Lilian's life shattered on their third wedding anniversary when she walked in to see her husband, Chris, embracing his ex-girlfriend, whom he had promised to move on from, passionately. The injury worsened upon discovering that she was carrying his child. Chris had secretly ensured that Lilian remained on birth control because he didn't want to have a child with her, despite being ready for parenthood, a decision that devastated Lilian, who longed for a family. She was not treated as a partner but rather as a mere convenience and placeholder in his life. During an intense disagreement, Chris slapped her causing her to tumble down the stairs. The fall completely shattered her emotional and physical well-being, challenging her views on marriage, love, and trust. However, determined and steadfast, Lilian vowed to protect herself from his lies and control, ending her connection with the man who had brought her great pain. Chris returned with a strong determination to regain her love just as she was beginning to rebuild her life. He refused to let her go, expressing his realization of his deep love for her. His newfound passion for her was both confusing and infuriating. At the same time, a mysterious stranger entered her life—a man whose quiet admiration for her had endured from the shadows. He offered a love untainted by deceit, a fresh start filled with genuine respect and devotion. Now, Lilian faces an impossible choice: Does she risk her heart again on the man who shattered it, believing his promises of change and redemption?
View MoreLilian tapped her fingers against the cold glass of her office desk, her mind buzzing with a determination she hadn’t felt in years. “Call off all my appointments for the rest of the evening,” she instructed, her tone unyielding as she glanced at her assistant.
The assistant, wide-eyed, stammered, “But, ma’am, we have a crucial meeting with clients—this could make or break the quarter, and rescheduling won’t be possible for six months!”
Lilian’s gaze flicked away dismissively. She didn’t need reminders of the stakes; she knew them all too well. But tonight, work would take a backseat to something far more significant. Nothing mattered more than Chris, the man she’d shared three years with. They’d grown apart, no doubt, but tonight was her chance to bridge that gap. Her heart swelled at the thought of surprising him. She’d be preparing his favorite dinner—an act of love that, perhaps, would rekindle the spark she missed.
After stopping by the grocery store, Lilian headed home with bags filled with ingredients. It had been too long since she’d put her heart into cooking for Chris. In their early days, she’d tried, only to meet his silent disinterest. But tonight was different. She would take things into her own hands and prepare each dish herself. She could already imagine his surprised smile and the warmth in his eyes as they shared a rare, intimate moment.
The house was unusually quiet as she parked her car and slipped inside. She’d expected it to be empty, yet as she stepped in, something felt off. She felt her heart skip a beat upon hearing the faint sounds of people approaching from upstairs. She listened carefully, praying she was mistaken, but a familiar voice she never wanted to hear again echoed through the air, causing her heart to quicken its pace.
With a tone of affection mixed with complexity, the woman said, "Chris, I am pregnant with your child." “It’s our child... a symbol of our love.”
The air thickened, trapping Lilian in slow-motion horror as the words sank in. She didn’t need to see who was speaking to know the truth; it was Rita—Chris’s ex-girlfriend, the person Lilian thought had disappeared from their lives, still in a romantic relationship with her husband, and now had something that Lilian had desired for a long time: a child.
To control the overwhelming emotions of anger, betrayal, and despair, she clenched her fists and dug her nails into her palms. Each step up the stairs carried the weight of years filled with love, loyalty, and selflessness.
She came to a stop at the doorway, gazing at the sight that filled her with dread. Chris sat beside Rita, with his arm around her shoulders, just like Lilian had always wanted but never had. Rita had her hands resting on her tummy for protection as she laid her head on his shoulder.
Lilian felt her words rising up her throat as her chest became constricted. It made her feel lonely within her own home, akin to an outsider witnessing a hidden truth. Her voice filled with suppressed rage, she entered the room with a loud, "Chris, you got this woman pregnant?”
Chris startled, disentangling himself from Rita as his gaze darted between the two women. “Lilian, I can explain—” “Explain?”
Lilian’s voice was sharp and brittle. “What could you possibly explain that would justify this?”
Rita’s face twisted into a mockery of sympathy, and she sighed, leaning against Chris. “Lilian, I know this must be hard for you, but sometimes love doesn’t make sense. We tried to stay away, truly, but our connection is just stronger than anything.”
Lilian glared at her, unyielding. “Stronger than loyalty? Stronger than vows? You think I don’t see what’s really going on here?”
Rita gave a small shrug, her expression feigning innocence, but Lilian saw through the charade. She felt both humiliation and betrayal, believing she had been deceived and overlooked for someone less worthy. With years of suppressed anger, her hands clenched as her voice quivered.
"You took advantage of me, Chris. I prevented your company from going into bankruptcy. I agreed to all your demands, including endangering my health to take the damn pills, ultimately sacrificing my ability to have children. And now, here you are, with her, making a mockery of everything I’ve given up for you.”
Chris opened his mouth, but Rita interrupted, her hand gently stroking his arm as she looked at Lilian with a gleam of satisfaction. “Chris didn’t force you to do anything, Lilian. If you couldn’t keep him, maybe you just weren’t the right one.”
That was it. Lilian’s control snapped like a frayed wire, and she stepped forward, her hand shooting out to grab Rita’s wrist. “You think you can come here, lie, manipulate, and just take whatever you want? You’re nothing but a leech.”
Rita gasped, struggling as Lilian’s grip tightened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let out a high-pitched whimper, calling to Chris with a look of feigned distress. And Chris—true to his betrayal—rushed forward, prying Lilian’s hand away as he turned cold, accusing glare on her.
“Enough, Lilian,” he hissed, his face twisted in anger. “This is no way to behave.”
Lilian’s heart twisted painfully, disbelief mingling with raw despair. “You’re defending her? After everything? This is my home, Chris. You’re the one who doesn’t belong here if you think she’s more worthy of your protection than me.”
Rita’s gaze flickered with smug satisfaction, her arm slipping around Chris’s waist as she leaned into him. “Maybe he’s finally seeing things clearly.”
The casual cruelty in her voice stung, and Lilian’s vision blurred with a mixture of rage and sorrow. “How dare you? You are nothing but a parasite that thrives on what I have built from scratch. Even if you have deceived him, I will not be fooled by you.
Rita feigned a look of hurt, her eyes welling up with practiced tears, and as Chris’s hand found her shoulder in a comforting gesture, Lilian felt something snap within her.
The room was spinning, the air heavy with betrayal and bitterness as she stumbled back, needing to escape the suffocating sight before her. But her retreat was cut short. She suddenly fell to the ground after receiving a hard slap on the cheek. She stumbled dangerously near the stairs after slipping off the edge of the carpet, anxiously waving her arms to regain her balance.
As Lilian slid backward, the room tilted, her vision contracted, and her heartbeat blasted in her ears. Before she could fully register Chris's horrified expression, she felt her head slam against the edge of a stair, causing intense pain in her skull.
Her eyesight grew hazy as she fell to the ground, flooded with memories of meeting Chris for the first time, their mutual laughter, and the promises they made to each other. The realization that the man she dedicated her life to could be the reason she lost everything, even her life, tainted every memory with bitterness.
Darkness began to cloud her sight, while a sharp pain throbbed at the base of her skull. She barely heard Chris' urgent shout, barely felt his hands embrace her face, yet the comfort his touch could have brought was drowned out by the bitterness within her heart.
Her final thought, as her consciousness faded, focused on one agonized query that cut through the fog: Was any of it ever real?
The world faded to black.
It was twenty past eleven when Jack arrived at 52 Forsythe Avenue. He turned the engine off. "Let's go," he said to Sam, opening the door.Sam followed him up the old building stairs. The suave cohesion of jazz drifted in through an open window from somewhere above them. There was a string next door, their voices blending into undistinguishable blasphemy.Jack hovered outside Mike Freeway's apartment and pulled his coat collar up. "This guy is going to make a statement," he whispered. “Get it down.”“Yes, sir,” Sam replied, his notebook already out.Jack pressed the bell.Sam heard the rustle of footsteps and the scrape of a chair during the brief silence. The door opened, and Mike Freeway stood with a wet sponge over his swollen right eye.He glared from Jack to Sam, a flush of embarrassment creeping into his eyes. "Ah… it's you.""Aye," Jack snarled, elbowing him aside and into the room. "You're still alive, I notice."Freeway paused before stepping aside. "I said earlier, Lieutenan
Darcy's and Kelz's voices came to Kelvin distinctly as he clung to the side of the cruiser, but it took him a few seconds to understand what was about to be done with Sean.They were going to kill him—and dump him into the river.The discovery froze Kelvin's veins. He had the taste of rust and fear on his lips. Sean was no longer a stupid fool—he was Kelvin's final thread of hope. How could he ever show that he was not Evelyn's killer if Sean drowned at the river bottom? The evidence already whispered his name. It would start screaming it if Sean were dead.He clenched his teeth, the bitter cold shock of awareness gnawing at his gut. Save Sean. Bring him on shore. Hand him over to Jack. That was the only way out—the last ruse in a deck that had turned against him.But the threat of standing up to Kelz—a muscle-bound, hard-looking menace turned his stomach inside out. Kelvin had an idea of his own limitations. He was no fighter. He was a man who'd rather get what he wanted with his mou
Banky took hold of the rope Darcy extended to him and stabilized the motorboat as Darcy jumped aboard.The air was heavy with salt and hush, silence that clung to your skin and waited to burst if anyone breathed too hard. Darcy's face was cut out of rock, but his jaw loosened like a storm within him would not let up. Banky watched him nervously as the older man adjusted his coat in small, tidy motions."Is Kelz here?" Darcy asked abruptly, his voice gentle but authoritative."Yes, boss," Banky replied, still doubting Darcy had gone himself to drop off the motorboat rather than send someone else to drop it off for him. There was something in that decision that just did not ring true, even hazardous."Where is he?"Banky gestured towards the shadows at the rear deck. Kelz appeared, struggling with his shirt buttons, obviously woken from a fitful sleep. His jaw was rough, stubbled, eyes, but when he saw Darcy, the fatigue was forgotten."I want you," Darcy stated decisively.Kelz descend
Jack pushed open the door to the charge room before heading to his office, and the smell of damp uniforms and old coffee drifted out. He moved through the room, his eyes hungry and watchful.“Anything new?” His voice carried the weight of expectation.The desk sergeant stiffened. “The Commissioner and the Captain are on their way over, sir. Holland hasn’t been picked up yet. Detective Brooks and a couple of men are waiting at his house. Sergeant Sanders just came in—waiting for the Commissioner.”Jack’s jaw flexed. “I’ll be in my office if the Commissioner wants me.”“Yes, sir. Nothing else that’d interest you.” The sergeant hesitated, eyes darting down to his report sheet. “Except… J. Cole’s in trouble. Picked up ten minutes ago on a vacant lot in Spring Street. Beaten badly. Our men say he might not make it. Whoever hit him didn’t hold back.”Jack froze for half a beat, Drew’s words replaying in his mind. J. Cole had told Sean where to find Evelyn Chase. And now Cole was barely aliv
Darcy had never been the type to send troublemakers away in the past, but he had let the world go by the last three years without that hard edge he once brought to the table. He should have gotten out of the way and let Kelz finish off Cole instead of jumping into it and letting the fight end. Now, gazing upon what was standing in front of him, he noticed that weakness was something he could not indulge.The murder of Evelyn Chase had roused the ideal storm. Ben Avery would exploit every angle for political gain, he knew. Someone in Avery’s camp would remember Sean Harris’s threat to Evelyn, the familial connection to Sandra, and pressure would inevitably reach Commissioner Cruz to find Sean. AndDarcy understood Sean as well as anyone could—once he became family, Sean would be after money, position, influence. This was the time to act.Darcy exhaled cigar smoke, the ring in the chill of the night air, and piloted his black sedan down the curved driveway to the Country Club. The month
Two months passed. Lilian stared at the pregnancy test in horror, following the faint double pink lines with her eyes. Her hand trembled as she took a second test, but again it was the same—pregnant. Pregnant with Daniel's child.Her knees became weak. The air in her room was thick, filled. For weeks, her life had been a torment. She was a pariah—gossip down the hallway, sidelong glances in her direction at school, sneering giggles with stabs of sound. At home, there was merely silence, the most lethal weapon of all. They knew what happened between her and her aunt's husband. They would not believe she was angry, inebriated, or insane. They could only perceive what they wanted to see: the woman who had seduced a married man.She bore the mark by herself. Aunt Clara had cut her out, pronouncing her dead to her. Her grandfather denied her her allowance, a deafening punishment that bellowed louder than words. The family, which once protected her, kept her at arm's length as contagion. Ev
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