LOGINMy younger brother, Luke, committed suicide after being falsely accused of plagiarizing Layla's brother's music. My own life was a living hell. I was a respected music critic, but now I was the sister of "the plagiarist." My reputation was in tatters. My colleagues whispered behind my back, and my articles were dismissed as the ramblings of a biased, grieving relative. The one person who had always stood by me was my husband, Julian, a successful music producer. We had been together since college, and he was my rock, my refuge in the storm. I thought he would believe me. But, he didn't. But the real betrayal came the evening, just another day of being ridiculed online, I came home to find Julian on the phone. His voice was low and urgent, laced with a coldness I had never heard before. "The case is closed, Layla. It’s over," he said. "The evidence has been submitted. No one will ever know that it was your brother who plagiarized Luke's music."
View MoreLater that night as I climbed into my bed, my mind became a chaotic loop of Michael's pale face and the snap of that velvet ring box. Guilt sat like lead in my stomach. I had made Michael heart broken.But as I finally fell asleep, the darkness didn't bring rest to me. Instead, It brought light.It started with the smell of salt and old wood. The docks. The dream was vivid, more real than the waking world. I saw a younger Michael, his hair windswept, laughing as he pulled me into his arms. I felt the rough texture of his wool sweater and heard the rhythmic thumping of my own heart—not out of fear, but out of a deep, soul-shaking belonging."I'll always find you, Claire," he whispered against my temple. "Even if the world tries to hide you, I'll find my way back."Then, a flurry of images: a shared ice cream in the rain, a promise made over a cracked coffee mug, the way he looked at me before everything went black. The "key" I thought was lost forever turned in the lock. These weren't
"Claire," he breathed, his voice rough. "I’ve spent every second since the accident living for this moment. Not the arrest—but the chance to finally give you the life Julian tried to steal."He sank to one knee. The movement was fluid, practiced in his mind a thousand times. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. Inside sat a ring—not a diamond, but a deep, oceanic sapphire surrounded by a halo of delicate gold leaves."I know you don't remember the day we first met by the docks," he said, his eyes searching mine. "I know you don't remember the promises we made. But I remember for both of us. Claire, let’s start the 'forever' that was interrupted. Will you marry me?"The world seemed to tilt. This was the moment my mother had predicted, the moment the fairy lights were strung for. But as I looked at the ring, I didn't feel excited, I felt a profound, hollow sadness."Michael," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Stand up. Please."He frowned slightly, the joy in his expression fli
Next week, the scent of jasmine and the soft hum of a violin filled the air of our garden. Michael had transformed the backyard into a fairyland of fairy lights and silk drapes. Half the town was there, laughing and clinking glasses, but my eyes kept drifting to Michael. He looked breathtaking in the grey suit I once told him he looked the best in it. My eyes caught him watching me from across the lawn with a gaze that promised a lifetime of devotion.My mother's words echoed through my head. 'He is going to propose you', and I suddenly felt suffocating out of nervousness.I stepped away from the crowd to catch my breath near the old oak tree at the edge of the property. The moon was high, casting long, skeletal shadows. Suddenly, a hand clamped over my mouth, and I was violently dragged behind the thick trunk into the darkness."Don't scream, Claire. Please," a ragged, familiar voice hissed."It's me!"My heart plummeted. Julian. He looked like a ghost. His eyes were bloodshot, his
There back in New York City, the cold, damp walls of the interrogation room at the central police department felt like a tomb to Julian. He sat huddled on a wooden chair, his tailored suit wrinkled and stained with sweat. "I need my phone! I need to talk to my lawyer!" Julian screamed at the iron door, his voice cracking. "Do you have any idea who I am? My wife is missing! She’s been kidnapped by a criminal! If anything happens to Claire, I will have all your badges!"His assistant had informed him that Michael was seen with Miss White at the seven star hotel before they both left together in a private jet.The heavy bolt slid back, and a weary inspector stepped in, tossing a folder onto the table."Save your breath, Mr. Julian," the inspector said flatly. "Your lawyers aren't coming. We’ve frozen your primary accounts following the discovery of the 'the fake pilagiarized music' controversy, and forcing someone to do suicide. You will be charged for an intentional murder.""Murder? Th






Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.