LOGINPeople were staring at them like they were watching a show. Like this wasn’t their lives on trial.Draven sat straight beside her, calm, unreadable.Black suit.Perfect posture.Hands folded.Like a king waiting for a meeting.Not a man accused of crimes that could bury him for life.How does he look so calm? she wondered.Doesn’t he feel the fear crushing me?The judge entered.The case began.Evidence.Financial records.Fabricated witness statements.Burned warehouses.Liam’s death.Every accusation hit like stones thrown at glass.Then—Celeste walked in.Late.Deliberate.White suit.Red lipstick.Soft smile.Like she wasn’t trying to destroy them.Like she hadn’t ruined dozens of lives to get here.Her eyes found Violetta.And held.A slow, cruel smile curved her lips.I’m not done with you yet.Violetta’s stomach twisted.******************“We call our next witness,” the prosecutor announced.The door opened.Heels clicked.And Violetta’s heart stopped.“…Adriana?”Her voice
The morning of the court hearing felt wrong… too quiet. The kind of quiet that made the air heavy in the lungs and made everyone’s skin crawl. Violetta stood in front of the mirror, smoothing her hands down her white blouse for the third time. Her fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. Not from fear of the court. Not from the media. Not even from Celeste. It was the life inside her. Every step now felt like walking on fragile glass.Every breath carried responsibility. She pressed her palm to her stomach gently.“I’ll be careful,” she whispered to herself.Behind her, Draven adjusted his tie. He was dressed in a black suit and a black shirt with no color or softness. He looked less like a CEO today and more like a man walking into war. His eyes caught her reflection. She looked pale… too pale. He picked up the glass of orange juice present on the table and quickly handed it to her.“I don’t like you coming,” he said quietly.She met his gaze through the mirror before taking a sip from the
Morning did not arrive gently.It came with noise.Phones ringing.News alerts were exploding.Reporters shouting outside hospital gates like vultures that had scented fresh blood.Violetta woke to the vibration of Draven’s phone against the bedside table.Again.And again.And again.Nonstop.For a second, she didn’t move.Her cheek was still pressed against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear.Warm.Alive.She allowed herself exactly five more seconds like that.Five seconds pretending the world wasn’t trying to tear them apart.Then reality returned.Draven shifted.His arm tightened around her instinctively before he even opened his eyes.“…What time is it?” his voice was still rough with sleep.“Too early,” she murmured.His phone buzzed again.He sighed.“Too late,” he corrected.He reached for it.Missed.Because she caught his wrist first.“Don’t,” she said softly.He looked at her.Her eyes were still swollen from crying last night, but calmer now.Stronger.“
Hospitals had a smell.Cold.Sterile.Unforgiving.Like grief lived permanently inside the walls.Violetta hated it.Always had.Yet tonight, she found herself running through those same endless white corridors, her heartbeat louder than the echo of her own footsteps. She didn’t notice it when she came to visit Aunt Mara, but now, it seemed the sterile smell was overwhelming her senses. “Fourth floor,” Dimitri had told her over the phone. He was the third in command, which means Gerald also got injured in that fire. F*ck! Gerald was Draven’s right-hand man, which means… f*ck! Please, Moon Goddess, have mercy on me. She sent a desperate, silent plea to the Goddess before Dimitri’s next words registered in her mind. “Private wing. Mr. King doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here.”Didn’t want anyone to know.Of course, he didn’t.Even half-dead, that man would still pretend he was indestructible.Her fingers tightened around the elevator railing.Stupid.Reckless.Impossible man.Her th
Thick black smoke clawed at the sky like a living monster.Sirens screamed through the industrial district, red and blue lights flashing against the morning haze. Workers stood outside the gates, coughing, crying, some still in their uniforms, faces streaked with ash and tears.Draven’s textile factory—Was burning.Flames tore through the upper floors, devouring fabric, wood, chemicals—everything feeding the inferno faster, brighter, greedier.Glass exploded outward.Metal began melting under the fire's high heat.Every few seconds, something inside collapsed with a deafening crash. Draven was looking at his factory with angry eyes, with a heart full of pain. He had never felt this hopeless before, but right now… It seemed life was holding a grudge against him. He ended his Zoom calls just a few minutes before he got the news about this fire. He came straight to the site without delay, even though Gerald was asking him to stay away because the fire was too dangerous, and the clothes
Dawn came quietly… Too quietly.The kind of morning that felt like nothing bad had ever happened.Soft light spilled through the curtains.Birds chirped.The world pretended to be normal.But inside the King estate—War had already begun.*********Violetta hadn’t slept.Not really.Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mara’s bloodied face.The photo.The bruises.The fear frozen in her expression. Her fingers tightened unconsciously around her phone. Her stomach twisted with unease, guilt, stress, and Anger. All tangled together.This happened because Mara tried to help them. Because she chose their side. Because of her. Her palm moved slowly to her belly.“I’m sorry…” she whispered softly, voice breaking. “Mama’s trying… I promise I’m trying…”She didn’t know if she was apologizing to the baby or herself.Maybe both.The bedroom door opened quietly. She looked up with her tear-filled eyes. Draven was standing there, and a broken sob escaped her lips. Black shirt slightly wrinkl







