After stepping out of the shower, Ava checked her phone with a quiet sense of dread. Rachel hadn’t responded yet, and her unease began to mount. But just as she wrapped herself in a towel, a voice message finally popped through—Rachel’s voice, low and a little breathless.“Ava, we’re good... and sexually compatible.”Ava blinked, her mouth twitching in disbelief. Without replying, she tossed her phone onto the bed. It had probably all been a misunderstanding. Or... not.Meanwhile, in a cramped but tidy 300-square-foot apartment across town, Rachel sat on the edge of the bed, her damp hair clinging to her neck. Tom emerged from the bathroom, a towel slung low around his waist, and crossed the room to grab the hairdryer. He gently began drying her hair.Rachel had grown up surrounded by luxury, but she’d learned to endure discomfort for Tom’s sake. And in moments like this, with him taking care of her so intimately, she felt it was worth it.Tom’s fingers lingered on a strand of her hai
In New York, there had never been a shortage of women eager to sleep with Alexander Vanderbilt. Yet somehow, Ava Alvarez was the only one who ever complained—silently—that he wanted her too often.She turned her head away now, resisting—not with words, but with the subtle stillness of her posture.Unbothered, Alexander shrugged off his suit jacket. He laid it down carefully on the polished, high-gloss ceramic tiles, the fabric landing softly like silk against stone. Then, without asking, he lifted her and set her down upon it.This time, Ava didn’t resist.Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was resignation. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the quiet realization that she had just used his name to secure a crucial deal with Quinton Darby. And a small part of her felt indebted.Sensing her surrender, Alexander leaned in, and she met him halfway.They kissed—deeply, breathlessly. One standing, the other seated, their bodies angled into each other. Fifteen slow-burning minutes passed, lost in a t
Quinton had gone all out this time, reserving an upscale restaurant known for hosting dignitaries and elite clientele—where even getting a table required connections and notice weeks in advance.When Ava entered, a flicker of admiration immediately lit up in Quinton’s eyes.“Ava, you’re getting more and more beautiful,” he said, rising from his chair with a gentleman’s ease.The private room was elegantly decorated, a blend of minimalism and classic luxury. Polished wood paneling, soft gold lighting, and a floral centerpiece lent a serene ambiance to the space. The table was already set with delicate porcelain plates and engraved silver cutlery. The air carried a subtle fragrance of orchids and freshly brewed tea.This restaurant specialized in state banquet cuisine—refined dishes that were light, visually exquisite, and rich in flavor. Each course felt like a presentation in both artistry and balance.Liam was there too, seated beside Quinton, wearing a warm smile. It was Quinton who’
The morning sun streamed through the tall windows of the Upper West Side apartment as Ava buttoned up her blazer, preparing to head to the Morales family company. Just as she reached for the doorknob, the bell rang. When she opened the door, a sharply dressed man stood outside, briefcase in hand and a solemn expression on his face.It was Alfonso’s lawyer.Ava’s chest tightened. For a moment, she wondered if she'd unknowingly fallen into some kind of legal trouble.They sat across from each other in the living room, the morning light casting quiet patterns on the hardwood floor. The lawyer wasted no time delivering the message Alfonso had entrusted him with.“Mr. Morales asked me to convey his apologies,” he began gently. “He said he was too emotional yesterday, and he deeply regrets the unreasonable request he made. He also mentioned that he will remain at the Morales residence to rest and recover. You don’t need to visit him anymore.”Ava’s heart began to throb as the lawyer continu
Ava exhaled, a breath that carried more than just air—it carried release, restraint, and something quietly defiant."It’s best if you don’t," she said softly, her gaze calm but unyielding. "Both Mr. Vanderbilt and I are people who can handle our affairs."The effect on Alexander was immediate. His face hardened, the sharp angles of his jaw tightening. His lips flattened into a cold, unreadable line, the warmth in his eyes vanishing like smoke in winter air.Ava noticed, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she gave him a small, polite smile—so serene it bordered on dismissal."Mr. Vanderbilt, I really do have an urgent matter to attend to. I’ll be going now."Without waiting for his response, she shifted into drive and eased her car onto the road. Her hands were steady on the wheel, her posture composed. As if nothing had happened. As if the kiss they'd just shared hadn’t stirred a single breath in her chest.
After slipping into the driver’s seat, Alexander gripped the steering wheel with ease and guided the car through the dimming city streets. The soft glow of the dashboard cast shadows across his sharp features, his mind somewhere far from the road.At a red light, another car rolled to a stop beside his. Out of habit, Alexander glanced over—and froze. Through the half-open window, framed by the city’s ambient glow, he saw her. Ava.She stared straight ahead, unaware of his gaze, her expression distant and unreadable. The shape of her face, the gentle curve of her mouth, the slight dip of her lashes—it all looked achingly familiar. He lowered his window and tapped the horn twice, sharp and deliberate.Inside the car, Ava flinched slightly, pulled from her thoughts. She turned her head—and for a heartbeat, time seemed to fracture. There was a strange pull in that moment—like a thread from another life. Maybe it was the streetlight, or maybe it was the letter still echoing in her mind: “
As Ava drove through the quiet streets back to the Upper West Side, the city outside blurred behind the windshield. Rex sat quietly beside her, head resting on his paws. Just as she turned into her neighborhood, her phone buzzed with a call.“Miss Alvarez, good morning,” came a polite voice from a courier company. “We have a gift addressed to you, sent several years ago. It was scheduled specifically to arrive today. May I confirm your current address so we can deliver it?”Serena blinked. “A gift? From years ago?”“Yes, ma’am. It was pre-arranged for delivery on today’s date.”Still confused, she gave her address and ended the call.Not long after she got home and removed Rex’s leash, the doorbell rang. She opened it to find a deliveryman holding a wooden box—aged and worn, its corners smoothed by time. It was unlike any package she’d received before.After signing for it, she stood at the doorway for a moment, staring down at the box. She hadn’t ordered anything like this. But she h
On the other side of the town, upon being kicked out by Serena a few times, Sergio, consumed with envy over his brother Alfonso’s wealth and frustrated by his own sons’ unemployment, confided in his mother, Martina, that he suspected Serena wasn’t Alfonso’s biological daughter due to her alluring looks. Driven by malice, he secretly conducted a paternity test using Serena’s hair, believing that if she wasn’t truly Alfonso’s child—especially now with Araminta and Valentina disgraced and Josh incapacitated—his own sons could rightfully claim the Morales family fortune. When the results arrived confirming no biological link between Alfonso and Serena, Sergio, Martina, and Ricardo, thrilled by the opportunity, immediately set out to confront the Morales family.---It was midday at the Morales family estate, and the aroma of freshly prepared dishes lingered through the marble-floored hallways. The dining room was elegantly set—linen napkins folded precisely, silverware gleaming, and steam
Ava Alvarez remained stranded on the top floor, her heels aching and her body weary. The elevator wouldn't budge without a keycard, and for privacy and security reasons, the stairwell doors were locked from the inside. Whoever designed this place clearly didn’t want anyone wandering up or down without clearance—and Alexander had clearly forgotten that detail when he left.She was quite literally forgotten there.With a resigned sigh, Ava pulled out her phone and tried calling Alexander. No answer. His phone had likely been on silent since he arrived at the rooftop lounge, drowning in the soft thrum of music, clinking glasses, and idle conversation.Hours passed.It wasn’t until nearly eleven, long after the event had ended, that Alexander finally checked his phone. Three missed calls. A single message.> [I don’t have a card…]There were no emojis, no exclamation marks—just plain text. But something about the simplicity made it worse. It read like quiet frustration. Like she had curled