LOGINI can’t breathe. I can’t… I can’t breathe. I willed my lungs to pull in air, but my body refused to obey. Panic clawed up my throat, sharp and merciless. “Breathe,” he said coolly. “I can’t have you dying just yet.” The command sliced through me. My body reacted instantly, sucking in a deep, desperate breath. Air burned my lungs, and I doubled over as a violent cough tore through me. Clutching my chest, I forced myself upright and looked at him. The man. I had only seen him once before, but his presence felt even colder now. His face was carved from ice, eyes devoid of warmth or mercy. “Stephanie,” he said, lips curling faintly, “why aren’t you learning? Are you really that stupid?” The insult stung, but I swallowed my response. This man wasn’t someone you talked back to. “How did you get into my house?” I rasped, the words barely leaving my throat. What was it about him that made my body fear him, obey him? “It’s only right,” he replied calmly, stepping closer with each
I held Phoe in my arms, studying his little face. The uncertainty in his eyes cut deeper than any blade. I hadn’t wanted to have this conversation with him not now, not while everything was still unsettled. But I also couldn’t risk anyone else using the truth against him. If he was going to hear it, it had to be from me. From his family. “Before anything else,” I said quietly, “I need you to know something very important. I love you. And you will always be my son.” God, this was nerve wracking. I’d take a hostile business negotiation over this any day. “What you heard is true,” I continued, choosing my words carefully. “Biologically… I’m not your father.” The moment the tears spilled from his eyes, it felt like my heart was being carved open. Every instinct screamed to stop, to pull the words back, but we couldn’t. If we didn’t face this now, Phoe would carry questions he might never feel safe enough to ask. Or he could go searching and be led a stray I wouldn’t take that r
Something felt off, it was as if something had shifted after my talk with Amir. I noticed it the moment I stepped back into the main corridor the way seemed muted, like the walls were holding their breath. Like someone who wasn’t supposed to be there had been.Something had already gone wrong. I found Jess in our bedroom, Phoe curled unnaturally tight beside her. Not asleep. Not crying. Just… still.Too still.Jess looked up immediately. Her eyes told me everything before she spoke. “He’s been quiet,” she said softly. “He won’t let go of me.”My chest tightened. Phoe wouldn’t look at me. I crouched slowly in front of him. “Hey, my little man.”Nothing.“Phoe,” I tried again, gentler. “What’s wrong?”I watched his little fingers tightening in Jess’s shirt. “I heard something,” Phoe whispered, his voice sounding distant as if he were else where. The air left my lungs. Shit what had he heard? Jess stiffened. “What did you hear, sweetheart?”Phoe swallowed. His voice was small, but
Amir stood alone in the training room, hands braced on the edge of the mat, head bowed like the weight of the world had finally found a place to land. Apollo didn’t announce himself. He never needed to. Amir could sense his cousin’s presence when he entered the room. “I should’ve been there,” Amir said quietly, before Apollo could speak. “For my wife. For my life. I ran instead.” Apollo stopped a few feet away, arms crossed, fury locked down so tightly it hummed beneath his skin. “You didn’t just run,” Apollo said. “You disappeared after you buried Dalia.” Amir nodded once. “I buried her. Two days later I was in my brother’s club, drinking myself numb. I wasn’t thinking. I wasn’t present.” “That doesn’t excuse what happened,” Apollo snapped. “But it explains why you don’t remember.” Amir finally turned. His eyes were red, haunted, filled with something dangerously close to self-hatred. “She used that,” he said hoarsely. “Didn’t she?” Apollo didn’t answer immediately. “Yes,
Apollo didn’t knock. He closed the door behind him with controlled precision, the sound final enough to make Stephanie flinch before she even turned around. She stood near the window of the guest suite, arms wrapped around herself, already defensive. She knew. She always did. “What was the matter to see me so urgently? Did Phoe want to see me?” she said quietly. Apollo didn’t answer. He crossed the room and placed the envelope on the table between them. “Read them,” he said. Her eyes flicked to the envelope, then away. A sense of dread seeping into her bones. She had a sickening idea what those documents were about. Gingerly she picked one up and started to read. “This can’t be right. It’s not right at all” her voice rose, bordering hysterical. That made his jaw tighten. “You told me Phoe was mine.” “He is yours,” she snapped, spinning toward him. “I did a DNA test three years ago. It said you were the father.” Apollo laughed once. Low. Empty. Raw. “That’s a
The room felt too small. Too many eyes. Too little air. Too much truth. It was as if the walls were closing in on him. Amir couldn’t hear anything past the pounding in his ears. Apollo’s words replayed again and again merciless, unforgiving. You are Phoe’s father. “No,” Amir said again quieter now, hoping that the universe would hear. That this wasn’t really taking place. He had come to visit his family meet the love of his younger cousin’s life and the son who was brought to light over night. Now his cousin was saying the kid was biologically The papers before him bore the truth in black and white. It didn’t change. Didn’t soften. Didn’t care. No one rushed to reassure him. No one interrupted. His chest burned. His hands shook. As he dragged it through his hair, his breathing ragged. “I would remember,” he said hoarsely, voice cracking under the weight of something old and ugly clawing its way up. “I would never touch her. I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as h







