EMILY'S POV.Carlos stands in front of me. His blue eyes burn into mine. I look at him. His devastatingly handsome face makes it so hard to stay angry—hard, but not impossible. His chest rises and falls like he’s just run a marathon to get here, to me. The moment he asks the question, my heart feels like it slams against my ribcage."Are you pregnant?" His voice is low, rough, filled with something I can’t quite name. Hope? Fear?I blink at him, stunned. My hand tightens around the zipper of the suitcase I’ve been half-heartedly packing."I—I don’t know what you’re talking about," I stammer, praying he’ll believe the lie, the pathetic defense I throw up in pure panic.But Carlos just takes a step closer, shaking his head like he isn’t buying a word of it."Don’t give me that crap, Emily," he growls. "If Bridget was pregnant, she’d have announced it to the entire world by now. You think I don’t know her?"He moves even closer, forcing me to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. His scent w
EMILY’S POVI look at Carlos in disbelief as he says those words.I freeze.Every part of me freezes.It is as if the world has stopped spinning for a heartbeat—just long enough for those three words to sink into my skin and pierce through my soul.“You… what?” My voice comes out a whisper.He steps even closer.“I love you, Emily,” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I was too proud, too stubborn, or too damn broken to admit it.”Tears burn my eyes. I stare at him, trying to blink back the tears. I have waited years to hear him say those words.“Why now?” I whisper.“Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay without you—without us.” His voice cracks, and I watch his jaw tighten. “I know I hurt you. I know I let you down in every way that mattered. But if there’s even a tiny part of you that still wants this—still wants me—I swear I’ll do whatever it takes.”My heart pounds. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff,
EMILY'S POVI stand in the center of the empty boutique with my arms folded and my heart pounding—not with anxiety this time, but hope. Real hope. The kind that sits warm in your chest and whispers this could actually happen.The space is enormous—bare concrete floors, brick walls, and wide glass windows that let in the golden morning light.This is mine. All mine.After the whole disaster with Maison de Lune, after watching everything I’ve worked so hard for crumble thanks to Lina’s venomous touch, I think I’m done. But something inside me refuses to stay down. Maybe it’s the baby, maybe it’s me finally choosing myself, but I know—I have to try again. So, I decide to open my own boutique and start my own fashion line. All by myself.I step forward and close my eyes.In my mind, I see the runway. I see models gliding down in pieces I haven’t even fully designed yet. The flashes of cameras. The gasps from the front row. My name echoing off the walls.Emily.It gives me chills.The glas
CARLOS’ POVThe boardroom is almost silent except for the voices echoing off the table.The long table in front of me is filled with laptops, folders, and untouched glasses of mineral water. One by one, the board members present their reports—logistics, international expansion strategies, profit margins. I nod, make notes, ask questions. I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do.But I’m not here.My mind keeps drifting. Sliding back to her.To Emily.Her soft laugh, the smell of her hair when she curls into me, the way her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest when she thinks I’m asleep. The way she smiles when she talks about her designs. The baby.Our baby.Last night keeps replaying in my mind. The way her lips trembled right before I kissed them. How she held onto me like she needed me to breathe. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I left her this morning with a kiss on her forehead, promising I’d be done early today. A promise I’m already breaking.“Mr. Carter?” someone
CARLOS’ POVThe sirens keep on blaring. Red lights reflect across the pavement as the ambulance doors fling open. I’m already running. My lungs are burning and my chest is heaving harder than it ever has before.“Emily!” I choke out her name, over and over. My throat is raw from smoke and yelling. My legs burn as I chase after the paramedics pushing her through the automatic doors of the ER.She looks lifeless. Her face is pale. Her lips are slightly parted and her hair clings to her face in sweaty knots. I can’t even tell where she’s burned, or if she’s burned, because everything just looks wrong. Like the life has been sucked out of her body and she’s just barely holding on.My heart crashes against my ribs like it wants to break free.“Please—Emily, baby, stay with me,” I beg, my voice cracking. The paramedics say something into their radios. The doors fling open for them, but a nurse blocks me from going in.I barely notice Bridget until she grabs my arm. She’s crying. Her fingers
DANIEL’S POVThe room is dark. Papers are spread across the table like a crime scene—photos, documents, notes scribbled in red ink, and right in the center… her face.Lina.The corkboard is above my desk. Red string crisscrosses the board, pinning together events that, at first glance, seem unrelated. But I see it now. A pattern. Her name, her face, connected to outbursts, fights, assaults and now…I stare down at the folder in my hand—its edge creased from how tightly I’m gripping it. My thumb brushes over the bold red stamp on the front: Sealed Record. It took an old favor and an uncomfortable call to a cop I hadn’t spoken to in five years to get this. But it was worth it.I open the folder slowly and my eyes scan the page.Name: Lina Veronica HaleDOB: 09/14/1996Juvenile Record: SealedCharges: Arson, Harassment, Assault, StalkingI whisper to myself, breath catching in my throat. "Arson. Harassment. Assault. Stalking..."I drag a hand down my face "This girl’s been unhinged sinc
DANIEL'S POV The minutes tick by slowly I stand near the corkboard, looking at every photo of Lina that I've managed to get. I tap my fingers on the table nearby, waiting impatiently for Carlos to get here. Just when I'm about to call him to ask where he is, I hear the slam of a car door outside. That has to be him. Finally.Carlos walks in nearly an hour late, and the second I see him, my chest tightens. Not from anger. From worry. My little brother looks like hell. Dark circles bruise the skin under his eyes, there's something that looks like soot on his jacket, and his eyes are red—bloodshot from exhaustion, worry, or maybe crying. He looks stiff, like every muscle in his body has forgotten how to relax.He doesn’t say hello. Doesn’t ask what’s going on. His voice is low as he walks forward. "Talk.” he says. I nod once and step away from the corkboard. “I’ve been doing some research on Lina.”Carlos frowns, confused. “Why?”“Because,” I say, “you’re too naïve to see that Lina
Lina’s POVThe TV is on in the background, casting a soft glow over the living room. I’m not even really listening to the news report anymore—I’ve seen it so many times by now, I know it by heart.“—no suspects have been confirmed, but authorities believe the fire at the boutique was intentional…”I take another slow sip of wine, smiling a little as I watch the screen. The anchor’s serious voice tries to make sense of something they’ll never fully understand.“You should’ve stayed away, Emily,” I say to myself. I swirl the glass in my hand. “Now you’ll see what happens when you take what’s mine.”Then, my phone buzzes on the counter. The sound cuts through the silence.I pick it up.Unknown Number: Emily survived. My heart stops.I stare at the words for a second before they really hit me. Then the glass slips out of my hand.I throw it and it smashes against the wall. I barely notice the shards on the floor. All I can think about is that one line.She survived.I feel heat rise thro
EMILY’S POVThree days. Just three days since the fire and here I am. Back in my studio like it never happened. Carlos did everything to try to convince me to stay home and rest but I still have a lot to do plus I’m feeling a lot better. I won’t let a little incident keep me down.The place is still in recovery mode, with ladders leaned against the walls and the sound of hammering echoing somewhere in the back. The constructors are fixing a lot of things. But I’m here. I’m working. And I’m grateful.My office window overlooks the worksite. A large tarp covers a partially scorched wall outside, but my design space—the heart of everything was mostly untouched. Thank God for insurance. Thank God for second chances.My sketchpad lies open in front of me, filled with new silhouettes and fabric swatches. My laptop rests on the cleanest part of my desk, set up for the biggest Zoom call of my life. The screen lights up with faces—eight board members of Juille Hart, one of the most luxurious f
EMILY'S POVI’m trapped.The air is thick, black, suffocating. I can see the flames all around me. It burns, just like the day my office caught fire. A baby cries in my arms. My heart pounds loudly with fear in my chest. Every step I take is so painful that it feels like a marathon. My legs shake beneath me as I trip over the remains of something I can't even recognize. The smoke goes into my lungs. My throat burns.The door slams behind me.I scream and twist toward it. “Carlos!” Suddenly, I hear someone calling my name—his voice? A shadow in the fire. I reach, but I can’t get to him. The flames close in like a cage. The baby wails louder. I jolt awake.A choked scream rips from my throat. My body convulses, launching me sideways off the bed. I hit the wooden floor hard. Something crashes—glass shatters.I scramble backwards on instinct, gasping for breath. My fingers dig into the floorboards.reality. The room is dark but all I see are flames. I can still see smoke in the corners.
Lina’s POVThe TV is on in the background, casting a soft glow over the living room. I’m not even really listening to the news report anymore—I’ve seen it so many times by now, I know it by heart.“—no suspects have been confirmed, but authorities believe the fire at the boutique was intentional…”I take another slow sip of wine, smiling a little as I watch the screen. The anchor’s serious voice tries to make sense of something they’ll never fully understand.“You should’ve stayed away, Emily,” I say to myself. I swirl the glass in my hand. “Now you’ll see what happens when you take what’s mine.”Then, my phone buzzes on the counter. The sound cuts through the silence.I pick it up.Unknown Number: Emily survived. My heart stops.I stare at the words for a second before they really hit me. Then the glass slips out of my hand.I throw it and it smashes against the wall. I barely notice the shards on the floor. All I can think about is that one line.She survived.I feel heat rise thro
DANIEL'S POV The minutes tick by slowly I stand near the corkboard, looking at every photo of Lina that I've managed to get. I tap my fingers on the table nearby, waiting impatiently for Carlos to get here. Just when I'm about to call him to ask where he is, I hear the slam of a car door outside. That has to be him. Finally.Carlos walks in nearly an hour late, and the second I see him, my chest tightens. Not from anger. From worry. My little brother looks like hell. Dark circles bruise the skin under his eyes, there's something that looks like soot on his jacket, and his eyes are red—bloodshot from exhaustion, worry, or maybe crying. He looks stiff, like every muscle in his body has forgotten how to relax.He doesn’t say hello. Doesn’t ask what’s going on. His voice is low as he walks forward. "Talk.” he says. I nod once and step away from the corkboard. “I’ve been doing some research on Lina.”Carlos frowns, confused. “Why?”“Because,” I say, “you’re too naïve to see that Lina
DANIEL’S POVThe room is dark. Papers are spread across the table like a crime scene—photos, documents, notes scribbled in red ink, and right in the center… her face.Lina.The corkboard is above my desk. Red string crisscrosses the board, pinning together events that, at first glance, seem unrelated. But I see it now. A pattern. Her name, her face, connected to outbursts, fights, assaults and now…I stare down at the folder in my hand—its edge creased from how tightly I’m gripping it. My thumb brushes over the bold red stamp on the front: Sealed Record. It took an old favor and an uncomfortable call to a cop I hadn’t spoken to in five years to get this. But it was worth it.I open the folder slowly and my eyes scan the page.Name: Lina Veronica HaleDOB: 09/14/1996Juvenile Record: SealedCharges: Arson, Harassment, Assault, StalkingI whisper to myself, breath catching in my throat. "Arson. Harassment. Assault. Stalking..."I drag a hand down my face "This girl’s been unhinged sinc
CARLOS’ POVThe sirens keep on blaring. Red lights reflect across the pavement as the ambulance doors fling open. I’m already running. My lungs are burning and my chest is heaving harder than it ever has before.“Emily!” I choke out her name, over and over. My throat is raw from smoke and yelling. My legs burn as I chase after the paramedics pushing her through the automatic doors of the ER.She looks lifeless. Her face is pale. Her lips are slightly parted and her hair clings to her face in sweaty knots. I can’t even tell where she’s burned, or if she’s burned, because everything just looks wrong. Like the life has been sucked out of her body and she’s just barely holding on.My heart crashes against my ribs like it wants to break free.“Please—Emily, baby, stay with me,” I beg, my voice cracking. The paramedics say something into their radios. The doors fling open for them, but a nurse blocks me from going in.I barely notice Bridget until she grabs my arm. She’s crying. Her fingers
CARLOS’ POVThe boardroom is almost silent except for the voices echoing off the table.The long table in front of me is filled with laptops, folders, and untouched glasses of mineral water. One by one, the board members present their reports—logistics, international expansion strategies, profit margins. I nod, make notes, ask questions. I’m doing everything I’m supposed to do.But I’m not here.My mind keeps drifting. Sliding back to her.To Emily.Her soft laugh, the smell of her hair when she curls into me, the way her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest when she thinks I’m asleep. The way she smiles when she talks about her designs. The baby.Our baby.Last night keeps replaying in my mind. The way her lips trembled right before I kissed them. How she held onto me like she needed me to breathe. I haven’t stopped thinking about her since I left her this morning with a kiss on her forehead, promising I’d be done early today. A promise I’m already breaking.“Mr. Carter?” someone
EMILY'S POVI stand in the center of the empty boutique with my arms folded and my heart pounding—not with anxiety this time, but hope. Real hope. The kind that sits warm in your chest and whispers this could actually happen.The space is enormous—bare concrete floors, brick walls, and wide glass windows that let in the golden morning light.This is mine. All mine.After the whole disaster with Maison de Lune, after watching everything I’ve worked so hard for crumble thanks to Lina’s venomous touch, I think I’m done. But something inside me refuses to stay down. Maybe it’s the baby, maybe it’s me finally choosing myself, but I know—I have to try again. So, I decide to open my own boutique and start my own fashion line. All by myself.I step forward and close my eyes.In my mind, I see the runway. I see models gliding down in pieces I haven’t even fully designed yet. The flashes of cameras. The gasps from the front row. My name echoing off the walls.Emily.It gives me chills.The glas
EMILY’S POVI look at Carlos in disbelief as he says those words.I freeze.Every part of me freezes.It is as if the world has stopped spinning for a heartbeat—just long enough for those three words to sink into my skin and pierce through my soul.“You… what?” My voice comes out a whisper.He steps even closer.“I love you, Emily,” he repeats, firmer this time. “I’ve always loved you. Even when I was too proud, too stubborn, or too damn broken to admit it.”Tears burn my eyes. I stare at him, trying to blink back the tears. I have waited years to hear him say those words.“Why now?” I whisper.“Because I can’t keep living like this. I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay without you—without us.” His voice cracks, and I watch his jaw tighten. “I know I hurt you. I know I let you down in every way that mattered. But if there’s even a tiny part of you that still wants this—still wants me—I swear I’ll do whatever it takes.”My heart pounds. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff,