As I settled into my office, the familiar buzz of my workload surrounded me like a comforting blanket. But that comfort shattered as the door swung open, revealing Logan with a grin that felt too bright for the tension hanging between us. “Hey, Aliyah,” he called, his voice light, as if he hadn’t just dropped off the grid for the better part of a month. I didn’t look up from my computer screen. “What do you want, Logan?” I replied, keeping my tone flat and dismissive. I could feel the heat of annoyance radiating off me, but I pushed it down, focusing on the screen in front of me instead of the man standing in my office. He stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. “I just wanted to explain why I haven’t been able to call,” he said, his casual demeanor faltering slightly. “It’s a long story.” “I’m sure it is,” I said curtly, refusing to give him any indication that I was even remotely interested. My heart was racing, a mix of anger and something else—something I couldn’t q
The next morning, I found myself in Logan's penthouse, standing in the center of his living room. His place was spacious, immaculate, and stylish in a way that spoke volumes about him—minimalistic yet elegant, with understated luxury. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what made me so comfortable here, but somehow, it just felt right. Well, I kind of like this feeling for some reason. Without thinking much of it, I wandered around, looking at the small details in his home—the few art pieces on the walls, the books on his shelves, the scent of his cologne that seemed to linger in every room. I opened his refrigerator, noting he didn’t keep much stocked, and made a mental note to bring some essentials over next time. Next time? Since when was I planning “next times” in his home? If there's still next time. But, of course, with this man's attitude, there would definitely be a next time.Shrugging off the thought, I helped myself to his coffee maker, rummaging through his cupboards for
As we settled into our table at the restaurant, I was glad Logan had suggested a quieter spot, away from the buzz of the main area. Lunch together felt like a small reprieve, a chance to catch up without the constant pull of work.I glanced at the menu, considering my options, when Logan’s hand slid across the table, catching mine in a warm, steady grip. His thumb traced small, soothing circles on the back of my hand. For a moment, it felt like the world faded away—the restaurant, the business, the complications.But, as fate would have it, the quiet didn’t last long. Just as our food arrived, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure out of the corner of my eye.“Aliyah?”I froze, recognizing the voice instantly. Looking up, I met my father’s surprised gaze. He was standing just a few tables away, surrounded by a couple of business associates. I hadn’t expected to see him here, of all places.“Dad,” I said, trying to compose myself. “What a surprise.”My father’s eyes moved from me to
Aliyah was in the middle of reviewing documents when her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, expecting a message from Logan or her father, maybe even a work update. Instead, her brow furrowed as she read the anonymous message:"Your father isn’t safe. Watch your back, Aliyah."A chill ran through her, but she quickly shook it off. 'Probably a prank,' she thought, forcing herself to focus on the work in front of her. But her concentration wavered, and every word on the page seemed to blur as the unsettling message lingered in her mind. It didn't make sense—who would want to threaten her father, and why?She put her phone down, taking a deep breath. 'Just focus on work,' she told herself, trying to shrug off the discomfort. But barely a moment passed before her phone started ringing, vibrating urgently on her desk.When she picked it up, an unrecognizable number flashed on the screen. She answered cautiously. "Hello?"There was a pause, and then a voice came through—low, mechanical, and ma
The call broke the quiet tension between Logan and me. I barely noticed his presence, the usual warm steadiness of him fading as my focus tunneled onto the voice coming from my phone.“Aliyah,” her voice was gentle but tense, and my stomach dropped before she even said the words. “Your father… he’s in the hospital.”Time stopped. Every sound, every detail in the room around me faded into a deafening silence, leaving only the frantic thudding of my heart echoing in my ears. I gripped the edge of my desk as if it could keep me anchored, but my mind was already spiraling.“What happened?” I barely managed, my voice thick, barely able to force the words past the dread rising in my throat. “There was an incident, but he’s stable. They’re still running some tests. Aliyah, it might be best if you come right away.”The last words were soft, but they hit me like a punch. I’d never thought I’d hear those words about my father, my strong, unbreakable dad. I dropped my phone, numb and disorient
My father’s face turned grave, the lines around his eyes deepening as he looked at me with an intensity I’d only seen a handful of times. By just doing that, I know hw has something to tell. He has something that he should tell me. I could tell that he wasn’t just worried; he was afraid, and that was new territory for both of us. My father was the kind of man who stood tall against anything, who laughed in the face of danger. But now, here he was, his eyes fixed on mine, holding a caution that sent a chill through me. Him being in danger is something not new to him but when I am involved, it's different story for him. Every since my mom died, there's only me and him and I know how scared he is. So do I. "Aliyah," he began, his voice rough but steady, "I need you to listen closely, alright? I wouldn’t ask you to get involved in something like this unless I felt I had no choice. This— it’s serious." I could feel my heart beating si fast as I could feel the heaviness of this. "More se
As I left my father’s hospital room, the weight of his words still lingered in my mind. I felt his warning pulsing like a heartbeat—constant, powerful, and impossible to ignore. It was one thing to be prepared for corporate sabotage or the usual family business drama, but this was something darker, something personal. An enemy inside our own circle. That thought alone made my skin prickle. Stepping into the hallway, I saw Logan waiting just outside, leaning casually against the wall as if he had all the time in the world. The moment he saw me, he straightened, his gaze focused, reading every flicker of emotion on my face. There was a comforting familiarity in that look. It was as if he could understand everything I was feeling without me needing to say a word. "All good?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that somehow managed to reach me over the hum of the hospital corridor. I nodded, but my mind was racing with the details of what my father and I had discussed. The enemy, the plan
The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm orange glow through the windows of Logan's apartment. She stood by the balcony, a sultry smile on her face as she watched the vibrant hues paint the sky. Her long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and the silk robe she wore barely contained her voluptuous curves. She took a deep breath, the anticipation of the evening's pleasures making her senses tingle. Logan, her lover for the night, stepped out of the bathroom, his muscular frame accentuated by the dim light. His chest glistened with droplets of water, and a small towel was wrapped around his lean waist, struggling to conceal his growing arousal. Aliyah's breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. She licked her lips, her mind already imagining the ways she would pleasure him. "You look like you're ready for some fun," Aliyah purred, her voice dripping with desire. She turned to face him, letting the robe slide off her shoulders, revealing her bare back and the lacy blac
It had been a few days since I’d gotten out of the hospital, and I was slowly regaining my energy. The fog in my head was clearing, and for the first time in a while, I felt like myself again. The tension that had been hanging in the air between me and Logan had faded, and I could sense a familiar comfort returning between us. Logan had barely left my side since the incident. He was always there—whether it was bringing me food, keeping me company, or making sure I had everything I needed. I could tell he was worried, but he never said a word. His presence alone was enough to make me feel safe. That evening, a few of my friends stopped by to check on me. Perlas, Iris, and even Ben made an appearance, bringing laughter and warmth to the room. We spent hours talking, reminiscing about old memories, and catching up. But through it all, I couldn’t help but notice Logan sitting quietly beside me, his eyes always on me, making sure I was okay. At one point, I caught him staring at me for
The soft rustling of the hospital room faded as I sat up in bed, slowly peeling back the covers. I hadn’t realized how much the weight of everything had been hanging on me until now—how long it had been since I felt like I could finally breathe easy. As I was idly stirring my breakfast, lost in thought, the door creaked open. My head snapped up, expecting to see one of the nurses, but instead, I was met with the familiar sight of my father. I blinked, not sure if I was imagining things. My heart leapt in my chest at the sight of him. It was a rare thing to see him drop the composed act, and yet, there he was, standing in the doorway, his face a strange mix of concern and relief. “Dad?” I said, my voice catching in my throat. For a moment, neither of us spoke. He just stood there, looking at me with those tired eyes of his, his lips parted like he was trying to find the right words. It hit me then—how much he must’ve been worrying, how much he must’ve felt helpless, and the realizat
I slowly opened my eyes, the soft glow of the night light casting a warm hue over the room. For a moment, everything was blurry, and the steady beeping of the monitor was the only sound that reminded me I was still in the hospital. My body felt heavy, but I could tell I was no longer in pain. As my eyes focused, I saw Logan sitting in the chair by the window, his back to me. He was leaning forward, watching the TV intently, though the tension in his posture was impossible to miss. His shoulders were slightly hunched, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on his leg. I wondered how long he’d been there. I glanced at the screen and froze. The headline flashing across the news caught my attention: *"Controversial Family Drama Involving Aliyah Whitmore, Liliana Whitmore, and Her Uncle."* My heart dropped into my stomach, and a shiver ran through me. The last thing I wanted to see was my name splashed across the news, especially tied to Liliana and my uncle. I quickly looked away from the
The next time my eyes fluttered open, the world around me was clearer. The blur of shapes and colors had sharpened into something familiar. The ceiling above me, the soft hum of machinery, the scent of antiseptic—I was in a hospital. It took a moment for the weight of reality to settle in. I wasn’t dreaming. I was awake. My body felt weak, heavy like lead, but my mind was finally lucid enough to process the world around me. “Aliyah!” The sound of my name came from a voice I recognized instantly. I turned my head, though even that simple motion felt like climbing a mountain. My gaze met my father’s. His face was a mixture of panic and overwhelming relief. His usually calm demeanor was gone; his hands trembled as he reached out but hesitated, as if afraid I might break. “Aliyah, sweetheart, you’re awake,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe it. You… you’re really here.” Behind him, Logan stood frozen, his expression unreadable. But his eyes—those deep,
The courtroom was tense, a battlefield of arguments and counterarguments. Logan sat beside Oliver, their presence commanding the room. Both men wore stoic expressions, though their minds were anything but calm. Logan’s focus remained outwardly sharp, but inside, his thoughts kept drifting to Aliyah. She had been his anchor amidst the chaos, and the image of her lying unconscious haunted him. Oliver, too, felt the weight of it all. His daughter’s strength had always been his pride, but seeing her so vulnerable had shaken him in ways he couldn’t express. He masked his worry with determination, knowing that showing any weakness now would only give their enemies ammunition. Together, they were a united front, an impenetrable wall of resolve, but underneath, they were just two men desperately worried about someone they loved. Back at the hospital, Diane sat in Aliyah’s quiet ward, her tablet propped up as she watched the live courtroom feed. The trial had captivated her attention, bu
The sterile scent of the hospital lingered in the air, mingling with the soft hum of machinery monitoring Aliyah’s condition. Oliver Whitmore sat in a stiff plastic chair next to her bed, his eyes tracing the steady rise and fall of her chest. It was a sight that both comforted and haunted him. His daughter was alive, but the memory of her attack, of seeing her lying helpless, was etched into his mind. He hadn’t left her side since Logan returned to the courthouse to deal with the fallout. Across the room, Diane shuffled through a stack of papers. Despite her composed exterior, she was visibly on edge, her glances toward Aliyah frequent and concerned. Two new bodyguards stood at the door, their presence stoic but reassuring. Logan had handpicked them, and if there was one thing Oliver trusted about the man, it was his ability to protect Aliyah. Diane broke the silence. “Mr. Whitmore, any updates from Mr. Pierce?” Oliver sighed, rubbing his temples. “He’s at the courthouse dea
Logan stood quietly in the hospital room, watching Aliyah sleep peacefully, her face a picture of vulnerability. The soft beeping of the machines monitoring her was the only sound in the sterile room, but it felt like a constant reminder of how close he'd come to losing her. It had been two days since the attack, and the anger that had propelled him to take drastic action was still simmering beneath the surface. He had taken down the people who’d plotted to hurt her, to hurt the Whitmore family, but his heart remained heavy with the weight of it all. Oliver Whitmore stood by the window, his broad back turned to Logan. The older man’s posture was stiff, controlled, but Logan could feel the tension radiating from him. Oliver was a man of few words, but when he spoke, it was always deliberate. Logan knew the question was coming; he’d been preparing for it ever since he'd made the decision to act. Finally, Oliver spoke, his voice low but steady. "You're the one behind all of this, ar
The tension in the hospital room had settled slightly, but the air still carried the weight of earlier events. Logan stood by the window, his hands jammed into his pockets, his jaw clenched. Oliver sat beside Aliyah’s bed, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face. The silence was heavy but comforting in its own way, broken only by the soft beeping of monitors. The door opened quietly, and the doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand. Both men turned their attention to him immediately. “Good news,” the doctor began, offering a reassuring smile. “Miss Whitmore is stable, and her vitals are improving. The coma was the result of the trauma and stress, but there’s no sign of permanent damage. She should wake up soon—likely within the next 24 to 48 hours.” Logan felt a wave of relief wash over him, though his face betrayed little emotion. He glanced at Oliver, whose shoulders visibly relaxed. “Thank you, doctor,” Oliver said, his voice steady but tinged with gratitude. The doctor nodded. “Of
Oliver Whitmore sat at the head of the boardroom table, his eyes cold and calculating as he took in the remaining directors. The room, once buzzing with conversation and camaraderie, now felt like a battlefield. The air was tense, and the weight of recent events—the attack on Aliyah, the betrayal within the company—hung heavy over everyone present. He let the silence linger, allowing the tension to grow. It wasn’t a tactic born out of cruelty; it was strategy. He wanted to see who would break first. And as expected, Mr. Drake shifted in his seat, his bravado faltering under the pressure. "Let’s not waste any more time," Oliver said finally, his deep voice slicing through the silence. "This company has endured enough damage, both externally and internally. Now is the time to make it clear who stands for progress and who is dead weight." The directors glanced at one another, unsure of where the conversation was headed. But Oliver knew. He had been preparing for this moment since th