It had been ten years since Julliane was cast out by the very people she once called family. Her own mother and stepbrother had driven her away from Magnolia Manor-the grand estate owned by the Dankworth family. Now, after a decade of silence, Lance Dankworth, the eldest son of the man her mother had married, stood at her door. He came bearing grim news, her mother had been in a tragic accident. An event serious enough to require Julliane's return to the manor she had long left behind. Julliane couldn't forget how Lance used to see her. He'd branded her a troublemaker, a slut, even when she was just a girl. To him, she had brought nothing but shame and pain to his family. And yet, here he was, asking her to come back with him. She knew he despised her. So why, after all these years, was he suddenly asking her to stay-and worse, to marry him?
Lihat lebih banyak*Julliane*
"Julliane! Hurry up and pack your things now! Youre coming with me!" The sharp voice of my mother pierced through the early morning stillness like a blade, dragging me out of sleep with a jolt. I blinked at the ceiling, my heart sinking before I even swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My weekend peace was shattered. Just days ago, she had married Mister Dankworth, a name that still felt foreign and unwelcome in my mouth. The ceremony had been small, abrupt, and filled with people I didn't know, just fourteen days after they broke the news to my grandfather and me. I hadn't approved of it, and truthfully, I hadn't thought she'd actually go through with it. At least, not so soon. And certainly not at the expense of dragging me into her new life. I had held onto a naive hope that she would leave without me. That I could finish school here, in the house I grew up in, with Grandpa. But that illusion shattered as she barged into my room, already pulling open my closet doors with an air of impatience. "Mom," I mumbled, my voice still thick with sleep, "it's too early... I thought you already left the city?" She didn't look at me. Her movements were fast and erratic, tugging clothes off hangers, tossing them into a half-open suitcase on the floor. Her tone was clipped, her lips pursed with annoyance. "I told you about this weeks ago, Julliane. Don't act surprised. Our flight is this afternoon. I don't want to keep my husband waiting, he already bought the tickets. Nonrefundable. So get moving." I stood slowly, dragging my feet toward the closet as though each step carried the weight of a thousand regrets. My fingers brushed the familiar fabric of my school uniform, my old jacket, the sweater Grandpa gave me last Christmas. None of this felt real. It wasn't until I heard the steady thump of my grandfather's cane that I paused completely. "What is this, Marriane?" Grandpa's voice carried down the hallway and into my room. "Why are you here again? I thought you'd already left us alone." A flicker of hope lit in my chest. Grandpa had never been one to back down from my mother. Maybe, just maybe, he could stop this from happening. My mother turned to face him, her lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Good to see you too, old man. I'm here because I'm taking Julliane with me. She's my daughter, after all." There was venom in her voice, coated in the same sarcasm she always reserved for him. Their relationship had been strained for as long as I could remember. She thought he was overbearing and judgmental. He believed she was manipulative and selfish. Neither of them was entirely wrong. "You can leave Julie here," Grandpa said firmly, leaning harder on his cane as he stepped into the room. "You know she doesn't want to go with you. Why force her to leave school and go live on some remote island with a man she barely knows? She's better off here, with me." My mother's eyes flashed with anger as she turned to me. I froze. Her gaze was sharp, warning. I was still halfway through packing my first suitcase, and the delay hadn't gone unnoticed. "Keep packing, Julliane," she hissed. "And as for you, Arnold, you have no legal say in this. She's my daughter. I'm her mother. She's still a minor, and I'm making the decisions. Whether you like it or not." Grandpa slammed the tip of his cane against the wooden floor with a loud crack. His hands trembled, not from age, but from fury. "You're as selfish now as you were then," he growled. "You think I don't remember how you used my son? He worked himself to the bone trying to please you. Late nights, double shifts, weekend contracts, all to give you the life you wanted. You drained him, Marriane. And now that he's gone, you just toss his memory aside like it means nothing and remarry before the grass has even grown over his grave." I flinched. The air in the room grew thick with tension, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. His words cut deep, echoing truths that I had tried not to confront myself. Dad had been sick for months before he passed. Stress, overwork, exhaustion, it all caught up to him. And she'd hardly slowed down since. "Enough!" Mom snapped, her hands on her hips. "You think your bitterness gives you the moral high ground? Move on, Arnold. Your son loved me, and I loved him in my own way. But he's gone now, and I deserve to be happy. I found someone who can give me the life I want. You can't hold me hostage to the past." She picked up the half-packed suitcase and rolled it toward the hallway. Before stepping out, she paused to throw one final look at Grandpa. "You can't stop me. And you can't stop her either." The door slammed behind her. I stood there, my hands trembling, my eyes stinging with the tears I refused to let fall. Grandpa sat down heavily on the edge of my bed. His shoulders sagged under the weight of it all, and the anger in his face slowly melted into sadness. "You don't have to go, Julie," he said softly, not looking at me. "You know that. If I had custody, things would be different. But I don't... and the law's not on our side." I sat beside him, the suitcase momentarily forgotten. "I know, Grandpa," I whispered. "But if I don't go, she'll never stop. She'll drag you into court or do something worse. You know how she is. Maybe it's better if I go and see for myself." He turned to me, his eyes wet. "If they ever treat you badly, if you ever feel unhappy, you come back here. You hear me? This house will always be your home." I nodded, biting my lip hard to keep it from trembling. I wanted to stay. But I couldn't see another way. "I'll visit," I promised. "As often as I can. And I'll call. Every week." He reached for my hand, his grip firm despite the tremor in his fingers. "You're braver than you think," he said, "and smarter than she gives you credit for. Don't let them change who you are, Julie." I hugged him tightly, burying my face into the shoulder of the one person who had always been there for me. Minutes later, I zipped up the last suitcase and pulled it to the door. With every step I took, my heart grew heavier, like I was walking away from a life I might never get back. As the taxi pulled into the driveway, and my mother's voice echoed from outside, I turned back one last time. Grandpa stood in the doorway, waving slowly, his figure growing smaller as I moved toward a future I didn't choose. But somewhere inside me, a quiet resolve began to form. This wasn't the end. Just a beginning I hadn't expected. And no matter where I was taken, no matter what awaited me on that island,I would find a way back. Back to myself. Back home with my grandpa.* Alex Hamilton *I had never seen her like that before.Not when we first met, not during the worst nights we chased shadows through cold data and colder memories. Not even when she stood over Jason's ruined rumors, careless and free.But today, walking toward me on her brother's arm, veil trailing like mist, eyes fixed on mine, she was the fiercest thing I had ever known. Not because she was unafraid, but because she was, and she walked anyway.My throat tightened. She looked like the truth made flesh. My truth. My choice and my bride. I love her with my life and I swear to protect her for as long as I live.The crowd disappeared. The guards faded. Even the goddamn cameras stopped mattering. All I could see was Penny. She's the most beautiful woman that I have ever laid my eyes upon.I didn't think, I didn't breathe, not until her hand slid into mine."Hi," she whispered."Hi," I said, and it felt like a promise.But then—"WAIT!"Chaos cracked the moment open.I saw Calder react fir
* Penny *Three days passed.Three days of surveillance, of tracing calls, of coded messages and sleepless nights. Of strategy meetings held behind locked doors and visits to places I thought I'd buried. Three days of peeling back the truth until it bled. Until I could see every shadow cast in my name, every threat hiding behind Jason's twisted legacy.And now it was finally the wedding day.Magnolia Manor was unrecognizable, transformed from fortress to fairytale. The courtyard was a bloom of ivory and blush roses, draped with white silk that danced in the summer wind. Crystal chandeliers hung from ancient oaks, their light catching in the breeze like fireflies. Cameras flashed from behind velvet ropes where press huddled with microphones, jostling for a view. A drone hummed above, catching aerial shots for the official media team. And behind it all, security moved like shadows, unobtrusive but everywhere.Calder stood at the edge of the inner perimeter, his dark suit sharp and delib
* Penny *Three days before the wedding, I was still wide awake at Magnolia Manor, curled up in the dim amber light of my study, the clock ticking closer and closer to midnight like a countdown I couldn't stop.I couldn't sleep.I told Alex I would. Even kissed him goodnight with a smile stitched into my lips, like everything was normal. Like I wasn't quietly unraveling. Like the guest rooms weren't being checked every other hour, like off-duty guards weren't pretending to look casual under my window, like the woman I used to be hadn't started bleeding through the cracks again, brought back to life by the sound of Jason Hamilton's voice and the memories it dragged behind it.But I didn't sleep.Instead, I sat cross-legged on the floor, the thick rug cold beneath me, the folder open like a corpse waiting for autopsy. Its contents were chaos incarnate, letters, black-and-white photos, receipts, emails printed and annotated, napkins with his handwriting scrawled like curses, each loop an
* Alex Hamilton *I didn't speak much on the way back. Penny sat beside me, her shoulders tight beneath her coat, her gaze fixed on some distant point outside the windshield. But I wasn't watching the road anymore, I was turning over everything she'd said. The flowers. The photo. The message. Wrong girl again.That wasn't just a threat. That was strategy. Cold. Efficient. Like someone sending reminders that they were always three steps ahead. Someone with reach. With intel. With obsession.But one thing kept churning in my gut like acid, the method. It was too specific, too psychological. Whoever was behind this didn't want to just scare her. They wanted to rattle her sense of safety, of identity. That wasn't just a criminal, it was someone who knew how to break people from the inside out.And that was when the thought hit me. A sick, slow crawling suspicion.I waited until we got home. Until Penny had gone up to shower. The moment the door clicked behind her, I pulled out my phone an
* Penny *The kettle hissed softly behind me, but I didn't move. The sharp whine of steam curled up and into the silence, unanswered. The laptop screen cast a dull glow over the kitchen island, washing my fingers in pale blue as they hovered above the keyboard, motionless. There were open tabs, bridal suppliers, music lists, flight schedules for out-of-town guests, but my gaze wasn't on any of them.My wedding dress was scheduled for its final fitting tomorrow. White peonies had been ordered, my mother's favorite. My vows, half-written and trembling with hope, waited folded on the nightstand beside my bed.And yet all I could see was her. That woman. Lighting a cigarette under the flickering sign of the Honeywell Motel, her features bleached by surveillance static, but unmistakable. She looked through the camera like she knew I was watching. Like she was daring me to blink first."Don't let your tea go cold," Alex said gently, from the far end of the kitchen.I didn't answer. Couldn't
* Penny *The photo blurred in my vision for a second, not from the grain, but because my breath hitched so sharply it stole the focus from my eyes. My fingers were ice around the phone, locked in place, and for a beat I couldn't even remember how to speak. Claire.She was supposed to be dead. I'd mourned her, quietly, not with tears but with the still ache that had settled in my chest ever since Alex told me. A private sort of grief, followed by the relief that someone who wished me dead is already gone.But the woman in the photo?She looked straight at the camera, head tilted ever so slightly, like she knew. I swallowed hard and handed the phone back to Alex with trembling fingers. "This... this can't be real."Alex stared at the screen like it might catch fire. His jaw was rigid, his thumb hovering just over the image without touching it. "It could be old. Or faked.""No," I said, voice barely a whisper. "That's the motel on 47th. Look, see the torn sign by the ice machine?"He zo
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