The days that followed the wedding seemed to drift by like the slow current of the Venetian canals. With Luca’s downfall firmly in the past, the families were finally beginning to breathe—really breathe—for the first time in months. There were no whispers of war, no looming threats. Just silence. Just peace.It was a strange sensation.And in that silence, each of them began to reckon with the scars they carried—some visible, most not.---KlarisseThe garden behind the Robinson estate had become Klarisse’s refuge.The twins were playing in the distance, their laughter echoing like music through the hedges. She sat beneath the shade of a lemon tree, a book open in her lap but unread. Her thoughts wandered far from the printed words.She still dreamt of that room sometimes—the one Luca left her in. The cold floor. The flickering monitor. Alex's face as he chose someone else.But those dreams didn’t hold the same power they used to. Not since the wedding.Allie had said something that s
It started with a quiet morning.The twins were still asleep, tangled up in a nest of blankets and stuffed animals in the nursery suite. Klarisse had stepped out early for a walk with Kareen, leaving the estate unusually still. And in that silence, Alexander Robinson stood in the study with a blueprint spread across the desk.It was a property. A villa just on the edge of Venice—away from the noise and legacy of the Robinson estate, but close enough to feel connected to home.It wasn’t grand. Not by his family’s standards. But it was bright, surrounded by olive trees, with tall windows and a garden that would be perfect for growing wildflowers and a swing set for the twins.He traced the lines of the house with his finger, imagining it filled with laughter and warmth. A place not defined by old wounds, power, or politics—but by love. A place for healing. For them.For Klarisse.For the first time in weeks, he felt nervous in a way that had nothing to do with danger or strategy. This w
The countryside rolled out before them in soft waves of green and gold, olive trees scattered like gentle sentinels across the hills. The villa stood like a warm promise—sunlit walls, terracotta roof tiles, and pale curtains fluttering at the open windows. Not opulent. Not defensive. Just... home.Klarisse stepped out of the car, her hand loosely gripping her daughter’s while Alexander carried their son in his arms, the toddler already pointing excitedly at the garden.“Mommy! Look, trees!” the boy exclaimed.Klarisse smiled, brushing back her daughter’s wind-blown curls as she murmured, “Yes, baby. So many trees.”They crossed the small stone path leading to the wide front steps. The air was fresh, the kind of quiet that invited stillness instead of pressing it upon you.Alex unlocked the door and gestured for them to go in first. “This is it,” he said simply.Inside, the villa was open and full of light. Large windows let the sunlight stream into a spacious living room that smelled
The late afternoon sun bathed the quiet Venice street in gold, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. The building Allie had chosen wasn’t much yet—just a stone façade with boarded windows and ivy curling stubbornly around the frame. But where others might see a forgotten corner of the city, she saw potential.She sat across the street on a bench, sketchpad resting on her lap, pencil dancing lightly as she worked on the outlines of what the place could become. Her lips were slightly pursed in concentration, hair pulled into a messy knot, a coffee beside her now going cold. In her mind, the empty space had already transformed—soft pastels, arched windows, a hand-painted sign that read **“Clara & Co.”**Named not after herself, but as a nod to **Klarisse**—the friend who had once handed her an apron and said, “Just try. You’ll find you love it.”This café would be her own branch of Klarisse’s beloved shop, and Allie already imagined the menu, the soft clinking of teacups, the sme
The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted out onto the cobbled street, mingling with the warm mid-morning sun. The soft hum of chatter, the clinking of cups, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air, a soothing balm after months of chaos and pain. The name—“Clara & Co.”—was painted above the counter in Allie’s own handwriting. A tribute to Klarisse, but also a quiet declaration of independence, had finally opened its doors for a quiet soft launch.It wasn’t a grand affair. There were no streamers, no major announcements. But for everyone who walked through those glass-paned doors, it was clear something special had taken root.Klarisse stood behind the counter, helping the barista learn the flow of orders. Her hands were deft, her movements calm—every motion reminding her of the early days when she and Allie used to dream of a place like this over late-night shifts and greasy diner food. Now, they were here. Together. Building something beautiful.Allie emerged from the bac
“Alex!” Klarisse shouted, her voice trembling with desperation. She gently closed her eyes and collapsed, her body giving in to exhaustion and despair.“Boss, what are we going to do with her?” one of the men asked, looking down at Klarisse’s unconscious form.The boss smirked, a sinister gleam in his eyes. “Alex, you have no idea. You chose to save your ex over your wife. What a wonderful scene,” he sneered, relishing the unfolding drama.Alex was stunned, realizing the gravity of his mistake. No one had even mentioned Maxine until he rescued her. “No, something’s wrong,” he mumbled, his mind racing with conflicting emotions.Maxine opened her eyes, her vision blurred with tears. Seeing Alex, she sobbed, “You came, thank you so much.” She reached out and hugged him tightly, her relief palpable.But Alex was torn, his heart heavy with guilt and confusion. He stared into the distance, barely acknowledging Maxine’s embrace. “Klarisse,” he whispered, his voice filled with regret.********
Allie felt miserable for Klarisse, who had done everything to avoid her fate, but it kept chasing her, forcing her to choose between her family and herself. “Allie, if I go through with this marriage, what about my business? I don’t want you to get tired managing it,” Klarisse stated. Allie chuckled. "Klarisse, you don’t have to worry about me. Besides, you are paying me," she replied with a laugh. Klarisse playfully slapped her arm."Yeah, but you’re still my best friend. I don’t want to see you all haggardly; it’s not good for your beauty. I hate seeing you tired. You’re losing glamor points." she teased. Allie rolled her eyes and shot her a mock death glare, but Klarisse hugged her from behind and kissed her cheek."Eww, gross!" Allie exclaimed."Duh, I’m just so sweet," Klarisse retorted. Their banter was interrupted when a new customer entered the café. Both of their eyes turned to the glass door, now held open by a man dressed in all black. "Wow, he’s cool," Allie commented
“I’m sorry, Mom. I need more time to figure out my decisions in life,” Klarisse mumbled as she parked her car and headed to another branch of her café. She owned multiple branches of Klarisse’s Café around the area.“Good morning, ma’am,” the guard greeted her.She smiled warmly. “Good morning. I’m just going to check some things here.”The guard nodded as she walked inside. The café was bustling with customers, which brought her a sense of pride. It made her happy, but a wave of sadness washed over her as she remembered her twin sister, Klara, was no longer alive to share in her success. The happiness was bittersweet.“Klara, if you were here, I know you’d be happy to see how well the café is doing, I know you’d be proud to see my hard work paying off,” she whispered to herself.Just then, the manager spotted her and called out, “Klarisse! It’s great to see you here.”Klarisse forced a smile and walked over. “Hi, I just wanted to see how everything’s going. It looks busy.”“Really we
The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted out onto the cobbled street, mingling with the warm mid-morning sun. The soft hum of chatter, the clinking of cups, and the occasional burst of laughter filled the air, a soothing balm after months of chaos and pain. The name—“Clara & Co.”—was painted above the counter in Allie’s own handwriting. A tribute to Klarisse, but also a quiet declaration of independence, had finally opened its doors for a quiet soft launch.It wasn’t a grand affair. There were no streamers, no major announcements. But for everyone who walked through those glass-paned doors, it was clear something special had taken root.Klarisse stood behind the counter, helping the barista learn the flow of orders. Her hands were deft, her movements calm—every motion reminding her of the early days when she and Allie used to dream of a place like this over late-night shifts and greasy diner food. Now, they were here. Together. Building something beautiful.Allie emerged from the bac
The late afternoon sun bathed the quiet Venice street in gold, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. The building Allie had chosen wasn’t much yet—just a stone façade with boarded windows and ivy curling stubbornly around the frame. But where others might see a forgotten corner of the city, she saw potential.She sat across the street on a bench, sketchpad resting on her lap, pencil dancing lightly as she worked on the outlines of what the place could become. Her lips were slightly pursed in concentration, hair pulled into a messy knot, a coffee beside her now going cold. In her mind, the empty space had already transformed—soft pastels, arched windows, a hand-painted sign that read **“Clara & Co.”**Named not after herself, but as a nod to **Klarisse**—the friend who had once handed her an apron and said, “Just try. You’ll find you love it.”This café would be her own branch of Klarisse’s beloved shop, and Allie already imagined the menu, the soft clinking of teacups, the sme
The countryside rolled out before them in soft waves of green and gold, olive trees scattered like gentle sentinels across the hills. The villa stood like a warm promise—sunlit walls, terracotta roof tiles, and pale curtains fluttering at the open windows. Not opulent. Not defensive. Just... home.Klarisse stepped out of the car, her hand loosely gripping her daughter’s while Alexander carried their son in his arms, the toddler already pointing excitedly at the garden.“Mommy! Look, trees!” the boy exclaimed.Klarisse smiled, brushing back her daughter’s wind-blown curls as she murmured, “Yes, baby. So many trees.”They crossed the small stone path leading to the wide front steps. The air was fresh, the kind of quiet that invited stillness instead of pressing it upon you.Alex unlocked the door and gestured for them to go in first. “This is it,” he said simply.Inside, the villa was open and full of light. Large windows let the sunlight stream into a spacious living room that smelled
It started with a quiet morning.The twins were still asleep, tangled up in a nest of blankets and stuffed animals in the nursery suite. Klarisse had stepped out early for a walk with Kareen, leaving the estate unusually still. And in that silence, Alexander Robinson stood in the study with a blueprint spread across the desk.It was a property. A villa just on the edge of Venice—away from the noise and legacy of the Robinson estate, but close enough to feel connected to home.It wasn’t grand. Not by his family’s standards. But it was bright, surrounded by olive trees, with tall windows and a garden that would be perfect for growing wildflowers and a swing set for the twins.He traced the lines of the house with his finger, imagining it filled with laughter and warmth. A place not defined by old wounds, power, or politics—but by love. A place for healing. For them.For Klarisse.For the first time in weeks, he felt nervous in a way that had nothing to do with danger or strategy. This w
The days that followed the wedding seemed to drift by like the slow current of the Venetian canals. With Luca’s downfall firmly in the past, the families were finally beginning to breathe—really breathe—for the first time in months. There were no whispers of war, no looming threats. Just silence. Just peace.It was a strange sensation.And in that silence, each of them began to reckon with the scars they carried—some visible, most not.---KlarisseThe garden behind the Robinson estate had become Klarisse’s refuge.The twins were playing in the distance, their laughter echoing like music through the hedges. She sat beneath the shade of a lemon tree, a book open in her lap but unread. Her thoughts wandered far from the printed words.She still dreamt of that room sometimes—the one Luca left her in. The cold floor. The flickering monitor. Alex's face as he chose someone else.But those dreams didn’t hold the same power they used to. Not since the wedding.Allie had said something that s
The sun had begun to dip behind the Venetian skyline, casting a golden hue over the waters that shimmered in quiet celebration. The courtyard outside the Robinson estate had been transformed into something out of a dream—soft lights strung across olive trees, long tables draped with ivory linen, and floral centerpieces that echoed the chapel’s quiet elegance.It was a wedding unlike any other, not because of grandeur, but because of the people who filled the space—warriors who had survived storms, families that had known loss and loyalty, love that had been forged through fire. Now, they all gathered to celebrate something rare and sacred: peace.Laughter mingled with the gentle notes of live jazz that played from the corner of the garden, where a small band swayed to their own rhythm. Glasses clinked. Plates were passed around. Children danced between chairs, their giggles like chimes in the evening air.At the center of it all sat Artemis and Allie—finally able to breathe.Allie, st
The chapel stood as a picture of timeless elegance—high arched ceilings adorned with soft ivory flowers, pews lined with garlands of eucalyptus and roses, and candlelight casting a golden glow that made everything feel touched by magic. There was a hush in the air, the kind of reverent stillness that wrapped around everyone as they took their seats, waiting for something sacred to begin.Artemis Valen stood at the front, his hands clasped behind his back, every inch of him polished and regal in his tailored charcoal suit. But even as the strong face of a mafia heir, his eyes betrayed him. They searched the entrance again and again, restless, expectant. The man who commanded operations with a single nod now seemed like he was barely holding it together.Alexander stood beside him, proud and composed in his role as best man. His hand occasionally patted Artemis’s shoulder, grounding him. He leaned in, speaking low enough for only his brother to hear.“You’re not going to faint, are you?
The morning sunlight filtered through the lace-curtained windows of the Robinson estate’s bridal suite, painting delicate patterns on the floor. The house was filled with movement—florists arranging centerpieces, chefs preparing hors d’oeuvres, staff bustling about in well-rehearsed harmony. But inside the suite, there was a hush, as if the whole world had paused to take a breath.Allie stood before the mirror, wrapped in a silky white robe, her hair half-curled, makeup just beginning. Her dress hung nearby—sleek, elegant, with a train that whispered stories of power and grace.Klarisse knelt at Allie’s feet, gently sliding on the wedding shoes—blush-colored satin heels with tiny crystals stitched along the sides. She looked up at her best friend, smiling faintly.“Still fits,” Klarisse teased lightly, adjusting the buckle.Allie laughed softly. “You doubted me?”“I’ve seen how much cake you’ve stress-eaten this past week.”“I will *not* be shamed on my wedding day,” Allie replied wit
Two weeks after the proposal, the Robinson estate was a whirlwind of activity again—not for another battle or family council, but something far more nerve-wracking for Artemis Robinson:**Planning a wedding.**“Tell me again why we can’t just elope?” Artemis muttered, leaning against the edge of his desk in the west wing study. He was flipping through a thick leather-bound wedding planning book that Allie had left on his desk, a pencil tucked behind his ear like a reluctant student.“Because I want to walk down an aisle and make someone cry,” Allie called out as she entered, two sets of color swatches fanned in her hands. “And Klarisse’s dad *will* cry if I ask him to walk me down. I want that.”Artemis paused, setting the book down. “You’re really asking Alan and Kareen to give you away?”Allie walked over and plopped the swatches in front of him, her smile a little more tender this time. “I don’t have parents of my own, Artemis. But Klarisse’s mom and dad… they’ve always treated me