All Chapters of WHERE LIGHT MEETS DARK: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Brent's brow lifted in mild surprise, but his smile broadened. "Lily, then. A pleasure to meet you."They sat and the business nearly immediately replaced the political niceties.Vandaulf had always fancied himself the master of his universe. Of his business. Of his image. Of his life. And most importantly—of her.But tonight, something was off.Lily—no, Ina—was slipping through his fingers, her presence at the dinner a silent rebellion, an act of quiet defiance wrapped in silk and charm.And the worst part?She was thriving in it.Brent Hughes was talking, his deep voice a steady hum of conversation, but Vandaulf hardly heard him. His attention stayed fixed on her—this woman sitting beside him who looked like his wife but wasn't.She was speaking with a poise he hadn't expected, her words laced with a confidence that made Hughes lean in, intrigued. Too intrigued."Lily, you surprise me," Brent said, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "I didn't think Vandaulf's wife took any interest

She had danced, drunk, and for a fleeting instant, forgotten.Forgotten the cage she would have to go back to. Forgotten Vandaulf's stifling control.But now, as the cold air enveloped her, reality clawed its way back into her chest.Part of her wanted to ball up her fists, stomp her heel, and cast the whole world off, diving back into the throbbing music, the anonymity, and the chaos.But instead, she walked toward the waiting car."Need a ride?"She turned, only to see Caleb standing by the curb, his hands in his pockets, his eyes unreadable.Ina smirked. "Are you always this persistent?"He took a step closer, his presence unsettling in a way that sent a thrill down her spine. "Only when something fascinates me."She laughed, shaking her head. "And what is it that fascinates you?"Caleb leaned in, his voice a murmur against the shell of her ear. "A woman pretending to be something she's not."Her breath hitched. For a second—just a second—she felt exposed.Then she masked it with a

Beyond the window, Brenna shifted her gaze across the 16 years of memories; the sun sank low in that bright sky while an extraordinary orange-red glow streaked the area. The wonderful smell of saltwater washed over from the ocean breeze that raced through the trees. For the James family, this would, in fact, be the second year of a long-awaited beach vacation-a sweet promise that Roosevelt made to his precious twin daughters, Lily and Lilian."Daddy! Faster! I want to get to the beach before sunset!" Lilian's voice chirped from the backseat, bubbling like soda in a shaken can."Patience, sweetheart," Roosevelt chuckled as he adjusted the rearview mirror. "We have the whole weekend to enjoy the sea."Linda James turned in her seat, beaming at her daughters. "And we have a picnic all planned! I packed your favorite sandwiches and even some of those chocolate chip cookies you love."Lily, the quieter of the two, clutched her sister's hand. "We should build the biggest sandcastle ever," s

The house was too quiet. Too empty.It had been filled with laughter once—Roosevelt's deep chuckle, Linda's soft giggles, Lilian's high-pitched squeals as she ran through the halls with Lily.But now, silence hung in the air like a funeral shroud.Brenna James sat in the study, holding a half-full glass of whiskey, her knuckles white against the crystal. Her body felt exhausted after days of grieving, but her heart… it was on fire.A loud knock at the door made her flinch."Come in," she croaked, hardly knowing her voice anymore.Samuel Clark walked in, looking just as solemn as ever. He paused for a moment before saying, "Ms. James. I have news.Brenna inhaled sharply, pushing down on the lump forming in her throat. "Tell me."Clark crossed the room and thumped a folder onto the desk. "The evidence is damning."Trembling, she reached out to take it, her heart pounding in time with her pulse.Clark continued, his voice steady but dark. "The tires were cut with precision—too clean for

The rain did not let up. It crashed against the mansion's towering windows weeping alongside Brenna James who sat alone in her darkened study. An untouched cup of tea had been sitting there all this time long gone cold now. Her hands trembled over the phone from Clark's voice still ringing her head. "He's gone." A hollow, broken sound escaped her lips. It barely registered as a sob—it seemed more the last gasp of a woman who had lost everything. Samuel. Her Samuel. Dead. Just like Roosevelt. Just like Linda. Just like Lilian. Her vision swam in darkness as she tried to draw a breath, suffocated by the grief. Samuel had left to confront Brigs Carlston. And now, he was dead. A heart attack, they said. Sudden. Unavoidable. But Brenna was no fool. Her nails dug into the polished mahogany desk. The Carlstons had taken everything. Her son. Her daughter-in-law. Her granddaughter. And now, her husband. They thought they had broken her. They thought she would crumble. "Why did it have to be my