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Claiming Each Other.
Last Updated:
2025-07-31 15:40:20
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His Mistress. Too Many Ghosts—The End.
~Nikolai~ The walls are a pale, institutional white—the kind of white that doesn't cleanse but sterilizes. Like it's trying too hard to convince you that this place is safe. But nothing about it is. The chair beneath me creaks every time I shift. Cheap. Functional. Designed for watching and waiting, not for comfort. I sit on the other side of the observation window, staring through the glass at her. Catalina. Her body is thinner than I remember. Fragile, like she could vanish if I blinked too long. Her once-glossy hair is chopped short now, tucked behind her ears in a way that makes her look younger than thirty-one and older than that time. She's sitting cross-legged on the padded floor, humming the lullaby. "Mr. D'Amano," a voice calls beside me—too crisp, too calm for this room. A doctor. Dr. Leclerc, I think. Neurologist, one of the three assigned to her. I barely glanced at him. "She's been in a catatonic rhythm all week," he adds. "Minimal speech. Repetitive behavior. Hum
His Mistress. Guilt Isn’t Enough.
~Third Person~Raul stood beside Nikolai, both of them staring at the half-empty glass in his hand."You came," Raul said, his voice low."I said I would."Silence settled between them."The kids were happy to see you," Raul added, softer this time."They're good kids," Nikolai replied, then took a slow sip of whiskey. "You and Angel are doing a good job with them."Raul didn't say thank you. He wasn't here for compliments."You know why I brought you here tonight?" Raul asked, his voice edged with heat. "Because I didn't want to explain to my four-year-old kids why their uncle suddenly doesn't exist anymore."Nikolai flinched, just slightly. "I get it.""I don't think you do," Raul said, turning to him."You didn't just sleep with people I cared about. You lied to me. You made me question myself. You made me think I wasn't enough. For years."Nikolai swallowed hard. "I didn't come to defend myself.""Good. Because you couldn't if you tried." Raul stepped closer, his voice a quiet gro
His Mistress. A Glimpse Of His Turmoil.
~Angel~The twins' birthday dinner wasn't extravagant, but it was intimate—just family. Raul insisted on it.He said the kids didn't need a crowd, they just needed people who loved them. And even though I agreed, I couldn't help noticing the tension simmering underneath his calm voice when he said, "Family."Especially after he invited Nikolai.I didn't argue. Not because I didn't have my own opinions or feelings, but because Raul needed to do this for himself. On his terms.I could sense he wasn't doing it out of comfort. He was doing it out of responsibility. And maybe a part of him—deep, buried—needed to see his brother, if only to confirm that the man he once loved no longer existed.The backyard glowed under strings of golden lights, fairy-like and warm. Mia and Joanna had gone overboard with the cake setup; sparkler candles, twin balloons, even a damn magician who never showed.Aryan and Matteo took turns smearing icing on each other's faces as the rest of us clapped and cheere
His Mistress. Five Years Of Us.
💎Angel💎 Five years later. "Angel, Aryan!" Raul called out to me and our five-year-old daughter. I crouched behind the couch, holding my five-year-old daughter close, my hand gently covering her mouth to stifle any giggles that might give us away. Her gray eyes, so like mine, sparkled with mischief. "This woman will be the death of me," Raul muttered, his footsteps pacing as he hunted for the room key we'd hidden. For days, Aryan and I had been pranking him—our revenge for his broken promise to take us out last weekend. When we teamed up, there was no escape for him, especially with Aryan as my partner-in-crime. "Stay quiet for Mamá, okay?" I whispered. Aryan nodded, her small hand squeezing mine. We crept from our hiding spot, tiptoeing toward the stairs. Before we could escape, two strong arms scooped us up, making us squeal. "Got you!" Raul tossed us onto the couch, his fingers attacking our sides with relentless tickles. Tears of laughter streamed
His Mistress. Claiming Each Other.
"No, D'Amanos, you'll never have peace—not over my dead body!"Raul stepped forward, voice calm but stern, but she swung the gun toward him."Catalina....""One more step, and I'll pull the trigger." She warned."I loved you, Raul! I was willing to fix us! But no—you chose her." Her eyes blazed with fury, fixed on me.I rolled my eyes. The dramatics were exhausting."What does she have that I don't?" she demanded.Raul let out a dark laugh. "Do you really want me to answer that?""Answer me!" she screamed, aiming the gun at me.Oddly, I felt no fear—only defiance."Fine," Raul snapped. "Angel is real; you're fake. She's loyal; you're a traitor. She's incredible in every way, and you're nothing compared to her."Catalina shrieked, firing the gun skyward. "You can't say that!""Why not? It's the truth, and it should hurt," he shot back, his voice cold."If I can't have you, Raul, no one will—not her, not anyone!" she spat, her laughter sharp and unhinged."Don't you—""Watch your mouth,
His Mistress. Tesoro, Will You?
💎Raul💎"Where are we going, Raul?" Angel asked for the third time, her voice tinged with impatience.Patience was never her strong suit."Relax, tesoro," I teased, a smirk tugging at my lips."It's not like I'm going to kill you.""Are you sure about that?" she shot back, her tone playful but edged with suspicion."With my eyes blindfolded and no clue where you're taking me, how do I know you're not planning to off me?"I rolled my eyes, guiding her carefully down the stairs, her hand warm in mine."Take off the blindfold, but promise you'll keep your eyes closed."She hesitated, then nodded. "Tesoro—" I drawled, needing her word."I promise, Raul," she assured, her voice softening."You can take it off."She untied the blindfold, her eyes still dutifully shut, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks.I glanced up to see Mamá, Joanna, Mia, and the others watching from the edge of the backyard, their encouraging smiles bolstering my nerve.I never thought I'd be here—on the verge of
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