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The Breaking Point

Autor: Andrea
last update Data de publicação: 2026-09-09 21:06:34

I didn't sleep.

I lay in my childhood bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the hours until dawn. The wedding was in eight hours. In eight hours, I was supposed to walk down the aisle and marry Damon.

In eight hours, everything would change.

I couldn't stop thinking about Elias. The way he'd looked at me on the terrace. The way he'd touched me. The way he'd said he saw me the real me.

I'd never felt more seen in my life.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

I grabbed it, my heart pounding.

Elias: I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about you. Can we meet?

I stared at the screen.

I should have said no. I should have turned off my phone and tried to sleep. I should have done the right thing.

Instead, I typed: Where?

Elias: The penthouse. I'll send a car.

I didn't respond. I just got out of bed and started getting dressed.

I was a terrible person.

I didn't care.

The car arrived in twenty minutes.

I slipped out of the house, careful not to wake anyone. The driver was silent, professional. He didn't ask questions.

The penthouse was dark when I arrived, lit only by the city lights through the floor to ceiling windows.

Elias was standing by the window, his back to me.

I heard the door close behind me. I heard my own breathing, shallow and ragged.

"Elias."

He turned. His grey eyes met mine.

"Clara."

I walked toward him. I should have said something. I should have told him this was goodbye. I should have ended it.

Instead, I kissed him.

It was desperate and hungry and completely reckless. His hands found my waist, pulling me against him. I felt his body react to mine.

"What are we doing?" I breathed against his lips.

"I don't know," he said. "I just know I can't let you go."

"Elias —"

"Clara, I love you."

I froze.

I stared at him.

"What?"

"I love you." His voice was raw, unguarded. "I didn't plan it. I didn't want it. But I can't stop it. I love you and I can't let you marry my son."

I opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out.

I was supposed to say something. I was supposed to tell him I loved him too.

But I couldn't. Because I didn't know if that was true.

"Elias, I —"

"You don't have to say it back," he said. "I just needed you to know."

I felt tears slip down my cheeks.

"I'm so confused," I whispered. "I don't know what I want. I don't know who I am. I don't know anything anymore."

He pulled me into his arms. He held me, his hand stroking my hair.

"Then let go," he said. "Just let go. Don't think. Just feel."

I closed my eyes.

I let go.

We ended up in his bed.

It was different this time. Slower. Sweeter. More intimate.

He touched me like I was precious. He kissed me like I was the only woman in the world. He held me like I was already his.

Afterward, I lay in his arms, staring at the ceiling.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said. "But I know I'm not losing you. Not to him. Not to anyone."

I closed my eyes.

I wanted to believe him.

I wanted to believe this was the beginning of something new.

But I was still engaged. I was still supposed to marry his son. I was still the woman who'd lied to everyone she loved.

The dawn light crept through the curtains.

I watched it, knowing my time with him was almost over.

"I have to go," I said.

Elias held me tighter. "Don't."

"I have to."

"I know."

We lay there for a moment longer, frozen in time.

Finally, he released me. I got out of bed. I dressed. I walked toward the door.

"Clara."

I turned.

He was standing in the middle of the room, naked, vulnerable, more beautiful than I'd ever seen him.

"Don't marry him," he said. "Please. I know it's selfish. I know I'm asking you to throw away everything you've planned. But please. Please don't marry him."

I couldn't answer.

I just walked out the door.

The ride home was a blur.

I walked into the house and into the shower. I let the hot water wash over me, trying to wash away everything I'd done.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

The woman staring back at me was a stranger.

She'd slept with her fiancé's father. She'd fallen in love with him. She was about to marry someone else.

What was she going to do?

I didn't have an answer.

My phone buzzed.

I looked at it.

Mia: I'll be at your house in an hour. Time to get you ready, bride!

I stared at the screen.

One hour.

In one hour, I was going to start getting ready for my wedding.

I felt my stomach drop.

I couldn't do this. I couldn't marry Damon. Not after everything.

But what was I supposed to do? Tell everyone the truth? Destroy Damon's relationship with his father? Destroy my own family?

I had no idea.

I just knew I had to make a choice.

Soon.

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  • His father’s touch   The Beginning

    The baby came three weeks early.I woke up in the middle of the night to a sharp pain in my abdomen. At first, I thought it was nothing. A cramp. A false alarm. But the pain came again. And again. And again.I reached over and shook Elias."Wake up."He stirred. "What's wrong?""The baby. It's coming."He was awake instantly.He threw on clothes. He grabbed the hospital bag we'd packed weeks ago. He helped me to the car. He drove faster than he should have.I gripped the door handle and breathed through the contractions."It's okay," he said. "You're okay. We're almost there."I didn't answer. I couldn't.The hospital was a blur.Nurses. Doctors. Bright lights. Cold hands. Machines that beeped and hummed. Elias beside me the whole time, holding my hand, whispering that I was doing great, that I was strong, that everything was going to be okay.I didn't feel strong. I felt like I was being torn apart.But I kept going.I thought about my mother. How she'd done this. How she'd brought m

  • His father’s touch   The Future

    Married life was quiet.Not boring. Not predictable. Just... quiet. The kind of quiet I'd never known before. The kind of quiet that felt like peace.We bought a small house on the outskirts of the city. It wasn't a penthouse. It wasn't a mansion. It was a cottage with a white picket fence and a garden full of wildflowers. The kind of house I'd dreamed about as a child.Elias planted roses in the backyard. I painted the walls a soft yellow. We filled the rooms with books and candles and photographs.It was ours.I got a job at a small publishing house downtown.It didn't pay much. It wasn't glamorous. But I loved it. I loved reading manuscripts. I loved working with authors. I loved the smell of paper and ink.I was good at it too.My boss, a woman named Helen, told me I had an eye for stories. She said I understood what made people turn the page.I thought about my own story. The one I'd lived. The one I was still living.Maybe that was why.Elias sold his shares in the family busine

  • His father’s touch   The Wedding

    We didn't want a big wedding.The first time I'd walked down the aisle, it had been a spectacle. Hundreds of guests. White flowers. A dress that cost more than my first car. A man I didn't love waiting for me at the altar.This time, I wanted something different.This time, I wanted something real.We chose a small chapel by the sea.It was old and weathered, with white stone walls and a bell tower that hadn't rung in decades. The windows were stained glass, casting colored light across the wooden pews. The only decorations were wildflowers in mason jars and candles in glass holders.It was simple. It was beautiful.It was ours.I invited three people.Mira, the healer's apprentice who'd once brought me salve when I was locked in my cell. She'd reached out after the trial, after everything. She'd said she was proud of me.My father.I hadn't spoken to him since the wedding. He'd called, texted, tried to reach me through Elias. I'd ignored him for months. But when I finally called him

  • His father’s touch   The Aftermath

    The days after the trial were strange.I had spent so long fighting so long surviving that I didn't know how to stop. I woke up each morning expecting another battle. Another threat. Another crisis to solve.But there was nothing.The trial was over. Damon was in prison. His mother was awaiting her own trial in France. Victor was still missing, but the police were confident they would find him. The media had moved on to other scandals, other stories.The war was over.I just didn't know how to live in the peace.I stayed at Elias's penthouse for a week.He didn't push. He didn't ask for anything. He just made sure I ate. Made sure I slept. Made sure I didn't drown in my own thoughts.But I could see the worry in his eyes. The way he watched me. The way he hesitated before he spoke.He was waiting for me to break.I didn't.Not yet.On the seventh day, I woke up before dawn.I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Elias's breathing beside me. He was asleep. Peac

  • His father’s touch   The Fallout

    The press conference was chaos.I stood at the podium in a small conference room downtown, flanked by Sarah Chen and a publicist I'd hired two days earlier. The room was packed reporters, cameras, photographers, bloggers, everyone who mattered and everyone who didn't. They shouted questions before I even opened my mouth."Ms. Reyes, is it true you were involved with your fiancé's father?""Did you sleep with Elias Blackwood before or after the engagement?""Is it true Damon Blackwood killed your mother?"I raised my hand.The room fell silent."My name is Clara Reyes," I said. "Eleven years ago, my mother, Elara Reyes, died. I was told she died of an illness. I believed that lie for over a decade. Today, I'm here to tell you the truth."I paused."My mother was murdered. She was poisoned. Slowly. Deliberately. By the Blackwood family. And the man who helped cover it up the man who knew what was happening and said nothing was my fiancé, Damon Blackwood."The room erupted.I read the st

  • His father’s touch   The Accusation

    Damon was released on bail three days later.I found out from the news. A reporter stood outside the courthouse, microphone in hand, describing how the "disgraced heir" had walked free pending trial. Damon had posted a two million dollar bond. His lawyers had argued he was not a flight risk. The judge had agreed.I watched the footage on my phone, my hands shaking.He was out.He was free.And I knew with a certainty that settled deep in my bones that he would come for me.I called Elias."Did you see?" I asked."I saw.""What do we do?""Nothing. We wait. We watch. We don't give him the satisfaction of reacting.""You think he'll come after us?""I think he's desperate. And desperate men do desperate things."I paused."I'm not going to hide," I said."Clara—""I'm done hiding. I'm done running. I'm done letting him control my life."There was a long silence."What are you going to do?" he asked."I'm going to find him. And I'm going to tell him the truthI found Damon at a bar downt

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