***DON'T FORGET TO ADD THE STORY TO YOUR LIBRARY, #Comment #Like #SUPPORT #SherahHawke #EthanFarwell #Nathan Kingsley #Fallon Kingsley Feel free to check my other stories here: Hey, Stranger! Goodbye My Love & Alpha's Last Chance
Hey lovely readers,Just a quick note to say I’m really sorry there’s no update today. I’ve come down with a bit of a fever, and my brain’s not quite cooperating when it comes to writing.I’ll be back at it as soon as I’m feeling a little better! In the meantime, if there’s anything in the story/charater you’re especially curious about or want to know more about, feel free to let me know.Sending lots of love,Latton Ripley 💛
After the phone call...Sophia slumped against the cold wall beside the rusted payphone, her hands trembling, her mind spinning.The line had gone dead, but Vladimir had promised help. Promised to find her.Still, doubt gnawed at her.“I could’ve called Fallon, right?” she whispered into the night, her voice dry and cracked.She shook her head. “No… no. If my father could do this to me… if Anna, my best friend, could turn on me like that… Fallon will, too. Sooner or later.”Her jaw tightened.“I can’t trust anyone anymore. All I have now is money, whatever’s left of it, and the people I can pay to protect me. That’s it.”She looked up at the sky, her eyes bloodshot.“I need to get home. Back to my mom. She’s the only one who’ll still look at me like I matter…”CONCURRENTLY…Vladimir sat motionless after the call ended, the ancient corded phone still in his hand, its dial tone long faded.~Sophia.~A weak, shattered version of the heiress who was once loathed by many.And yet… exactly
Fallon stepped out of the bedroom, still tugging the sleeves of her cardigan into place. Her eyes narrowed as the scent of breakfast hit her: bacon, eggs, and French toast. Golden and crisp, just the way she liked them.At the center of it all sat Nathan, lounging at the dining table with a mug of coffee in hand, his usual cocky grin in place.She squinted at him. “Someone woke up on the right side of the bed.”Nathan chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. “Just be thankful your husband is nice, understanding, and let’s not forget, drop-dead gorgeous.”She rolled her eyes, giggling softly as she slid into her seat. “Yeah, right. You left out ‘shameless.’”“I thought that was a given.” He winked, sipping his coffee with maddening ease.Fallon helped herself to a plate, her appetite slow to wake despite the effort he’d clearly made. The silence between them was comfortable, but Nathan’s gaze was watchful, too still.Too strategic.He stirred his coffee again, slower this time, his mi
Fallon had barely slept.She’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, her sheets twisted around her like restraints. Her thoughts were relentless, looping through every word, every look, every moment at that candlelit dinner.She couldn’t even remember when she finally drifted off, if she did at all.And this morning?She felt like hell.Her head throbbed, and her skin was clammy. Dark circles clung beneath her eyes like bruises. Her heart hadn’t stopped racing since she opened them.There was a tight knot around her chest, coiled like wire, pulling tighter with every breath.And her cheeks—God, her cheeks burned the moment she remembered what she had said to Ethan.They had been sitting across from each other, and she had felt herself unraveling. The intimacy of the space. The warmth in his eyes. The memories clawing at the walls of her resolve.Then she said it—too bluntly, too coldly, too unlike herself:“I’m not sure what you’re expecting from courting a married woman in an
LUXURY RESTAURANT – NIGHTThe wine cellar glowed in candlelight, wrapped in velvet silence. Tucked away beneath Midtown, it was the kind of place where secrets were whispered and never repeated.Dinner was quiet—too quiet.Ethan watched Fallon closely, his fork resting in his hand. Despite the elegance she wore like a second skin, there was an unmistakable unease about her. Her smile was perfectly measured, her posture too straight. But it wasn’t the discomfort that gnawed at him.It was something else.The way she seasoned her food—just a precise dash of salt, a flick of pepper.The way she cut her steak, always from the left, always three small slices before taking a bite.The way she chewed slowly, pausing to dab her lips delicately with the napkin.It was haunting. “Sherah.”His chest tightened, the ghost of memory coiling around his ribs. He smiled—but bitterly. The resemblance wasn’t skin deep. It was habitual. Reflexive.He set his cutlery down gently.Then, slowly, carefully,
The restaurant was discreetly tucked beneath a boutique hotel in Midtown—candlelit, soundproofed, the kind of place made for secrets and second chances. Ethan had chosen it carefully, requesting privacy. The Farwell name still held weight, even if his heart felt lighter than it had in years.Fallon arrived at precisely eight.She was stunning in midnight blue, her silhouette graceful and poised. The soft sheen of the dress shimmered with every step, and her smoky eye makeup made the amber of her eyes glow like firelight. She moved like someone who’d had to master elegance as armor—but tonight, that armor seemed to soften around the edges.Ethan stood the moment he saw her, his breath catching slightly.He offered a quiet smile and pulled her chair out."Thank you," she said, her voice gentle.Then, from beside his seat, he picked up a bouquet of fresh peonies and lilacs—soft hues, spring-sweet and carefully chosen.“For you,” he said, holding them out.Fallon blinked. Her hand hovered