Richard pov.The cold, sterile environment of the police station did nothing to settle the unease that had been gnawing at me since Sarah’s fall. Sitting across from Isabelle in the small interrogation room only amplified it. She looked different—disheveled, almost feral—but her eyes still held that same unhinged intensity I remembered from before. Martins sat beside me, arms crossed, his body language radiating skepticism and disgust. The officer standing by the door had warned us to keep the conversation civil, but I wasn’t here to trade pleasantries. “Why, Isabelle?” My voice was steady, but my hands clenched into fists under the table. “Why did you hurt Sarah?” She tilted her head, a slow, deliberate movement that made my skin crawl. Then, she smiled—a twisted, almost childlike grin. “She wanted to take you from me,” she said, her tone eerily calm. I blinked, the sheer absurdity of her words momentarily robbing me of speech. “Take me from you? Isabelle, how many times
Richard pov.The call from the police came just after dawn, jarring me awake in the cold, uncomfortable chair next to Sarah’s hospital bed. I fumbled with my phone, heart pounding as I stepped into the hallway to answer.“We’ve located Susan,” the officer said. “She’s in custody. We’d like you to come down to the station.”My grip tightened around the phone. The relief I felt was fleeting, quickly replaced by anger. “I’ll be there,” I said, my voice low.Zoe appeared beside me as I hung up. She had been sitting with Sarah through the night, taking turns with Martins to ensure I wasn’t alone. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but her concern for Sarah mirrored my own.“Was that about Susan?” she asked.I nodded. “They’ve got her. I’m heading to the station.”“I’m coming with you,” she said firmly.“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Stay here. I need someone I trust to be with Sarah.”She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But keep me updated.”When I arrived at the police station, Martin
Richard pov.The morning of the trial felt heavy. I left the hospital earlier than usual, making sure Zoe would stay with Sarah. Despite the overwhelming dread, there was a part of me that felt strangely numb, as if my emotions had run dry after weeks of worry and anger. Martins met me outside the courthouse, impeccably dressed in his usual sharp suit. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his touch grounding. “Today’s a big step forward,” he said. “Remember, this trial is about getting justice, not reopening wounds. You’re here to see Susan held accountable, not to punish yourself for her actions.”I nodded, though his words didn’t settle the unease churning in my gut. The courtroom was cold, and even though I’d prepared myself for this moment, seeing Susan seated across the room made my stomach twist. She didn’t look like someone riddled with guilt; she looked indifferent, like this was just another ordinary day. The prosecution opened with a detailed timeline of events, recou
Richard pov.Weeks passed. Life felt like a blur of hospital visits, endless updates from doctors, and quiet moments spent in Sarah’s room. I was there every day, holding her hand, speaking softly to her, willing her to wake up. Zoe and Martins tried their best to keep things light whenever they visited, cracking jokes or telling stories, but even they couldn’t hide their worry. The NICU had become another constant in my life. Our daughter was thriving despite her premature birth, a tiny fighter who seemed determined to make it through. I’d visit her every evening after sitting with Sarah, watching her tiny chest rise and fall under the glow of the incubator’s lights. She was the only glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark time. “Hey, little one,” I whispered one night, my hand resting on the incubator. “Your mom’s going to wake up soon. She has to. She wouldn’t leave us like this.” It was a quiet morning when the miracle happened. I was sitting in Sarah’s room, flipping through
Richard pov.The weeks that followed were like a dream, the kind of dream I never wanted to wake up from. Sarah’s recovery was nothing short of miraculous. She was her old self again—strong, radiant, and filled with the kind of joy that seemed to light up any room she entered. And our daughter? She was growing so fast, already wrapping us—and everyone else—in her tiny fingers. But the best part of it all? We were finally preparing for our wedding. Sarah wanted something small and intimate, just us and our closest family and friends. She’d always talked about having a garden wedding, surrounded by nature, with the sun setting in the background. And that’s exactly what we were going to do. The morning was a flurry of activity. Zoe was in charge of decorations, barking orders at Martins, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Martins, the flowers go on the left,” Zoe said, hands on her hips. “They look fine where they are,” Martins shot back, holding up a bouquet of
Sarah’s POV“Hello Mum, how are you doing?” I asked, genuinely wanting to think about anyone else but myself. My current situation in my marriage was weighing me down. Being in a loveless marriage or at least where the love was one-sided was a pain in the ass. I had to struggle every day to be noticed by my husband. Granted our marriage had been a contract marriage – an agreement between his father and my grandfather -, with no promise of love but yet I found myself yearning for my husband to notice me. Richard had always been my crush right from high school but he had just never noticed me, always been too cool from day 1 to notice the nerdy girl in the corner. Even though I was more girlish now with curves and a D-sized cup, he still didn’t see me. I guess it was once a nerd, always a nerd. “Sarah?” Mum’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts and I sighed. “I’m sorry Mum, what were you saying?” “Are you okay? You sound worried.” Sometimes her ability to read me even from far away w
Sarah’s POVAs I made my way downstairs to meet Richard, my nerves got the best of me like a teenager going on her first date. I never thought any man would see me like this ever but here I was about to stand in front of my husband like this. I wondered what he would see as I made my way into the living room where I could hear footsteps. I wondered what he would think of me, how he would react, and what the outcome of this whole thing would be. Would things go south or would he find this whole thing endearing and pull me closer? “Welcome home honey, I made dinner,” I said, walking into the living room, my heart in my throat. Would he kick me out of his life because of this?“Good evening, Mrs. Williams, I’m here to return the keys of the car.” I shrieked at the same Desmond swore and covered his eyes, his cheeks red from embarrassment. “Why are you here? Where is Richard?” I asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I pulled the robe closer to my body, irritated that my e
Sarah’s POVI walked into the kitchen the next morning and did a takeback when I saw Richard rummaging in the freezer for something. “What are you doing?” He jumped which caused him to hit his head on the freezer top and then glared at me while rubbing his head. “What are you doing?” he threw my question back at me and it was my time to glare at him. “Where were you last night?” I asked, shocked at how strong my voice came out when I was a bundle of nerves on the inside. I had never said more than two words at a time to Richard before and now I didn’t even know if he’d hit me for being so gutsy. “You didn’t come home last night.” He eyed me for a while and then hissed, turning his attention back to the freezer which seemed more attractive than me at that moment. The nerve of this man. Had it been any other day, I would have let it slide and walked away to go and cry in my room or the bathroom but not today. After last night, I was tired of being so silent and not speaking up for my
Richard pov.The weeks that followed were like a dream, the kind of dream I never wanted to wake up from. Sarah’s recovery was nothing short of miraculous. She was her old self again—strong, radiant, and filled with the kind of joy that seemed to light up any room she entered. And our daughter? She was growing so fast, already wrapping us—and everyone else—in her tiny fingers. But the best part of it all? We were finally preparing for our wedding. Sarah wanted something small and intimate, just us and our closest family and friends. She’d always talked about having a garden wedding, surrounded by nature, with the sun setting in the background. And that’s exactly what we were going to do. The morning was a flurry of activity. Zoe was in charge of decorations, barking orders at Martins, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Martins, the flowers go on the left,” Zoe said, hands on her hips. “They look fine where they are,” Martins shot back, holding up a bouquet of
Richard pov.Weeks passed. Life felt like a blur of hospital visits, endless updates from doctors, and quiet moments spent in Sarah’s room. I was there every day, holding her hand, speaking softly to her, willing her to wake up. Zoe and Martins tried their best to keep things light whenever they visited, cracking jokes or telling stories, but even they couldn’t hide their worry. The NICU had become another constant in my life. Our daughter was thriving despite her premature birth, a tiny fighter who seemed determined to make it through. I’d visit her every evening after sitting with Sarah, watching her tiny chest rise and fall under the glow of the incubator’s lights. She was the only glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark time. “Hey, little one,” I whispered one night, my hand resting on the incubator. “Your mom’s going to wake up soon. She has to. She wouldn’t leave us like this.” It was a quiet morning when the miracle happened. I was sitting in Sarah’s room, flipping through
Richard pov.The morning of the trial felt heavy. I left the hospital earlier than usual, making sure Zoe would stay with Sarah. Despite the overwhelming dread, there was a part of me that felt strangely numb, as if my emotions had run dry after weeks of worry and anger. Martins met me outside the courthouse, impeccably dressed in his usual sharp suit. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his touch grounding. “Today’s a big step forward,” he said. “Remember, this trial is about getting justice, not reopening wounds. You’re here to see Susan held accountable, not to punish yourself for her actions.”I nodded, though his words didn’t settle the unease churning in my gut. The courtroom was cold, and even though I’d prepared myself for this moment, seeing Susan seated across the room made my stomach twist. She didn’t look like someone riddled with guilt; she looked indifferent, like this was just another ordinary day. The prosecution opened with a detailed timeline of events, recou
Richard pov.The call from the police came just after dawn, jarring me awake in the cold, uncomfortable chair next to Sarah’s hospital bed. I fumbled with my phone, heart pounding as I stepped into the hallway to answer.“We’ve located Susan,” the officer said. “She’s in custody. We’d like you to come down to the station.”My grip tightened around the phone. The relief I felt was fleeting, quickly replaced by anger. “I’ll be there,” I said, my voice low.Zoe appeared beside me as I hung up. She had been sitting with Sarah through the night, taking turns with Martins to ensure I wasn’t alone. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but her concern for Sarah mirrored my own.“Was that about Susan?” she asked.I nodded. “They’ve got her. I’m heading to the station.”“I’m coming with you,” she said firmly.“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Stay here. I need someone I trust to be with Sarah.”She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But keep me updated.”When I arrived at the police station, Martin
Richard pov.The cold, sterile environment of the police station did nothing to settle the unease that had been gnawing at me since Sarah’s fall. Sitting across from Isabelle in the small interrogation room only amplified it. She looked different—disheveled, almost feral—but her eyes still held that same unhinged intensity I remembered from before. Martins sat beside me, arms crossed, his body language radiating skepticism and disgust. The officer standing by the door had warned us to keep the conversation civil, but I wasn’t here to trade pleasantries. “Why, Isabelle?” My voice was steady, but my hands clenched into fists under the table. “Why did you hurt Sarah?” She tilted her head, a slow, deliberate movement that made my skin crawl. Then, she smiled—a twisted, almost childlike grin. “She wanted to take you from me,” she said, her tone eerily calm. I blinked, the sheer absurdity of her words momentarily robbing me of speech. “Take me from you? Isabelle, how many times
Richard pov.Morning came soon. The soft hum of the machines in Sarah’s room provided a false sense of calm, but every beep reminded me she was hanging on by a thread. My chest felt heavy with every passing second, waiting for her to open her eyes, to tell me everything would be okay. Zoe and Martins stayed close, their presence quiet but steady. Zoe would occasionally bring coffee or attempt to distract me with updates on the baby, but my focus stayed on Sarah.Martins had taken over the logistics—coordinating with hospital staff, keeping everyone updated, and ensuring the security team outside wasn’t slacking. It was just after 7 a.m. when my phone buzzed in my pocket, the vibration snapping me out of my daze. I saw the caller ID and immediately stepped out of the room to take the call. “This better be good,” I snapped, my voice low but sharp. “Mr. Wright,” a familiar voice responded—it was Derek, head of my security team. “We’ve apprehended Isabelle.” The words didn’t re
Richard povThe living room buzzed with life—laughter, the clinking of glasses, and warm chatter filled the air. Guests had arrived, carrying brightly wrapped gifts and wide smiles. It should have been a joyful day, a celebration of new life. But all I could feel was unease twisting in my gut like a knot that wouldn’t come undone. Martins nudged me as I stood by the window, eyes darting to the security guards stationed discreetly outside. “Hey, CIA,” he joked, his tone light. “You might wanna dial it down before Sarah figures out you’ve turned the baby shower into a covert operation.” I managed a thin smile. “Just being cautious.” Martins chuckled. “Yeah, cautious is your middle name. You’re so tense, you might scare the baby into coming early.” His humor didn’t land. I couldn’t shake the image of Sarah falling down those stairs from my mind—a thought that had no basis but still felt like an omen. Isabelle was out there. I didn’t know where, and that made her a threat.
Sarah pov.I woke up feeling like I was floating on air. Memories of last night flooded back—the soft glow of fairy lights, Richard’s face as he knelt before me, the ring that sparkled on my finger. I glanced at my hand, letting the sunlight catch the diamond, and smiled. It still felt surreal. The baby stirred, a gentle nudge reminding me she was there. “Good morning, little one,” I murmured, rubbing my belly. She responded with another kick, and my heart swelled. Today was going to be beautiful, filled with friends and laughter at the baby shower. But as I climbed out of bed and pulled on a robe, a faint unease settled in the back of my mind. Something I couldn’t quite place. When I reached the kitchen, the smell of coffee and the sound of laughter greeted me. Zoe was sitting at the counter, holding a steaming mug, while Martins leaned back in his chair, mid-joke. “Ah, our glowing bride-to-be!” Martins said with exaggerated flair, waving his hands like a magician. I roll
Richard pov.It had been a month since our trip to the nearby town. Sarah was now in her eighth month, and every day, I marveled at how gracefully she handled the ups and downs of pregnancy. But today was about more than just her strength—it was about giving her a moment to remember forever. I had planned a re-engagement surprise for her, one that would let her know how much she meant to me, now and always.“Martins, hurry up with the banner!” I called out as my best friend tried to figure out which end of the ribbon went where. He muttered something about not being a decorator, but I ignored him.The house was chaotic, but the good kind. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I rushed from one end of the living room to the other, adjusting balloons and making sure the decorations didn’t look like a Pinterest project gone wrong. I wanted everything to be perfect for Sarah. After everything we’d been through, she deserved that—and more.“Richard, mate, you need to chill,” Ma