Semua Bab Stealing My Sister's Fiancee: Bab 71 - Bab 79

PRESENT The morning sun slipped gently through the thin curtains, painting the room with a soft golden hue. The light danced across the walls, like it was trying to wake me with careful hands.My body felt heavy. Exhausted. My muscles protested when I tried to move, and not without reason—the night had lasted too long. Far too long. As if time itself had decided to stop when Aaric dragged me into a storm of his own making.The blanket wrapped around us felt hot and thick. I could feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck, his strong arms coiled around my waist like chains, locking me into a hold that offered no room to retreat. Our bare skin still touched, undeniable proof of everything the night had left behind.I inhaled slowly, trying to steady the rhythm of a heart that hadn’t quite calmed down. My neck ached, my hips throbbed with a dull pulse, and one side of my body was nearly numb from being held by Aaric the entire night.Very slowly, I shifted the blanket an

Aaric didn’t say another word after that warning.He just closed the bedroom door and disappeared downstairs. Like a storm that comes without rain, just wind that steals the breath from your lungs. I stared at the door for a while, hoping he’d come back and say something, explain something—or even yell. Anything. But there was nothing. No footsteps returning.Only silence, and the hum of the AC making the room feel even emptier.I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep again.But it turned out my body was more exhausted than my mind. Or maybe it was the constant battle inside me that wore me out until I finally gave in to the soft mattress and the cold pillow.It was a little past nine in the morning when I let my eyes close completely.And I don’t know how many minutes or hours passed before I felt something else.Not a dream.Something real. Warm. Heavy. Wrapping around me from behind.That familiar scent of mint and soap.His arm curled around my waist, his strong fingers slowly slippin

My eyes swept across the room, but there was too much movement. Too many shadows. People were hiding behind chairs, tables, thick columns like the one I was behind. I started moving—crouching low, my knees nearly touching the ground—toward the wall closest to the exit.And then I heard it.“Maya!”His voice.I turned and saw Aaric across the room, half running toward me. His body was slightly hunched, one hand gripping a weapon, the other pushing aside anyone in his way. His black suit was a mess—covered in dust, wine, maybe blood—I couldn’t tell for sure.Someone blocked his path. Another armed man, a stranger’s face, clearly not one of Aaric’s people.They fought. Not just with guns. But fists. Wrestling. Punches. Aaric slammed a fist into the man’s jaw, then drove his elbow into his neck, knocking him to the ground.He came toward me. “This way!” he shouted.I rose from my hiding spot, my legs feeling like they didn’t belong to me. He grabbed me just as gunfire tore through the spo

After an hour-long break, I was back on set. My hair was still slightly damp from the setting spray Amira had used, and my skin felt a little sticky from the fake tears that had been washed off and reapplied. But inside me, Helena’s pulse was still lingering.The shooting space was different this time—brighter, more open. We were on the dining room set. The next scene showed Helena finally coming home after disappearing for a few days, trying to act “normal” even though her world had just fallen apart.Daniel was already in his seat, wearing a soft cream sweater, his hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed. He was reading the script, marking up a few lines with a pencil, occasionally scribbling notes on facial expressions.I sat across the table and grabbed the hot coffee waiting for me. As I took a sip, I stared at the set in front of us: a long wooden table, two tea cups, and a vase of slightly wilted flowers. The props were perfect—just understated enough. Like Helena’s relat

Morning came without a sound.I sat at the edge of the bed, wearing a thin T-shirt and sleep shorts, while the early sunlight slipped quietly through the gap in the curtains, casting strange patterns on the wooden floor.My phone buzzed on the nightstand. The screen lit up: Mom.I let out a reflexive sigh. Answering a call from my mother wasn’t just a conversation—it was like walking into a job interview without knowing what position you were applying for.I hit the green button.“Maya.”Her voice was cold and firm as always—no hello, no small talk.“Morning, Mom.”“I spoke to Mellan last night.”I straightened up, suddenly feeling like a little girl caught breaking the house rules.“Yeah?” I answered cautiously.“We’re going sailing next week. The Blackwood family’s private yacht. Summer vacation. We leave Monday. I want you to come.”I froze. “I have a shoot next week.”“I checked your schedule. Nothing that can’t be moved,” she said quickly, like she’d already planned this far in a