The following morning, the headlines exploded."Prominent Figures in Whitmore Rival Family Face Sudden Downfall.""Whitmore Enterprises’ Longtime Rival Exposed in Shocking Scandal."As the headlines spread like wildfire, I felt the enormity of our victory sink in. The rival family, who had once seemed untouchable, had fallen overnight, and the world was left to piece together what could have possibly caused their sudden downfall. The reporters were relentless, speculating over details, digging for scraps of information. But every rumor only led to dead ends. We had ensured that.I couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction as I read the latest article. It recounted the rival family’s loss of power, their assets frozen, and their leaders scrambling to defend themselves against a slew of accusations. For years, they’d been a looming threat to my family’s company, always lurking in the background, trying to undermine us with underhanded tactics and whispers of deceit. Now, th
The next morning, I woke up with a sense of calm that felt almost foreign. Logan’s place was still dim in the early light filtering through the windows, and he was beside me, peacefully asleep, looking more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. For a moment, I just watched him, taking in the stillness of the moment and trying to memorize the feeling.Eventually, though, the demands of reality called. Logan stirred, and as he opened his eyes, he gave me a sleepy smile that melted away any lingering remnants of yesterday’s tension.“Good morning,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.“Morning,” I replied softly, leaning down to give him a quick kiss. I could feel my face heating up just slightly; I was still getting used to the softness between us, and it surprised me how easily I could grow attached to it.After a lazy breakfast together, it was time to face the real world again. I gathered my things, straightened my hair, and made sure I looked like the composed Aliyah that everyone e
I woke up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, feeling the warmth of Logan's arm draped across my waist. The reality of waking up beside him sent a quiet thrill through me. Careful not to wake him, I slipped out of bed, glancing back to see him still peacefully asleep. I spotted one of his shirts hanging off the chair and pulled it over my head, the fabric oversized and comfortable, smelling faintly like him.In the kitchen, I started making breakfast, gathering ingredients as quietly as I could. The sound of eggs cracking and the gentle sizzle of the pan filled the silence, calming me as I moved. Just as I was flipping the eggs, I felt the warmth of his body behind me, his arms sliding around my waist, pulling me close. I stilled, feeling his chin rest on my shoulder."Good morning," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep. His breath tickled my neck, and I felt a shiver run through me."Morning," I replied, trying to sound casual, though my heart was beati
As I sat at our table, sipping the last bit of my coffee, I glanced at my watch. Logan had excused himself to the restroom nearly five minutes ago, but something just didn’t feel right. He wasn’t the type to linger, especially on a day like this. Concern creeping in, I stood up and made my way toward the back of the cafe. As I turned the corner, I found a small crowd gathering near the restrooms. In the center of it all stood Logan, his face a mixture of frustration and disbelief, and a woman I didn't recognize who was loudly accusing him of harassment. “He grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go!” she cried out, her voice laced with anger and something suspiciously close to dramatics. A few people in the crowd gasped, casting judgmental glances at Logan. My blood boiled instantly. There was no way I’d let someone try to ruin his name. I strode forward, pushing through the small crowd until I stood between Logan and this woman. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice cold and cutting. The woman
The atmosphere in the hospital room was calm, but the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold hung heavy in the air. Logan and I had just entered my father’s room, the steady beeping of machines offering a sense of normalcy in an otherwise uncertain situation. My father, looking far healthier than he had a few days ago, flashed a smile when he saw us.“Ah, my two favorite people,” he teased, his voice still slightly raspy from his time in the hospital. He glanced between Logan and me, his eyes narrowing with a knowing glint. “I can see something different today. You two are acting a bit… different than usual.”I shot him a pointed look, my cheeks flushing slightly under the intensity of his gaze. “What are you talking about, Dad?” I tried to keep my tone light, but my father had a way of getting under my skin when it came to certain topics, especially when it came to my personal life.Logan, ever the composed man, raised an eyebrow at my father, a knowing smirk tugging at
As Aliyah stepped out of the room, leaving Logan and her father alone, a comfortable silence lingered for a few moments. The beeping of the machines in the hospital room filled the space between them, but the tension that had been there earlier now dissipated, replaced by something more solemn.Her father, Mr. Whitmore, shifted in his hospital bed, his gaze resting on Logan. The man before him had always seemed composed, confident, and sure of himself, but now there was a sense of weight in the air, a silent understanding between them. After a long, drawn-out breath, Mr. Whitmore spoke, his voice low and deliberate."Logan, I know you care about my daughter," he began, his eyes steady as he watched Logan. "And I’m glad she has someone like you in her life. But you need to understand something—Aliyah... she’s been through a lot. She's had her own share of heartbreak, of betrayal, that’s made her cautious, especially when it comes to matters of the heart."Logan remained silent for a mo
As Logan stepped out of Mr. Whitmore's room, he found himself walking down the hospital corridor, the weight of their conversation still lingering in the air. His mind wasn’t on the small talk or pleasantries. It was on the woman who had claimed his heart—Aliyah. But right now, he had to focus on what had been discussed in that room, and the seriousness of what was at stake for her, her family, and their future.He entered the waiting room where Aliyah’s father sat, adjusting himself in the chair, looking a bit more at ease than before. His serious demeanor hadn’t softened entirely, but Logan could tell that the older man had been through a lot. Logan took a seat next to him, and the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, just contemplative. Mr. Whitmore cleared his throat, and Logan could tell there was something he wanted to say, something that had been on his mind since their earlier discussion. “You know,” Mr. Whitmore began, his voice full of gratitude, “I owe you one. The
I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as Logan’s words settled in. I had always prided myself on being in control, on never needing anyone, especially a man. But there was something about him—something in the way he spoke, the way he looked at me—that made me question everything I thought I knew about myself."You've always been so sure of yourself," I said quietly, my fingers still tangled with his. "I never imagined you could feel like that."Logan chuckled softly, and the sound sent a ripple through me, vibrating against my bones. "I'm a lot of things, Aliyah, but sure of everything? Not so much." He paused, his eyes flicking to mine, his gaze deep, thoughtful. "I’ve always been good at keeping control, at being in charge. But with you… it’s different. I want to be better. For you. I want to show you that I’m someone you can depend on."His words were like a soft punch to the gut. A mixture of warmth and vulnerability hit me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. It was impossible to
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