: The enemy is inside. Never put your trust in anyone.I spoke more firmly than I felt when I said, "I think it's time we dig deeper into my adoption." “If the Harringtons are involved, something has never added up.”Williams's dark eyes met mine as he leaned forward. "Then, we didn't realise how long they had been playing this game."We went to see Mr. Graves, a retired lawyer who had handled my adoption, the following morning. His modest house stood in sharp contrast to the wealth and influence I had recently been dealing with
The penthouse's air felt heavier than usual, as though the walls were listening. Williams walked back and forth across the room, his keen eyes darting to the mysterious note on the coffee table. We had discovered it hours earlier, but the caution, "Trust no one," was still gnawing at the back of my mind. You underestimate how close they are.Williams whispered, "Marcel," his voice breaking the stillness.I raised my head. "How about him?""I've always understood that he had personal goals, but this..." He pointed to the note. "His craftsmanship is evident in this."My fingers clenched into fists as I scowled. "What would make Marcel oppose us? He should be preserving the Franklin legacy, right?”Williams's expression darkened as he stopped pacing. "Marcel has always been loyal to himself. He is more concerned with power than with his family. And he won't think twice about joining the Harringtons if it gives him that.”We made the decision to delve further the following day. Williams a
The penthouse's curtains let in sunlight, which filled the space with gentle golden tones. I watched the city below come to life as I stood by the window. This moment, a brief respite from the storm, felt oddly serene despite the chaos all around us."Did you get any sleep?" There was silence until Williams spoke.He was leaning against the doorway with his shirt unbuttoned at the collar and his tie undone when I turned around. His typically polished manner gave way to something more human and vulnerable."Not really," I said with my arms crossed. "I'm thinking about too much."He approached me with purposeful strides. "I don't hold you responsible. It was unexpected last night."Unexpected?" I arched an eyebrow. One way to put it is that. Williams, there was a murder in front of us. It's not like you can simply brush that off.He came to a halt next to me, staring at the skyline. "You handled it better than most people would, even though I know it's overwhelming."I couldn't contain