"My... aunt?" The words felt foreign on my tongue, like speaking a language I'd never learned. My mind raced through memories of my mother, trying to recall if anyone had ever mentioned a sister of my mother's. But there was nothing – just empty spaces where family history should have been. But then again, my mother had led me to believe that her parents were dead and she was the only child. Alexander had told me that was a lie and that I had a few aunts and uncles but…I never imagined I would meet one. Much less one that looks so much like my mom. The woman took a step forward, and I instinctively backed up against the marble counter. She moved with a grace that seemed almost predatory, her designer dress whispering against the floor. Even her mannerisms were eerily similar to my mother's, down to the way she tilted her head slightly when she spoke. "Isabella," she said, her accent carrying hints of something Italian. "Your mother never mentioned me, did she? Of course not. Dian
I sat at my desk, absently clicking my pen against the stack of papers I should have been reviewing, my mind still caught in a loop of last night's events. The memory of Isabella's face – so eerily similar to my mother's – kept floating to the surface of my thoughts, making it impossible to focus on anything else.A soft knock on my door startled me from my reverie. Before I could respond, it swung open, and there he was – Alexander Guerrero, my brother, looking perfectly at ease in his usual black leather jacket and black jeans. Always acting like he was allergic to color. His presence in my office was as unexpected as a summer storm in winter."Surprise," he said, his lips curving into that familiar half-smile that always made him look like he knew something you didn't.I straightened in my chair, my pen falling forgotten to the desk. "Alexander? What are you... how long have you been in the country?" I asked with a narrowed gaze. I had sent the man a message last night, I didn't
I gathered my things, taking a moment to straighten the papers on my desk and slip my phone into my bag – a recent gift from Roman that still made me smile whenever I looked at it. To think we've both reached the point where he can openly give me gifts like these.And now there's a risk that I might lose everything because something tells me my mother's family won't be this gentle for long. The weight of my earlier conversation with Alexander lingered in the air, but I pushed it aside, determined to maintain some semblance of normalcy in my increasingly complicated life.Pausing at my secretary's desk on my way out, I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder. "Hey,” I called out softly, “ I'll be having lunch outside today. Call me if anything urgent comes up." I made sure to keep my voice steady, not wanting to betray any of the turmoil churning beneath my calm mask.Sarah looked up from her computer screen, her efficient manner as present as always. Her fingers paused over her
The bell chimed softly as I pushed open the diner's door, and the familiar scent of coffee and grilled food wrapped around me like a warm embrace. My heels clicked against the checkered floor as I made my way inside, my eyes immediately finding Vincent in the booth by the window. The afternoon sun streaming through the glass caught his profile, highlighting the gentle curve of his smile as he spotted me.But he wasn't alone.The woman sitting beside him made my stomach twist uncomfortably. She was probably in her mid-thirties, dressed in a crisp black blazer that screamed corporate efficiency, her dark hair pulled back in a severe bun that seemed to pull her features just a bit too tight. As I approached, her eyes met mine, and despite her polite smile, there was something cold there, something that made me want to take a step back.Vincent stood up immediately, his entire face lighting up in that way that always made me feel stupidly special, like I was the best part of his day. "Ame
The lunch with Vincent felt like navigating through a thick fog of my own thoughts. My mind kept drifting back to Maria – her fearful glances, the way her hands trembled, the undercurrent of tension that seemed to vibrate between her and Vincent. The diner around us became a blur of muted sounds and half-noticed details.Like the soft clink of our movements, the hiss of the espresso machine, the low murmur of conversations blending into an indistinct background noise.Maybe it was the Guerrero family that was beginning to turn me into a paranoid fool. Because why the fuck would I be suspicious of Vincent? I definitely saw wrong…why would Maria be afraid of him? Vincent's voice cut through my scattered thoughts, his fork pausing midway to his mouth. The crisp shirt he wore caught the afternoon light, casting soft shadows across the table. His eyes, usually warm and understanding, now studied me with a mix of concern and curiosity that made me feel simultaneously exposed and frustrate
ROMANThe warmth of Amelia's body against mine lingered like a ghostly imprint even after she'd fallen asleep. Her breathing had softened into that delicate rhythm that meant complete surrender to exhaustion – something that didn't happen often for her these days. Her face, usually tense with unspoken worries, had smoothed out, revealing a vulnerability that made my chest tighten with complex emotions that still baffled me.The intensity of what I felt for her sometimes had me floored. I never imagined I could feel this strongly for anyone, I never imagined I could love this fiercely. Not even Bertha… Nor the women before her came close to Amelia. Which was why I was desperate to keep her by my side. Happy, satisfied. Yet, so many things have been coming up and in all honesty, I'd never felt so incompetent in my entire life. I moved carefully, each movement calculated to not disturb her. The moonlight cascading through our bedroom windows caught the subtle curve of her belly, a s
ROMANThe first rays of morning light crept through our bedroom curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the bed. Amelia was still nestled against me, her breathing steady and peaceful. I found myself watching her, memorizing every detail – the way her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the subtle curve of her lips.My hand instinctively moved to her belly, holding her closer to my chest as I breathed in her scent. Her skin was soft, warm and smelled of vanilla, I couldn't get enough of it. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open. That moment – when sleep still clouded her gaze, when she was most vulnerable – was my favorite. No walls. No masks. Just Amelia."Morning," she mumbled, her voice soft and gravelly with sleep.I pulled her closer, burying my face in her hair. "Morning, love."She stretched, her body pressing against mine as her fingers trailed down to my abdomen in a sensual motion that had me holding my breath, and I couldn't he
GREECE When I came to, the first thing I noticed was the softness beneath me. It wasn't the rough beach towel or the stiff club chair I'd last remembered. This was different - plush, luxurious, with sheets that felt like something my mother would put up in her room. My head throbbed, a persistent reminder of the previous night's events, each pulse sending sharp pain through my temples. Memories crashed into me like waves - Michael forcing the drink down my throat, the red-haired woman who saved me, the dizzy walk down the hallway, and then... Colson. The gun. The body. Blood spattering, warm and wet against my face. Oh God. The reality of my situation sank in as I realized in had witnessed something I shouldn't have. Even worse from someone I shouldn't have seen. The man I saw last night. That cold, empty look in his eyes, he was nothing like the man who offered to have lunch with me at that mall, the man who grinned over every little joke his daughters told and exuded extreme wa
The argument replayed in my mind like a broken record, each harsh word cutting deeper with each repetition.‘All you see is your own pain.’The accusation stung particularly sharp because it was untrue. I'd spent weeks trying to understand Roman's pain, making excuses for his absence, convincing myself that his distance was just his way of coping. And now he had the audacity to throw that in my face?That son of a–My phone felt heavy in my pocket. I could call Jessica, or Alexander—they'd be here in minutes. But what would I say? That my husband, the man who'd been my rock through everything, had just revealed a side of himself I'd never seen before? That he was keeping secrets about who had poisoned me?Instead, I did something I hadn't dared since being discharged; I walked upstairs to the nursery door.My hand trembled as it touched the doorknob. We'd painted it white just two weeks ago, discussing whether we should add some kind of decorative element. Roman had wanted to paint l
AMELIAHome was supposed to feel like a sanctuary. Instead, the walls seemed to close in around me, each room holding memories that felt more like wounds. The nursery door remained firmly shut—neither of us had the courage to face what lay behind it.I for one knew that I would break down into tiny pieces if I saw what was behind that door. I had already given instructions for the room to be emptied, without my knowledge, of course. I didn't want to see them. The crib. The stuffed animals, the onesies. Fiona had left or rather…fired. I had a feeling she had something to do with the poisoning seeing as Roman was being kind of secretive about why she left or why he fired her. He never really gave me a straight answer, not even when he hired an older woman to fill in as both housekeeper and maid for the meantime. Roman had been adamant about me staying home. "You need to rest," he'd say, his tone leaving no room for argument. But rest felt impossible when my mind wouldn't stop spinnin
The night air was cool against my skin as I stepped out of the hospital, fishing my phone out of my purse to order another Uber. The parking lot was mostly empty, illuminated by scattered streetlights that created pools of yellow light in the darkness. The sound of rapid footsteps behind me made my heart jump, but before I could turn around, I heard his voice."Greece!"Just one word. My name. But the way Colson said it made something inside me twist. I turned to find him slightly out of breath, as if he'd run to catch up with me. The sight of him – powerful, composed Colson – actually running after someone was so unexpected that for a moment, I could only stare."What are you doing here?" I asked, hating how my voice betrayed my awareness of him. Even in the dim light, he was devastating – the shadows playing across his features only emphasized the sharp angles of his face, the intensity of his gaze."It's too dark for you to be out alone," he said, his tone still carrying that profe
GREECE“Why…” I inhaled deeply, “...are you here?” I asked softly. I didn't know he was back from Mexico. But then again, we haven't kept any contact since I left. He couldn't be here for me, right? "Wellington Corp has a meeting with the university board today," Colson said, his voice carrying that familiar professional tone that I'd almost forgotten existed. "With Roman at the hospital with Amelia, I'm handling the meeting with the dean."The words hit me like a splash of cold water, washing away whatever foolish notions I'd been entertaining. Of course. He wasn't here for me. He was here for business, just like always. The realization stung more than it should have, but I refused to let it show on my face."It's nice to see you again," I managed to say, proud of how steady my voice sounded despite the chaos in my chest. But even as I spoke, my traitorous eyes kept drifting to his lips, remembering how they'd felt against mine that night in Mexico. The warmth, the intensity, the
GREECEThe lecture hall felt suffocating despite its size. Professor Williams droned on about corporate law, but my mind was elsewhere, wandering back to memories of Mexico City – memories I couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard I tried. It had been a month since I'd returned, since Colson had practically forced me onto that plane, and yet everything still felt fresh. Raw.The scent of his cologne. The intensity of his gaze. The way his hands felt when they caught me from falling. The almost-kiss on the balcony that still haunted my dreams."Miss Stavros?" Professor Williams's voice cut through my reverie. "Care to share your thoughts on the Jensen case?"I straightened in my seat, forcing myself to focus on the present. "The Jensen case highlighted the importance of fiduciary duty in corporate governance," I began, drawing on whatever information I could remember from last night's reading. "The board's decision to..."As I continued my response, I couldn't help but notice how dif
The days that followed blurred together like watercolors in the rain. I felt disconnected from my body, as if I were floating somewhere above myself, tethered only by the thinnest of threads to the physical world below. The hospital room became my entire universe—a bubble where time moved differently, where every breath felt like an effort against the crushing weight of loss.I used to think I was a strong person, I used to think if I could have survived this far, after everything…then I could handle anything. But this? This pain? It was something I wouldn't wish even my worst enemy. Jessica was my constant companion, her presence both comforting and guilt-inducing. She'd pull up a chair beside my bed, her white coat wrinkled from long hours, dark circles under her eyes betraying her exhaustion."You need to get back to work," I told her one afternoon, my voice still carrying that hollow quality I couldn't seem to shake. "Your patients need you more than I do."She looked up from h
AMELIADarkness. Unrelenting. Suffocating.The memory crashed over me like a violent wave, fragmentary and disjointed. Marcus. The name itself was a razor blade against my consciousness, cutting through the soft, sedated edges of my hospital room's tranquility.I could see him—not his face, never his complete face—but his presence. Overwhelming. Menacing. A shadow that had stalked me longer than I could comprehend. His voice was a low, calculated whisper that seemed to echo through the chambers of my most terrifying memories. "Finally," he had said. "Finally, I have you."I remember being so afraid that I couldn't speak, every time he walked into a room, every time he told me about his love for me…how many times he's watched me, how many times he's just been in the shadows…looking, seeing everything and anything that has happened to me, even times I had forgotten. Flashes of my previous attempts to escape flickered like a damaged film reel. The sharp object I'd used against him—som
AMELIAThe silence was almost like a living, breathing entity. It wrapped around me like a suffocating blanket, pressing against my chest, making each breath feel like a monumental effort. My body felt alien—a vessel that had somehow failed its most fundamental purpose. The white hospital walls seemed to close in, choking me yet at the same time those white walls managed to keep me calm despite the screams and wails I could hear in my head.Or perhaps it was just me, still recovering from the shock. Roman's voice broke through my fog, soft and tentative. "Do you need anything, Amy? Water? Another blanket?" His words were gentle, carefully constructed, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile composure I was desperately trying to maintain.I turned my head slowly, mechanically, meeting his gaze. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion and though I never saw it was obvious that he had cried. A concept that I'd never really associated with Roman up until that very moment.
T.W(Miscarriage) I had fallen back asleep. My body was probably unable to handle the exhaustion that came with my fear. Roman hadn't said a word to me which only served to make me feel worse. He just told me to wait till the doctor got there. My nerves were all over the fucking place and all that remained was fear. The world came into focus slowly, like a camera lens adjusting. White walls, the sterile smell of disinfectant, the soft beeping of medical equipment - everything screamed hospital. My body felt heavy, disconnected, as if I were floating just slightly above myself.Roman hadn't moved from my side. His hand was still clasped around mine, his thumb making small, repetitive circles on my skin - a gesture of comfort, of connection. I could see the strain in his face, the lines of worry etched deeply around his eyes and mouth. He looked so exhausted that my heart ached. But not just for his state, but because of mine. I could hear the blood rushing to my ears as my heart beg