Hello readers.đ„ș
I have been inconsistent with my book because of a slight illness I'm battling. So bear with me, as updates would resume next week. đ
Hello readers.đ„șI have been inconsistent with my book because of a slight illness I'm battling. So bear with me, as updates would resume next week. đ
Charlotteâs POVThe doorbell rang just as I was pouring myself a second glass of wineâat noon.I paused, glass mid-air. The sound echoed through the stillness of the villa. No footsteps, no chaos. Just me, Meredith, and my regret trying to stay quiet in a house far too big. Because I'm too proud to go back. To her.Meredith beat me to the door, of course. Always did. She came back in with a box tucked under one arm and a bouquet of white gardenias in the other.âHeâs persistent, Iâll give him that,â she said with a smirk, handing the flowers to me.I took them and rolled my eyesâtoo practiced, too politeâbut the heat still crept up my neck as I buried my nose in the blooms.Nolan.Heâd sent something every day this week.Monday: a box of pastries from that ridiculous Parisian bakery in Midtown.Tuesday: a new silk scarf with my initials embroidered into the corner.Wednesday: wine. A ridiculous bottle. One I once told him I liked⊠three years ago.And todayâgardenias. My favorite. He
Callaâs POVIt's been long I saw these bitches. I got blocked everywhere and unfollowed after what I did to davina. And honestly, I wouldn't regret doing it again if I got the chance."Well, well,â Davinaâs voice slithered, syrupy with venom, âI guess motherhood really does dull a womanâs edge.âI smiled, slowly.She stood there with Kassandra flanking her like a walking Gucci ad for insecurity. Amelia had retreated to her side, pouting. Naughty little rascal.âI beg your pardon?â I asked, my tone calm, even.Kassandra scoffed. âYou used to be bold. Wild. Us. Now look at youâbending over to baby a brat who scraped her knee.ââSheâs six,â I said flatly. âAnd she's more human than youâve ever been.âDavina chuckled without humor. âLook at you. Playing mother to a manâs daughter like it makes you holy. You think Madden actually loves you now? You think being soft will save you?âI didnât flinch. âNo. But itâs saving her. And thatâs enough.âHer smile faltered.âI shouldâve known you wer
Callaâs POV:It's been a week and a few days. Finally time to go home.The car rolled to a slow, deliberate stop before the Blackwell estateâgrand, cold, and twice as suffocating as I remembered.Even now, after everythingâthe resort, Nylaâs death, the whisper of sickness curling in my gutâit was this house that made my skin crawl most. Not for its gothic shadows or its silence, but for what waited inside.Home, sweet hell.The chauffeur opened the door, and I stepped out into the biting wind, clutching my coat tighter around me. Behind me, Rhea and Margot emerged tooâtwo of the resort villaâs staff who had since become my allies. I had to take them with me. I definitely didn't want to deal with Greta and her annoying words.âYou sure this isnât a prison?â Rhea muttered, eyeing the towering mansion. âBecause damn. This place screams emotional damage.âI couldnât help a smirk. âTrust me. You donât know the half of it.âThe massive doors creaked open and Greta stepped out. The longtime
Calla's POV:The spoon trembled slightly in my hand as I stirred the untouched porridge on my plate.Breathe, Calla. Just breathe. Across the table, Madden scrolled through his phone, his jaw ticking with tension like always. He hadnât looked at me yet. Thank God.My temples throbbed, my stomach coiled again, and I fought the urge to press a hand to it. The nausea had come and gone in waves all morning. I was woozy, barely grounded in my body. It felt wrong and right all at once. Alive, but not really here.I kept my eyes down.He couldnât know.Not yet.Not when I wasnât even sure myself. Not when the last time I had a child growing inside me, it was ripped from me by the woman who smiled in my face and slept in my bed like my friend.Petra. I lost my baby to herâ I'm still coming for her by the way. Well, once I handle the mess I'm in. Wouldn't it been easy if I was transmigrated into the body of someone else? Someone who's not regarded as vile or cruel??I wouldnât lose this one,
General POV:Bent over the toilet, Calla clutched the cold porcelain like a lifeline. Her hair stuck to her sweat-slicked forehead as she gasped for breath. The taste of bile clung stubbornly to her tongue, and the world tilted with vertigo.She couldn't stop puking all morning and it's been three days since the incident with Nyla.A knock came, and her heart skipped sickeningly.Is it Madden?? The last thing she wants right now is to be forced to go to a hospital. The dread she's been feeling all day refused to dissipate. Why is her body reacting strangely to even her perfume?Then the door creaked open. âMaâam?â a gentle voice floated in. It was Margot, the oldest maid, the only one who ever looked at her like she was human and not the infamous Isadora. They've become really close, In fact, her relationship with the maids have improved. They seem to like her. Well , only two maids.That tension when she's around them is gone.âDonât,â Calla croaked, waving her hand. âIâm fine.ââYou