LOGINDANTE.The phone wouldn't stop ringing. I had silenced it twice already. Reaching for it in the dark without opening my eyes, my hand found it on the nightstand, and I pressed down with my thumb. Silence. But thirty seconds later, the vibrations started again against the wood.I put my pillow over my face.It rang once more. This time, the sound cut through differently: the specific tone I had assigned to Tate that bypassed everything, even Do Not Disturb, because Tate only called at unreasonable hours when something was truly urgent.I answered with my eyes still closed."What.""Are you serious right now?"His voice was tense, showing that he was just moments away from losing control."Tate—""First, Cinnamon calls me asking where Dove is, as if she doesn't know the update of things, and now you're unreachable while nobody is where they should be—"I sat up."Slow down. What happened to Dove—""Your mother is admitted, Dante." His voice cracked slightly as he mentioned her name. "Bl
CINNAMON:I wore black to the cemetery. I didn’t plan to wear black. My hand just reached for it and I didn’t stop it. I had pulled the dress from the back of the wardrobe and slipped it on. I haven’t worn black since my mother died.The flowers were white lilies for my mother and sunflowers for my father because he always said that lilies at a grave felt too mournful, and he had spent enough of his life feeling that way.As I drove through Meadowbrook, I took in every corner. This was my first time out since returning. Yes, I was part of the project that contributed to the success of this place and had received updates through the town's group. But seeing it for myself after almost a year truly warmed my heart. So much has changed, and my mother would be proud. There was development, improved housing, and new companies had established themselves here, obviously creating jobs. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks as I sobbed, wiping them away with the back of my hand. "I did it," I w
CINNAMON.Dante took a deep breath and then relaxed. I seized the opportunity to keep talking."She was ashamed. She didn’t want you to see her falling apart. She wanted to deal with it quietly and asked for my help, which I provided."He glanced at the signed—unsigned—document in my hands."Sign it."I studied him for a long moment before reaching for the pen in his breast pocket, clicking it open, pressing the paper against the wall, and signing my name on the bottom line. My hand remained steady.I returned it to him and placed the pen back in his hand."My intention has never been to take anything from you." My throat felt tight. "Not your money, not your business, not your son. Oliver has two parents who love him, and nothing would ever make me want to change that." I met his gaze. "I don’t know who’s painting this picture of me, but it's false. None of it is true."He remained silent."I have been mentally drowning for months while keeping Dove's secret—watching her fade away wi
CINNAMON.The bags had been ready since my return. Two suitcases and Oliver's little dinosaur backpack, filled with his favorite things, all sat in the guest room upstairs, where Dante wouldn't pass by and notice them.I had packed everything and stood in the doorway too long, fingers curled into the frame, wishing it could delay what was coming. Risa's words replayed in my mind throughout it all: "Leave him, Cinnamon, if he can't see reason. You're young, you have a son, and you don't deserve this."Maybe she was right. I had been so focused on keeping everything together that I hadn’t taken a moment to consider if I was harming myself in the process.I paced the living room, checking my phone repeatedly. Dove wasn’t answering. I had called four times since I made the payment and left two messages, but nothing came back. Dante had called several times, but always at inconvenient moments—either when I was handling the payment or when I was picking Oliver up from school. By the time I
DANTE.“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll be in touch.”I ended the call and leaned back, contemplating calling her again but decided against it for now. She would tell me when she was ready; she would eventually answer, and when she did, I'd listen to her explanation—that’s just who she was and what our marriage meant.My phone buzzed again before I could gather my thoughts.Another notification.A pending authorization request.I tightened my grip on the device as I opened it, half-expecting to see another outrageous number staring back at me.It hadn’t cleared yet.This meant that whatever she was doing—She wasn’t done.I was still mulling over it all when there came a knock at my office door—three soft taps.“Come in,” I said as I reached for my phone one more time.The door opened.I looked up.Risa.I set the phone down.She appeared dressed for business—blazer fitted, heels softly tapping against the carpet—but there was something about her demeanor that felt less than professional.“
DANTE.The front door felt heavier than usual. Or perhaps it was just me. As I stepped into the house, the first thing that struck me was the silence. Not a peaceful quiet, but troublesome and uncomfortable. The hallway lights were on, yet the atmosphere felt off, empty."Cinnamon." My voice echoed against the walls, but returned to me alone.I moved deeper inside, loosening my tie with two fingers and glancing left and right as if she might suddenly appear from one of the doorways. "Cinnamon?"Nothing.The kitchen was tidy; all the dining chairs were pushed in. A single glass sat on the counter, half-filled with water.I checked the living room, then the study, calling her name up the staircase while gripping the banister and leaning forward, waiting. The house simply breathed back at me.I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone; the screen nearly stopped my heart. A hundred missed calls from Cinnamon.My thumb hovered over the screen.One call—okay. Two—perhaps urgent.But t
CINNAMONThe press conference played on my laptop screen. Dante looked composed, all too in charge reciting from the speech he'd probably memorized. I could see choreography—manipulation disguised as remorse. I snapped the laptop shut and zipped my suitcase decisively.Mom's room was now empty. I'd
DANTEI tightened my grip on the edges of the podium again, my knuckles turning white against the dark wood."I need to say something." My voice became louder than the murmur of reporters."I'm truly happy for my brother getting this contract." That was a blatant lie, but what followed was genuine.
DANTEShe took a deep breath. "One rainy night, thirty-four years ago, your father was driving home from work when he spotted a desperate man on the roadside with a small child, probably around six months old. The rain was pouring down, accompanied by thunder and lightning. The man was drenched, an
DANTEDistance had its bite, and it had been gnawing at me for over a month since my last effort to reach out to her. Every attempt to connect with Cinnamon had spectacularly backfired. The cabin incident, my desperate act, had only driven the knife deeper. I had seen it in her eyes before she lef







