In this book, death is kinder than existence. ***DON'T FORGET TO ADD THE STORY TO YOUR LIBRARY, #Comment #Like #SUPPORT #SherahHawke #EthanFarwell Feel free to check my other stories here: Hey, Stranger! Goodbye My Love & Alpha's Last Chance
Two years had passed.Fallon Showls lived a quiet, fulfilling life.She kept her lines open to her closest friends. Eliot and Harlene remained a steady presence, even from afar. Their children sent her drawings in the mail, and now, they were expecting their third child. Fallon laughed when Harlene joked that she was becoming a full-time chaos manager.Fallon’s heart swelled with joy for them.Despite keeping her distance from Ethan, Fallon never cut ties with his family. Every few months, she sent hand-written cards and small handmade gifts to Madam Farwell—a knitted scarf in the winter, a lavender sachet in the spring, a book of poetry with a pressed flower between its pages.The old madam always replied, her handwriting shaky but heartfelt, letting Fallon know how deeply she cherished the gestures.The Kingsleys had returned to Australia. Occasionally, Madam Kingsley or Nathan would call—not to drag Fallon back, but simply to ask how she was doing. Like a loving mother to her estran
Days… Weeks… Months had passed... Since Fallon said goodbye.The Farwell Group continued to thrive.Under Ethan’s leadership, it expanded globally, including tech divisions, sustainable energy projects, and philanthropic partnerships that made headlines. Quarterly reports soared. Investors celebrated. Awards followed like clockwork.But behind the glass doors of a towering office, Ethan Farwell sat alone, overlooking a shimmering skyline… and felt nothing.Each milestone echoed into silence. Each success felt like a hollow pat on a shoulder he no longer believed he deserved.His assistants noticed the shift. He no longer reacted the way he used to—not even in victory. His schedule was always full, but his nights were empty. Expensive scotch and luxury watches couldn’t dull the ache. He tried meeting new people, and he even tried dating, but no woman stayed long.None of them was her.He never truly tried to find Fallon—not even with all his wealth, power, and access. He remembered
The restaurant was quiet—too quiet. A small, private bistro hidden in the heart of the city, bathed in soft golden light and the scent of rosemary and wine. The kind of place meant for promises, not goodbyes.Ethan had arrived early. His shirt was freshly pressed, hair tamed, eyes rimmed with quiet desperation. He fiddled with the edge of the menu, checking the entrance every thirty seconds like a man waiting for salvation.Then she walked in.Fallon.Dressed in a simple black dress, hair pinned loosely, grace in every step, and sorrow tucked carefully behind her eyes. Ethan stood up too quickly, knocking his glass slightly. She noticed—but said nothing."You're here," he said softly, almost in disbelief.She offered a faint smile. “I said I would be.”They sat.For a moment, the clinking of cutlery from nearby tables filled the silence between them. Waiters moved in the background, but the world felt narrowed—just the two of them at a single, flickering candle.“I ordered your favorit
Hawke Residence…Master’s bedroom…“I don’t really like violence, but when I get annoyed, all hell breaks loose,” Nathan says as he pulls a gun from his pocket.Sophia’s breath hitched, as if she’d forgotten how to breathe.Her hair was still dripping.She took a step back and slipped on the wet floor.“Nathan…” She raised her hand defensively. “Get a hold of yourself,” she pleaded.Nathan laughed. “Get a hold of myself?” He kept laughing, mockingly. “Did you get a hold of yourself when you meticulously plan to kill your own sister for a man?” he mumbled.Sophia’s eyes widened.She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”Nathan smirked. “Of course you don’t,” he said as he stepped toward her and, without warning, smashed the barrel of the gun into her face.Sophia cried out—a guttural scream she never knew she could make.She covered her face as Nathan repeatedly struck her. “Stop it!” she begged, glancing desperately at her mother, as if silently pleading for help. A
~RING~~RING~~RING~The landline’s shrill voice pierces through the marble-clad silence of the Kingsley residence.On the table beside him, Nathan’s phone buzzes relentlessly—a string of missed calls and unanswered messages lighting up the screen.ETHICS COMMITTEE – UNKNOWN CALLER – PRIVATE NUMBERHe sits in the center of the expansive living room, surrounded by art that no longer impresses him and furniture that feels colder than it ever used to. His silk shirt is wrinkled. His hair, unkempt. The ice in his glass has melted, the whiskey watered down—but he drinks it anyway.The ringing continues. He doesn’t reach for it.He doesn’t need to.He knows exactly who it is.Not mother. Not Fallon.Not some board member demanding deliverables.No.This is the sound of decay calling.The anonymous tip. The sealed rehab record. The truth wrapped in malice.His grip tightens around the glass.“That dumb bitch…”He mutters it quietly, like it’s not meant for anyone else.But the venom lacing h
CARLISLE RESIDENCE – GUEST BEDROOM – The next dayThe soft light of a cloudy morning filters through the lace curtains. A gentle breeze plays with the edges of the windowpane. It’s quiet, almost deceptively peaceful, as if the house itself is holding its breath.Fallon stands before the mirror, brushing her fingers through her dark hair with slow, steady motions. She wears a simple black coat—elegant, understated. Her expression is unreadable.Behind her, Harlene leans against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely, watching with a silent mixture of worry and respect.“Are you sure you want to go alone?”Fallon nods softly, “One way or another… I need to face everyone. The ghosts. The truths. The living.”She lets out a small breath, then glances at Harlene through the mirror.“Thank you, by the way.”Harlene's eyes flickered, “For what?” she asks innocently. Fallon smiled, “For never asking.” Harlene tilts her head slightly.“What happened to me? Why am I married to Nathan? Why is my f