Se connecterCINNAMONI had lost track of how long it had been since I last tried to contact my so-called best friend, Risa. It still hurts that she betrayed me, but the nagging need to understand why she did it wouldn’t leave my mind. I just wanted to know when those thoughts first crossed her mind.I was making pancakes with Dove, who has been a true blessing since she arrived. She and Miranda brought a lightness that eased the depression I was sinking into. They brought peace to my heart and helped me forget my worries.She'd walked into the kitchen at seven-thirty with her hair wrapped and her sleeves pushed up and announced that she was hungry. That was what I loved most about her recovery. It wasn't passive. She worked on herself one day at a time and kept going."Did Miranda take the kids to school?" I reached past her for the flour, adding another measure into the sugar mix by feel."Left twenty minutes ago. Security team with them." Dove leaned over the bowl and inhaled. "Both kids had th
DANTE.The building had been lifeless for years before tonight. The scent gave it away—rust and stagnant water mingled with chemicals. Three of the original six skylights were missing, leaving gaping openings in the ceiling through which cold air poured in like columns. The remaining glass in the walls was coated in black grime accumulated over decades. Two floodlights set up by Viper's men illuminated the room, making everything turn stark yellow light and deep black shadow, with no soft transitions between the two.The floor was bare concrete, cracked down the middle. There was a vast expanse of forty feet in every direction and a high ceiling.Along the far wall stood four men—large and imposing figures. They were still but not passive; their stillness was professional. Viper was closest to me, his arms relaxed at his sides, a line of old scar tissue stretching from his left ear to his jaw. He observed without really watching.She was at the center of it all.The chair was made of
DANTE.The world believed I was thriving.I had made it appear that way.Three conferences in six weeks. Two magazine features—one focused on finance, the other on lifestyle. The Meridian announcement. The keynote at the Spain Business Forum that Tate had scheduled eight months prior, which I nearly canceled four times before realizing that backing out would require an explanation I simply didn’t have the energy to provide.So I attended. Smiled. Shook hands with both of my hands. Said all the right things in all the right places and watched as people nodded, took my picture, and walked away believing in the version of Dante Moretti that I presented to them.It was the most exhausting performance of my life.I came home to a house that still smelled faintly of a life that no longer lived there, poured something I didn't taste, and sat in a chair until the city went dark outside the window.That was what thriving looked like from the inside.My phone lit up on the desk. I already knew
CINNAMON.Even though I was upset with their brother, my feelings toward them were different. Both had been victims of harsh circumstances but managed to overcome them. Dove looked empowered, her skin radiant and her body healthy, with life flowing through every vein. Miranda had returned to her former self. We all needed each other during a moment like this.Miranda had been quiet, simply tapping the armrest."Can I say something?" she asked.We both turned our attention to her.Typically, Miranda wasn’t one to openly express her emotions in public; she was usually composed. Watching her lose that composure felt like witnessing something stable suddenly shift."Why didn’t anyone tell me?" The pain in her voice was raw. "I'm genuinely asking." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Everything was falling apart, and nobody called me. I keep wondering, what if I had known? What if I'd been here? Could I have—" She paused, placing her hand flat against her collarbone. "Could I have done so
CINNAMON.Dante visited on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Taylor had approved supervised contact with the children, and he arrived right on time and left as scheduled. During the third week, he brought Oliver a small yellow toy car, which Oliver has taken everywhere since, even to bed. He sat on the garden floor with Thessa, listening intently as she detailed the intricate politics of her stuffed animal collection.I observed from the doorway, relieved that the children were momentarily distracted from the turmoil we had faced.He never pressured me or asked for more than I was willing to give, which wasn't much—a nod when he arrived and a quiet comment about the children's routine if something needed to be conveyed. Once, after Thessa went inside, he lingered in the garden for ten minutes while I stood in the kitchen doorway watching him gaze at the jasmine as if it held some secret meaning for him.When he noticed my presence and turned to look at me, I went back inside.Yet I still wore t
DANTE.I watched them through the glass. The hospital corridor stretched out long, with the window at the far end. I stood where I had been instructed to, far enough away that I felt invisible, yet close enough to see everything. Detective Taylor had been tactful in her approach. "Mr. Moretti, it’s best if you stay here while your wife—"I stayed put. I couldn't take Thessa back because there was no one to look after her. My world was crumbling into ashes.Cinnamon walked past me, chin held high, eyes straight ahead. I had been swayed by a woman longing for something she could never attain, which made me view my wife differently.I followed closely but ensured I kept my distance.When we reached the ground floor, she got into a car with the kids and the police.I felt powerless watching them drive away until they turned a corner and vanished into the city.Behind me, Taylor cleared her throat. "Mr. Moretti. Whenever you're ready."I wasn't ready. I wouldn't be ready. But I turned anyw
CINNAMONThe house felt off without Mom.It was too quiet, too empty, as if all the air had been drained away.People milled about, Mrs. Hartley had organized refreshments despite my objections. Sandwiches that no one would touch. Coffee that would soon grow cold. The awkward routine of post-funera
CINNAMONTwo months later...I had fallen into yet another trap of deception and lies. Another shattered heart. Another failed romance. But this time felt different.This time, I was utterly destroyed.More than my resentment for the Moretti brothers, I loathed myself. For being a victim once more.
CINNAMONI had never felt this level of happiness before. My body felt cherished, and my heart felt secure. This man had erased every trace of heartbreak that Marcus had left behind, replacing it with something I had never known—true love.We hadn't started off on the best note. The fake engagement
DANTEI changed in the bathroom, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. The pants looked even more ridiculous up close, and the peach and strawberry pattern was worse than I had anticipated. But they were soft and carried her scent.When I stepped out, she erupted in laughter."Don't," I said, po







