SARAHHere’s the expanded scene based on your outline:The ride to the hospital was painfully quiet. Marco had his hands firmly on the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he focused on the road ahead. I sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window, trying to ignore the sound of Isabella wailing in the backseat.“Ohhh, it hurts so much! Marco, please hurry!” Isabella screeched, her voice grating like nails on a chalkboard.I clenched my teeth and looked over at Marco. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a hard line, but he said nothing. Of course, he wouldn’t. He was too busy trying to hold it together.I turned back toward the window, willing myself to stay calm, but it was impossible. Isabella’s dramatic cries filled the car, each one more ridiculous than the last.“Oh, Marco, I think I’m losing consciousness! Please, don’t let me die!”I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “She’s unbelievable,” I muttered under my breath.“What was that, Sarah?” Marco asked, hi
SARAHI sat alone in the waiting room, tapping my fingers against the armrest of the chair. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, and the sterile white walls did nothing to calm my nerves. I tried to distract myself by looking around—at the posters on the walls about healthy eating, the muted television playing some medical drama, and the occasional nurse or patient walking by—but none of it worked. My thoughts were a mess.Marco had stepped out to speak with the nurse, leaving me here to stew in my own anxiety. I hated waiting like this, not knowing what was happening or what might come next. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my eyes darting toward the door Marco had disappeared through.Then, I heard voices. Faint at first, but as I strained my ears, I realized it was Marco and the nurse talking.“…nothing to worry about,” the nurse was saying.My heart quickened. I leaned slightly in their direction, trying to catch more of their conversation.“Are you sure?” Marco’s voice
SARAHI woke up feeling lighter than I had in days. Today was the day. The day we’d finally be free of Isabella’s twisted games. The DNA results would expose her lies, and Marco and I could finally move forward without her constant manipulations hanging over us like a dark cloud.I got out of bed and headed downstairs, eager to see Marco. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, I spotted him near the door, pulling on his jacket. His face was calm, focused, the same determined look he always wore when he was ready to handle something important.“Heading to the hospital?” I asked, a small smile creeping onto my face.Marco glanced at me, his expression softening just slightly. “Yeah. It’s about time we put an end to this.”I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Good. I can’t wait to see the look on Isabella’s face when she’s caught in her own web of lies.”He chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t need to stress about this, Sarah. It’s not going to be that big a deal. Once the truth comes out,
SARAHThe moment the doctor uttered those words, my entire world tilted on its axis. I stared at him, frozen in disbelief, his voice ringing in my ears like an unrelenting echo.“The results of the DNA test confirm that Mr Marco is the biological father of the child.”My heartbeat quickened, pounding so hard I could feel it reverberating in my chest. I blinked, my eyes darting between Marco, the doctor, and Isabella, desperately searching for some sign that this was a cruel joke. But there was no humor here—only cold, stark reality.“This… this can’t be true,” I muttered, my voice trembling, barely recognizable. My hands clutched the edge of my chair, my knuckles white. “There has to be some kind of mistake.”The doctor adjusted his glasses, his expression calm but unyielding. “Ms. Sarah, I can assure you that—”“No!” I interrupted, my voice louder, almost desperate. “You must’ve gotten the samples mixed up. You—You have to check again.” I turned to Marco, who sat silent and motionles
SARAHI stormed through the gates, my entire body trembling with fury. The guards, who were always so polite and attentive, straightened as I approached. One of them opened his mouth to speak.“Ma’am, is Mr. Marco—”“Don’t!” I snapped, not even sparing him a glance. My voice was sharp enough to cut steel, and he instantly stepped back, his mouth shutting with a click. I didn’t owe anyone answers, not now, not ever.My heels clattered violently against the driveway as I marched to the house, every step fueled by the storm brewing inside me. I reached the front door, slammed it open with such force that it echoed through the entryway, and stalked straight toward my room.The staff turned to look, their faces filled with confusion and concern. I didn’t care. Let them look. Let them whisper. I was done holding it all together.When I reached my bedroom, I pushed the door open and then slammed it shut behind me, twisting the lock hard enough that it felt like it might break. The click was
*********Isabella closed the door behind her and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Her eyes scanned the room—the guest room, as they called it—but to her, it was so much more. This wasn’t just a room; it was her victory. A smile spread across her face as she walked toward the bed and sat down, sinking into the plush comforter.“I did it,” she whispered to herself, the words tasting sweet on her tongue. “I finally did it.”She leaned back on her hands, her gaze traveling across the walls and furniture. The room was simple, tasteful, but it lacked her personal touch. That would change soon enough. She wasn’t just a guest anymore; this was her territory now.“Finally,” she said aloud, a giggle escaping her lips. “This house, this life—it’s all coming together. And Sarah…” Her lips curled into a smirk as she thought of the other woman’s reaction earlier. “Poor, sweet Sarah. She hasn’t even seen the half of it yet.”The memory of the DNA test flashed in her mind. The way the doctor had read
SARAHI stood in the middle of my room, staring at the slight mess I’d made over the past few days. Clothes were draped over the chair in the corner, some hanging halfway to the floor, and a stack of books leaned precariously on my nightstand. It wasn’t a disaster, but it wasn’t neat either. Still, cleaning seemed like the best way to keep my mind from spiraling. Anything was better than sitting here and stewing over Isabella and her smug, self-satisfied attitude—or Marco, with his infuriatingly calm demeanor, like nothing in the world could touch him.I grabbed a shirt off the chair and folded it with a little more force than necessary, tucking it into the drawer. The movement was brisk, almost aggressive, but it felt good. At least this, I could control. Folding clothes, organizing, tidying—it was simple and didn’t come with strings attached.“The Isabella situation,” I muttered under my breath as I grabbed another shirt. That’s what I’d been calling it in my head. It sounded clinic
SARAHAs I walked down the hallway, the house felt different—like someone had been here, touching things that didn’t belong to them. It was subtle at first. A throw pillow on the couch was slightly off-center, its crisp lines disturbed. The vase I had carefully placed on the mini table in the living room was now perched on the corner of the mantle.I frowned, stopping mid-step to glance around. I hadn’t moved it. No one ever moved anything in this house unless I told them to. The staff knew better than to tamper with my things.Who was behind this?I shook my head, forcing myself to keep walking, but the unease stayed with me. By the time I reached the kitchen, I was determined to find some kind of distraction. I'd rather be hanging around in the kitchen than seeing him. Avoiding him right now felt far more important.Martha was there, wiping down the counters with practiced efficiency. She turned as I entered, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “Good afternoon, ma’am,” she greet
AISHAMarco’s weight leaned into me as I carefully guided him through the grand hallways of his mansion. His steps were sluggish, his body heavy, but I kept moving, dragging him forward as subtly as I could. Every few steps, he mumbled something—half-slurred directions that barely made sense, but I forced myself to listen.“Left,” he muttered, pointing vaguely with his free hand. “Then, uh… another left.”I nodded like I was paying attention, though my focus was split between keeping us moving and making sure we weren’t being watched. My eyes flicked around constantly, scanning for any sign of Sarah or anyone else who might get in the way. The last thing I needed was someone questioning why I was hauling Marco through the halls like this.My heart pounded so hard it felt like I could hear it in my ears.Not from fear—at least, that’s what I told myself—but from the sheer pressure of the situation. I needed to get this over with. Fast.Isabella was waiting.And once I was done with thi
AISHAMarco took a seat beside me, stretching his arms across the back of the barstool, looking way too relaxed for someone who had just thrown a man out of his own party. His eyes flickered toward me, then to his drink, then back to me again.“You okay?” His voice was low, steady, but there was something else beneath it. Something unreadable.I exhaled through my nose, picking up my glass and taking a slow sip. “I’m fine.”Marco hummed, not entirely convinced. “Bastard’s lucky I didn’t break his nose.”I let out a small laugh. “What, one punch wasn’t enough?”He smirked. “You think he deserved more?”“I think men like that deserve worse.” I took another sip before setting my glass down. “But he’s not worth it.”Marco nodded slightly, rubbing his jaw as he glanced toward the bartender. “What are you drinking?”“Whiskey.”His brows lifted slightly. “Didn’t take you for a whiskey person.”“I’m full of surprises.”Marco chuckled under his breath, then signaled for the bartender. “I’ll ta
AISHAMarco took a seat beside me, stretching his arms across the back of the barstool, looking way too relaxed for someone who had just thrown a man out of his own party. His eyes flickered toward me, then to his drink, then back to me again.“You okay?” His voice was low, steady, but there was something else beneath it. Something unreadable.I exhaled through my nose, picking up my glass and taking a slow sip. “I’m fine.”Marco hummed, not entirely convinced. “Bastard’s lucky I didn’t break his nose.”I let out a small laugh. “What, one punch wasn’t enough?”He smirked. “You think he deserved more?”“I think men like that deserve worse.” I took another sip before setting my glass down. “But he’s not worth it.”Marco nodded slightly, rubbing his jaw as he glanced toward the bartender. “What are you drinking?”“Whiskey.”His brows lifted slightly. “Didn’t take you for a whiskey person.”“I’m full of surprises.”Marco chuckled under his breath, then signaled for the bartender. “I’ll ta
AISHASarah doesn’t like me. That much was obvious.I could see it in her eyes—the way she shook my hand, the way her fingers tensed just slightly, the way her lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was polite, controlled, but I wasn’t stupid.She didn’t trust me.Not that I blamed her.Women like Sarah had instincts. And mine was telling me that hers were screaming at her that I was a problem.Which, of course, I was. But she couldn’t know that. At least, not yet.I needed to be careful. I needed to move slowly, smartly, if I wanted to get close to Marco without raising too many alarms. If she thought I was just a secretary, an employee who happened to be a little friendly, she might let her guard down.I could work with that.I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I made my way toward the bar, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The party was elegant, the music low and sophisticated, the lighting dim and warm. Everything about the atmos
SARAHI watched them.My grip on my glass was tight, my fingers curling around the delicate stem as if it was the only thing keeping me tethered. The cool condensation seeped against my skin, but I barely registered it. My eyes were locked on them—Marco and that woman.She was too close. Too comfortable.Her laugh was light, airy, laced with familiarity. Every few seconds, she touched his arm, her manicured fingers gliding over the fabric of his suit like she had every right. A brush of her hand against his shoulder. A playful tap against his chest. And Marco—he wasn’t pulling away.My jaw tightened.The murmurs around me weren’t helping.“Who is she?”“She looks like she knows him well.”“She’s stunning. No wonder she walked in like she owned the place.”I exhaled sharply through my nose, willing myself to stay composed. I knew exactly what they were thinking because I was thinking it too. And I hated it.My husband, standing there with some woman draped all over him like she had eve
SARAHI stood next to Marco, my fingers curled lightly around my glass as my eyes kept drifting toward his mother. No matter how much I tried to focus on the party, my mind kept looping back to our conversation, the weight of her words pressing down on me. I remembered the way Marco had spoken about her, the tension in his voice, the unspoken things hanging between them. I inhaled deeply, steeling myself.This wasn’t the time to get lost in thoughts.Marco’s hand rested at the small of my back, grounding me as we moved through the party. The atmosphere was loud and lively, the clinking of glasses mixing with laughter and music. The expensive liquor was flowing freely, and the guests—some familiar, some new—were clearly enjoying themselves.Marco introduced me to one of his business associates, a sharply dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair and an easy grin. “Sarah, this is Alessandro Moretti,” Marco said. “We’ve been doing business for years.”Moretti extended his hand, smiling. “So,
AISHAI stood in front of the mirror, my heart hammering against my ribs. My hands hovered over the rack of dresses I had laid out, my fingers brushing over each fabric as I tried to decide. This had to be perfect—tonight had to be perfect. Or at least, it had to look perfect.I swallowed hard, exhaling shakily as I reached for a sleek black dress. It was tight, hugging every curve, the neckline plunging just enough to be enticing but not desperate. I needed Marco to look at me. I needed him to want me—just enough for the camera to capture it.I tugged the dress on, smoothing it over my hips, my stomach twisting in knots. Could I even pull this off? Could I really do this?You have to.I grabbed my makeup brush, dusting powder across my face as I stared at my own reflection. My eyes looked too wide, my lips too tight. I needed to calm down. But how could I? This wasn’t just some party—I was setting a trap.A dangerous one.I reached for my lipstick, twisting it up with shaky fingers.
SARAHGot it! Writing now—give me a few minutes.Here’s your scene:Marco’s hand tightened around mine as we stepped forward, his grip steady, reassuring. “You ready?” he murmured, his voice low, just for me.No. Not even close.But I nodded anyway.My heart pounded as we approached his parents. This wasn’t just any introduction—this was Alessandro and Vittoria De Luca. People whose names carried weight, respect, and fear in equal measure. They weren’t just influential; they were legends in their own right.And I was about to meet them.Marco’s father, Alessandro, stood tall with an air of effortless power. He didn’t need to command attention—it just happened. He had that presence, the kind that made you straighten your posture without realizing it. His silver-streaked dark hair was neatly combed back, his sharp features unreadable.Beside him, Vittoria De Luca was just as intimidating in her own way. Elegant, poised, with piercing dark eyes that assessed me the moment we came into vi
SARAHI jolted awake, my heart skipping a beat as I blinked against the dim light of my room.A headache pulsed lightly at my temples, and I groaned, rubbing my forehead. I had no idea when or how I even fell asleep. The last thing I remembered was Marco telling me to get some rest—Marco.The party.I shot up, eyes darting to the clock on the nightstand. 7:45 PM.Shit.I had a little over an hour before the party started at nine. That was fine—I still had time. But it wasn’t just any party. It was a night that meant more than just music, drinks, and fancy outfits. It was a new beginning.A fresh start. For me and Marco.With a deep breath, I pushed off the bed and headed straight to the bathroom, shedding my clothes as I turned on the warm water. Stepping under the shower, I let the heat sink into my skin, easing the slight tension in my shoulders.But my mind wasn’t at ease.Marco’s parents were coming.I leaned my forehead against the cool tiles, inhaling deeply. Marco had just tol