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"You Know Who Her Father Is?”
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2025-07-01 01:00:24
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Beautiful But Unlucky Ghosts Laid to Rest
POV: SilviaI didn’t tell anyone where I was going.Not because I had something to hide, but because I needed silence. Not advice, not comfort. Just space.Calvin offered to drive me.He didn’t push - just looked at me from across the kitchen island that morning, holding his coffee like he already knew my answer.“You sure?” he asked.I nodded once. “Yeah. This one’s mine.”He didn’t argue. Just leaned forward and kissed my forehead like I was porcelain and iron all at once.---The drive to my old house felt like someone else’s road trip.The sky was a soft, hazy gray. Music player on low. I wasn’t listening. My hands gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, and every turn felt like time folding in on itself.I hadn’t been back since everything blew up.Since the headlines.Since the photos.Since I stopped pretending I was okay in rooms that tried to
Beautiful But Unlucky Letters and Shadows
POV: Silvia It arrived on a Wednesday.Of course it did. Nothing life-altering ever shows up on a Monday. Mondays are too obvious. Wednesdays sneak up on you.The envelope was pale blue.Not cream. Not white. Blue.My name was written across the front in that neat, slanted handwriting I hadn’t seen in months but could still recognize in my sleep.Philip’s handwriting.I didn’t open it.Not right away.I just stood in the kitchen, coffee forgotten, the city humming outside the window like it had no idea that a ghost had slipped through my mail slot.There was no return address. Just my name. And weight.I didn’t realize how long I stood there until the sunlight moved across the tile and the coffee in my mug went cold.---I ended up on the balcony, wrapped in one of Calvin’s oversized sweatshirts, the envelope still untouched in my hand. It felt too quiet outside
Beautiful But Unlucky Echoes of the past
POV: Silvia It’s funny how full-circle moments come without fireworks.They don’t announce themselves. No dramatic music. No slow-motion montage of your transformation. Just you, standing backstage with slightly trembling hands, wondering how the hell you got here without falling apart.The luxury convention center smelled like citrus, lavender, and nerves. I was scheduled to speak at 2:15 PM on Panel B: Women in Power: Beauty and Business. I’d laughed when the invite first arrived, half-convinced it was a prank or an elaborate setup to put me in a room with the same women who once whispered behind my back.But it was real.The badge around my neck said so.Silvia Moretti – Founder, Model, Advocate.Three words. A whole damn journey.I adjusted the mic clipped to my lapel and looked down at my cue cards. They were shaking slightly in my hand. Not enough to panic - but enough to remind me I still cared. That I wasn’t
Beautiful But Unlucky Wedding preparations
POV: Calvin The wedding invitations came in gold-trimmed boxes.Not envelopes - boxes.Silk-lined, sealed with the Handall crest like royalty was getting married and not just my younger brother to a woman who made PR teams cry tears of joy with her perfection.I opened mine with one hand while eating leftover Thai noodles with the other, sitting at my desk in a Deva hoodie and three-day-old stubble.Inside: white-gold lettering, elegant script, RSVP codes printed on embossed cardstock.God, it was extra.I stared at it for a long second and let out a soft, sarcastic laugh.“Can’t tell if it’s a wedding or the second coming of Jesus,” I muttered.Thomas, sitting on the edge of my desk, glanced over. “You going?”“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, setting the box aside. “Watching my brother marry a billionaire’s daughter while Damon pretends his empire isn’t bleeding out? Front row? Sounds like therapy.”He grinned. “You think Anniele knows?”“That she’s part of a branding exercise or that Ju
Beautiful But Unlucky Calvin and Silvia Reunited
POV: Silvia – We didn’t tell anyone where we were going.No PR team. No Mariam in heels asking what I was wearing. No Eliza raising a brow with her quiet little smirk. No Sentinel guards trailing us like polite shadows.Just me and Calvin.And quiet.The good kind.The kind that feels like air after a thunderstorm.He picked me up in an old car I swear I’d seen parked under the Deva garage months ago, half-covered in dust and completely out of place among the sleek black SUVs. It was a navy-blue vintage BMW, with a stubborn passenger window and a radio that only played jazz on three stations.I loved it immediately.“You’re seriously driving this?” I asked, sliding into the passenger seat with a little laugh.He grinned. “You said no suits. No drama.”“This looks like it might explode at a red light.”“Romance,” he said, turning the key. “With a side of nostalgia and possible combustion.”---We ended up walking along the Hudson.It was late afternoon - one of those slow golden hours
Beautiful But Unlucky Home Again
POV: Silvia The car was too quiet for two people who had just escaped the emotional equivalent of a fortress.Eliza leaned her head against the window, sunglasses still on even though it was dusk and the sun had dipped behind the skyline hours ago. I sat next to her, fingers laced in my lap, knees pressed together like I was bracing for turbulence.I don’t know what I expected the drive to feel like - maybe freedom, maybe joy.Instead, it just felt... still.Torreto had said goodbye like he said everything - calm, distant, direct. No hug. No lingering glance. Just:“You’re Moretti women. Don’t forget that.”As if it was both a blessing and a threat.But when the car pulled away from the estate, I saw him.Up on the balcony.Standing alone, hands behind his back, coat catching the breeze.Watching.He didn’t wave. He didn’t smile.But his eyes followed us until we dis
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