LOGINRachel's chest rose and fell, fury and heartbreak boiling together. “Why would you do that?” Her voice was shaky.
“Because,” Marissa said calmly, “Bryce doesn't need your food. He needs me, the mother of his child.” She rubbed her stomach, lip twisting. “You should get used to it.” Rachel took a step forward, “You have no right to destroy what I create in my own home.” Marissa scoffed, “Your home? Sweetheart, that title is slipping away. You heard Evangeline yesterday, you are stopping the progress of this family.” Rachel clenched her jaw so hard it hurt. “You can insult me, Marissa. But you don't get to ruin everything I do. What is your problem?” Marissa laughed. “My problem? My problem is you.” She snapped. “Why do you think Bryce stayed with me last night? Why do you think he kissed my stomach before he left this morning? Because he loves me…but you— you're a hindrance!” Marissa tilted her head, voice soft but lethal. “Just get over this annoying love story. Bryce would not look at you… not anymore.” The kitchen door opened again, this time Bryce stood there. Rachel turned instantly, hope flickering but Bryce didn't even look at her first. He looked at Marissa. Marissa walked towards him swiftly, her expression changing to a fragile innocence. “Bryce…” she whispered. “I'm sorry, Rachel got upset and—” Rachel's eyes widened. “Bryce, she destroyed the food!” Marissa gasped, clutching her belly with a wobble. “I just tried to help. I touched the plate and it fell. I didn't think she would yell at me.” Bryce stepped towards Marissa instinctively, supporting her arm. “Careful. You shouldn't strain yourself.” Marissa leaned into him, “I think the stress isn't good for the baby.” Bryce finally looked at Rachel, “Rachel…please. Don't shout in front of her, she's pregnant.” Those words burned like acid. “I wasn't shouting,” she said, voice trembling. “She smashed the plate on purpose. As far as I know, pregnancy allergies do not reach the extent of destroying food.” Marissa sniffed. “I did not mean any harm. Bryce, you don't have to stay here; we can eat out, I suddenly don't feel comfortable in this kitchen. Let's go, baby.” Bryce hesitated…only for a second, then he nodded and led Marissa out. Rachel stood alone in the kitchen, staring at the meal she made, unwanted and wasted. When she married Bryce, he was head over heels for her meals, but now… Rachel closed her eyes as a quiet wave of pain tightened her chest. “Never thought a liability would be here,” Evangeline stepped inside the kitchen. “Pained that my son chose an asset over her.” Rachel forced a small smile, “Good morning, mother.” Evangeline glanced around the room as if inspecting it for dust. “Marissa is feeling nauseous this morning. Bryce wants ginger tea brought to their room.” Rachel forced a small nod, “I can prepare it.” Evangeline raised a brow. “No. I've instructed the staff. Marissa prefers things done in a certain way for the baby's sake. Stay out of sight.” Rachel's hands clenched. “Of course,” she said quietly and Evangeline left without another word. Rachel's phone buzzed. She searched for it in her apron, when she found it she swiped the answer button. “Hello?” “Rachel!” Elara said from the other end, “Happy birthday! Guess what, I ordered an exclusive VIP booth for the both of us in Russell restaurant.” Rachel's eyes widened. Today was her birthday? She checked the date on the calendar that hung on the kitchen wall. July 17th…it was really her birthday. And she didn't remember…no one remembered, apart from Elara. “Rachel?” Elara asked curiously. “I'm here. Thank you so much Elara. I'm so grateful. Should I stop by your place?” Rachel asked as tears clouded her eyes. “Yes. No need to put on some expensive or flashy clothes. I bought clothes and I'm sure they will suit you.” Rachel nodded. “Sure. Once more, thank you so much.” Elara hung up. A few minutes later, Rachel was dressed in a casual outfit and adorned herself with some jewelries that fitted perfectly. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, she had lost a lot of weight and had become lean. “Where are you going?” A voice said from the hallway. Rachel turned. It was Bryce, he was dressed in a tuxedo suit that fitted perfectly, his hair sleek and pulled back. He was still adjusting his tie. Rachel smiled, “I think that question is meant for Marissa.” She replied calmly and turned to keep going. Bryce stopped on his track. “You are still my wife,” Rachel paused. “I deserve to know your whereabouts.” Rachel's fist clenched at her sides, “My whereabouts would be the most insignificant thing in your life…so don't pretend like you care.” Bryce walked towards her, “if it was going to be an insignificant thing, I wouldn't bother asking.” Rachel turned back to him, “I'm going to a friend's place. What do you gain from my where—” He cut her off, “I'll drop you.”The sky hung low and colorless over the private cemetery. A muted gray stretching endlessly above the rows of headstones. The air carried the faint scent of damp earth and lilies. Black vehicles lined the gravel path in disciplined symmetry, engines silent, doors closed with careful restraint.Alfredo’s casket rested beneath a canopy of white flowers. A dark mahogany and impeccably polished casket.Dominic stood at the front. His posture was tall, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders squared underneath a tailored black suit. He had not slept. The exhaustion showed in his features, but it did not soften him. Rachel stood beside him, her gloved hand wrapped tightly around his arm. She felt the tension radiating from him like a wire pulled too taut.Lucien positioned himself a step behind. Jodie lingered near the second row, her face composed, sunglasses shielding her eyes despite the dim light.The priest stepped forward. “Today,” he began solemnly, “we commend Alfredo to the mer
Dominic stood in the center of the living room, phone still in his hand, eyes fixed on nothing. “They found poison,” he said at last. Rachel felt her pulse thud against her ribs. “Poison?” Lucien’s voice hardened. “What kind?” Dominic swallowed once. “Aconite.” Silence crashed over them. “It was in the last meal he ate at the hospital,” Dominic continued, each word controlled. “Mushroom risotto. The kitchen logs confirm it was delivered privately.” Rachel’s mind reeled. Mushroom risotto. Something so ordinary. “Aconite slows the heart,” Dominic said. “It mimics cardiac complications. Especially for someone already diabetic.” Lucien’s jaw clenched. “So someone deliberately murdered him.” The living room remained frozen after Dominic’s words. “I need to find out who did this.” he said and then he left. He did not wait for more questions. He needs to find out the truth behind the death of his father. He walked out with the same rigid control he had worn since the hospital, b
Dominic held Jodie’s gaze for a long moment. The foyer felt smaller, tighter. Rachel could see the resistance behind his eyes—the instinct to shut Jodie out battling the need to know. Finally, he spoke. “Fine.” Rachel stiffened, she did not expect him to accept. “We’ll talk,” Dominic said. “Only five minutes. Once the time elapses, you'll leave.” Jodie’s lips curved slightly, victory concealed beneath sympathy. “That’s all I need.” Dominic turned toward the corridor leading to his study. “Inside there.” Rachel stepped forward. “Dominic….” He paused but didn’t look at her. “It concerns my father. I have to listen to her this time.” “And she doesn’t want me there?” Rachel replied sharply. Jodie gave an apologetic shrug. “It’s delicate. My time is already ticking.” Dominic’s voice hardened. “Rachel. Let it be.” The words landed heavier than intended and Rachel drew back instantly, masking the sting. “Do whatever you want.” Dominic walked ahead without another word. Jodie foll
Smithfield poured himself a glass of whiskey before the news had fully settled across the city. “Confirmed?” he asked. The man across from him nodded once. “Alfredo Morello. He surfaced cardiac complications related to diabetes. It was pronounced this morning.” Smithfield leaned back in his leather chair and allowed the satisfaction to surface without restraint. “So the old lion is finally gone.” He lifted the glass in a silent toast. “Timing is everything.” The man hesitated. “Dominic is consolidating control already.” “Of course he is,” Smithfield replied. “That boy was raised for this. But grief disrupts judgment. And disruption is opportunity.” He took a slow sip. *** Evangeline felt her hands tremble. She had heard the news minutes ago from an associate. Alfredo was dead was he really dead? She sat in the living room, posture rigid, the television muted but flashing headlines at the bottom of the screen. Her breathing came shallow. Bryce entered, jacket slung over his
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic. Dominic walked through it without slowing, his footsteps sharp against the polished floor. His jaw was set, phone still in his hand from the call that had dragged him out of breakfast. His father has been transferred to intensive Care, room 307. He pushed through the double doors. Lucien stood near the window, shoulders rigid. Adrain was pacing. Stephanie sat beside the bed, clutching Alfredo’s hand with both of hers as if warmth alone could anchor him to the world. Dominic’s eyes went straight to the bed. Alfredo looked smaller than he remembered. Tubes threaded into his arms. The steady beep of the monitor painted green lines across the screen. “What happened?” Dominic asked, voice controlled. “His sugar spiked in the night,” Adrain answered, not looking at him. “They said his organs were struggling.” Stephanie’s face was streaked with tears. “He was asking for you earlier.” Dominic stepped closer to the bed. “I’m here,” he said,
Dominic did not move immediately. He stood by the door, one hand still on the handle, his gaze steady on her. He wasn't angry or soft either.“Why are you in my room, Rachel?”The question was calm, but it made her pulse jump.She straightened slowly, withdrawing her hand from the picture frame as though it had burned her.“I…” She swallowed. “I couldn’t sleep.”His eyes narrowed slightly. “So you decided to inspect my files?”“I wasn’t inspecting,” she said quickly. “I came to see you. I had a nightmare.”That shifted something in his expression. “A nightmare?” he repeated. She nodded, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “It felt real. I thought I would die.” He closed the door behind him and walked further into the room. “About what?”Rachel hesitated. It's about you shooting me. About you asking me why I keep lying. But she could not say any of it. “Nothing important,” she said. “It just… woke me up.”Dominic stopped in front of her. He searched her face the way he always did when







