°SERENA° It’s been quiet. Agonizingly quiet. I stand in the kitchen, stirring absentmindedly. I could just focus on cooking, mind my own business, but no—I have to steal glances, searching, wondering. Is he looking? Why do I care? I don’t know. My days follow a rhythm—wake up, make breakfast, leave lunch in the fridge, attend classes, come back, lounge around, make dinner, eat together, sleep. Rinse and repeat. Except lately, something’s changed. It’s been days since Adrian last taunted me, no sarcastic remarks, no smug observations. He’s unnervingly quiet, and I find myself worrying—not for my sanity, but his. The first real shock came when I was lounging on the couch, munching on my favorite chips, lost in some show. I started choking. A proper, full-on coughing fit. If I had died right there, it wouldn’t have surprised me. But guess what? Adrian got me water! The spoiled son of the richest man in the city got me water. I still haven’t recovered from the shock
°ADRIAN° It was a simple question. Very simple one, if you ask me. But she’s taking her sweet time. What does a girl her age even wish for? Clothes, bags, shoes, jewelry… At least, that’s what I thought—until I heard her. “I want to stargaze.” The answer left me perplexed. I snapped my head toward her, only to find her lost in thought. There was a soft smile on her face, her eyes unfocused, staring at the side of the table as if the stars she wished for were right there. Her fingers twirled the spoon absentmindedly, and for some reason, I didn’t want to pull her out of her daze. “On a high mountain, in a little tent, a sky full of stars twinkling... and we’d cook over a fire, just like my grandma and I used to…” She added the last part quietly, her voice carrying an emotion I couldn’t quite name. This girl never ceases to amaze me. I ask about her wish, and it’s stargazing. “Why do you ask?” she finally murmured, breaking out of her daze. I wanted to know her wish becau
°ADRIAN° "Oh, come on!" "If you keep yelling, Serena, I might actually regret not including a 'no shouting' clause in that contract of yours," I said, leaning against the wall for support. My voice was clipped, my expression unreadable—a facade I'd perfected over years of boardroom battles and personal disappointments. But none of that seemed to work in front of this woman. She stood in front of me, arms crossed as if she was about to single-handedly declare war. Her eyes, however, betrayed more than frustration—they gleamed with determination. Unyielding. Unwavering. But I'd faced worse opponents. Much worse. "Adrian," she snapped, her voice sharp but quieter this time, as though reining in her temper for my benefit—or hers. "You can't just decide to do this alone. You'll hurt yourself walking all by yourself. And no, I'm not cleaning up the mess when you do." Yeah, I’ve started walking. Not very fast, and definitely not steady, but movement nonetheless. Compared to th
°SERENA° This guy is so stupid. Sure, he’s older, taller, stronger, and basically a walking Horlicks ad. But the man doesn’t know when to stop being such an arrogant fool. Today is one of the best days I’ve had in the past few weeks since I’ve been here. Adrian started walking! Honestly, I didn’t expect such progress from him in such a short time. But then again, it’s not surprising. It’s the direct result of his relentless hard work. That man never takes enough rest, pushing himself through all sorts of exercises and keeping his commitments to the letter. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were secretly a physiotherapist himself. He just seems to know exactly when and where to push his limits. Maybe it’s his past treatment experience, but somehow, he’s always spot on with his regimen. Still, he’s wobbling—not exactly sturdy. And, of course, he refuses to accept my help. “Still here? Don’t you have better things to do?” he asked, his voice sharp but not unkind.
°ADRIAN° The day began with a jolt—Timothy barged in and woke me up since I somehow managed to sleep through the entire morning. It’s unusual. I never miss a routine. I’ve always prided myself on being meticulous, yet today, for the first time in a while, I faltered. After a quick shower, I sat down for breakfast. As always, it was ready—courtesy of Miss Perfect. But it wasn’t the food that caught my attention; it was the note attached to the box. 'Eat.' That’s all it said, written in her annoyingly neat handwriting. The simplicity of it had me smirking. She’s mocking me. I know she is. It was written the same way I had told her to eat after she’d skipped dinner following that ridiculous card game fight. Yeah. That moment—her stubbornness, her flushed cheeks, the fire in her eyes—is burned into my memory. Something I’ll never forget. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Timothy struggling to hold back his laughter. He’s always been like this—steadfast, unwavering
°SERENA° I woke up with a heaviness in my chest, last night’s bitterness clinging to me like a shadow. My body ached from sleeping on the floor, but the sting of Adrian’s words hurt far worse. I quickly showered and dressed, determined to face the day, but as I opened my bedroom door, an unfamiliar noise caught my attention. The rustle of activity. Voices. For days, the apartment had been steeped in silence, the emptiness pressing down like a weight. But now, it buzzed with motion. I walked into the living room, and the sight that greeted me made me pause. The maids were back. Clara stood by the dining table, polishing a silver tray with meticulous care. Lila hovered near the bookshelf, rearranging Adrian’s collection with precision, and Maya bustled around the kitchen, humming softly as she worked. They moved like clockwork, so smooth and practiced, like they belonged here more than I ever could. Watching them, I couldn’t help but compare it to the mornings of the las
°ADRIAN° “Come on, that’s enough,” the doctor snapped at me, his tone laced with frustration. I ignored him. I always ignored him. “Adrian,” he tried again, voice sterner this time, “you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep this up.” I didn’t care. Pain was temporary. Standing in the private gym of the clinic I trusted with my recovery, I pushed myself harder than ever. The treadmills, weight racks, and resistance machines surrounded me in a cold, clinical setting. It wasn’t a place of comfort—it was a battlefield. And I wasn’t leaving until I won. “Adrian, stop!” the doctor barked, but his words barely reached me over the sound of my own harsh breathing. My legs burned, trembling under the strain of hours spent walking, pushing my limits until I had none left to give. The rhythmic pounding of my feet against the treadmill echoed the chaos in my mind. I didn’t stop. Not until my body betrayed me. My knees buckled, and I collapsed forward onto the cushioned mat pla
°SERENA° Is it possible for a person to have two personalities? Sure, it is. But how can someone slip in and out of them so effortlessly—like him? One moment, he’s a man of warmth, speaking softly, his presence almost comforting. The next moment, he’s cold and indifferent, as if I was never there. Maybe he’s used to it. But I’m not. How does he expect people around him to tolerate it? Then again, there’s no one around him except Tim, who can be just as cold and intimidating. And now, I barely even see Adrian in the apartment. He’s been leaving early, returning late—a ghost moving in and out of these walls. Where he goes, what he does—I don’t know, and I won’t ask. But his legs… that’s what worries me. Still, he shows up for dinner, and still, I refuse to join him. Yeah, employees don’t eat with th
°SERENA° “SERENA!” Cassandra’s scream rang through the cold stone halls, but before I could answer, rough fingers latched onto my arm—tight, urgent. I knew from the grip, from the sheer force, that it was a man. Instinct took over. I clenched the small knife she’d slipped into my hand earlier, spun, and slashed hard. My blade met flesh, and a choked gasp followed. Warm blood sprayed across my skin. A vein. I’d aimed for it. This would weaken Victor. It had to. We needed just enough time— “Ah… Serena!” That voice. My heart skipped and I turned sharply, breath caught in my throat. “Fred?” I gasped. His eyes were wide with pain, his hand clutched tight, blood flowing between his fingers like a river he couldn’t stop. My stomach dropped. Shit. What have I done? “Shit! Why did you grab me?” I was at his side before I finished speaking, panic clawing at my throat. He winced, and I didn’t wait—I tore a strip from my shirt, the fabric protesting with each tug. My f
°SERENA° Victor didn’t respond to my insult. Not with words. Just his eyes—sharp as shattered ice, cold as steel, burning with fury. He stared at me like I was the last stain on his empire, and he was ready to scrub me off the face of the world. But only if staring could kill. “I’ll let you think about obedience,” he muttered, snatching up his phone. “Maybe the next time I walk through that door, you’ll have learned your place.” He turned. Walked. The door creaked—slow, deliberate. Then slammed. The sound ripped through the room like a gunshot. And then, silence. Not peace. Never peace. But a tense, eerie quiet clung to the air like smoke after a blaze—thick, choking, haunted. Still, for the first time since I was dragged into this nightmare, I wasn’t afraid of the silence. I welcomed it. I exhaled—slow, shaky. My lungs trembled like they were just relearning how to breathe, my chest sore as if someone had punched the life out of me and left behind an ache n
°SERENA° I woke up with a sharp jolt, my head dizzy and heavy, as if it had been struck by a hammer. My eyes fluttered open, but the world spun in a blur. Where am I? Last I remembered, I was with Tim. We were supposed to go to Nina’s house. I could still feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, the laughter in the air as we joked about old memories... But now? Now, I was here. I blinked, trying to adjust to the dim light filtering through cracked windows. The room smelled musty, like damp wood and stale air. My fingers tingled from the tightness of the ropes around my wrists, and my legs were bound just as tightly to the legs of the chair. The cold wood beneath me seemed to seep through my clothes, making my skin crawl. How did I end up here? Why am I here? Panic started to claw at my chest as I tugged at the ropes, the rough fibers scraping against my skin. My heart hammered in my chest, every beat a reminder that I was trapped. I tried to recall how I got to this hellish p
°ADRIAN° "Yes. And it begins with—" My phone rang. A shrill, stabbing sound that cut through the room like a blade. I stopped mid-sentence, breath caught mid-chest. Fuck. Annoyed, I pulled it from my pocket—half-ready to snap at whoever dared to— Then the world dropped out from under me. Victor’s face filled the screen. Smiling. No—grinning, smug and twisted, like he’d won a game I didn’t even know we were still playing. His eyes sparkled with something feral, something unholy. Then the camera tilted. My heart turned to stone. Serena. Tied to a chair. Hair clinging to her face, her lips cracked, trembling. A bruise darkened one cheek—deep, fresh. Like someone had slammed their palm across her face. "Adrian..." she whispered. And I couldn’t breathe. Air wouldn’t come. My lungs were locked in ice. He hit her? HE FUCKING HIT HER? My hands clenched around the phone, trembling with barely controlled violence. I could feel the heat rise up my neck, my chest—
°EVELYN° Adrian Royce. The Royce heir stood before me—just as he had five years ago—unflinching, unreadable, and devastatingly composed. But he wasn’t the same boy I once pitied. No. That shattered boy with a broken spine was long gone. In his place stood a man carved from silence and sharpened by betrayal. And in his eyes, I saw every secret I thought I had buried claw its way back to the surface. Was this the reckoning I had feared? The collapse of everything I had built with blood, deception, and a twisted kind of love? He didn’t speak. Just walked in with the quiet arrogance of someone who owned the air I breathed—like he knew exactly what it cost me to stand tall. Behind him, that bastard friend of his carried the file—that file—the one that should’ve remained ash and dust. Five years of silence, and still, Adrian found a way to exhume the corpses I buried with trembling hands. I shouldn’t have arranged his marriage. Not to Serena. It was Anna who was meant for
°ADRIAN° The door closed with a soft thud. Almost fragile. But it echoed like a gunshot in my skull. She left. And once again, what should’ve felt like a home felt like a mausoleum. Just blocks of bricks and the ghosts of her laughter echoing through the silence. My fingers curled into fists at my sides. I hadn’t moved from where I stood—hadn’t dared. My chest felt hollow, like something had been ripped out of me. A vacuum. A space where love used to live. I let her go. No—worse. I asked her to leave. I told her it was for the best. That I was a mess. But the truth is… I didn’t know what else to do. And now the air reeked of her absence. Her scent still clung to the couch where she curled up with her books. Her favorite sweater still hung off the chair, half-folded. And the food she cooked... it sat on the table. Untouched. Growing cold. She hadn’t eaten. And I pushed her out anyway. Where would she go? To her father? The man who poisoned her. The sa
°SERENA° "Adrian, please… just look at me." But he doesn’t. His eyes stay locked on the floor like it’s safer there—like if he dares to meet mine, he’ll fall apart. His posture rigid, fists clenched, his chest rising and falling with staggered breaths. He looks calm from a distance, but I know him better than that. I can feel the war inside him. "I'm not my father," I whisper, barely audible. "You know that, don't you?" A hollow, bitter laugh slips from his lips. It cuts deeper than silence. Like it was pulled from a place inside him that’s long been bleeding. "I don't know anything anymore, Serena." "You know me." My voice trembles. "You listened to me when no one else did. You saw parts of me I never showed anyone. Did you forget all that?" His head lifts slowly, like it takes everything in him to meet my gaze. His eyes are bloodshot, swollen with grief, and when they finally meet mine—something inside me breaks. It feels like glass shattering in my chest. "I don’t wa
°SERENA° I waited. Every tick of the clock was a hammer against my chest. Today was his day—Adrian’s moment to finally expose the rotting truth buried in his family’s legacy. To drag it all out into the light and put an end to the years of silence and pain. He'd seemed calm this morning, eerily composed. But I knew better. I’d learned the language of his silence—the slight clench of his jaw, the way his eyes refused to settle, the rigid calm he wore like armor. Adrian’s relationship with pain was like his shadow—always there, never fully seen. And something about that stillness unsettled me. He wasn’t okay. Time trickled by. I kept glancing at the door, expecting to hear footsteps, a knock, something. But the hours crawled forward and still, no sign of him. He should have let me come with him. I told him I should have gone. What if the truth got twisted again? What if those people—his blood, his enemies—found a new way to spin the lies? What if his fury, raw and just, was
°ADRIAN° “You will speak, Evelyn, or I will make sure your silence costs you everything.” My grandfather’s voice thundered again, shaking the walls with its wrath. Evelyn’s lips trembled, but she said nothing. Not another word. The air grew heavy—thick with unspoken truths. I could hear my own breath, shallow and uneven, battling the quiet that now felt louder than any scream. And suddenly, justice didn’t feel like justice anymore. It felt like heartbreak—dressed in the finest robe of truth—standing before me, unforgiving. I wasn’t just here to avenge my mother anymore. Now I had to ask myself a question I never thought I would— Had I ever truly known the woman I loved? “Charles Cooper,” Evelyn finally whispered. My head snapped toward her, eyes narrowed, heart pounding so loud it echoed in my ears. “Remember why your mother was hospitalized?” she said, her voice like a blade sliding through silk. “Because he poisoned her.” The room went still. My breath caugh