ABYの小説

Olivia's Pov When we reached the end of the corridor, I turned toward the exit, ready to leave, but his voice came quietly behind me.“Mom,” he said, and it stopped me cold.I turned. Although he has forgiven me, it still sounded strange as he speaks to me calmly. He took a few steps closer, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly slouched. “You were nervous walking in here, weren’t you?”I exhaled softly. “Terrified.”A small, knowing smirk touched his lips. “Yeah. I saw your hand shaking when you started talking.”“I figured,” I said with a faint laugh. “You always notice everything.”He shrugged, but there was warmth behind it. “You did good, Mom. They needed to hear you say it. I think some of them forgot what you meant to this team.”“Maybe,” I said. “But I think I needed it more than they did. To say it out loud. To stop hiding.”He nodded, leaning back against the wall beside me. “You’ve been carrying this for too long.”“I know.”For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Our

Olivia's Pov I paused just before the players’ hall, clutching the strap of my bag. I wasn’t here to beg. Not for my job. Not for sympathy. I was here because I needed to face them, the team I’d worked so hard to protect, and somehow ended up hurting the most.Coach Miller spotted me first. His brow lifted, eyes cautious but not unkind.“Olivia,” he said quietly, walking over. “You sure about this?”I nodded. “They deserve to hear by my own side of the story. I need to face the players who once trusted me.”He studied me for a long moment, then sighed. “Alright. They’re in the locker room. I’ll clear a few minutes for you.”As he turned to go, my heartbeat picked up. I’d spoken to reporters. Faced public humiliation. Walked through crowds of people who called me names I wouldn’t repeat. But somehow, this, walking into that locker room was the hardest thing of all.When I stepped inside, the noise stopped.Fifteen men in jerseys and sweatpants, all mid-conversation, froze like someone

Xander’s POVFor a long moment, we just stared at each other.No noise, no movement, only the faint tick of the clock on the wall and the quiet sound of both our breathing.Ethan looked like he wanted to say a hundred things and didn’t know where to start.I waited. I’d give him all the time in the world to flush out this bad blood between us. Finally, he spoke.“You know what hurts the most?” he asked. “It’s not what you did. It’s that you never told me. Not once. Even when I asked you several times if there was something going on in your life.”I swallowed. “Would it have changed anything?”“Yeah,” he said, sharp and certain. “It would’ve given me a choice. To walk away, to yell, to forgive, anything. But you took that from me. You decided for both of us. You both basically played me and left me in the dark.”He wasn’t yelling. He didn’t need to. His tone hit harder than any punch could.I leaned back, guilt twisting in my chest. “You’re right. I did.”He paced slowly across the ro

Xander’s POVI went home after giving my statement to the police and making sure that Olivia was safe from harm in her home.The knock came just past noon.I wasn’t expecting anyone.The place was quiet, too quiet, only the soft hum of the heater and the city noise seeping through the blinds. I’d barely slept. My knuckles still ached from punching the wall last night, after everything that went down with Cassandra.When I opened the door, Ethan was standing there. I was shocked to see him on my doorstep. He looked tired, really tired, but there was something sharper in his eyes now. A kind of peace I hadn’t seen in months and he doesn't look angry at me like he usually does. “Can I come in?” he asked.I stepped aside. “You already are.”He walked past me, his gaze sweeping the room, he had being here multiple times, when he was my best friend and now as my supposed enemy. Neither of us said anything at first.It was strange, having him here, no reporters following him to see a figh

The door slammed against the wall, hard enough to make me flinch.Xander stumbled back as the wind shoved through, carrying the smell of rain and floral perfume. Cassandra stood there.Her hair was soaked, sticking to her face, mascara running down her cheeks. Her coat hung half open, and in her hand was something small and silver, glinting under the hall light.A knife.“Close the door,” Xander said quietly, stepping forward, his arm instinctively in front of me.She laughed — a cold, broken sound. “Oh, don’t bother, Xander. I’m not here to run.”My heart hammered. “Cassandra, what are you doing?”“What does it look like?” she hissed, stepping inside. “You think you can ruin me? You think your little golden boy can stand there and call me a liar on live TV and I’ll just disappear?”“Put the knife down,” Xander said again, voice calm but tight.“Don’t tell me what to do!” she snapped. “You....” she jabbed the blade toward him, trembling .... “you betrayed me first. All those months p

Olivia’s POVThe TV light flickered across the living room, I couldn't believe Ethan did that. My son defended his mother on National TV. I didn’t move.Couldn’t.Xander sat beside me on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed slightly. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the screen like he was afraid to blink. He came to see me this evening, because according to him , now that he knew my new place, he couldn't stay away. And with all sincerity I don't want him through. We've been through so much already we deserve this.“He did it,” I whispered.Xander nodded slowly. “Yeah. He really did.”The press conference was replaying now, clips cutting between Ethan’s face and the headlines already spinning online. Ethan Carter Defends His Mother. The Truth Behind Cassandra’s Lies.Each word hit me in waves — pride, disbelief, heartbreak.I didn’t realize I was shaking until Xander reached over and covered my hand with his. His touch was warm, grounding.“You should be proud,” he sai

Ariana’s POVFive years later.The villa looks different now — warmer, fuller, lived in. Flowers climb the stone walls, laughter spills from the garden, and the faint scent of cinnamon and sea salt lingers in the air.It doesn’t feel like a fortress anymore. It feels like home.I’m sitting on the porch swing, a book half-forgotten in my lap, when the sound of running feet pulls me from my thoughts.“Mommy!”I barely have time to look up before Elio barrels toward me, curls bouncing, eyes bright. He’s five now — wild, fearless, and every bit his father’s son.“Slow down, baby!” I call, but he’s already leaping into my arms.He giggles as I catch him, breathless and full of sunshine. “Daddy said we can go to the beach!”I smile. “Did he now?”“Uh-huh!” He nods fiercely. “He said if you say yes.”Behind him, Damian appears — older maybe, but somehow softer. His hair is a little longer, his smile a little easier. He’s holding a picnic basket and shaking his head fondly.“You always sell m

Damien's Pov My wedding dress hangs near the window, white silk, simple but elegant, nothing like the extravagant one from our first wedding. That one had been a performance, a cage wrapped in luxury. This one feels like freedom.I sit up slowly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. My reflection in the mirror looks softer than I remember. Not because I’m flawless, the faint scars on my wrist, the tired lines near my eyes but because I look alive.A knock on the door breaks my thoughts.“Come in,” I call.Hale steps inside, dressed neatly in a charcoal suit, holding a bouquet of pale roses. “You ready to make an honest man out of my boss?”I laugh quietly. “He’s already honest now. That’s what scares me.”Hale grins. “He’s been pacing since dawn. I think he’s more nervous than you.”“Good,” I say, smiling faintly. “It’s his turn.”He chuckles, handing me the bouquet. “You look beautiful, Ariana. Really. You deserve this.”The words hit somewhere deep. I swallow, blinking back the

Damian’s POVIt starts with a phone call I never expected.I’m in the study, sorting through contracts when Hale knocks once and steps inside, phone in hand. His expression tells me everything before he even speaks.“Your mother,” he says quietly.The pen slips from my fingers. “What?”He nods, offering me the phone. “She asked to speak to you. Said it’s important.”For a moment, I just stare at the screen, the name I haven’t seen in years glowing back at me like a ghost. Mother.My throat goes dry. The last time we spoke, her words were final.“You’ve disgraced this family, Damian. We can’t support your choices.”I’d told her she could keep her approval. I’d walked away and never looked back. Until now.Ariana steps into the doorway, hair tied up, a faint trace of flour on her cheek from baking with Elio. “What’s wrong?”I swallow. “My mother’s on the line.”Her eyes widen a little, then soften. “After all this time?”“Apparently.”Hale sets the phone down and leaves, closing the do

Damien's Pov Ariana sits beside me. She looks… peaceful. Or maybe she’s just better at pretending. Her hand rests on her lap, fingers brushing against the edge of Elio’s pacifier she carries everywhere. I want to reach for her hand, but something in me hesitates.Dr. Langley, the therapist, clears her throat softly. “Thank you both for coming in today. First sessions are always the hardest.”I almost snort. Hardest? She hasn’t seen hard. Hard was watching Ariana get taken. Hard was holding her afterward, blood on both our hands, whispering promises I wasn’t sure I could keep.Ariana beats me to a response. “We’re… trying,” she says quietly. Dr. Langley nods. “That’s a good place to start.” She looks at me next. “Damien, what made you agree to come?”Her tone is gentle. Too gentle. It grates on my nerves.I shift in my seat, leaning forward, elbows on my knees. “Because she asked me to.”Ariana glances at me. Dr. Langley hums. “And what do you want to get out of being here?”I want

Ariana's Pov Damian’s grip on my hand is firm, grounding. He hasn’t spoken in a while, but his thumb moves slowly against my skin. The judge clears his throat. “Will the defendant please rise.”Adrian stands. His cuffs rattle faintly, the only sound in the room.He looks different now, a bit subdued. The foreman stands, paper trembling slightly in her hand. “We, the jury, find the defendant, Adrian Cole, guilty on all counts.”The words hang in the air.Kidnapping.Endangerment.Assault.Conspiracy.Each one lands like a nail sealing the coffin of a man who once thought himself untouchable.I exhale shakily. Damian’s shoulders sag, the tension leaving his body in a slow wave. Hale, standing near the door, closes his eyes for a brief moment — silent relief.The judge speaks again, voice even. “Given the nature and gravity of these crimes, this court hereby sentences the defendant to thirty years without the possibility of parole.”There’s a murmur, reporters scribbling, the audience

Ariana's Pov Damian’s hand rests lightly on my back as we walk through the double doors, past the swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.“Just keep your eyes forward,” he murmurs.I nod, though my pulse thunders loud enough to drown him out.Inside, the courtroom feels colder than it should. Polished wood. White walls. Rows of strangers waiting to witness the end of something evil.And in the center of it all, him.Adrian sits at the defendant’s table, wrists cuffed, a faint smirk on his face. He’s wearing the same expression he wore when he cornered me with— calm, detached, superior. His eyes find mine.For a heartbeat, it’s like we’re back there, the room, the baby’s cry, the terror. My chest tightens, but Damian’s fingers slide into mine, grounding me.“Don’t give him power,” Damian whispers. “Not anymore.”I inhale slowly. Exhale. And when I look back, I meet Adrian’s gaze without flinching.He blinks, surprised. Then the smirk fades.The bailiff calls for silence. The judge e