MasukThe chilly evening air welcomed Lilian as she exited her workplace. The once bustling building was now quiet, with its halls nearly deserted. She released a breath of relief, appreciative of the calm but tired from the day's events. Despite feeling drained from Uncle George's requests, she was still anxious about the upcoming divorce proceedings scheduled for the following day. All she wanted was for things to go according to plan so she could finally get over this difficult period of her life.
She walked to the parking lot. Then she saw a familiar figure sitting in a sleek black Rolls-Royce parked a short distance from her vehicle.
Chris.
Lilian froze.
He hadn't noticed her yet because he was bent over his phone. An unwanted surge of emotions, including wrath, dread, and defiance, caused her chest to constrict. Why is he here? she thought. She had neither the time nor the energy to deal with him tonight. Dealing with George was hard enough. Now this?
She exhaled quietly, trying to steady herself. The sound must have reached him because his head jerked up and his eyes met hers. His expression morphed from indifference to anger in an instant.
Enraged, Chris flung the door open and sprinted towards her, his movements filled with anger. Although her stomach was churning, Lilian remained determined and did not give up. As he arrived, his hand quickly reached out to grab her elbow.
"Do you think you can just walk out of my life without giving me an explanation?" He spoke in a quiet, spiteful tone.
She pulled her arm back abruptly and declared firmly, "Let go of me, Chris."
But he didn’t let go. His grip tightened, and his free hand shot up as though to strike her.
Not this time.
Lilian dove swiftly, her instincts kicking in. Before he could react, she grabbed his wrist with one hand and slapped him with the other, and they were both stunned into silence by her boldness.
Chris's palm flew to his cheek as he staggered back. His expression was a mix of incredulity and shock. He was not used to resistance, least of all from her.
“How dare you—”
“How dare I?” Lilian cut him off, her voice rising. She moved forward and poked his chest with a finger. "You have no right to lift your hand to me once more. I want to clarify something, Chris. I'll call the police if you try that again. Do you hear me?
Chris's lips opened and closed like a fish struggling to breathe as he gazed at her.
Finally, he continued, "I'm here to talk," in a lower but no less accusing tone. Why are you so desperate for this divorce? Did you cheat on me?
The foolishness of what he had said made her laugh bitterly.
Cheat? Me? She shook her head. "Chris, you are the only one in this relationship who is bold enough to cheat."
His eyes narrowed. “I never cheated."
"Don't you dare lie to me," she said, in a voice as piercing as glass. "Do you think that I wasn't aware of you and Rita? How many nights did you think you could escape without me noticing? You are untruthful, timid, and deceitful. And you dare to accuse me of something?
Chris’s face darkened. “You weren’t supposed to know about that,” he said.
“Exactly my point,” Lilian shot back. "You knew that your actions were not appropriate." You lack even a tiny amount of integrity, so you wouldn't understand that an honorable person wouldn't cheat.
Chris stared at her as though she were something else. This wasn't the calm, sympathetic Lilian he had grown accustomed to. More powerful, chillier, and unyielding, this woman standing before him has changed.
Finally, he remarked with a puzzled voice, "You're different now."
"You are completely right." "I have changed," she stated. Chris, I no longer want to be a target for your punches. I'm tired of allowing you to control me. "We" does not exist anymore. Stop bothering me, accept the reality, and move on.
He stood still for a while, his mind struggling to understand what she had said.
His voice shook a little as he continued, "You can't mean that. We’ve been through too much—”
“Too much abuse, too much heartbreak,” Lilian interrupted. “I meant every word in those divorce papers, Chris. This marriage is over.”
She turned around and made her way to her car in silence. She didn't look back, yet she could sense his stare penetrating her.
She stopped in the car to steady her shaking hands. Confronting him was satisfying, but it also required more emotional strength than she wanted to admit. It was empowering.
As she started the engine, she glanced in the mirror before driving away. Chris remained in the same spot, his figure still against the fading light.
*********
Lilian took out her phone and, after a brief pause, dialed a familiar number. After a little buzz, Jenny's kind, cheerful voice could be heard over the line. She said, "Hello?" in a tone that immediately made me feel less anxious.
"Hey, it's me,” Lilian said, softly than she meant to, "Is it possible for us to meet? I really must speak to you.”
Yes, without a doubt! She responded without hesitation, "Just text me the address, and I'll be there." Her steadfast support was like a solid anchor in my turbulent storm.
Lilian quickly sent her the location of a quiet café I had stumbled upon earlier. True to her word, she arrived in under fifteen minutes, her presence radiating the same comfort and safety it always had. As she walked in, her concerned eyes immediately found mine. Her usual perfume encircled me like a shield as she set her bag on the table and drew me into a tight embrace.
Jenny sat across from Lilian and murmured softly, "Talk to me." Her eyes were unwavering, yet there was a hint of interest and worry in her face that caused my throat to constrict. Lilian felt the dam inside of me start to shatter for the first time in what seemed like forever.
*********
Jenny, who is Lilian's closest friend, sat directly opposite her. The atmosphere was rich with the soothing scents of newly baked cookies and coffee.
Jenny paid close attention as Lilian recounted the day's happenings, and her expression shifted from surprise to admiration.
"I can't believe he dared to come and confront you like that," Jenny added, shaking her head. "Still, I'm genuinely proud of you for facing him. Lilian, you’ve come such a long way.”
“Thanks, Jenny,” Lilian said, her voice softer now. “It felt... good, I guess. For years, I let him control me. Today, I finally felt like I was in control for the first time.”
Jenny clasped her hand as she reached across the table. Always remember that you are not alone.
With a tiny lift in the weight on her chest, Lilian grinned. "I appreciate you being here."
"That's what friends are for," Jenny winked.
The next hour was spent catching up and discussing everything and nothing. Lilian had optimism for the future for the first time in a long time.
*********
Lilian felt the cool night air against her skin as she walked back to her car. A shadow moved as she reached for her phone to see if there were any messages. Her heart was racing when she turned. She is not alone.
The morning was impossibly quiet.Sunlight crept across Lilian’s living room, tracing soft gold over the floor, her shoes, and the small suitcase by the door. The air itself seemed to pause—waiting.Lilian stood before the mirror, fastening a delicate necklace around her throat. She stared at her reflection for a long moment—not because she doubted, but because she finally knew.This woman—with scars, with memories, with breath still trembling—had come back to life.A soft knock.Jack stood in the doorway, dressed in a simple dark shirt, sleeves rolled up, badge clipped to his belt—but today, he was not just a detective.He was the man who once stood between her and death.The man who guarded without demanding.Who stayed without asking for repayment.He hesitated. “Are you ready?”Lilian smiled gently. “For the first time in a long time… yes.”They walked out together, leaving the door unlocked—she would never again live behind cages she didn’t build.*********The courthouse felt
The city had begun to breathe again.Weeks had passed since the explosion. The news cycle, desperate for new meat, moved on to elections, celebrity scandals, and stock crashes. But for those who lived the story—not watched it—life hadn’t returned to “normal.”Normal was gone.What they had now was… something different.Something raw.Something real.*********Lilian walked through the park near her apartment, clutching a warm paper cup between her palms. Joggers passed. Children laughed. Dogs barked at pigeons—life’s orchestra continuing without apology.Her steps were slow—not because her body was weak, but because she was learning to listen again.To herself.To her heart.To silence.The wind pulled at her hair, sweeping curls across her cheek. She closed her eyes—one breath at a time.Some days, healing felt like a victory.Other days—like climbing a hill barefoot.Today… was somewhere in between.“Lilian.”Her eyes opened.Jack Macon stood a few feet away.The man wasn’t loud—not
The city didn’t wake up gently the next morning. It rose to chaos—buzzing phones, screaming headlines, news presenters breathing into microphones like preachers of disaster.“Explosion in Industrial District—Three Suspects Dead, One Critical!”“Corporate Scandal: Rita Adibo Confirmed Deceased—Connection to Chris Newton Under Investigation.”“Massive Conspiracy Unraveled—Love Affair, Betrayal, Blood Trails.”Every media house feasted.But for the people at the center, it wasn’t news. It was heavy. It was personal.*********Chris Newton sat alone in a silent interrogation room.His once immaculate white shirt was crumpled, his sleeves rolled up, his expensive wristwatch replaced with cold metal cuffs. His hair—a signature slicked-back style—now fell messily across his forehead. He stared blankly at the two-way mirror, eyes swollen and red.It had taken less than twelve hours for everything to crumble.Detective Morrow entered, slow and emotionless. He dropped a file onto the steel tabl
The air tasted like fear.The old underground warehouse—once Darcy’s secret hideout—smelled of rust, fuel, and damp concrete. Concrete pillars towered like silent witnesses, and broken crates lay everywhere, remnants of something darker that once lived there. A baby-blue light flickered from a half-dead fluorescent bulb overhead, casting long haunted shadows that danced across the floor.Rita stood at the center of it all.Her hair, once immaculate and styled to perfection, now clung to her forehead in sweat. Her makeup—smudged, streaked, defeated—betrayed that the confident woman who engineered lives from behind screens and whispers… was now cornered, exposed. Her hands trembled, yet her chin remained raised, defiant.Behind her, stacked unevenly like a careless grave, were metal containers stenciled with faded warnings:HIGH EXPLOSIVE MATERIAL – PROPERTY OF DARCY INDUSTRIES.Explosives. Enough to turn this entire building—and half the surrounding street—into smoke.Kelvin, Lilian, a
A metallic clang echoed across the chamber as the vault fully locked into place. The scent of cold steel and seawater settled into the air—sharp, metallic, and cruel.Jack stepped forward.He had seen death before, chased monsters across alleyways and penthouses…But nothing in twenty years of police work prepared him for this.The cavern opened wider beneath them—a cathedral of syndicate power, its heart beating with flickering screens and vault-like chambers.This was Darcy’s endgame.Even dead, he ruled.Rita straightened despite her handcuffs—her lips curling.“You all thought Darcy ran a gang,” she said softly.“No. He built a marketplace. Information. Women. Power. And Lilian… is the most expensive asset yet.”Kelvin’s fists clenched.“You’re insane.”“No,” Rita whispered, “I’m inevitable.”*********Metal grates extended, forming a walkway above the black water, leading toward the glass cell where Lilian hung suspended in drugged stillness.Jack forced himself forward, bullet
Silence.Not true silence—more like the ringing void that exists only after a world ends. When Lilian opened her eyes, all she saw was white at first, as if the universe had been erased and was still deciding whether to put her back.Then the white faded.Reality returned as smoke, debris, and blood.She was lying on the marble floor of the Newton Foundation lobby. But the lobby was no longer a lobby—it was a graveyard. Glass panels hung like torn wings, shattered furniture lay scattered, and a fire alarm shrieked through the haze like an animal in pain.Bodies moved. Some crawled. Some didn’t.Lilian tried to sit up but her head pounded like a war drum. She touched her temple and came away with red.Memory crashed back—the charity gala, Chris showing up unexpectedly, the confrontation, Rita’s cold smile,and her hand—pressing that small black detonator device.And everything went white.Lilian staggered to her knees.“Help…” she croaked—but her throat was raw, broken.A shape moved







