Mag-log inChapter 4
Damon; Three years. Three fucking years since she left. Three years since she dropped the bomb, and my life became a goddamn mess. Coming to Rosecliff—my hometown, the same place I’d vowed never to step foot in again—was a last-minute decision. I shouldn’t be here. I had told them I wouldn’t be attending any shitty engagement, which, of course, would’ve been mine. Family traditions and all that crap. We all knew this marriage was blind to happen...for the merger, plus the many benefits I'd have gotten out of it, but what I didn't know, until this moment, was the identity of the bride to be. Now I fuckin wished I'd agreed to it. Fate really does have the shittiest sense of humor. It was hard to believe. Seeing her again. But it was harder to stomach realizing she was engaged to Marcus. The night gradually wore off, and while the few guests took their leave, I sank onto a couch in the living room, nursing a bottle of tequila. A few minutes later, and the entire family were all seated, having their little cringey bonding moment. “You know what?” Marcus’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. He had that smug tone that made me want to break something. “I think I do owe you a heartfelt thank you, brother. I mean, this should’ve been your engagement, and for once, your nonchalance about family traditions actually paid off.” “Marcus,” Father warned, his tone flat and irritated. Of course, I could recall. And the damn realization made me want to hurl this bottle across the wall. Marcus held up a hand, “No, seriously. Let’s not pretend. We all knew a day like this would come—where you’d choose the perfect family for the merger… and Olivia? She’s just right for me.” I scoffed silently. I could already feel my knuckles itching. But Father said instead, “Well, it was always going to be her. I had made a deal with her father before he died. The marriage was going to happen either way, and since you," his eyes drifted to me, filled with the familiar disappointment I was already used to, "since you stubbornly refuse to adhere to it, it's only fair Marcus take the reins." For some reason, the fact that she was literally stripped of her choice rattled me. Does she even love him? I guess she was left with no choice as this was an agreement between both families. The tequila burned down my throat but did nothing to kill the rage crawling up my spine. And then she walked in. My peaches. Hair brushed to one side, that soft uncertain smile she wore when she was uncomfortable, and her gaze, obviously and carefully avoiding mine. Wendy—stepmother of the fucking year—hurried to her like she couldn’t wait to gloat. “How’re you, darling? Marcus said you weren’t feeling well?” Olivia tucked her hair behind her ear and offered that soft, polite smile. She still wouldn’t look at me. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Kingston.” Mrs. Kingston, my foot. Wendy waved dismissively. “I told you, just call me Wendy,” she beamed, all sugary sweetness. And I understand crowds aren’t your thing. Actually, it’s a good thing we realized that today. We’ll make the necessary arrangements on the wedding day so you don’t lose consciousness halfway through.” She laughed at her own joke, the high-pitched sound getting on my last nerves. “Oh—and we’re going for your dress fitting tomorrow, so make sure you rest up. It’s going to be a fun-filled day.” Olivia chuckled softly at that, and for some reason, that sound sent my blood rushing. I looked away. Took another swig. “Go on, dear,” Wendy said, touching her arm. “You should get some rest.” Marcus started to get up to escort her, like a devoted fiancé he wanted everyone to believe he was. But Olivia shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice soft. He sat back down reluctantly. And just like that, everyone shifted focus—except me. I was still gripping the glass as if it was the only thing keeping me from losing my mind. Wendy turned her attention to me, smiling brightly. “So, Damon. It’s really great to finally see you again,” she said. “But what’s this I hear about you going back tomorrow? Your wedding is barely three weeks away... you should—” “That’s none of your fucking business, Wendy,” I snapped before she could finish, and I didn’t miss the stunned silence that fell over the room. I leaned forward, my voice sharper now, my eyes pinned to hers. “Quit acting like my fucking mother and stick to being the Kingstons’ gold digger. That title suits you better.” “Damon! Enough of that. Show some respect to her.” Father’s voice cracked through the room. Wendy’s face flushed a deep red. She stood up quietly and left the room without another word, her heels clicking hard on the floor. “I can’t believe this!” Kimberly, her daughter, hissed as she stood up. I'd almost forgotten she was in the room with us. “Are you seriously all just going to sit here and let him talk to my mother like that?” She glared at me. “Who the hell do you even think you are!?” “Are you sure you want to know?” I said coolly. “Can you just stop it already!?” Marcus snapped, finally losing that plastic coolness he always wore. “Enough, Damon!” Of course. Marcus, the Kingstons' pride. The peacemaker. Now that I think about it, he'd always stuck with Kimberly even years back. Protecting her from her bully stepbrother, aka, me. I raised a brow at him, slow and amused. “Touched a nerve, baby brother?” Kimberly looked like she was about to burst into tears. She turned on her heels and stormed out. Marcus gave me one last glare before following her. The only thing I felt was the pressure of Layla’s hand on my arm, rubbing those annoying soothing circles, like I was some fucking child needing comfort. It did the opposite. I scraped my chair back and tossed the bottle on the floor. I wasn't okay with this. I wasn't. “Damon,” my father called sharply. I didn’t answer. They should be grateful I was here in the first place. I wasn't here to lick anyone's ass. I made my way upstairs. Towards my room. But on second thought, and without a care in the goddamn world, I turned and kicked open the door to Marcus’ room. But-- I wasn't expecting the sight that greeted me. There she was. Olivia. Facing me directly, eyes wide in horror, and... completely naked.ONE YEAR LATER — ZOEY’S POVI liked mornings in our home. They smelled like pancakes and sunshine. Mommy always said the sun hit our windows in a special way, but I thought it was because the sun liked us.Maybe the sun knew we were happy now.I woke up in my big girl bed, hugging Mr. Bunny. Daddy bought him for me when I had a bad dream last month, and he said Mr. Bunny’s job was to chase monsters away. I believed him. Daddy never lied.I climbed out of bed and padded down the hallway on my tippy toes. Mommy and Daddy’s room door was half-open. I peeked in and saw them cuddling like they always did in the mornings. Daddy’s arm was around Mommy, and Mommy’s head was on his chest. They looked so warm and soft, like a picture from the storybooks Mommy read to me.I smiled and whispered, “Mommy?”Mommy lifted her head and smiled back. Daddy rubbed his eyes, still sleepy.“Good morning, baby,” Mommy said.“Come here, sweetheart,” Daddy added, opening his arm.I climbed into their bed, and
Olivia's pov;It had been months since the chaos that had almost torn our lives apart. Marcus and Layla were behind bars, finally dealt with by the law, and I could hardly believe the freedom we now had. New York had become more than a temporary refuge; it was home. Safe. Full of life. Full of possibility.I woke up one Saturday morning to the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. Damon was already awake, sitting at the small breakfast table, eyes focused on his laptop, but glancing up at me every so often with that soft, warm look that always made my heart skip.“Morning, beautiful,” he said, closing the laptop as I stretched and walked toward him. His smile deepened when I sat across from him.“Morning,” I replied, leaning forward to kiss him softly. “Coffee smells amazing.”“Only the best for my wife,” he said, teasing, but the tenderness in his tone made me smile. “And my little family.”I glanced toward the living room, where Zoey was already playing with her toys on the sof
Olivia's pov;The moment Marcus and Layla were finally taken away, I felt a weight lift off my chest that I hadn’t even realized was there. My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the couch, gasping. My hands were shaking, and my heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. Damon was instantly at my side, his strong arms wrapping around me, holding me like he could absorb all the fear and tension that had built inside me.“Liv…” he whispered, his voice low and trembling just slightly. “It’s over. It’s really over.”I pressed my face against his chest, taking in the steady beat of his heart. I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. After everything—the threats, the attacks, the fear—I finally felt a flicker of safety. Damon’s arms felt like home. They always had. And right now, I realized just how much I’d missed that feeling, that security, that unconditional love.“I can’t… I can’t believe it,” I murmured, my voice muffled against his shirt. “I was so scared… Damon… for
MARCUS;I sat in the dark cell, the cold metal biting into my skin through my clothes. The damp smell of the room filled my lungs, but I hardly noticed. All I could feel was the rage burning inside me, twisting my stomach into knots. How had it happened? How had I been so stupid? I had planned everything. Every detail. Every step. And yet… here I was, trapped, humiliated, powerless.Layla stood a few feet away, arms crossed, her eyes blazing. She didn’t speak, but I could feel her fury radiating through the small space. She was usually controlled, calculating—but now… she was a storm waiting to explode.I ran my hands through my hair, pacing the small area as best I could. “I don’t understand,” I growled. “I had them. I had them both. I had Damon in my sights. Liv was cornered. Zoey was—” I stopped, swallowing hard, my chest tightening. “I was so close. And now…” My voice faltered, anger choked off by disbelief.Layla’s jaw tightened. “Now? Now they’re alive, and you’re locked up like
Olivia's pov;The rain had finally slowed, but the house still smelled of wet wood. My chest was tight, my heart still pounding from what had just happened. The memory of Marcus—the control, the terror, the sheer intensity of his presence—was still fresh in my mind. I shivered despite the warmth of the room.Damon was beside me, his hand tight around mine. I could feel his tension, the lingering adrenaline coursing through him. His face was pale, his jaw tight. He was still processing it too. Neither of us spoke immediately, just sat in the dim light of the living room, letting the quiet settle between us.“Is… is it over?” I whispered, barely audible.Damon’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “I think… yes,” he said slowly, his voice rough. “They’ve got him. The police… he’s caught.”I let out a shaky breath, relief crashing over me in waves. I had thought we’d lost everything for a moment—the house, Zoey, Damon himself. That fear had clawed at my chest, sharp and unrelenting. Just thinking ab
MARCUS The storm had not let up. Rain pounded against the windows, lightning slicing the darkness in jagged, violent flashes. Thunder rumbled low, shaking the floorboards. Perfect. It added drama to the moment. I was in control—or at least, I thought I was.Liv was there, pinned against the counter, her eyes wide, her body trembling. Every instinct in her screamed to fight, to run, to scream. But she couldn’t move. Not with me here. Not with Damon’s attention divided, not with Layla at the other side of the room distracted by shadows I had planted, precise and calculated.“Stay still,” I whispered, leaning close to her, letting my hands rest firmly on her waist. My lips brushed her temple. “Tonight… this is mine.”Her pulse raced beneath my fingertips. Fear. Panic. Anticipation. She shivered, and I could smell it, taste it almost. Everything I had planned, every detail I had worked through, every precaution—it was all culminating here.Damon… predictable as ever, too focused on her,







