CHELLEY KENSINGTON
They told me I was pregnant the same morning they told me my mother was dead. I sat on the cold examination table holding the paper with my trembling fingers as the other hand pressed to my flat belly like it might keep me from floating away. I was still trying to wrap my head around it, the two pink faint lines that meant hope and finally a future. After three years of silence from my womb, three years of scorns and humiliation from my husband, my adoptive parents and sister Cierra, three years of pitiful stares from the workers in my father's company, his legacy... which he left for me alongside signing me up for adoption to my current adoptive parents to take care of me because he divorced my mother years back. The impossible finally happened, I was pregnant. Now I would hold my baby and the world would see that I'm not barren. I thought I'd run home to laughter when I'd share this news with my husband and my family, that my husband would finally; for the first time, scoop me into his arms, kiss me and maybe cry. That my adoptive parents and sister would finally stop looking at me like an empty barrel literally... They call me that, and also call me Useless and Barren. I thought it would all stop. But instead the nurse walked in with a white envelope and handed it to me, “Chelley… I’m sorry. Your mother passed at 7:12 this morning.” The room spun. I don’t remember screaming. I think I did. I just remember running. Down the linoleum hallways that still smelled like antiseptic and wilting flowers. Past the ICU ward I had memorized by heart after three damn years of praying and staying beside her, Past the vending machine I used to sit beside while begging the universe for another day with her. She was the only one who truly cared about me, not the adoptive parents my father legally bound me to. Her room was still warm. Like she might still be here, sleeping. “Mom?” My voice cracked so uselessly, “Mom, wake up, please. I’m here now, I’m here—” I clutched her hand. It was cold and soft. They’d removed the oxygen tubes already, her chest wasn't rising, Then my eyes landed on the folder at the edge of her bed, her hospital files, I was never allowed to touch any of her files because my husband handled it, and the hospital bills which he takes from my company. I do not care about the bills as long as my mother is okay. My husband’s signature scrawled across every page. And my heart dropped at the cancellation forms. He had rejected all the treatment recommendations for my mother. The dates went back months and months for three years, My hands were shaking as I flipped through them faster, my pulse pounding. Chemo—declined. Experimental therapy—declined. Brain activity stim—declined. Nutrition support—declined. All signed off by my husband, Alec. No. No. This had to be a big mistake. What about those million of dollars from my company that he made me signed, Labelling it under my mother's treatment care. The same amount Alec had claimed he was funneling for my mother’s recovery. But he never used it for any of her treatments, My stomach turned, my world spinning, He kept her in a coma all these years deliberately. Prolonged her suffering, pretended to be trying, while stealing my company’s money for himself. And I… I was so blind. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “God, Mom, I didn’t know… I didn’t know. A flicker of movement caught my eye to a camera I hadn't noticed for three years of staying by my mother's side, countless vigils in this very room, in the corner. Recording. Has Alec been monitoring me here too? Watching me and laughing at my pain, my grief and my mother's suffering? My legs gave way as I fell on my butt, tears pouring like rain.. I cried for hours until my mother's body was taken away.. Hours passed and I held the folders with rage in my eyes. I drove back home, entered our private estate and went straight to our property. The anger within me was simmering beneath the surface. Everyone's car was parked outside, it was like it's a family reunion, And the moment I stepped inside, I saw Alec's parent in the sitting room Mr. And Mrs. Kensington and my Adoptive Parents both families smiling happily and feasting on a banquet, No one noticed I entered, it seems. But they are actually aware of my presence, but they all as usual again acted like I never existed... My heart beating as I walked into the elevator to go meet Alec, And demanded that he tell me this was all a mistake, that this was the hospital's doing and we need to sue them for negligence and fraud... The Camera was them infringing my privacy and all ethical rules! I hoped. Because I'd never recover if this were all truly done by Alec. The moment I reached my matrimonial floor, I heard filthy moans from my matrimonial room which door was wide open, my heart racing that I ran into it at once. "Yes... Alec fuck me hard!! My pussy craves your cock, every length and girth." "I love it... The way your hole grips my cock, there is nothing as beautiful, nothing as ecstatic" My world stopped at the sight before me; my adoptive sister, Cierra, getting mounted by my husband with a passion I had never once seen in his eyes. Not for me. Not in our entire marriage. “No!!!!” I screamed, so guttural my lungs gave out. But they didn’t stop. Rage consumed me. My hand shot out, grabbing the closest thing; a flower vase, and I hurled it in their direction. It smashed against the wall, shattering into a hundred sharp pieces. Cierra screamed, and my husband shielded her, protecting her from the flying shards like she was the one who needed saving. I stood frozen. For how long, I didn’t know — until I noticed the room was suddenly crowded. My adoptive parents. Alec’s parents. All of them rushed toward Cierra, wrapping their arms around her, checking if she was okay. My body was cold and trembling. “Alec! What the hell are you doing with my sister in our bed?” I screamed, my voice breaking from the weight of betrayal. I pointed at Cierra. “And you…You whore!” Alec said nothing. Cierra smirked. “You useless, ungrateful child… how dare you try to hurt our daughter?” my adoptive mother shouted. My brows pulled together in disbelief. “Hurt your daughter?” I choked out. “She stabbed me in the chest…” “You’ve embarrassed your husband enough, Chelley. It’s not his fault you’re barren,” my mother-in-law said coldly. And just like that, my heart shattered into pieces. I am not Barren, I am not what they labeled me to be all these years, but what is really wrong being Barren? I couldn’t even get myself to break the news of my pregnancy to these monsters and before i could announce my pregnancy and shut them all up, Cierra burst into hysterical laughter, then fixed her eyes on me and grinned. “Speaking of barren… unlike our royal barrenness here who tried to hurt me because she can’t have a baby of her own. I’m two weeks pregnant. For Alec Kessington.”CHELLEY MORETTI It was already one in the morning… Yes, it’s an unholy hour for anything human, but the Moretti empire didn’t conform to human hours. It made its own rules and time. The grand meeting was set for that unnatural time. I stood before the mirror, smoothing my skirt—a sleek, custom Armani set, sharp and feminine, the hem brushing the top of my thighs. My blouse clung to my skin, and my makeup was darker than usual, my eyes shadowed and lips muted. I looked expensive, composed, untouchable. Or at least I wanted to.When I finally stepped out of the bedroom and walked downstairs, Cassian was already in the sitting room.He sat there, his body stretched across the couch, one arm sprawled along the backrest, a cigar glowing between his fingers. The smoke curled lazily upward, catching the dim light and softening the sharpness of his jaw. Cassian was hot, sexy and irresistible. He looked like sin dressed in discipline… impossibly handsome in his black tailored suit, dark
CASSANDRA EMERITUS The nerve of Chelley.That wench irks me to the bone. I still can’t believe Cassian would let her touch him like that… After endangering his empire with her dirty scandal. The way he held her filthy little hand in his, and the way she clutched his cashmere jacket around herself as if she deserved it. The sight alone curdled something deep inside me. Every time I see them together, the hatred grows sharper, like a blade I keep polishing in secret.That whore who was fucked by Romano in a maze, just wait when I release the clip with me tomorrow. I stirred the lemonade again, even though it didn’t need stirring. My fingers trembled slightly as I poured the mix into the tall crystal glass: fresh lemon, mint, and a trace of honey…. The sweet scent of citrus should have been refreshing, but it only made me feel sick.I hate this act.The gentle, docile smile. The polite tone. The soft, submissive posture I wear like a second skin for everyone.And for that naive litt
CASSIAN MORETTIMy eyes followed Rita as she guided Chelley up the stairs. The way Chelley moved… slowly, almost fragile — made her look impossibly beautiful.She clutched my jacket around her body like precious linen, as if the fabric could stitch a seam of safety around that tremor inside her. Something inside me awoke. She reminded me of Donna.That night with Donna replayed behind my ribs: how sick she’d been, how she’d come to the study with a trembling hand and offered me a drink while I worked through the dark. My chest tightened then, the memory sharp and vivid.I had placed a gentle kiss on her soft lips and told her not to catch cold on my account. She’d laughed… that bright, soft laugh that always unravelled me—teasing me that I had shut down all the air conditioning in the new heir’s residence and turned the heat up just for her. As if the one air conditioner in another suite of the residence will affect her… I’d been ridiculous with worry, scared by how small a gown
CHELLEY MORETTIWhen he said those words, I melted into the table.I am prettier when I cry?The statement felt unreal coming from a man like Cassian. I didn’t know how to take it… didn’t know how to feel. It couldn’t be one of his deceiving touches, those moments when he caressed me only to punish me later. No, this felt different. It was a compliment, one I didn’t want to accept. Even as part of me wondered if it was another one of his cruel games, another twist in his power play… I still couldn’t shake the tremor in my chest at the thought that maybe, just maybe, my captor found me beautiful.And then he pulled the gun from inside me. I wasn’t dead. I hadn’t died. The deadly game ended with only those two questions… and that haunting line.Only later did I realise what he’d done.He had used the game and the cold logic of Confucian reward and punishment to warn me… to teach me. To make the lines between master and slave unmistakably clear.When he disassembled the gun, his movem
CASSIAN MORETTI I knew there was no way Chelley could be that naive. Not enough to fall into Romano’s trap… unless she had her own motives.Maybe she’d let herself get caught up in his sugary deals, his practised charm, and his false attentions. Maybe she thought she could use him to escape me.That thought alone made my hatred for her burn deeper.I didn’t know anymore if Chelley was still a useful pawn to me… or if it would be more profitable to simply dispose of her altogether.Then there was the Adriatic concession contract that had gone on hold because of her. My skin crawled with rage.I’d murder every last one of Romano's men if that’s what it took to make him drop his ambitions for the Adriatic contract.And if Chelley was playing both sides… She’d learn just how merciless I could be. There wasn’t any better way to force the truth out of her, but let her know I would decide whether she lives or not. ….I was bloodthirsty—Not the kind of rage that flares and fades, but the
CHELLEY MORETTI “You… You killed that man,” I managed to mutter, shivering with my hand shot to my mouth… Cassian’s eyes were bloodshot. “I killed only one of them… Why are you so riled up? Are you mourning the man who saved you from my men?” He smiled without humour. His fingers turned the silencer between thumb and forefinger, methodical and casual, the gestures of a man who had done this before. I swallowed and tasted blood in my mouth. “One… one… of them?” I stammered. The blood streamed toward me, dark and slick, soaking the floor beneath my shoe. “All of Romano’s men are in my grasp—every twenty-four hours he delays, one of his men dies.” “They will not only die for messing with me, but they’d also die for abetting Romano to touch my property. No one touches my property without my consent.”Cassian’s voice was low and patient; it made me sick to the bone. How did he get all of them captured and tracked? And does this mean more men will die because of me? “You understan