Mag-log inAppology chapter... I have been busy lately and thus I don't have a steady update schedule. All the same, happy 5K views. I would not have gotten here without you guys. THANK YOU ❤️
The building still rose out of the city like a promise made of glass and steel.Adrea paused at the bottom of the wide steps leading into the headquarters, her gaze lifting instinctively to the familiar lines of the façade. The morning sun struck the glass at an angle that turned the structure almost translucent, reflections of clouds drifting across its surface as though the sky itself had been invited inside.For a moment, she was not a grown woman with legal authority and an appointment on the top floor.She was a child again.Small fingers curled around her father’s hand. Shoes polished too carefully for a girl who would scuff them within minutes. Her neck craned back as she stared up in awe at the place where her father worked, where decisions were made that shaped markets and futures.He had laughed softly then and squeezed her hand.“Don’t let buildings intimidate you,” he had told her. “They’re only impressive because people agree they are.”She exhaled slowly now, grounding h
Belinda found Irene in the sitting room, seated near the tall windows with a tablet resting on her knee. She looked elegant, her expression calm, but Belinda had begun to notice the small tells that betrayed when the older woman was tired. The faint tension around her eyes. The way her fingers tapped lightly against the glass of the screen.“Irene,” Belinda said softly.Irene looked up at once, her face warming.“There you are,” she said. “You should have rung for water. You are not meant to be walking about yet.”“I know,” Belinda replied, a little apologetic. “I just needed to tell you something.”Irene set the tablet aside. “What is it, dear?”Belinda hesitated, then squared her shoulders.“My parents are flying in,” she said. “They’ll be here by tomorrow afternoon.”For a moment, Irene simply looked at her. Then her expression shifted into something thoughtful and resolute.“That is good,” she said. “Very good.”Belinda blinked. “You think so?”“Yes,” Irene replied without hesitati
Mrs Payers had been standing in her kitchen when the phone began to ring.The phone lay on the counter beside a bowl of half cut vegetables, the screen lighting up insistently, her daughter’s name pulsing there like a living thing. For a moment, Mrs Payers did nothing. She simply stood with her hands resting on the edge of the counter, her shoulders tight, her breath shallow and mind torn.She had told herself she would not pick up.Not yet. Not until she was ready. Not until she could hear Belinda’s voice without anger rising to choke her. Not until she could trust herself not to say something she would regret.The phone kept ringing.Mrs Payers closed her eyes.She thought of the last time she had spoken to her daughter properly. The shouting. The disbelief. The shame that had settled heavy in her chest when she had learned the truth. A married man. A scandal. Their family name whispered about with raised brows and lowered voices. She had felt betrayed and humiliated and furious all
William Smith first saw the headline by accident.He had not been searching for it. He had not been doom scrolling or following the usual financial feeds where corporate scandals bubbled quietly before breaking. He had been checking currency fluctuations, half distracted, coffee cooling beside his keyboard, when a notification banner slid across the top of his screen.LAWSUIT FILED: ZERVAS FAMILY SUES FELIX NIKOLAIDIS FOR DEFAMATIONHis fingers froze.For a moment, his mind refused to process the words. He stared at them as though they were written in a foreign language, his brain snagging on the name Zervas and then on Felix Nikolaidis, trying to reconcile them with the calm, controlled day he had been having only minutes earlier.Slowly, deliberately, with heart drumming against the root of his tongue, he clicked the link.The article opened with a photo from the press conference. Sofia Zervas, composed and elegant, standing beside her brother Aris, both of them framed by glass and l
It was a good enough day for Felix. He had finished discussing a deal and was reading over the details of the contract before he sent it to Rafael’s office for approval. He was thinking that everything was in order and just needed to look over a few points first when there was a knock on his door.It was a measured knock. Polite. Controlled.“Come in,” he said without looking up.The door opened, and his secretary stepped inside, tablet hugged to her chest. Her expression was neutral, but there was a tightness around her mouth that immediately caught his attention.“There’s a policeman here to see you,” she said.That made Felix look up.“A policeman?” he repeated lightly.“Yes. He says it’s official business.”Felix leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, curiosity stirring but no fear following it. He ran through possibilities quickly and dismissed most of them just as fast. He had done nothing illegal. Nothing that could be proven, at least. And certainly nothing that would warr
Belinda lay back against the hospital pillows, fingers brushing over the thin blanket as the quiet of the private room wrapped around her. Irene had slipped out only minutes ago to finalise her discharge papers, fussing with that blend of concern and authority she wore effortlessly. Rafael had been sent to pull the car around. Belinda was alone.Alone with her thoughts. Alone with the echo of Rafael’s voice telling her— painfully—that he did not want to marry her.She closed her eyes. For a moment she let herself feel the sting of it. The sharpness. The humiliation. The unwanted truth.Then she opened them again and shifted her hand to her belly.There.Her expression softened.A small life growing quietly inside her. A perfect possibility shaped from her and Rafael together. A perfect blending of them. Proof that fate had intertwined them in ways neither could undo. A child born out of something they had once shared—something warm, passionate, reckless. Something that had mattered. Lo







