The morning air was crisp, and faint with the scent of the ocean and something blooming.Chloe stepped out onto the porch in her slippers, her sun hat covering the brim of her face, one hand cradling a warm mug of coffee, the other holding a small watering can. It was still early enough that the sunlight filtered through the trees in golden stripes, the kind of quiet that made her feel like the rest of the world was still asleep.She took a slow breath and moved toward the potted plants at the edge of the porch. But then she stopped.There, right at the foot of the door, sat a basket.Woven with a soft grey ribbon wrapped neatly around the handle, it brimmed with fresh flowers—roses, lavender, hydrangeas—still dewy as if they had been arranged only minutes ago. Chloe knelt to get a closer look. There was no card and no name.She looked around, eyes scanning the stretch of the empty front lawn and the road beyond. There was no one. Just the sound of birds and waves somewhere in the d
Chloe Bennett tasted betrayal on her tongue. It wasn’t the tequila. No. It wasn’t the burn of the liquor sliding down her throat. That would have been much easier to handle. It was the sight of them—her sister, her ex—wrapped in each other’s arms like she had never existed. She felt her chest tighten as she wallowed in self pity. The club pulsed around her, but she didn’t hear the music. All she heard was the echo of his words, the ones that shattered her into nothing. Stabbing her like a blunt pocket knife twisting deeper into her back. “It was always her, Chloe.” She had replayed those words over and over again, her mind desperately trying to find some loophole in their meaning. Some ridiculous way to make them mean anything but what they did. But no, the truth was there, raw and unyielding. She should have known, the late-night calls he ignored, the way his gaze lingered a second too long whenever her sister entered the room. The tightness in his voice when he swore
Chloe Bennett couldn’t believe her ears. For a moment, everything went dark and hazy, as if she were trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. She shook her head, desperate to shake off the wave of hurt coursing through her. “What are you saying, Ryan? I… I don’t understand,” she stutters, fighting back the warm tears already gliding down her cheeks. She stands frozen in the living room, her heart hammering against her ribs as the harsh reality of Ryan’s betrayal hit her like a tidal wave. His words echo through her mind, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. Her breath grows unsteady. The room seems smaller, suffocating. Across from her, Ryan her boyfriend and Sienna her older sister sit side by side on the sofa, their hands intertwined. Their closeness was a cruel confirmation of what she had just heard—what she had lost. Chloe’s stomach twists violently. She clenches her fists while trying to control her breath. “I asked you a question,” she says, her voice barely
The bar was crowded, the low hum of conversations blending with the soft clinking of glasses. He sat in his usual corner, swirling the liquid in his glass. He wasn’t here to drink, not really. He was here out of habit, a way to pass the time. And then he saw her. She walked in like she had no real destination—like the world had just thrown her out and she hadn’t decided where to land. Her steps were slow, hesitant, and yet there was a fire in her eyes, a storm she was trying to conceal. She took a seat at the bar, ordered a drink, and wrapped her fingers around the glass like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. He watched as she brought it to her lips, taking a slow sip, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. Something about her caught his attention, though he wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was the way she gripped the drink like she was trying to draw strength from it. Or the way her gaze occasionally flickered to her reflection in the mirror behind the bar,
Chloe woke up, her head pounding like a bass drum as she slowly opened her eyes. Her mouth felt dry and her eyelids were very heavy. "Shit" she whispered trying to recall events of the night before, but everything still seemed like a blurred out memory. Chloe inhaled deeply thinking it was for the best.As she twisted under the covers, her body opposed each movement. The sheets were luxurious, far too nice compared to the night she vaguely remembered. She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest as she buried her face in it and her heart began to race. What was she doing? this wasn't her bed, this wasn't her room and the faint scent of cologne on the pillows made her very much aware that she hadn't been alone all night."What have you done Chloe?" she muttered. Losing her balance as she sat up too quickly, the hangover punishing her for it. Her dress - where was her dress?. She scanned the room, spotting her stillettos discarded near the door, her black silk dress draping over an armch
“Oh shit, oh shit” Chloe muttered under her breath, her steps unbalanced as she pushed open the gate of Damien’s penthouse. Last night was a mistake. Just a stupid impulsive mistake. She needed to get home. Needed to forget about what just happened. Needed to forget about him. But how could she? His voice? His touch? His scent? She could still feel him. Chloe shrugged, she shouldn’t be thinking about him. Her phone buzzed before she could gather her thoughts. She searched through her purse, cursing when she saw her sister’s name flashing. Sienna. Chloe let out a frustrated sigh. She didn’t want to hear her sister’s voice. She didn’t want to talk to her, but against her better judgment, she answered. “What?” She snapped. “Where are you?” Sienna’s voice was maddeningly composed. “You know you’re supposed to be here by now.” Chloe frowned. Her mind is still sluggish from the alcohol and exhaustion. “Here? Where’s here?” Sienna sighed. “At Dad’s Chloe. The meeting? You’re s
Chloe jolted upright, her breath ragged, her sweat-clung skin a testament to the turmoil brewing inside her. The darkness of her room enveloped her, the only sound heard was the steady thud of her heart against her chest. Her gaze fell upon the phone lying on the bedside table, its screen a cold, dark rectangle. As she stared at it, her chest tightened, the words echoing in her mind like a mantra: "See you soon, Chloe." The voice lingered, deep, dark, and dangerous, laced with an undercurrent she couldn't quite place. It wasn't the words themselves that unsettled her; it was the way he said them. Was it a promise, a warning, or a joke? Chloe pressed a hand against her chest, forcing herself to breathe through the panic crawling up her throat. The past few days had been a blur of anxiety and anticipation. Ryan's behaviour had grown increasingly erratic, and Sienna's presence seemed to fuel the tension. And then, there was the meeting with Damien Cross looming on the horizon, maki
Ryan Hastings had always been a man of contradictions. On the surface, he had it all—charm, good looks, and the effortless confidence of someone born into wealth. People gravitated toward him, drawn to the easy smirk and devil-may-care attitude he wore like a second skin. But beneath that polished exterior was a man at war with himself. A man burdened with choices that never seemed to align with the person he wanted to be. Chloe had once been his anchor. The one thing in his life that felt honest, untouched by the weight of his family name and the shadows that came with it. With her, he had been different—softer, maybe even better. And yet, he had ruined it. Ruined her. Ryan had never been the kind of man to dwell on regrets. At least, that was what he told himself. Yet, as he stood across the street watching Chloe step out of the coffee shop, the weight of his choices pressed against his chest like an iron fist. His gaze followed her as she moved, gripping a cup in one hand, h
The morning air was crisp, and faint with the scent of the ocean and something blooming.Chloe stepped out onto the porch in her slippers, her sun hat covering the brim of her face, one hand cradling a warm mug of coffee, the other holding a small watering can. It was still early enough that the sunlight filtered through the trees in golden stripes, the kind of quiet that made her feel like the rest of the world was still asleep.She took a slow breath and moved toward the potted plants at the edge of the porch. But then she stopped.There, right at the foot of the door, sat a basket.Woven with a soft grey ribbon wrapped neatly around the handle, it brimmed with fresh flowers—roses, lavender, hydrangeas—still dewy as if they had been arranged only minutes ago. Chloe knelt to get a closer look. There was no card and no name.She looked around, eyes scanning the stretch of the empty front lawn and the road beyond. There was no one. Just the sound of birds and waves somewhere in the d
Nina looked up at the figure in front of her. This was the first time she’d seen Damien in real life—outside the curated photos on the internet and the ones Chloe used to flash in her face jokingly.She stared at him for a long second.The man behind the storm which Chloe had fled. The one she’d cried over. The one she still loved, even if she didn’t want to.He was standing right in front of her.“I believe you know someone I’m looking for,” Damien said, his voice stern.“Excuse me?” Nina finally said, her voice cool.“You heard me,” Damien replied, his tone too sharp.Nina’s brows shot up, disbelief flickering in her expression.Damien’s eyes softened as he realized his misstep. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice lowering. “What I meant is….I’m looking for Chloe and I think you may be able to help me.”Nina folded her arms across her chest, her stance steady and guarded.“And why would you think that?” she asked.“Because you’re her friend. And I think you know exactly where she is.” Damie
It had been three days since Chloe Bennett disappeared from the rest of the world.But she was everything but unsafe.If anything, she was calm. And for the first time, she felt protected.In the soft quiet of Nina’s aunt’s coastal condo, Chloe sat curled on a cushioned armchair by the wide living room window.The sea was visible from here, endless and silver-grey, stretching into a sky bruised with morning clouds. A light breeze carried the faint scent of salt and rosemary from the garden below, and for the first time in what felt like weeks—maybe longer—her heartbeat wasn’t in a race against itself.She wasn’t checking her phone.She wasn’t crying.She wasn’t running.The only person she thought of was herself.“Tea?” Nina asked, stepping in from the kitchen, two mugs in her hand.Chloe looked over and offered a grateful smile. “Yes. Please.”Nina passed her the cup and sank into the couch nearby, tucking one leg beneath her.“So,” she said gently. “How are we feeling today? Still w
The rain had just started when Damien stepped out of his car.Chloe’s apartment complex stood quiet, almost too calm, the silence that felt wrong. He pulled his coat tighter, climbed the steps two at a time, and when he got to the door he paused. The last time he was here Chloe had thrown him out and ended what they had.Damien shook his head as if shaking out the memory of that night. He rang the doorbell. Once. Twice. Nothing.He knocked, harder this time.“Chloe,” he called, voice low but urgent. “Open the door.”But there was no response.He pulled out his phone and called her. But it went straight to voicemail. He tried again, thumb trembling slightly, but the result was the same. Each unanswered ring fed something cold in his chest.Then, from across the hall, an older woman cracked open her door. Damien turned, his gaze set on her.“She’s not there,” the woman said chewing something he couldn’t quite see. “Left two days ago. Had a suitcase.”“Did she say where she was going?” h
The phone rang for the third time and went straight to voicemail.Miranda stood outside Chloe’s apartment, her brow furrowed, her thumb hovering uncertainly over the call log. The last time she was here, she had just dropped a bomb on her daughter and now, she couldn’t even get a hold of her. She stared at the door, then knocked. Once. Twice. Nothing.“Chloe,” she called out, knocking again, this time louder. “It’s me. Open the door.”But silence answered her.She hesitated, then reached into her purse for the spare key. Chloe had given it to her months ago, back when things were still… normal. Sliding it into the lock, Miranda pushed the door open — and froze.The air inside was stale, unmoved for days. A coffee mug sat abandoned on the kitchen counter. The hoodie she wore the last time she saw her was draped over the back of the couch. The bed is untouched. No dishes in the sink. It was like walking into a paused life.Her daughter hadn’t been here in a while. It was obvious.Mira
Damien shrugged under the sheets, his body resisting every movement.The sharp glow of the sunlight hit his eyes as soon as the curtains were pulled open.“Get up,” Sebastian’s voice echoed through the room. “No one ever gets anything done by brooding.”“Not in the mood, Seb,” Damien muttered, his voice thick and groggy.“Well, neither am I.” Sebastian set a steaming mug on the table. “I made you coffee. I don’t know how you like it, so pardon whatever it tastes like.”He gave a dry shrug.“This should help you think straight. If I’d known you would empty my whiskey cabinet, I might as well have left you at Chloe’s door.”Damien shot him a hard glare, but Sebastian only smiled thinly and sat down cross-legged in his king-sized chair, stirring a cup of tea with a teaspoon before letting it clink onto the saucer.“She hates me,” Damien said, sipping from the mug.“That is true,” Sebastian said, sipping his tea without missing a beat.Damien leaned back against the headboard, staring bla
Chloe sat there for what felt like hours, her chest heaving, her body numb. She didn’t know how much time had passed - minutes, hours, maybe longer.The apartment was quiet except for the broken sounds of her breathing.He held her hoodie tight like it was a second skin. She smelled like him - sharp cologne, clean soap, the faintest scent of whiskey, but the comfort it used to bring now twisted her stomach into her knots.She pressed the sleeves against her face, trying to breathe through the ache cracking her open from inside out.“It’s not true.” She whispered hoarsely through the fabric. “It’s not true. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.” She said softly. The words spilled out again and again, frantic little prayers to no one at all.But they didn’t stop the memories from crashing over her - violent and brutal.Damien’s hands framing her face like she was something precious.His voice, was rough and low, just how she liked it, promising he wasn’t going anywhere.But his lies, threading
Sienna and Ryan stiffened at the knock on the door.She held her hands to her lips, indicating that Ryan kept calm and quiet.Sienna took slow steps toward the big oak door. She peered through the tiny round glass, searching for the face behind the door.She let out a sigh as she opened the door.“Took you long enough Mom.” She muttered.“I got here as soon as I could,” Miranda said, walking in uninvited, adjusting her black gloves.Sienna didn’t say a word. She closed the door behind her mother.“I can feel the tension in here.” Miranda snorted. “And the sex too.”Ryan shrugged his shoulders at her words.“Mom, can you not?” Sienna asked rolling her eyes.“As you wish, so what’s the plan?”“Ryan is having Damien tracked. About an hour ago, he left Chloe’s apartment.”“Where he is. We don’t know.” Ryan chipped in. “But what we do know is that Chloe is alone. And we have no idea how long Damien would be gone. So we need to act fast.”“Okay, I understand. But can I talk to you, Sienna?”
Ryan stood in the kitchen, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. The words Sebastian had said echoed in his head—Damien’s in love with Chloe. He can’t handle this. The thought of Damien, his uncle, the one who’d always been the rock, tangled up in Chloe… made Ryan’s stomach churn.Sienna stood in the doorway, watching him with quiet intensity, but Ryan barely noticed. His gaze was distant, lost in his thoughts. The past few hours had felt like a blur, filled with anger, jealousy, and confusion. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Damien, of all people, could fall for Chloe.“Ryan,” Sienna said softly, drawing his attention. He turned to look at her, but she could see the conflict in his eyes.“You okay?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral.Ryan ran a hand through his hair, frustration tightening his jaw. “I don’t get it, Sienna. I just… I don’t understand.”“What don’t you understand?” she asked, her voice almost too calm.“Damien and Chloe. It’s messed up, Sienna. He’s my u