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Ciara Mendes

I never imagined I would remain so composed the day I met the woman who is supposedly carrying the child of the man I envision my future with. Rhea Rivera didn’t seem like a bad person; her demeanor was nothing like that of the women I knew Giovanni typically pursued. To be honest, that genuinely unnerved me.

Her blue hair, transitioning to a natural auburn color, sat atop her head in a messy bun. Her hazel eyes were fixed on the frayed edges of her ripped jeans, which she had paired with an oversized blue shirt that looked like it could fit two more people.

Rhea appeared pleasant despite her silence; she didn't flaunt herself and seemed shy, which made me question whether Giovanni had truly met her at a club or if he had been mistaken. The young woman sitting across from me didn’t seem like someone who would even visit a club, let alone dance half-naked on a pole in front of eager men.

At first, I suspected her demeanor was an act, a pretense, bu