The early morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, casting pale gold streaks across the floorboards. Rene stood shirtless before the mirror, the soft scratch of gauze brushing against his ribs as he wrapped the bruises with practiced ease.The muscles in his shoulders twitched slightly at every pull, his face set in quiet concentration. The wound, though shallow, was enough to remind him of the night before... of passion, of pain, and of the call that followed.He barely flinched as he secured the bandage with a strip of medical tape, the sting long dulled. The quiet was broken by a knock on the door.Maria stirred from the bed, tangled in the sheets. Her voice was groggy, but steady. “I’ll get it.”She padded across the room, pulling his shirt over her shoulders, and cracked the door open. One of the younger maids stood there, neatly dressed with her hands clasped in front of her. She dipped into a polite bow.“Good morning, Miss Maria. Your grandfather requests your presenc
Rene tilted his head slightly, the faintest curve of a smile teasing at the corner of his lips. He gave a soft, contemplative hmm, as though the matter were merely an intellectual exercise. The silence dragged, intentionally, until even Madam Rossi’s fork stilled halfway to her mouth.“I must say,” Rene began, voice light, polite, dangerously unbothered, “you make a compelling case, sir. Betrayal, dishonor, public shame… It’s almost Shakespearean.” He set his water glass down with an elegant clink. “But there’s just one problem.”Mr. Rossi’s eyes narrowed to slits.“I didn’t betray anyone,” Rene said, voice sharpening beneath the charm. “I didn’t cheat. I didn’t lie. And I certainly didn’t ask to be used as some sacrificial pawn in your public relations game.”Jason scoffed quietly, just loud enough to be heard. “You act like you’re above the family, like none of this matters to you.”Rene turned his gaze slowly, lazily, toward Jason. “Oh, it matters. Just not the way you want it to.”
The dining room was uncomfortably quiet without Maria and Rene.Jason sat at the head of the long table, his hand around a half-filled glass of wine, his eyes dull and unblinking. Layla sat beside him, unusually still, her perfectly styled hair tucked behind one ear, a forced smile frozen on her lips. Juan and Antonio were seated opposite each other, eating calmly but watching everyone else with barely disguised suspicion.No one spoke unless necessary. Only the soft clinking of silverware and the occasional shifting of chairs filled the room. A storm brewed behind every glance, every twitch of a brow, every sip of water. It was the kind of quiet that could split open at the slightest provocation.Abruptly, Layla’s phone buzzed sharply against the table, slicing through the silence. She flinched. Glancing down at the screen, her stomach turned."Dad."She cleared her throat gently, offering a courteous smile to the table.“Excuse me,” she said, her voice smooth, though her fingers gri
The evening of the party had arrived.Beyond the grand windows of the Rossi estate, the sky bled into twilight, a deep indigo shroud setting the stage for the storm that loomed unseen. The Rossi residence shimmered with golden light, and distant voices echoed in the halls.The party.The celebration no one could stop.In the master bedroom on the top floor, the world was quieter... thicker with tension.Madam Rossi stood before the ornate mirror, a dark sapphire gown hugging her figure like silk. Her hands were at her sides, clenched and still. The diamonds at her ears glinted like ice, and the sharp bones of her face gave her a statue-like elegance. Yet the furrow between her brows betrayed her.Behind her, Mr. Rossi was finishing the final touches. He moved with an eerie calm, slipping the delicate chain of her necklace into place around her neck. His fingers were steady as always. Precise. Cold.“Your hands haven’t aged,” she murmured, watching his reflection. “Even after all these
Maria stood near the window, phone pressed to her ear, her back straight, voice low. She wore a floor-length gown of deep emerald, sleeveless with a high collar and a low, scooped back that exposed the elegant arch of her spine. The silk flowed like water over her body, and her earrings... a cute glimmer of green stones... brought the whole look together with effortless grace.She ended the call with a sigh just as the bathroom door behind her opened.Rene stepped out, adjusting the cufflinks on his crisp white shirt. But it was the suit that caught the room.He wore a midnight black tuxedo, tailored to precision... sharp lapels trimmed in a sheen of satin, shoulders squared, waist nipped, the cut hugging his frame like it had been made by hands that knew him well. Beneath the jacket, the subtle gleam of a black silk vest peeked through, layered over a charcoal-gray shirt with the top buttons undone just enough to be daring, but not vulgar. A small silver pin was fixed on his lapel, a
The Rossi convoy pulled into the circular drive of the Grand Meridian, the most opulent skyscraper in the city... glass and steel stretching into the stars. Paparazzi flashes crackled beyond the velvet ropes, their lights bouncing off the tinted windows of the luxury cars. Valets and security formed tight lines, working in sharp, clean choreography.The first wave of family emerged... Mr. Rossi leading with Madam Rossi at his side, flanked by Jason, Antonio, Layla, Bianca, Princess, and the others.Then Maria and Rene stepped out next. He stayed by her side, arm tucked beneath hers, smile faint but present, expression unreadable beneath the golden lights of the entrance.The guards nodded. The family entered.But Alejandro didn’t.He stood off to the side, just beyond the corner of the building where the cameras couldn’t see, leaning against his Jaguar, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette burning low between his fingers.His tuxedo was only half-buttoned, hair tousled like he'
A hush swept over the ballroom, heads turned. Glasses paused mid-air. Even the chandelier light seemed to bend its attention toward the entrance.She stood there... Catherina Ford.Grace was too small a word.She didn’t walk in, she arrived... poised like she owned the ground beneath her heels. Her dress was a deep emerald silk, folding around her like liquid elegance. Hair up in a classic twist, neck adorned with a single strand of pearls that looked like they'd been fished from the private vaults of royalty. Not a wrinkle in her brow, not a misplaced gesture. Only presence.And it was majestic.Mr. Rossi’s jaw dropped open, actually dropped, hanging loose like a broken hinge before he caught himself with a little cough and a half-step forward.“My God,” he muttered. “Is that-?”Gunnar turned toward the entrance as well, brow lifting in curiosity.Rossi's voice was low but urgent. “Gunnar… please tell me you invited her. We’re not… we’re not close enough to the Fords.”But Gunnar onl
"Rumble!!!""Boom!!""Crash!!"Picking up his pace, Rene Ford ran, clutching the bouquet in his grip and the jewelry box in the other, while the rain pounded around him like a waterfall. The streets of the campus were deserted and he was the only one on the patch of dark road, the sound of thunder reverberating through the air and lightning crackling above him. He ran with all his might, ignoring the flower petals that scattered onto the sidewalk, and kept going as fast as he could. His lungs burned as his heart pumped blood into his veins at a fast rate but his legs didn't even quiver. "This is bad!! This is bad!!" He kept repeating under his breath, the words turning into a mantra. He wasn't sure if it helped to calm himself or not. But he had no time for hesitation now. Tonight was the night he planned to risk it all and nothing was going to stop him.Finally, he busted threw the double doors leading inside, slamming them shut behind him and taking out a deep breath that he h
A hush swept over the ballroom, heads turned. Glasses paused mid-air. Even the chandelier light seemed to bend its attention toward the entrance.She stood there... Catherina Ford.Grace was too small a word.She didn’t walk in, she arrived... poised like she owned the ground beneath her heels. Her dress was a deep emerald silk, folding around her like liquid elegance. Hair up in a classic twist, neck adorned with a single strand of pearls that looked like they'd been fished from the private vaults of royalty. Not a wrinkle in her brow, not a misplaced gesture. Only presence.And it was majestic.Mr. Rossi’s jaw dropped open, actually dropped, hanging loose like a broken hinge before he caught himself with a little cough and a half-step forward.“My God,” he muttered. “Is that-?”Gunnar turned toward the entrance as well, brow lifting in curiosity.Rossi's voice was low but urgent. “Gunnar… please tell me you invited her. We’re not… we’re not close enough to the Fords.”But Gunnar onl
The Rossi convoy pulled into the circular drive of the Grand Meridian, the most opulent skyscraper in the city... glass and steel stretching into the stars. Paparazzi flashes crackled beyond the velvet ropes, their lights bouncing off the tinted windows of the luxury cars. Valets and security formed tight lines, working in sharp, clean choreography.The first wave of family emerged... Mr. Rossi leading with Madam Rossi at his side, flanked by Jason, Antonio, Layla, Bianca, Princess, and the others.Then Maria and Rene stepped out next. He stayed by her side, arm tucked beneath hers, smile faint but present, expression unreadable beneath the golden lights of the entrance.The guards nodded. The family entered.But Alejandro didn’t.He stood off to the side, just beyond the corner of the building where the cameras couldn’t see, leaning against his Jaguar, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette burning low between his fingers.His tuxedo was only half-buttoned, hair tousled like he'
Maria stood near the window, phone pressed to her ear, her back straight, voice low. She wore a floor-length gown of deep emerald, sleeveless with a high collar and a low, scooped back that exposed the elegant arch of her spine. The silk flowed like water over her body, and her earrings... a cute glimmer of green stones... brought the whole look together with effortless grace.She ended the call with a sigh just as the bathroom door behind her opened.Rene stepped out, adjusting the cufflinks on his crisp white shirt. But it was the suit that caught the room.He wore a midnight black tuxedo, tailored to precision... sharp lapels trimmed in a sheen of satin, shoulders squared, waist nipped, the cut hugging his frame like it had been made by hands that knew him well. Beneath the jacket, the subtle gleam of a black silk vest peeked through, layered over a charcoal-gray shirt with the top buttons undone just enough to be daring, but not vulgar. A small silver pin was fixed on his lapel, a
The evening of the party had arrived.Beyond the grand windows of the Rossi estate, the sky bled into twilight, a deep indigo shroud setting the stage for the storm that loomed unseen. The Rossi residence shimmered with golden light, and distant voices echoed in the halls.The party.The celebration no one could stop.In the master bedroom on the top floor, the world was quieter... thicker with tension.Madam Rossi stood before the ornate mirror, a dark sapphire gown hugging her figure like silk. Her hands were at her sides, clenched and still. The diamonds at her ears glinted like ice, and the sharp bones of her face gave her a statue-like elegance. Yet the furrow between her brows betrayed her.Behind her, Mr. Rossi was finishing the final touches. He moved with an eerie calm, slipping the delicate chain of her necklace into place around her neck. His fingers were steady as always. Precise. Cold.“Your hands haven’t aged,” she murmured, watching his reflection. “Even after all these
The dining room was uncomfortably quiet without Maria and Rene.Jason sat at the head of the long table, his hand around a half-filled glass of wine, his eyes dull and unblinking. Layla sat beside him, unusually still, her perfectly styled hair tucked behind one ear, a forced smile frozen on her lips. Juan and Antonio were seated opposite each other, eating calmly but watching everyone else with barely disguised suspicion.No one spoke unless necessary. Only the soft clinking of silverware and the occasional shifting of chairs filled the room. A storm brewed behind every glance, every twitch of a brow, every sip of water. It was the kind of quiet that could split open at the slightest provocation.Abruptly, Layla’s phone buzzed sharply against the table, slicing through the silence. She flinched. Glancing down at the screen, her stomach turned."Dad."She cleared her throat gently, offering a courteous smile to the table.“Excuse me,” she said, her voice smooth, though her fingers gri
Rene tilted his head slightly, the faintest curve of a smile teasing at the corner of his lips. He gave a soft, contemplative hmm, as though the matter were merely an intellectual exercise. The silence dragged, intentionally, until even Madam Rossi’s fork stilled halfway to her mouth.“I must say,” Rene began, voice light, polite, dangerously unbothered, “you make a compelling case, sir. Betrayal, dishonor, public shame… It’s almost Shakespearean.” He set his water glass down with an elegant clink. “But there’s just one problem.”Mr. Rossi’s eyes narrowed to slits.“I didn’t betray anyone,” Rene said, voice sharpening beneath the charm. “I didn’t cheat. I didn’t lie. And I certainly didn’t ask to be used as some sacrificial pawn in your public relations game.”Jason scoffed quietly, just loud enough to be heard. “You act like you’re above the family, like none of this matters to you.”Rene turned his gaze slowly, lazily, toward Jason. “Oh, it matters. Just not the way you want it to.”
The early morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, casting pale gold streaks across the floorboards. Rene stood shirtless before the mirror, the soft scratch of gauze brushing against his ribs as he wrapped the bruises with practiced ease.The muscles in his shoulders twitched slightly at every pull, his face set in quiet concentration. The wound, though shallow, was enough to remind him of the night before... of passion, of pain, and of the call that followed.He barely flinched as he secured the bandage with a strip of medical tape, the sting long dulled. The quiet was broken by a knock on the door.Maria stirred from the bed, tangled in the sheets. Her voice was groggy, but steady. “I’ll get it.”She padded across the room, pulling his shirt over her shoulders, and cracked the door open. One of the younger maids stood there, neatly dressed with her hands clasped in front of her. She dipped into a polite bow.“Good morning, Miss Maria. Your grandfather requests your presenc
Suddenly, Rene rose from the bed, reaching for his belt and unbuckling it. He tossed it aside, then pulled his T-shirt over his head, throwing it across the room as well. His jeans followed quickly after, and when he threw them all aside, his boxer was the only piece left.Rene stared at her for another moment, his eyes flickering down her body. Then, he smiled faintly, a little selflessly, “What now?" Staring down at him, Maria’s breath hitched. Her eyes moved over the bruises on his ribs, the faint marks across his skin. Her hand reached out instinctively, trembling slightly as it hovered near his side.But Rene stepped forward, catching her wrist in his hand and gently lowering it. His touch was warm, patient, but there was finality in it.“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, his voice low with a hint of pleading. “Not today.”Maria opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a kiss, soft at first. His lips brushed hers like a question, not a demand. She exhaled ag
Staring ahead, Gunnar reclined on the leather couch in his private office, one ankle resting casually atop his knee, a tumbler of untouched whiskey in one hand. The room was dim, bathed in the warm golden hue of late afternoon light. The only sound was the faint ticking of the antique clock mounted above the fireplace.Across from him, Rene sat stiffly, one arm draped over the couch’s backrest, the other nursing his ribs with deliberate restraint. A thin bruise was forming along his jawline, still fresh from his father’s rage. He wore it like an afterthought, uninterested in pity."Will you tell me who did that?" Gunnar asked, lowering his gaze to the cut."No," Rene said casually.Just then, Gunnar’s phone buzzed on the table between them.He glanced down at the screen, then back at Rene. “Your grandfather-in-law is calling.”Rene smirked faintly, though his eyes remained dull. “Answer it.”Gunnar hesitated only a moment, then tapped the screen. “Okay, boss.”He placed the phone on s