Clara’s car was a snug compact sedan that made it easier to move through the tight streets. I sat in the back, Raul in the passenger seat.“Not exactly the kind of neighborhood you want to be parked in for too long,” Clara muttered, half to herself“Thanks for covering the payment, Raul,” I said, glancing at him from the backseat. “I’ll make sure to pay you back—”“Don’t worry about it. Consider it handled.”“Handled?!” Clara spun around to face him, her dark curls bouncing as she gestured animatedly. “That was twenty thousand dollars. Do you have any idea how foolish it was to pay that sleazeball that amount?”Raul scoffed, shaking his head. “Relax, Clara. I didn’t actually pay him.”“Wait—what?”“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning forward.He tapped his phone, handing it to Clara. “Check the notification.”Her eyes darted to the screen before widening in realization. “The money’s been reversed!” she exclaimed. “Wait—so was that a fake transfer?”“Let’s just say he won’t notice unti
EstellaI spotted her immediately, draped in a pristine white suit that made her icy blue eyes pop. She was surrounded by a small crowd of staff carrying her shopping bags and catering to her every whim. She was perched on one of the boutique’s velvet chairs like it was a throne.The high-end mall was exactly what I expected from a snob like Vivian. I took a deep breath and approached her.“Vivian,” I called, forcing a polite smile.Her head turned, her gaze sweeping over me like I was a piece of shit she’d stepped in. “Oh, Estella,” she said, feigning surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Shopping, are we?”“Something like that,” I replied.“ Or are you stalking me now?”I smiled, refusing to take her bait. “I didn’t realize the mall was your private domain. But I’ll make sure to ask permission next time.”“What do you want?”“Oh, nothing much,” I said lightly. “Just thought we could chat. Maybe clear the air after… everything.”Vivian raised a brow, swirling her champagne. “The
EstellaThe black car waited in the underground parking lot, its windows tinted. Alejandro leaned against the passenger door, his arms crossed.“You were in there too long,” he said the moment he saw me approach, his gray eyes scanning me.“I had to make it convincing,” I replied, walking up to him. The tension in my body from the meeting with Vivian hadn’t fully eased, but seeing him standing there, waiting for me, calmed me in a way I couldn’t explain.He tilted his head. “Convincing, huh? Did she take the bait?”I nodded. “Hook, line, and sinker.”He smirked, opening the car door for me. “Good. Let’s move on”I slid into the car, the leather seats cool against my skin. He followed, shutting the door behind him with a solid thud. Raul, sitting behind the wheel, nodded at me in acknowledgment before starting the car.“Where to?” Raul asked, glancing at both Alejandro and I through the rearview mirror.“The address you gave Estella earlier,” Alejandro replied.The café was tucked in a
It wasn’t every day that a promising startup like Estella’s Designs announced a partnership with a powerhouse like Cadwell Enterprises. The venue was packed with industry elites, media personnel, and potential investors, their eyes darting between the stage and their phones as they live-tweeted every moment. I stood behind the curtains, trying to calm my racing heart. Vivian’s figure loomed just a few feet away. She looked every bit the goddess she pretended to be, but I knew better. Vivian turned, her expression smug. “Nervous, Estella?” “Excited,” I replied, my smile bright. “Oh, you should be,” she said. The applause quieted as Vivian took the mic. Her crimson gown shimmered under the lights, perfectly coordinated with her aura of smug confidence. “Good evening, everyone,” Vivian began. “This partnership,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sincerity, “is about more than business. It’s about second chances.Estrella’s Designs has had… let’s say, its fair share of cha
Estella We were still on the stage, under the blinding lights and sharp gazes of the elite, all I could focus on was Vivian. She was seething, her face twisted in rage as she lunged toward me. Her voice was shrill as she screamed, “You think you can humiliate me like this? You don’t know who you’re messing with, you bitch!.“Alejandro moved to my side in an instant, his hand firm on my waist. The heat in his eyes told me he was one second away from ripping Vivian apart. “Calm the fuck down and get lost, Vivian. That’s enough.”But she wasn’t calming down. If anything, Alejandro’s intervention seemed to spur her on. Her wild eyes fixed on me, and she sneered, “Of course, your knight in shining armor. Always rushing to save you, isn’t he? Just so you know you’re nothing without him!”She grabbed a glass from the nearby refreshment table. Before anyone could stop her, she hurled it with all her might—straight at me.“Estella!” Alejandro roared, stepping in front of me.The glass shatter
The tension in the room thickened as Vivian’s father strode in, his presence commanding every ounce of attention. His tailored suit was impeccable, his silver hair gleaming under the spotlights. He scanned the room, his piercing gaze settling on Vivian, who was still struggling against the guards.“Daddy!” Vivian’s voice cracked as she broke free from their grip, staggering toward him like a child seeking refuge. “Look at what they’re doing to me! She humiliated me in front of everyone. She’s lying daddy! You can’t let them treat me like this.”“Vivian.” His voice was a low rumble, full of warning. “Enough.”Her confidence faltered for the briefest moment before she doubled down, her voice rising hysterically. “Enough? You don’t understand! She did this all… to ruin our company. Estella thinks she’s so perfect—she thinks she can just waltz in and—”“Stop.” His single word silenced her tirade, leaving her mouth agape. The crowd murmured in disbelief, the sight of the mighty Vivian Cadw
Estella POVI walked through the remnants of the event, seeing guests off and thanking them for sticking with me, believing me.I was about to suggest to Alejandro we leave when Elliot Harrington appeared in my path.Elliot Harrington, of Vanveau, the company that had yanked their partnership the second the rumors started. His cocky smile was a reminder of how easily people could turn on you when it suited them“Well well Estella,” he said. “I have to say, tonight’s event was nothing short of extraordinary.”“Extraordinary enough to make you regret pulling out of our deal?” I replied, arching a brow.His smile faltered for a split second, but he recovered quickly. “A lapse in judgment, I admit. One I deeply regret. That’s why I’m here—to assure you that Vanveau is still very interested in partnering with Estrella Designs. The deal stands if you’re willing.”I crossed my arms, keeping my face neutral. “Funny. I seem to remember you being the first to jump ship when the rumors started.
Estella POV“Let’s just go home,” I said. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day, and I’m just… done.”Alejandro shot me a sidelong glance. “When was the last time you let yourself just stop and breathe?”I huffed out a small laugh. “I’ll stop and breathe as soon as we get home.”“Then it’s my job to make sure you get it,” he said firmly, wrapping an arm around my waist.As we neared the corner where Clara stood, I spotted her slouched against the wall, arms crossed.“Hey Clara?” I asked, stepping closer. “Are you okay?”She straightened immediately, plastering on a forced smile. “Yeah, fine.”I narrowed my eyes. “You don’t look fine.”“I’m fine,” she insisted, waving me off.I hesitated, my concern growing, but before I could press further, she shook her head and chirped, “ Are you going? Just go and have a rest. I’ll handle everything.”I studied her, then gave a small nod. I will make sure to find out what is up with her. “Make sure everyone leaves safely, okay? And… I will get Raul stay
EstellaThe first thing I feel is pain. Not the sharp, acute kind that makes you scream, but a deep, bone-crushing ache that seems to have no beginning and no end.My eyelids weigh tons, and somewhere beyond the darkness, machines beep in steady rhythm. I try to move, but my body feels disconnected, floating in a haze of medication and confusion.Voices drift in and out. A woman speaking rapid Italian. Someone else answering in clipped, professional tones. The soft squeak of rubber soles on tile."—showing improved brain activity—""—still no matches in the system—""—remarkable she survived at all—"I drift, caught between sleep and the unconsciousness, trying to piece together how I got here. But there's nothing. No memories. No context. Just darkness and the steady beep of machines telling me I'm alive. Time has no meaning here, wherever here is. I float in darknessThen suddenly—fire. The memory hits with such force that my eyes snap open, my body jerking upright. Metal screaming.
"Female, late twenties to early thirties, severe trauma, possible internal injuries." The paramedic's voice cut through the activity of Ospedale San Giovanni's emergency department. "Pregnant, approximately six weeks. Found at sea, suspected plane crash survivor."Dr. Isabella Rossetti's hands moved with practiced efficiency as they transferred the unconscious woman from the rescue boat's stretcher. "Core temperature?""Stabilized during the transport. But she's been unconscious since retrieval.""Any form of ID?""Nothing." The paramedic handed over a sodden envelope. "Just this. The fisherman's wife who found her insisted we save it."Isabella tucked the envelope into her coat pocket, focusing on her patient. The woman's face was a map of bruises and lacerations, dark hair matted with salt and blood. But beneath the injuries, there was a striking beauty that even trauma couldn't hide."Get her to CT," Isabella ordered. "I want a full trauma workup. And page Dr. Marino from obstetri
Third Person Pov(Day of Crash)The fishing boat struggled against the increasingly violent waves, Paolo's weathered hands white-knuckled on the wheel. In the distance, the silhouette of Porto Manarola emerged through the mist."Her fever's rising, Paolo!" Maria pressed another blanket against the unconscious woman, whose breathing had grown erratic. The stranger's skin burned despite her sodden clothes, concerning Maria deeply.A wave crashed over the bow, drenching them. The young woman moaned, her head thrashing weakly from side to side, her eyelids fluttered, revealing disoriented eyes that couldn't seem to focus."Almost there," Maria soothed, though she doubted the stranger could hear her. "Just hold on, child."As they approached the harbor, figures appeared on the dock—word had spread through their little village. Paolo leaned on the horn, three sharp blasts that carried their urgency across the water."Sofia!" Paolo shouted to the harbor master's wife as they drew close enough
Third Person POV"Paolo, you're going to scare away all the fish with your complaining!" Maria Ricci swatted her husband's arm, her weathered hand connecting with surprising force for a woman in her sixties.Paolo Ricci scowled, adjusting his faded cap against the morning sun. "Woman, I've been fishing these waters for fifty years. I know what I'm talking about." He gestured toward the dark clouds gathering on the horizon. "Storm's coming. We should head back.""We just got here!" Maria protested, reaching for another piece of bait. "The nets are barely wet."Their small fishing boat rocked gently on the Mediterranean waves, five miles off the coast of their village, Porto Manarola. They'd been married for forty-six years, and every morning for the last twenty—since Paolo's retirement—they'd taken this boat out together."The nets are empty again." Paolo spat over the side of the weathered fishing boat, his leathery face creased with frustration. "Third day this week. Something's wron
Alejandro Three hours later, we're back at the field office. Marco's in surgery, his chances are slim to none. Claudia is in interrogation, and from what I can see through the one-way glass, she’s breaking. Mascara streaks down her tear-streaked face as she sobs her way through her confession to Rivera.I don’t feel satisfaction.I don’t feel anything.Rivera leans in. “It was Marco’s plan, wasn’t it?”Claudia nods frantically. “Yes—yes, all of it. He was obsessed with destroying her and getting revenge on Alejandro.”Rivera pushes harder. “The plane. Tell me all you know about the plane.”Claudia swipes at her wet cheeks, inhaling shakily. “It was Torres—he’s the one who actually did the work. The navigation system, the fail-safe, everything. It was meant to go down over the ocean.”"And Estella De Luca?"Claudia's face crumples and her breath stutters. "We need to know," Rivera's voice carries through the speakers, "was there any possibility of survival?"Claudia hesitates, then
---The private airfield glows under spotlights. Federal vehicles surround the perimeter. No chances of escape this time."They're still here," Calloway confirms, lowering binoculars. "The jet is on the tarmac. Two subjects moving equipment."I strain to see through the darkness. "Claudia and Marco?""Looks like it.” Calloway confirms. “They've got no idea we're here."Rivera stands nearby, giving the final instructions to the tactical team. “We want them alive. They might be our only chance to find out what really happened to Mrs. De Luca.”I check my own weapon. No one comments on a civilian being armed. The Bureau has long since given up trying to contain me. Some battles aren't worth fighting."Ready?" Rivera asks.I nod. I am beyond ready.The moment we move, the airfield erupts.Engines roar as tactical vehicles tear across the tarmac. Spotlights blind. Megaphones blare out commands.“FBI! HANDS IN THE AIR!”Claudia stops mid-step at the base of the jet’s stairs, her hands shoot
The motel is a shithole on the edge of town, the kind of place where people come to disappear—sometimes permanently. Yellow crime scene tape flutters in the night breeze, barely keeping the stench of rot and drug inside. Local cops mill around, throwing irritated glances at the federal agents invading their territory.I push past them all. Nobody tries to stop me.The room stinks of cheap whiskey and death. Carlos Ramos lies sprawled on the bed, a gaping hole where the back of his head used to be, blood splattered against the peeling wallpaper. The gun is still clutched in his stiff fingers."Don't touch anything," Rivera warns, too late.I'm already moving, scanning the room. "Where's the note?"A detective points to a plastic evidence bag on the nightstand. Inside, a cheap hotel notepad with three words scrawled in shaky handwriting:I’m sorry, Carlos.I snatch the bag, turning it over in my hands. The ink is smudged, the strokes uneven. Writing under duress. Fear.“Sorry for what?”
The church is packed. Black designer suits and dresses. Photographers lining the street. I ignore them all, striding through the doors in jeans and a rumpled shirt, a month's worth of beard on my face.The service has already started. A priest drones on about loss and heaven. Empty words over an empty casket.Every head turns when I walk in. Whispers ripple through the crowd. The great Alejandro De Luca, finally broken.I don't give a fuck what they think."Mr. De Luca," the male agent says, extending his hand. I ignore it. He cleared his throat “ I am Agent Calloway and this is my partner Agent Rivera.”"You're taking a chunk of my time. Talk."They exchange glances. "We should discuss this privately."I push past them to a small building outside the church. They follow, closing the door behind them."We have reason to believe Marco Valdez was involved in sabotaging your wife's plane," Calloway says.My blood runs cold, then hot. "Tell me something I don't already know.""We found of
Alejandro One Month LaterI slam my fist into the wall, pain shooting up my arm. I welcome it. Anything to feel something other than this fucking hole in my chest.The TV drones on in the background, some society reporter standing outside the church where they're burying a goddamn empty casket. _"...the tragic death of Estella De Luca has shocked the business world. Sources close to the family say her husband, billionaire Alejandro De Luca, is too overcome with grief to attend today's service..."_I grab the remote and hurl it at the screen. Glass shatters, sparks fly. The sudden silence is almost worse.Someone knocks. I ignore it.The door opens anyway. Raúl. "Boss," he says quietly, stepping over broken furniture. My office looks like a war zone. "The funeral's starting. People are asking where you are."I don't turn to face him. My eyes remain fixed on the city skyline through floor-to-ceiling windows. Somewhere out there, she's alive. I feel it in my fucking bones."Let them