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The Calm Before the Strike

作者: Ria Rome
last update 公開日: 2026-01-03 20:03:56

Candice's P.O.V.

Three days later, after my reconciliation with Mom, the villa did not seem as it was: it was still a fortress, but a villa with open windows.

Mom had been coming to the procession of the morning coffee in the terrace. She did not talk at first--she was simply sitting there with her cup, watching the sea in the distance--but she was there. Sanna would draw out her chair and not make a fuss. Conti, in his turn, jokingly mocked her due to her espresso method, being

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  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   The Weight of the Brush

    Candice’s P.O.V.The gallery in Lisbon had transformed into a living canvas that night. Soft lighting spilled across Isabella’s paintings, turning the white walls into windows into her soul. I stood near the entrance with Mantovani’s arm around my waist, watching our niece move through the growing crowd with a quiet confidence that made my chest swell with pride. At twenty-two, Isabella had become a force of color and courage, her dark hair pulled into a loose braid, her black dress simple yet striking. She paused to speak with visitors, her hands gesturing animatedly as she explained the stories behind each piece.One large canvas dominated the far wall: a stormy sea crashing against jagged rocks, waves foaming white with rage. At the top of the cliff stood two small figures, hand in hand, their silhouettes outlined in gold against the darkness. In the foreground, white lilies bloomed impossibly among the stones, glowing like beacons of defiance. The

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   Canvas and Courage

    Candice’s P.O.V.The gallery in Lisbon was small, tucked into a narrow cobblestone street lined with lemon trees and pastel buildings. Soft evening light spilled through the tall windows, illuminating Isabella’s paintings on the white walls. Tonight was her first solo exhibition, and the room was already filling with quiet murmurs of admiration, the clink of wine glasses, and the occasional flash of a camera.I stood near the back with Mantovani’s arm around my waist, watching our niece (the girl who had once been a frightened bargaining chip) move through the crowd with quiet confidence. At twenty-two, Isabella had grown into a young woman with sharp cheekbones, ink-stained fingers, and eyes that saw the world in layers of color and shadow. Her dark hair was pulled into a loose braid, and she wore a simple black dress that somehow made her look both elegant and completely herself.One of her largest pieces dominated the far wall: a stormy sea

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   The Sound of Home

    Candice’s P.O.V.Five years after we first stepped off that plane in Portugal, the villa had become more than a house. It had become the heartbeat of our family.I stood on the terrace at twilight, watching the sky turn soft lavender and rose while the sea whispered below the cliff. Liora, now seven, chased fireflies across the grass with her little brother Rafael toddling after her on chubby legs, both of them laughing so hard they kept tripping over their own feet. Rafael’s dark curls bounced with every step, and Liora’s voice carried on the breeze as she called back to him, “Slow down, Rafi! You’re going to fall!”Mantovani’s arms slid around me from behind, warm and strong, his hands settling gently over the small swell of my third pregnancy. This one was a girl. We had not picked a name yet, but we both already knew she would be fierce and kind, just like her mother and her father combined.“Beautiful e

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   The Sound of Forever

    Candice’s P.O.V.The summer we renewed our vows for the second time, the lilies on the cliff had grown so thick they spilled over the edge like a white waterfall tumbling toward the sea.I stood on the terrace in the same simple white dress I had worn the first time, barefoot again, the fabric fluttering around my knees in the warm breeze. My belly was round with our third child, a little boy we had already decided to name Rafael. Liora, now four, ran ahead of me in her flower crown, scattering petals she had picked that morning. She kept looking back to make sure I was following, her dark curls bouncing, her laugh bright enough to light the whole cliff.Mantovani waited at the far end of the terrace, exactly where he had stood the first time. He wore the same loose white linen shirt, but now it fit broader shoulders that had filled out with health and peace. The silver in his hair had spread, giving him a distinguished look that made my stomach flutter every time he smiled at me. His

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   Echoes of the Ordinary

    Candice’s P.O.VTwo years after we planted those first lilies, the cliff garden had become something wild and generous.The original bulbs had multiplied into drifts of white trumpets that spilled down the slope toward the sea, mingling with wild rosemary and sea lavender that had taken root on their own. Every spring they bloomed thicker than the year before, as if the ground itself remembered how close we had come to losing everything and decided to give us beauty in return. I walked among them barefoot most mornings, coffee in one hand, the other resting on the gentle swell of my second pregnancy. This one was a boy, already kicking like he wanted to join the world early.Mantovani found me there just after sunrise, moving with the easy stride he had reclaimed over time. The limp was gone. The cane lived in the hall closet beside the old rifle we both hoped would never be needed again. He wore loose linen pants and an open shirt, the long silver scar ac

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   Echoes in the Garden

    Candice’s P.O.V.Three years after we planted those first lilies, the cliff garden had become something wild and generous.The original bulbs had multiplied into drifts of white trumpets that spilled down the slope toward the sea, mingling with wild rosemary and sea lavender that had taken root on their own. Every spring they bloomed thicker than the year before, as if the ground itself remembered how close we had come to losing everything and decided to give us beauty in return. I walked among them barefoot most mornings, coffee in one hand, the other resting on the gentle swell of my second pregnancy—this one a boy, already kicking like he wanted to join the world early.Mantovani found me there just after sunrise, moving with the easy stride he had reclaimed over time. The limp was gone. The cane lived in the hall closet beside the old rifle we both hoped would never be needed again. He wore loose linen pants and an open shirt, the long silver sca

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   Between Heartbeats

    Candice's P.O.V.The bedroom of the farmhouse was already a battlefield by itself, the air already carrying the acrid smell of antiseptic, coppery blood, the ozone smell of the defibrillator, and I was pushed against the wall, with nails cutting into my palms and dropping blood, as the d

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   Whispers in the Void

    Candice's P.O.V.The alarms rang out like a knife thrust in the flesh, and the sharp beep of the alarms grew louder and louder, and I could hear them piercing the air like a knife thrust in the flesh, and then, as the doctors crowded around the bed of Mantovani, I felt them cutting holes i

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   Mantovani...

    Conti almost shouted in a moment, holding up a phone, and his face flushed pale, but determined despite his own bruises, "The sheriff men are running; our side striking at their own strong places- hard. The leaks are drying up; our hackers have put enough suspicion there to halt twenty-four-hour

  • Falling for My Biker Stepbrother   His Fading Pulse

    Candice's P.O.V.The alarms waked the world like a hell-siren, banging, banging, with the noises of the alarm into the quiet farmhouse bedroom and broke the delicate hope I had been festering on, that the mountain, the monitors flashing red warnings that Mantovani was dead, had gone dead,

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