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ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 34

Penulis: MIKS DELOSO
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2025-07-04 19:56:15

The aroma of pancakes still clung to the air, though the plates in the sink were rinsed and stacked. Sunlight streamed in through the kitchen windows, casting gold upon the marble countertop. Fiona stood at the front door, heels on, coat slung over one arm, her satchel across the other. Her hair was swept back in a beautiful bun, and her blouse was the pale color of ivory that she wore every lecture day—it complemented the soothing in her voice.

Liza Liana stood before her in a puffy jacket with bunny ears on the hood, a glittery backpack held tightly in both hands.

Fiona knelt down, fixing the zipper on her daughter's coat. "All right, munchkin. Miss Juniper will go out to the park later and then you'll color, okay?"

Liza Liana nodded gravely. "And she said we would bake stars."

Fiona smiled, eyes warm. "That's just great. I have to go to work now, remember? But I'll come home early. Promise."

The little girl's lower lip protruded a little. "But I liked yesterday better."

"I did too
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    A small kid—half tremble, half bravado, eyes too old for his face—pointed with a shaking finger toward a dark corner stacked with pallets. “They’re there,” he croaked.They moved like a single organism: two men angled left, a woman operative swept low to the floor and a pair of boots landed as someone kicked away an oil-stained tarp. Light slashed across the concrete and for a second the world held its breath.Fiona’s heart exploded into a thousand hot pieces when her outline blurred into the wash of flashlights. Someone’s voice—Ramon’s—barked orders; the men in black snapped into positions around the room. Then, impossibly, Marie Drams stepped forward from the knot of shadows, closer than Fiona expected, a look on her face like a living wound.“Do you think they’ll find you?!” Marie screamed, each word a serrated thing. “Before they do, I’ll make sure you die!” She slapped

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    One of the kidnappers, masked and curt, ignored her: "You'll get instructions soon.""Instructions? From who?" Fiona demanded, her voice shaking with anger.He didn't answer. Instead, he pushed them inside a warehouse, locking the rusted gate behind them.Inside was darkness and mildew. A chair. A single camera blinking red in the corner.Then, the sound came—metallic, faraway. The click of a live video connection.The camera light steadied.And somewhere elsewhere in the city, Marie Drams watched from her laptop.In the mirror, her reflection shimmered over that of Fiona and her crying daughter.And then Marie's lips curved, not in joy, but in deep, twisted satisfaction from power reclaimed.“They took my child,” she whispered, her voice like a blade, “so now they’ll learn what it feels like.”Her phone buzzed—R’s voice on the other end. “They’re secured

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    On the estate, Candy received a new silk doll and an extra custard, while Jamaica recited a poem to her in such a voice that made the toy's fur seem dear. Upstairs, at the nursery window, Fiona smoothed Liza's hair and checked a message from Valeria, oblivious to how three men in a moment would step through the service corridor below with an intent so cold, it might have left ice in the veins of the house.Power rearranged itself in the night—quiet, terrible, inevitable.When the city slept, the plan unfolded.The sun had barely climbed above the skyline when Fiona Billion's sedan glided out of the Billion estate gates. Morning lay, deceptively gentle: the sky was brushed with gold; the traffic hummed along EDSA; Liza's laughter was bright in the backseat.“Mommy, can we get ice cream after school?” Liza asked, swinging her legs as her schoolbag bumped her knees.Fiona smiled in the rearview mirror. “Only if you finish your home

  • ALMS TO LOVE   ALMS TO LOVE CHAPTER 162

    At the Billion estate the morning moved like a careful actor on a stage. They persuaded themselves, and their staff, that life would stitch its seams back together. The media circus had been managed; the market had steadied; statements had been issued. But the house itself felt wound tight: rooms were cleaned, schedules reworked, security tightened, and the press team rehearsed the language for the next week until the words were muscle memory.Madam Jamaica watched the movements, eyes slow and predatory, like a hawk watching a field. She had taken Candy into the estate under counsel’s legal cover—temporary custody, a protective petition executed with the authority of the board. The child was small and howling on the carriage ride from Marie’s penthouse; she had clung to her stuffed rabbit like a talisman. Jamaica had placed Candy in a guest wing, a neutral suite under the estate’s roof, and then—because she was not merely a guardian but a mother an

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    Jamaica's words were clinical, chosen to wound.“but if you make a move to take Candy by force, you will be arrested and the evidence will be used against you.”The threat hung in the air like a blade. For the first time since her carefully cultivated fury had become a social weapon, Marie felt fear. It was a small, hot thing that made nausea burn under her ribs.“You’ll rue this,” she rasped, fight flaring hot and foolishly. “You’ll all rue this.”“Perhaps,” Jamaica said softly, and in that was pity quieter than fury and infinitely colder. “But not for my family. For you.”The line went dead. Marie sagged against the window, the city tilting beneath her.She'd wanted war. She had thought it would look like headlines and stock blips and a crowd eating her words up like bread. Instead it had looked like a child bundled in someone else's arms and a woman's voice saying, plainly and irrevocably, that she was not fit to be trusted with her own daughter.The maid came in again, whispering,

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    The car slid up the drive to Marie's building like a dark promise. She let herself in with shaking hands, rain still clinging to her lashes. The penthouse felt cavernous, every surface a mirror to the night. She shoved her keys into the bowl by the door and kicked off her heels, the sound too loud in the emptiness.A face of a maid, eyes round, apron damp, a towel clutched to her chest appeared from the doorway to the kitchen.“Ma’am—” she started, her voice strangled. “Ma’am, Candy,”Marie didn't wait for the rest. "What about Candy?" She had expected fury, yes, but not this.this thin, untethered panic in the house that had been her fortress.The maid's hands fluttered like trapped birds. "They… they took her, Ma'am. Madam Jamaica's guards two men in suits and two in uniform—arrived. They said they were escorting Candy for her safety. They would not let me stop them."The syllables hit Marie like a physical blow. For a second she could not breathe. "They what?" Her voice was small an

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