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 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,
SARAHThe living room was bustling with activity, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the pounding in my chest. Marco sat across from me, scrolling through his tablet, completely focused on the seating arrangements. His sharp focus somehow made me feel calmer, even though my thoughts were racing.I leaned over the list in front of me, pretending to check it carefully. “So, are we sticking to the original table placements, or are we moving the contractors closer to the center?”Marco glanced up briefly. “Closer to the center. They’ll feel more valued that way. This deal’s been a long time coming. We need everything to go off without a hitch tonight.”“Got it,” I replied, scribbling a quick note. I nodded as if his words didn’t rattle me, but inside, I was already rehearsing how tonight would unfold. Isabella’s lies were about to be exposed, and I needed to stay calm.Marco noticed my pause. “You okay? You’ve been unusually quiet today.”I forced a smile. “Just focused. There’s a lot to g
SARAHI raised the glass slightly, the light catching the crystal edges as I let the room settle into silence. All eyes were on me, expectant and curious. My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept my expression composed. I’d waited too long for this moment to falter now.“As we celebrate tonight,” I began, my voice clear and steady, “I feel it’s important to acknowledge not just the successes we share but also the challenges we’ve faced to get here. And tonight, I want to shed light on something that’s been weighing heavily for quite some time.”There was a ripple of murmurs in the crowd, people exchanging puzzled glances. Marco’s brows furrowed slightly, his gaze locked on me. Isabella, near the bar, stiffened, her confident posture now rigid as her smile froze.I turned toward the crowd fully, placing the glass down with deliberate care. “It’s said that truth has a way of coming out, no matter how deeply it’s buried. And tonight, I think it’s time for a little honesty.” My eyes swep
ISABELLA I ran out of the house as if the walls themselves were closing in on me. My heels scraped against the pavement, but I didn’t care. The sound of the crowd’s laughter, their murmurs, their judgment still echoed in my ears. I couldn’t breathe. It was like my chest was caving in, the air too thick for me to swallow.I reached the gate and waved desperately at the first cab I saw, nearly stepping into the street to make it stop. The car screeched to a halt, and I yanked the door open without waiting for the driver to say a word.“Just drive,” I snapped, throwing myself into the seat. My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded.“Where to, miss?” he asked, his tone polite but wary.“I said just drive!” My voice came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at anyone. I slammed the door shut and pressed myself against the window, clutching my bag like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.The cab pulled away, and the moment the
SARAHThe room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioner. The party had ended hours ago, leaving the house in an eerie calm. I sat cross-legged on my bed, my back resting against the headboard. A sense of victory pulsed through me, steady and reassuring, like a beat I hadn’t heard in years.The recorder in my hand felt heavier now, though it wasn’t from its weight. I pressed play again, letting Isabella’s shaky voice fill the silence.“Of course I did it! You think I care about anyone but myself? Sarah doesn’t deserve Marco, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them apart!”I paused the tape and leaned my head back, a small, satisfied smile tugging at my lips. That moment earlier—the look on Isabella’s face when her own words turned against her—played on a loop in my mind. The way her jaw dropped, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for a way to escape. And then, the best part: her sprinting out of the house like a thief caught red-handed.It felt… good. N
SARAHIt had been a week since the party, and I still wasn’t over my “anger”—not completely, anyway. Okay, maybe I was, but Marco didn’t need to know that just yet. I wanted to enjoy the little game we had going on. He’d been relentless in his efforts to apologize, and honestly, I was having way too much fun watching him grovel.I got up and started my usual morning cleaning routine.Starting in the living room, I fluffed the pillows and wiped down the coffee table. My thoughts drifted, as they often did lately, to Marco. He had always been a proud man—too proud sometimes. But this past week, he’d been on a mission to win me back, and his creative attempts were something else.This morning, it seemed, was no exception.As I moved to dust the shelves, I noticed a yellow sticky note stuck to the edge of a photo frame.“Good morning, my queen. The house isn’t as bright as your smile, but it’ll do. – M.”I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Really, Marco?”
SARAHI woke up to the soft morning light spilling through the curtains, the room still quiet except for the faint sound of birds chirping outside. Stretching lazily, I blinked a few times before sitting up in bed, my mind already running through the usual morning routine. First stop—tidying up my room.I got to work, straightening the sheets, fluffing the pillows, and organizing the random pile of books and trinkets on my bedside table. I made a mental note to dust later, even though I knew Martha would probably insist I let her do it.Once I was satisfied, I headed to the bathroom. The mirror greeted me with my slightly disheveled reflection, and I smiled at the sight. My hair was a mess, and I had pillow creases on my cheek, but I didn’t mind. Turning on the shower, I let the warm water wash over me, refreshing my sleepy mind.After drying off, I wrapped myself in a towel and returned to the mirror. That’s when I noticed it—the subtle but undeniable curve of my belly. My baby bump.
SARAHThe party was alive—music blasting, laughter ringing out, people moving around with drinks in their hands. I was caught up in it, letting the distractions pull me in. The energy was infectious, and for a while, I didn’t think about anything else. But then, out of nowhere, a nagging feeling crept up on me.Marco.I hadn’t seen him in a while.I glanced around the crowded room, scanning the faces, but there was no sign of him. My stomach tightened slightly, but I tried to brush it off. Maybe he had just stepped out for air. Or maybe he had gone to take a call. It wasn’t a big deal.Except… it was unlike him.Marco didn’t just disappear without a word. If he needed to step away, he usually let me know. And the last time I had seen him, he had been with Aisha.I swallowed, my unease growing. Something wasn’t right.I turned my head again, trying to spot him through the mass of people. Nothing. No glimpse of his dark suit, no familiar presence near the bar or in the corners where he
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