تسجيل الدخول[Damon]I stare at the screen of my phone.Unable to believe what just happened.Did I just get a call back from the Gordons?The Gordons?The family that’s practically royalty?But how is that even possible?Sure, I put together a proposal and sent it over, hoping it might catch their attention and potentially open the door for future collaboration or investment opportunities. But I never actually expected a response.The Gordons don’t just entertain every proposal that lands on their desks. Companies spend years trying to get a meeting with them and still walk away empty-handed.So getting a call back?That’s the kind of opportunity most businesses only get once in a lifetime.For a few seconds, I just sit there, staring at the screen like it might suddenly tell me this was all some mistake. Some misunderstanding.Because people like the Gordons don’t look twice at companies in our current position. Not unless there’s something in it for them.And that's exactly what has me uneasy.
[Elara]When Griffin returns to the table, he looks strangely distracted and a whole lot pissed off.I can tell because he looks nothing like the man he was just moments ago—a man who knows how to joke and take one. A man who smiles and laughs and teases.But now? Now, something has changed. He still offers me a small smile before resuming his meal, but that's a far cry from the excitement he had been vibrating with just moments ago.I can't help but lean forward, covering his hand with mine."Is everything alright?"He stiffens at my touch, but then visibly relaxes when his gaze finds mine."You're going to hate this," he grumbles, shifting his gaze elsewhere, either too embarrassed to talk about it or too angry to keep his calm for long. Anything is possible here."What happened?" I ask anyway, more than just curious now."Nolan escaped."Two words.Just two words, and suddenly I can't breathe.A hard frown crosses my face, my fingers curling into fists. "What the hell are you talki
[Griffin]“This is honestly too much,” Elara whines for what must be the hundredth time, but I still ignore her. “Please, pack that. And that one. In fact, do one thing—pack everything from this designer in her size.”The store manager nods and walks away to relay the orders, while Elara lets out a heavy breath.“I swear to God, if I step into another store after this one, I’m going to kill you.”I can’t help but laugh. “What’s the harm? We’re just shopping.”“Shopping and looting are two very different things, Griffin. You know that, right?”I roll my eyes. “I’m just making sure my wife has everything she needs. What’s wrong with that?”She gives me a look. “My needs don’t include fifty bags of clothes, shoes, and jewelry that I’ll never wear.”“You never know,” I reply, smirking. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”“Unlikely,” she mutters, but there’s no real heat in her voice—just exasperation, which I find amusing.I reach out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “You know,
The next morning, I wake up to the fragrance of something really delicious.I sit up, blinking at the empty space beside me where Griffin was supposed to be. The sheets are still warm, though.A small smile tugs at my lips as I get out of bed, slipping into my gown and heading toward the kitchen.Sure enough, Griffin is there, standing by the stove, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants—again—and a white shirt that’s unbuttoned just enough to be distracting. His hair is still damp, and he's humming softly to himself as he flips something in the pan.I lean against the doorway, watching him for a moment."Morning," I say, my voice still a little rough from sleep.He turns, his lips curving into a smile when he sees me. "Morning. I didn't want to wake you, but I made breakfast. Thought you'd need some energy after last night."I raise an eyebrow. "Is that so?"He winks. "You know I'm always thinking of you."I roll my eyes, but I can't help the warmth spreading in my chest.He's
[Elara]When Damon finally drops me back at my place, I have nothing left to say to him.I feel so exhausted all of a sudden, I can’t even pretend to hold a conversation. And he knows it too."Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" he asks again, for the third time. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he doesn't want to leave.But I can't let him stay.I need to be alone. To process everything that happened tonight.Everything he said. Everything I heard. Everything I still don’t know what to make of."I'm fine, really," I say, giving him a tired smile. "I just need some rest."He hesitates, his hand still on the door like he’s waiting for me to change my mind. When I don’t, he finally nods."Alright. But if you need anything—anything at all—call me. I'll be here.""Thank you, Damon."I don't wait for him to respond.I just step inside and close the door gently behind me, leaning against it for a moment, my eyes closing as I let out a slow breath.And then, for the first time si
[Damon]I have no idea why I said that.It just slipped out.Maybe because it had been sitting inside me for years, growing heavier with every day I spent with Hannah.And when it finally came out, I realized I should have said it sooner.I expect Elara to react—maybe pull her hand away, or maybe just stay quiet—but she doesn’t do either of those things.Instead, she looks up at me, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she laces her fingers through mine.“I don’t know about that,” she says softly, almost like she’s trying to be kind. “Hannah was a lot prettier than me. I don’t think you would have preferred me over her at all.”For a second, I just stare at her.Is she serious?Does she really think I’d choose beauty over substance? That I’d marry someone just because she looked good in photos?I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “You really think I’m that shallow, don’t you?”She blinks, like I caught her off guard. “No, I didn’t mean—”“Yes, you did,” I cut in, my voice drop
[Elara]The fact that I’ve barely seen my parents in the past five years makes me wary of their invitation now.What do they want? Why would they suddenly invite me over? What is their purpose? And so on and on. Questions like these keep bugging me even after I pull the car into the driveway of the
[Elara] The door shuts behind me, and when I search for my bag—patting my side, hands fumbling for the strap—I realize I don’t have it on me. Shit. Where the hell did it go? I remember picking it up from the table. But then another realization dawns, and I end up sliding down the wall with my
[Damon]I watch Elara leave with Cora.When I try to follow her, wanting to stop her and explain myself, Hannah holds my arm, pulling me back.“Where are you going?” she says, while my eyes stay glued to Elara’s back. “We still need to attend Danny’s PTM. Remember?”That, we do. I did make a promis
[Damon]Sometimes I wonder how my life would have been if Hannah hadn’t run away on the day of our wedding. If she were my wife. If this morning were just like any other day—instead of me feeling guilty as hell for sleeping with her.I don’t know how to describe this feeling in my chest. It’s as he







