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[Addison]
I thought we were in love. I thought we were a family.
It’s funny the way things can change in a snap.
My world changed the day of my son‘s sixth birthday.
It’s not everyday that your only child turns six, so I wanted to make the day extra special for my son. I work overtime every day, securing business for our family law firm, but I left early, squeezing as much as in to the early morning hours, so I could take the rest of the day off to make his favorite meal from scratch and bake his very special birthday treats.
He is my miracle child and deserves the very best.
Donning a fancy outfit I selected for this occasion, I floated out of the house on a cloud of happiness. He is going to be so surprised! I can’t wait to see the look of joy on his smiling face.
“Mrs. Stone,” the crossing guard., Mrs. Jenkins greets me as I approach my son’s school. “What’s the occasion? This wouldn’t be for a special little gentlemen’s special day?”
Her eyes sparkle as she gazes up at the balloons in my hands, and looks down to see my knee-length, rhinestone dress that floats from my waist like a cloud of cotton candy.
“Well, it isn’t every day Jayson turns 6,” I smile back at her. I never dress like this, preferring the practicality of a smartly tailored suit and the simplicity of a face clean of makeup, but Jayson always wanted me to be like “the other mommies,” who wore fancy jewelry and sparkling dresses.
“I thought I’d be a princess for him today.” I point at the tiara and glitter.
“Well you look spectacular, Mrs. Stone,” Mrs. Jenkins nods in approval her gentle smile extending across her face as she holds back the cars for me. My heart lifts, feeling her warm gaze follow my movements as I safely approach the main gates of Westwind Academy, one of the most prestigious schools in the Upper East Side.
It’s a rare occasion that I can take this much time off just to be with my little guy. I work in my husband’s law office and often work later hours than he does as his assistant and co-council.
I was a top law school graduate, but after marrying my husband, Michael, I turned down a huge offer without hesitation and chose to work as a legal advisor for his small company instead. The law waits for no one, but neither does childhood. Jayson is growing up so quickly. Before I know it he’ll be off and gone, heading to college and I’ll miss all these small moments.
But where is he? His teacher should have brought him to the gate.
“Jayson!” I call out, my heart racing. This school is safe. Nobody but family could take him so he must be around here somewhere.
“Jayson, where are you?” I try again. This is strange. I even sent a text to his teacher reminding her that I’d be picking my son up early for his birthday. And now he seems to be missing.
“Did I make a mistake?” My fingers grip the cast-iron bars of the school gate as I pull my phone from my purse. No, it is Monday the 7th, 1 pm. The reminder is in my calendar with a note reminding me to pick him up early. There are no text messages saying that anything has changed, no note from his father or his school. He should be standing right there, in his usual spot, next to the lilacs.
Just as I turn towards the school office, my son’s lilting laughter carries on the wind like birdsong. My skirt floats around me, twirling as I look for the source, hoping to find my son laughing as he runs towards me.
What I see instead is a beautiful family–mother, father, and child. The man, tall and handsome has beautiful cheekbones and the brightest blue eyes. Holding onto him is a little boy with hair so blonde it looks almost white, a shade or two brighter than my own. On the little one’s other side, the mother is holding onto him, her petite hand griping his small one with tenderness, her perfect golden blonde hair cascading down her back in gentle waves, diamonds glistening on her ears and wrists.
It is a beautiful scene except for one thing–that’s my family. My husband and my son. But that woman with her elegant clothes and her effortless beauty isn’t me.
As she turns her head towards the gate, the sunlight illuminates her profile, making her hair glow like a halo of gold. She has the face of an angel, with small, perfectly formed lips and luminescent eyes, large and golden-brown like a cat, like a more vibrant version of my hazel.
She is stunning. And familiar.
No. I must be mistaken. It can’t be her. Michael would have told me if she were back in town.
The woman raises her eyes and our gazes connect from across the field. She places a hand on Michael's shoulder before pointing in my direction, smiling warmly and I know at once I am not mistaken after all.
That’s Michael’s first love, the girl who broke his heart and left him a shattered mess for me to heal in her wake. His college girlfriend whose picture still resides behind his driver’s license in the front pocket of his wallet, right behind our wedding picture and the baby picture of his son.
The woman of my nightmares.
Evelyn Valentine.
People say that when you are close to death, you see your entire life flash before your eyes. They were right. Only I didn’t see one life, I saw two. The first life plays quickly, like a half remembered movie. I grow up. My mother dies. My father does the best alone. I see my first day of Kindergarten and then skip ahead to my first day at Stanford, when I met my husband William. Finally his death on the island so far from home. And then, in the space of a breath, my memories shift. Like flicking on a light, the images change, becoming clearer–more than just flashes, they have scent, taste, touch…I see a lost little girl with long brown pigtails standing in a road, a car barreling towards her. I felt the rush of my heart as I raced out to scoop her into my arms. She calls me “Mama,” melting my heart with Malory’s hazel eyes. There is a man. He has the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen, like falling into a midnight ocean. As he approaches, he assesses me with those shrewd, remarka
“This cathedral,” I continue, “is in Manhattan. I’ve never been to Manhattan. I’ve never been to New York. And yet…here it is. It’s the same. It’s exactly the same!” “How can you be sure?” My therapist interrupts. “Gothic cathedrals all tend to look fairly similar. Maybe you saw this cathedral, or another like it, in another magazine or maybe on a wedding blog,” Kay suggests. “Maybe you’re reading too much into this. Dreams are often strange when you're under a lot of stress. Maybe consider taking some time off from wedding planning. A day away from all of it might be just what you need." After we hang up, I consider her words as I put on my running clothes. Maybe I should leave the kids with my dad and take a relaxing trip up the coast to take my mind off of everything? My doorbell rings. “Ah, it must be Charley,” I grin, looking out the window to see my serious-faced friend. She had started out as my personal trainer assigned to me by the gym when I started working out again afte
[Vanessa] In one week, I’ll be Mrs. James Peterson Wright. I should be excited. No, I am excited. And yet…something feels off. “I had that dream again. I’ve been having it every night for the last two months,” I confess as I speak to my therapist, a lovely woman on the East Coast who communicates with me via Zoom. I hadn’t spoken to her in years, but then one day last week she reached out to me and I felt a need to talk to someone who knew me BEFORE I became JPW’s girlfriend. Someone who remembered the dream. “You know the dream, the one with the yellow roses,” I remind her.My therapist, Kay, nods. “When did they start again,” she types swiftly, inputting data into my file. “A rough estimate will be fine.” Her green eyes flash behind chic wire-rimmed glasses as she looks away from her computer long enough to catch my gaze, waiting for my response.“Oh, I can tell you the exact night they started,” I smile despite my inner exhaustion. “Monday, March 18th. The day after our e
[Seven Years Later]“Daddy, when are you going to be done?” Large green eyes blink up at me from behind clear, rhinestoned glasses, her little pink button nose resting along the edge of my large, oak desk. It is Hunter’s old desk, one that I took over when I replaced him as CEO after his disappearance seven years ago. Placing a finger on my lips, I signal for her to be quiet as I cover the receiver and whisper. “Maggie Rose, where is your nanny?”“Changing Mickey,” she whines a bit too loudly, her nose crinkling with disgust as a loose curl bounces just outside of what had once been a tight ballet bun. “She told me to go play because ‘she needed a break.’”“What did you do this time, Miss Margaret?” I hiss, leaning forward as I pull my glasses down over the ragged scar across my nose–a physical reminder when I almost died in the field. Since healing, I’ve been on desk duty, running Grant Group full time while my wife, Katelyn, managed BLACK EAGLE in addition to THE NEST. “And how
[THREE WEEKS LATER][Reggie]I can’t open my eyes.Lying here, my body aching everywhere, I can hear Katie crying next to the bed, waiting for me to be awake, her silent prayers humming along my skin as she crouches nearby, holding my bandaged hands.I am awake, Katie. I just can’t open my goddamned eyes. Opening my lips, I try to say my love’s name, but something is in the way, choking me, my words coming out as a frenzied gargle. Panic seizes my heart as I struggle against whatever it is keeping me down. Damn it, I just want to see her, to tell her that everything will be okay. “NURSE!” Katelyn’s voice rings out around me as she scrambles to her feet. “Something’s wrong! Please, help him!”A moment later, rubber soles squeak along the linoleum floors of the hospital as several sets of footsteps stampede into the room. Two hands hold me down as another set opens my mouth wider. “We’re going to remove your breathing tube, Mr. Carter. The pain killer in your IV will help with the pai
[Professor McCannon]Ms. Rose didn’t meet me at Grant Tower like she promised. Instead, one of her junior technicians, a young man with blue hair and orbital piercings, met me at the main doors. “Greetings Professor McCannon. My name is Clay, and I’ll be managing the Persephone visors for this evening’s trial.”“Where is your supervisor?” I ask the young man directly as I enter the executive elevator only a few steps behind him. “Shouldn’t Ms. Rose be the one handling this…very delicate procedure?”“Commander Rose sends her apologies,” The young man moves with the excited efficiency of inspired youth as he leads the way into the room where Vanessa and Olivia are sleeping side by side in a large bed. “She was needed at the hospital. Don’t worry, Dr. McCannon,” the young man’s face softens over the edge of his wire-framed glasses, his piercings shining silver in the bright fluorescent lights, “I’ve performed this procedure dozens of times.” He is trying to reassure me. But I know that







