LOGINLucas had been watching them from the shadows for nearly an hour, a rare, ghost-like smile softening his jagged features. He hadn't intended to stalk them, but he found he couldn't look away. There was a quiet, satisfied light in Arabella’s eyes. He watched, transfixed, as she leaned over the stroller to stroke Amal’s cheek a simple, motherly gesture that felt more sacred than any prayer.Lucas’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold, sharp dread that spiked through his veins. The vehicle was swerving, a runaway beast of steel barreling uncontrollably toward the sidewalk.Toward them.His heart didn't just skip; it stopped.Lucas was moving before his brain could even process the terror. He sprinted, his boots striking the pavement with a desperate rhythm. He saw the exact moment Arabella realized what was happening—the way she froze, the way she tried to shove the stroller with trembling hands, and then, the final, selfless act of throwing her own body over the carriage to shield th
"Boss, she wants a house," Alex reported, his voice low. He didn't really need to say it. Lucas didn’t answer immediately. He was hunched over a sturdy oak workbench, the air around him thick with the scent of sawdust and beeswax. He was meticulously assembling a handcrafted wooden crib, his large, scarred hands hands that had once moved with lethal precision to break men now moving with a delicacy that would have shocked his enemies."I know, Alex," Lucas murmured, not looking up from the joinery."She wants a nursery connected to her room," Alex added, stepping closer.A faint, knowing smirk touched Lucas’s lips. "I know."He finally straightened, wiping his hands on a rag before gesturing for Alex to look at the display boards leaning against the far wall. Alex’s jaw dropped. It wasn't just a sketch or a vague floor plan. It was a masterpiece of domestic architecture."You've been working on this? Already?" Alex scanned the progress photos pinned to the board. The dates were sta
" I miss him,” Lucas admitted with an aching chuckle. “Toothless. I miss the both of them so much.” "I miss them both so much it feels like I’m breathing glass. I can see her I can watch her walk to work and back. But Amal? He’s always tucked away against her chest, hidden in that carrier like a chick under a protective hen. I can’t even get a glimpse of his chubby cheeks."He let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe I’m being greedy. I already get to see her.”His hand unconsciously stroked the small photo he kept in his pocket — the only image he had of his son, taken right after birth. A tiny, red, wrinkled newborn with a tuft of dark hair.“His only picture is him as a half-baked bean,” Lucas whispered with a sad chuckle. “Soft and red. Right from inside of her.”Alex watched his boss carefully, saying nothing. He had already started forming quiet plans — ways to let Lucas see his son without disrupting the fragile peace Arabella had built.For now, Lucas was content to love them from the s
Arabella Life with Amal was a series of small, quiet miracles. He was such a good baby, almost as if he knew his mommy had been through a war and he didn't want to add to her burden. He slept through most of the night, and as I administered his medication punctually, I could see him getting stronger, his tiny cheeks filling out.But reality was never far behind. Money was a constant, gnawing shadow.“Mommy still has to get a job, snuggles,” I whispered one morning, strapping him into his baby bag for the day's walk. “And we’ll get a bigger house soon. I promise."One morning, I woke up to the sound of construction outside. The stairs and the entire building were suddenly being renovated. Workers were everywhere, replacing old railings, fixing cracks in the walls, and painting fresh coats. I was surprised the building had been neglected for years. The landlord had barely done anything before.But they were serious. Everything inside the apartment was preserved with care. Nothing wa
"Where’s Amal?" Lucas asked, his voice sounding thin in the sterile quiet of the ward. He was already looking toward Bassinet Number 4, his eyes searching for the tiny, dark-haired "blob" that had become his only anchor to sanity.The bassinet was empty. The sheets were gone. He frowned. "Oh, he and his mother were discharged this morning," the nurse replied, looking up from her charts with a warm smile.Lucas’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His eyes widened, then narrowed, a sudden, hollow ache opening in his chest."Thanks to your donations, they could finally afford to go home," she explained calmly. "He’ll still need to come back for regular treatments, but he’s strong enough to be in his own bed now."Lucas forced a stiff, jagged smile. "That’s... that’s good news."He stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space. What was he to do now? The baby had become an important part of his routine. A very important person to him. The head nurse watched him, her heart
“I’m thinking of liquidating everything. The empire. The company, the shares... all of it,” Lucas muttered.Alex blinked, the sandwich nearly falling from his hand.“Boss!” he cried out, eyes wide with alarm. He reached out and grabbed Lucas’s hand, a wave of genuine panic washing over him.“Is this... is this like a dying wish? Are you okay? Please don't give up on life yet.”Lucas scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, looking away from Alex’s intense gaze.“You said it yourself—there are people who need it more. And you were right,” he muttered. “I think I finally know what I want to do.”“And that is?”“I’m going to squander my money and Don Antonio’s on actually profitable things. The man is old; he’ll be dead soon anyway. What does he need all those billions for?” Lucas let out a small, quiet smile.“I want to leave that world. Maybe travel
Arabella. True to his words, Lucas was right there when I woke up.My eyes blinked open slowly, the blur of sleep clearing until his face came into focus—handsome in a way that made my chest tighten. His jaw was sharp, lips pressed into a faint line, eyes steady even in the quiet of morning. For a
Her body twisted against the sheets, small whimpers slipping from her throat, fragile and broken. The dream had her caught in its cruel grip, dragging her back into that night. Her hands clawed at the blanket, nails scraping, as though fighting shadows only she could see.“No… stop…” her voice crac
“You said I’m exclusively meant for you,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the words.“It hurt when you did that, Lucas.” Her tone was small, fragile, the kind that slipped through the cracks of his defenses. The horror of what she’d endured seemed to have stripped everything else away, leaving
Arabella was still sitting in her dark room when Lucas found her.She hadn’t moved. Not for hours.Her hands kept brushing absently against the bruises on her knee as though the motion alone could soothe her.With Don Antonio, she had experienced what true hatred was.Hatred so sharp, so cold, it s







