NORA’S POV
Stepping off the plane and into the bustling, chaotic energy of New York felt both familiar and disorienting. The city buzzed around me, a cacophony of car horns, loudspeakers, and the endless chatter of people on the move. Genevieve and I wheeled our luggage toward the exit, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the airport floor.
We had barely made it to the baggage claim when a familiar voice called out, drawing both of us to a halt. “Nora? Genevieve?”
I turned to see Evelyn, Daniel’s cousin, walking toward us. Her sharp, blue eyes were bright with recognition, though there was a sli
NORA’S POVThe sun bathed the Bennett estate in a golden glow, filtering through the canopy of white roses and twinkling fairy lights. It was the perfect day, the kind of day that had once seemed impossible. But here we were. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate lace sleeve of my gown. It was nothing like the dress I had once imagined wearing for my first wedding to Sam. No, this was something entirely different—something that felt more like me. The gown hugged my frame, elegant and timeless. Soft ivory fabric cascaded down in delicate layers, embroidered with tiny pearls that shimmered when I moved. My hair, styled in loose waves, was pinned back with a single white rose, and a sheer veil trailed behind me like something out of a dream. But it was Sam’s face I longed to see the most. "Are you ready?" Genevieve appeared in the doorway, looking radiant in a soft emerald gown. Her usual sharpness was softened by the emotion in her eyes. I turned, feeling my he
NORA’S POVThe moment the plane touched down in New York, a flood of emotions surged through me. Relief. Exhaustion. Gratitude. I was alive. I was going home. Sam held my hand the entire drive from the airport, his grip firm yet tender, like he was afraid that if he let go, I’d disappear. My heart ached with anticipation; my mind consumed by a single thought—Zoe. I had spent weeks away from my daughter, missing the warmth of her tiny body against mine, the sweet scent of her skin, the sound of her giggles. The separation had been unbearable, and now, every second that kept me from holding her felt like
SAM’S POVThe fluorescent hospital lights hummed softly above me as I lay in the hospital bed, the sharp scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. I had never been afraid of pain—I had endured beatings, betrayals, and the weight of an entire empire on my shoulders. But this? This was different. Because this time, it wasn’t about me. It was about her. Nora. She lay in the bed
NORA’S POVThe beeping of machines was a constant rhythm, a reminder of the fragile line I was walking. The Parisian hospital room was bathed in soft golden light from the setting sun, but I felt cold. Not the kind of cold that came from the air conditioning or the evening breeze slipping through the cracks in the window—this was deeper, bone-deep, a chilling awareness that my body was failing me. Every breath felt like a borrowed one, shallow and effortful. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on me, heavier than it had ever been. My fingers tingled, my limbs felt distant, like they didn’t belong to me anymore. A part of me wondered if this was it—if I was already standing on the precipice between life and d
SAM'S POV The jet sliced through the cloud cover with the precision of a predator on a hunt, its hum a constant in the background as my thoughts drifted. Paris was just hours away, but I was already a prisoner of the distance—caught between two worlds, neither of which felt truly mine anymore.I had fought wars before, faced battles in boardrooms and beneath the weight of expectations. But none of those had ever felt so personal, so destructive. This fight had torn apart the very fabric of my family, shattered everything I had worked for, and left scars on my soul that would never fully heal. And the worst part? It had nearly cost me Nora—the one person I couldn’t afford to lose.
JACOB'S POVThe courtroom had emptied, but I remained frozen in my seat. The sound of the gavel still echoed in my ears. Life in prison. Isabella was gone.I watched as the guards led her away. She didn’t cry. She didn’t beg. She didn’t even look at me.She only turned once, just before disappearing through the doors, and for a fleeting moment, I saw it—regret. But it wasn’t for what she had done. It was for losing.I exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over my face. Was this how it was all supposed to