MARCOThe doctor motioned for me to follow him into a smaller, sterile-looking room down the hallway. I walked in without hesitation, though my body was screaming for a break. Every step felt like dragging a dead weight. My clothes clung to me, sticky with dried blood and sweat, and the sharp stings of my wounds were becoming impossible to ignore. But showing weakness? That wasn’t an option—not here, not now.“Take a seat,” the doctor said, nodding toward the examination table as he pulled on a pair of gloves. His voice was calm, unnervingly so, like he wasn’t staring at someone who looked like they’d walked out of a warzone.I sat down stiffly, rolling up my sleeves with deliberate movements. The metallic smell of blood mixed with the faint antiseptic scent of the room, making my head swim for a moment.The doctor began gathering supplies from a nearby tray, humming under his breath as though this was just another routine check-up. He grabbed a swab and turned toward me. “Let’s start
MARCOThe nurse stepped in front of me as I tried to enter Sarah’s room. Her face was calm but unyielding, and I could tell this wasn’t her first time dealing with someone on the verge of losing it.“Sir, you can’t come in here,” she said, her voice firm but polite.“Move,” I barked, my chest heaving. My eyes were fixed on Sarah lying there, pale and lifeless, with wires hooked up to her like she was some machine. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might crack a rib.“Sir, I need you to step back,” she repeated, her tone sharper now. “You’re only going to get in the way.”I clenched my fists, my body halfway through the doorway. “Get in the way? That’s my wife in there! She’s unconscious, and you want me to just stand out here doing nothing?”“Sir!” The doctor’s voice cut through the tension. He strode toward me, peeling off his gloves as he approached. His face was calm, like nothing fazed him, but there was an edge of authority in his tone. “You need to stay outside.”“Sh
MARCOI followed the doctor down the hallway, my mind spinning like a carousel of worst-case scenarios. Every step felt heavier than the last. My gut churned, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead felt like a dull roar in my ears. What did he need to tell me in private? If Sarah was stable, why couldn’t he just say it in the waiting room?The idea that something worse might be going on clawed at my brain. I couldn’t stop the flood of possibilities. What if her condition had suddenly deteriorated? What if they’d missed something? What if she wasn’t actually stable?The doctor didn’t say a word as we walked, and that silence only made it worse. I was on the edge of asking him to just spit it out, but the look on his face—calm but serious—kept me from speaking. He stopped in front of a door, opening it and motioning for me to step inside.The room was small, standard, with a desk, two chairs, and shelves lined with books and folders. The kind of place where conversations you d
SARAHIt had been a few days since I learned the news, yet it still felt surreal. Pregnant… I was pregnant—with Marco’s child. The words felt strange, even in my own mind, like they belonged to someone else. I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts a tangled mess. Would it be a boy or a girl? Would they look like him? Strong jawline, sharp eyes, and that commanding presence that made people stop and listen? Or would they take after me—quieter features, softer edges, and a personality that blended in rather than demanded attention?The thought made me smile for a moment, but it didn’t last long. My chest tightened. Marco. My joy was tied to him, and that wasn’t exactly comforting. He was overwhelming—controlling, even. Sometimes, he was impossible to predict. But then again, he was also passionate, fiercely protective. Could I trust him to be all those things for our child? Or would his darker side, the one I’d seen far too often, cast a shadow over our family?I let out a long breath, rub
SARAHMarco hovered like a mother hen, his hand never straying far from the small of my back as we walked down the hospital hallway toward the lobby. His other hand lingered near my arm, ready to steady me even though I was perfectly capable of walking on my own.“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice lined with what I could only describe as exaggerated concern.I bit back a smile, trying not to let his overprotectiveness get to me. “I’m fine, Marco. You don’t have to keep asking.”“I do,” he replied without missing a beat. “You might not realize it, but this is a big deal. I’m not taking any chances.”I sighed, shaking my head slightly. “I’m pregnant, Marco, not dying. You need to chill.”He ignored me, his hand gently pressing against my back to guide me toward a nearby chair as we reached the lobby. “Sit down for a minute,” he said, his tone firm but still laced with that same overbearing concern.I gave him a look but complied, easing into the chair. “Happy now?”“Getting ther
SARAHMarco guided me through the front door, his hand steady on the small of my back. I paused just inside, looking around. The house felt familiar, yet somehow foreign. It was strange—like stepping into a dream you couldn’t quite remember. Everything looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Maybe it was because so much had happened since I was last here.Marco must have noticed the way I lingered, my eyes scanning the space like I was trying to recognize it. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly, leaning closer. “Does it feel different?”I nodded slowly. “A little. It’s like… I’ve been gone for years instead of weeks.”He smiled at that, his hand brushing against mine. “Well, you’re home now,” he said firmly. “And I’m going to make sure it feels like home again.”As we moved further inside, the staff was already lined up in the grand hallway, their faces lighting up when they saw us. The maids, the guards, even the cook—they were all there. It was almost overwhelming.Marco stepped f
MARCOTony leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “The past few weeks have been crazy, man. I don’t even know where to start. Feels like the hits just keep coming.”“No doubt,” I said, pouring a generous measure of whiskey into three glasses. “Danzo’s finally out of the picture, but the mess he left behind? That’s going to take time to clean up.”Tony sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “It’s not just the mess. It’s what it means, Marco. If someone like Carlos could turn on you, someone that close? What the hell are we supposed to do now? Trust anyone? Forget it.”I nodded, sliding a glass to him and one to Petrov before sitting back down. “Exactly. That’s what’s been eating at me. Carlos was like family. Hell, he was family. And he worked with Danzo to take me down. It makes you question everything.”Tony took a sip, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the amber liquid. “You’re telling me. The guy smiled in our faces, broke bread with us, laughed at all our dumb jokes… and t
SARAHI got out of bed, unable to stand the restless feeling that had taken over. The silence of the room felt oppressive, and just lying there made my thoughts race even more. I stretched my arms above my head, rolling my shoulders to ease some of the tension. But it wasn’t enough. My muscles still felt stiff, my mind still a mess.I glanced down at my stomach and placed a hand there, exhaling slowly. “This is all for you,” I whispered softly, a mix of frustration and warmth flooding through me. Marco’s strictness made more sense now, even if it grated on my nerves. But did he think I was some fragile doll who’d shatter if I so much as left my bed? The thought made me snort quietly.I needed to do something, anything, to distract myself.My eyes landed on the pile of clothes in the corner. Folding them wasn’t exactly exciting, but it would keep my hands busy. I moved to the pile and started sorting through it. One shirt, then another. The steady rhythm of crease, fold, stack was almo
SARAHI had just finished setting out a few ideas for Marco’s party when my phone buzzed on the counter. Tony’s name lit up on the screen. My stomach tightened as I grabbed the phone, knowing this wasn’t a casual call.“Tony?” I answered, trying to sound composed.“Sarah,” he said, his voice low but edged with a hint of urgency. “We’ve got everything we need.”My heart skipped. “Everything? You mean—?”“We’ve got all the proof,” he cut in. “Enough to bury Isabella for good. Her lies, her schemes and the voice record properly aligned. all of it. It’s airtight.”I sat down slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. “You sure?”“Is is now clear as day,” Tony said firmly. “I’ve been over it twice. Her tracks aren’t just messy—they’re a disaster. And the best part? There’s no way she can talk her way out of this. We’ve got her, Sarah.”A slow smile crept across my face. “So that’s it, then? It’s finally over?”“Not yet,” Tony said, a slight warning in his tone. “We’ve got the information,
SARAHMarco’s gaze held mine, steady and unyielding, as he stood by the kitchen door. For a moment, the world around me seemed to fade. The clinking of utensils, the hum of the stove—it all melted into the background.He tilted his head slightly, motioning for me to follow him out. His presence filled the space, leaving no room for hesitation.I nodded at Martha, who gave me a look that was equal parts curiosity and encouragement. “I’ll be back,” I told her softly, setting down the knife.I followed Marco out into the hallway. My heart raced, the weight of everything I wanted to say pressing down on me. This was it—the moment I’d decided I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. No more avoiding the truth. No more brushing past the lies.When we reached the living room, he stopped and turned to face me. His expression was unreadable, his jaw tight.“Sarah,” he started, his voice low and careful, like he was trying to pick the right words.Before he could continue, I blurted out, “Marco, I
SARAHI lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, a small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. Tomorrow was the day—finally. The day I’d show everyone, including Marco, the truth about Isabella. No more lies, no more manipulation. Her smugness, her arrogance, her calculated schemes—they were all about to crumble. And I would be the one to light the match.The thought kept me awake, my mind running wild with anticipation. I replayed the steps over and over, imagining her face when the truth came crashing down. She wouldn’t see it coming. The mighty Isabella, so proud and untouchable in her delusions, was about to fall.It was a satisfying thought—so satisfying, in fact, that I didn’t notice how long I lay there. When sleep finally crept in, it felt like the sweet calm before a storm I had waited too long to unleash.The next morning, sunlight filtered softly through my curtains, bathing my room in a warm glow. I stretched, the tension in my body melting away as a rush of energy surged thr
ISABELLA The crisp afternoon air greeted me as I stepped out of the café, my heels clicking confidently against the pavement. I felt invincible. Sarah’s defeated expression was seared into my memory, fueling the satisfaction coursing through me. “Too easy,” I muttered to myself, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips. The sun was warm on my skin, and everything seemed brighter, as if the universe itself was congratulating me. Sarah was finally stepping aside, and soon, Marco would be all mine—just as it should have been from the start. I hailed a cab, deciding on a whim that I deserved something better than my usual routine. Somewhere upscale, somewhere that matched the victorious glow I carried. I gave the driver the name of a ritzy hotel bar I’d been to once before, a place where the drinks were overpriced and the atmosphere exuded exclusivity. As we weaved through the streets, I allowed myself a moment to revel in my triumph. Marco would be waiting for me, clueless as eve
SARAHI signaled the waiter for another cup of coffee, trying to steady my nerves. As I waited, I leaned back in my chair, letting the warmth of the café seep into my skin. Isabella’s smug face was still etched in my mind. She had strutted out of here as if she’d won the lottery, completely oblivious to the trap she had just walked into.The waiter approached, a young man with a polite smile. “Another coffee for you, ma’am?”“Yes, please,” I replied, offering him a quick smile. “Make it strong.”He nodded and walked off to the counter, leaving me alone with my thoughts. My fingers drummed on the table as I tried to process what had just happened. Isabella was so proud, so loud with her lies, it was almost laughable.She really thinks she’s won. I shook my head, a quiet chuckle escaping my lips. That arrogance of hers—how she gloated, how she leaned back in her chair like she was untouchable. She has no idea.The waiter returned with my coffee, setting it down gently in front of me. “H
SARAHAs I sipped my coffee, I tried to calm my thoughts, reminding myself of everything at stake. Marco. My marriage. My dignity. I wasn’t just doing this for myself; I was doing it to protect what we had built before Isabella decided to slither into our lives.“Stay calm, Sarah,” I whispered to myself. “You’ve got this.”I practiced steadying my breathing, rehearsing the conversation in my head. Isabella was going to walk in here, cocky and overconfident, convinced that she had already won. My job was to play the part—defeated, vulnerable, and willing to give up.But I wouldn’t give up. Not until she admitted everything.I didn’t have to wait long. Isabella arrived right on time, sauntering through the door like she owned the place. She was dressed to kill, as usual—a tailored blazer, high heels, and just enough makeup to make her look effortless. She spotted me almost immediately, and a smirk curled on her lips.I held my ground, keeping my expression neutral as she approached. Ins
SARAHThe cab rolled to a stop in front of my house, and I hesitated for a moment before climbing in. I slid into the back seat, pulling the door shut behind me, and gave the driver the address Tony had sent me. The café wasn’t far, but the drive felt like an eternity as I sat there, staring out the window, my mind spinning.This was happening. It was all in motion now. There was no turning back.The driver didn’t say much, which I appreciated. The last thing I needed was idle chatter. My thoughts were loud enough. As the city blurred past the window, I tried to focus, to steady my breathing, to keep my hands from trembling. I needed to be calm, collected, ready for whatever came next.I glanced at my phone, the screen lighting up with the address again. The weight of what I was about to do pressed down on me, but it wasn’t fear. No, it was something else. Determination. Resolve. The knowledge that this was the only way to end it.The driver finally spoke, breaking the silence. “We’re
SARAHI sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall in front of me, a small smile playing on my lips. Finally. After all the waiting, all the stress, and all the games, I was about to get the upper hand. Isabella thought she could slither her way into our lives, into Marco’s life, and get away with it. But she was wrong. Dead wrong.I couldn’t stop replaying the plan Tony and I had devised. Every detail, every angle—it was perfect. We had covered everything. And soon, her lies, her manipulations, and her smug little smirk would come crashing down. I could already taste the victory, and it was sweet.“She doesn’t even see it coming,” I muttered to myself, the thought giving me a jolt of satisfaction.I stretched, letting out a sigh. For now, I needed to keep up appearances. Pretend like nothing had changed. No suspicion, no slip-ups. The last thing I wanted was to tip her off.I got up, grabbed my laundry basket, and headed for the door. As I reached the hallway, I gave myself a qui
SARAHI paced around my room, the frustration boiling in my chest like a kettle about to scream. “I can’t do this anymore, Tony,” I said, my voice sharp and shaking as I turned to face him. He leaned against the dresser, arms crossed, his expression calm but wary. “I’m done snooping. We have enough. More than enough. She’s not slipping through this time.”Tony raised a brow, his jaw tightening. “You’re sure? What if we’re wrong? What if she’s got more dirt we don’t know about? Isabella’s crafty—she doesn’t make stupid mistakes.”“Crafty?” I scoffed, throwing my hands in the air. “That’s a polite way of saying she’s manipulative and dangerous, Tony. You’ve seen the files, the emails, the fake documents. Hell, you’ve seen the way she slithers around Marco, poisoning everything she touches. What more do you need?”“I’m just saying,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “If we act too soon, she might wiggle out of this. She’s good at covering her tracks, Sarah. We can’t risk l