เข้าสู่ระบบHello readers, it's Ena here! If you’ve made it this far, thank you for trusting me with your time, your heart, and a little corner of your imagination, even as Abigail's story snowballed into a big, breathless ride with twists at very corner. Every book only really comes alive when someone chooses to read it, and I’m endlessly grateful that you chose this one.I hope this story gave you moments of escape, comfort, and maybe even a little hope. There are more stories waiting to be told, and I can’t wait to share the next one with you very soon. Until next time 💛All my love, Ena Starr.
AbigailI devoured the article like it might vanish if I blinked, my thumb scrolling faster than my mind could fully keep up. Casillas’ name leapt out at me in bold, black letters, followed by words that felt almost unreal in their finality: life imprisonment without the possibility of parole. I read the sentence twice, then a third time, letting it settle into my bones.A slow smile curved my lips. It wasn’t joy exactly. Joy felt too clean a word for what this was, but it was a sharp and deep satisfaction, a closing of a door that had haunted me for far too long. I leaned back into the seat, exhaling softly through my nose as I kept reading. The article detailed the courtroom scene, the judge’s remarks, and the visible reactions of the public. Casillas’ crimes were laid bare in unflinching language: trafficking, exploitation, abuse. Children. Always children.Part of me, a darker, more vindictive part, had hoped for a death sentence. I didn’t pretend otherwise. But as I read on, a di
Casillas turned his head sharply. “Watch your mouth,” he growled. “You’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”Germaine didn’t look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the darkened road ahead. “No,” he said quietly. “You’re forgetting.”Casillas’ jaw clenched. “What is all this?” he demanded. “This circus…this show of force.”Germaine exhaled slowly through his nose. “Early this morning,” he said, “an exposé on you dropped, a big one. Every major outlet picked it up within the hour.”Casillas scoffed, though the sound rang hollow even to his own ears. “An exposé?” he repeated. “That’s it? You tore apart my house because of a story?”Germaine turned then, finally looking at him. His expression was grim, stripped of the easy familiarity Casillas had always relied on. “It wasn’t unsubstantiated,” he said. “It was airtight.”Casillas’ pulse quickened. “A story can say anything,” he insisted. “People make claims all the time.”Germaine shook his head. “This one came with receipts. There were
Casillas was dragged out of sleep by rough hands clutching at his shoulders. He groaned, swatting blindly, irritation filling him before awareness followed. “Get off me,” he snapped thickly, his voice slurred with sleep. “Nellie, for God’s sake, let me sleep.”The hands did not retreat, but tightened. “You’re under arrest,” a man’s voice said, calm and unmistakably male. That wasn’t Nellie.Casillas’ eyes flew open. For half a second, his mind refused to assemble what it was seeing. The room was too bright, flooded with harsh white light. Shapes moved everywhere, shapes in dark uniforms with unfamiliar faces. Nellie was no longer beside him; she was standing near the far wall in a silk robe, crying openly as a police officer spoke to her in a low voice. His drawers were pulled open. His wardrobe stood gaping, clothes spilling out as officers rifled through it with methodical efficiency. “What the hell is this?” Casillas roared, pushing himself upright. “What are you doing in my house
AbigailI had been sitting in the garden for what felt like an eternity, a book open in my hands and utterly useless. The sun filtered through the leaves overhead, dappling the page with light and shadow, but the words might as well have been written in another language. I had been staring at the same paragraph for at least ten minutes, my eyes dutifully tracking the lines while my mind wandered far, far away.Every thought circled back to the same thing: Alexander, and what he might have found.My fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the book as my thoughts replayed the morning over and over again. Once I left Daniella’s room, I had gone searching for my phone to call Alexander, my pulse racing. I could still hear that unmistakable edge of restrained excitement in his voice in my head when I told him everything about Casillas, the foundation and the girls.“Leave it to me,” he’d said. “This might be exactly what we’ve been waiting for.”He had promised to get back to me with goo
AbigailDaniella didn’t come down for breakfast. It was such a small thing, really, the kind of absence that could easily be explained away by oversleeping or a lack of appetite. But I noticed it immediately. Recently, she only appeared after Alexander had left the house, slipping into the dining room or kitchen for something quick once she was sure he was gone. She had been meticulous about it. Today, there was nothing.I stirred my tea slowly, watching the steam curl upward, unease settling in my chest. It wasn’t concern exactly, more like a tug of curiosity edged with caution. Alexander had told me about their conversation in the garden the night before, about informing her of his decision to send her abroad. Exile was a harsh word for it, but it wasn’t inaccurate either. Daniella had not taken it well. Plus, we didn’t really know her. She had initially presented herself as one thing - soft-spoken and grateful - but then her actions told a different story. People like that were of
ConradI nursed the bottle like it was the only thing keeping my hands from doing something worse.The cognac burned bitterly on the way down, but it didn’t come close to touching the fury coiled tight in my chest. My mother had done it again. She had fooled me again, this time by trying to pull me
Abigail I stepped out of the car with my lips still curved in a smile. From the driver’s seat, Roxy leaned across the console and grinned up at me. “Thanks again for breakfast,” she said. “And are you sure you don’t want me to pay you back? I ate quite a lot. At least let me send you something.”I
Conrad A knock on my office door dragged me out of my thoughts like a hook through flesh. I jerked my head up, blinking hard. For a moment, I didn’t even remember where I was. Then I saw tall windows, felt the surface of my desk as I inhaled the faint smell of leather and expensive polish. Oh, ri
ConradMy hands were shaking, violent, rattling shakes that traveled from my fingers up my arms and into my shoulders. It was not the subtle kind I could pretend wasn’t there. I stared at the body on the ground, and my mind refused to finish the sentence my eyes had already formed. She was too s







