LOGIN“Rutherford?” I whispered, shocked to my core.
“Yes,” he sighed. My eyes nearly popped out of its socket the second he slowly and calmly took his mask off. My sad attempt at screaming failed as he crashed his huge palm over my face, silencing me. My heart pounded even harder, intense shock spiraling over my body. “You need to calm down.” “Sir,” I shuddered, unsure of what the fuck my eyes are beholding. “Yes, I am Matteo Rutherford and I heard everything my mom said.” He stopped, noticing how inattentive I had become. My eyes traveled the length, breadth and width of this majestic hunk of a man. His chiseled jawline, big pointed nose and charming blue eyes. He stood tall, hovering over me like a giant to a toddler. A glamorous physique, embodying a calm and intriguing aura. His strong fragrance overwhelmed the room, choking me in the divine sensation of his presence. Ah, Matteo, the man you are. “Are you okay?” He chuckled, helping me stabilize. The words refused to form. “Mrs Nathara’s son?” I asked, completely dazed. He nodded softly. “Listen, I know what happened okay, and I am here to help. I’ll be at your place after work.” He concluded, patting my back. “My place?” I called him back after making an attempt of leave. My place? Hell no! “Is there a problem?” He paused, staring keenly at me. “Yes, yes there is. My family lives with me, I don’t want to expose them to-“ “A Rutherford?” He gazed more intentionally, leaving me empty and speechless. “No sir, that’s not what I meant.” “That’s okay. I’ll let Kali handle things.” He walked out immediately. Kali as in Nathara Kali Rutherford? I’m more fucked than I planned. I dusted my pride off and walked towards the door before I bumped into him again. “I forgot my phone.” He muttered, breezing by me. He sounds so upset. How did I manage to offend the only nice Rutherford? “I’m sorry please,” I murmured, grabbing his wrist as he walked pass me. He paused, clearly irritated. He replaced his mask on his face and turned to face me. I stared at him with my neck bent all the way to the back; he is tall! “If they-“ he was interrupted. “What the fuck is going on here?” This familiar voice thundered, throwing my fragile heart in disarray. My body jolted to a halt the second my eyes fell on that same mask and worst of all, the same damn ring! “Hold on,” Matteo whispered, pushing me behind himself. “Matt, what the fuck are you doing?” He shouted again, aggressively approaching us. “Get the fuck out Chelsea!” My heart pealed as I chickened out, pale and tired. “You fucking him too?” He yelled, much to the tense confusion of everyone. “What the hell are you even talking about? What are you doing here anyways?” Matteo responded, stepping up. “Matt, don’t get on my nerves please.” He hissed, shoving Matt aside, now fully facing me. My heart skipped several beats. “Chelsea?” He gasped, squinting through his mask. I looked up, trying to comprehend the situation. “Did you deliver my message?” He asked, lowering his body to hear my faint replies. “What are you talking about?” I mouthed. “You’ve done enough, Ricci.” Matteo spoke, his voice leaving unexpected butterflies in me. His deep voice echoed through the cold room. “You just had to!” Ricci hissed, taking off his mask in a flash. “Ricci? Ricci Rutherford? The double R! Oh fuck my life, I slept with Ricci Rutherford!!” I shouted in my head, letting the realization crash onto me. “Miss Ambers I-“ the voice paused, squeezing the whole room to a freeze. With a sharp glance, our eyes connected. Mrs Nathara. Matteo and Ricci hurried to put their mask on but it was too late, Mrs Nathara’s eyes had darkened. “What the hell is happening here?” Why the fuck is she pretending that she does not know her son slept with me? “What did you say?” She turned to me, fierce in her gaze and steps. I said that out loud, didn’t I? “Miss Ambers,” she began, “leave this building immediately and please, for the sake of your life, never return.” I walked out, carrying my heart in my mouth. Nothing makes logical sense. The unpleasant glances thrown at me gives me the idea that the world and half the sea has seen the said pictures. And now, my dad has too. I sat in my car and picked up the incessant call I had been avoiding all day. "Hi dad," I lipped, too certain of his jumpy reaction. "Hi? That's what you have to say? Where the hell were you last night?" He shouted, scaring me even more. He no longer whispers? "What do you mean? You asked me not to come home, right? And I did just that. Why is it a problem now?" I retaliated, hiding my shock and sadness. "Do you know what you've just done? How the hell did it go viral?" He continued, genuinely panicking. "What's the big deal? Things go viral everyday, why are you so scared?" I shrugged. "You have ruined everything, I swear! Chelsea you-" a shot was heard. My father's voice vanished into thin air. "Dad! Dad what was that?" There was no response. I zoomed off immediately, shaking and crying all at once as I tried to track my father's location. The bright sun was started to set. I have been circling the same spot for three hours unable to find my father. Finally, I hopped out, tired of the life threatening suspense. I ran into what looks like an abandoned warehouse, gasping for air. The dark serenity of the building further worsened my blurry vision. I gave up and dropped to the floor, landing in a pool of blood.The manor did not celebrate the marriage. The one between Ricci and Aria? Yeah. The most dead wedding ever witnessed. No flowers arrived at its gates. No champagne was chilled in anticipation. No laughter followed the announcement down the marble corridors. No guests, no glass raised in cheers. The Rutherford estate absorbed the news the way it absorbed everything else—quietly, bitterly, with something rotten settling deeper into its bones. Aria woke alone. The space beside her on the bed was untouched, cold, as if no one had even considered lying there. Ricci hadn’t slept beside her. He hadn’t come in late. He hadn’t pretended. The sheets were still too neat, too deliberate, like the room itself refused to acknowledge what had been signed into existence. She lay on her side, one hand resting on her stomach out of instinct rather than comfort, staring at the ceiling while dawn bled slowly through the curtains. This is the life she so desperately wanted. The life she thought
The first scream ripped through the Rutherford manor at exactly 5:12 a.m. Nathara had called all the staff members for a meeting… things like this never end well. “Who spoke to the press?” Nathara Rutherford stood at the head of the sitting room, robe immaculate, hair pinned neatly back, a cup of untouched tea cooling beside her. Her voice was calm—too calm. That was how everyone knew it was already over. The staff stood like robots. Hundreds of them. Some barefoot. Some still in uniform. One woman’s hands shook so badly the tray she’d been carrying lay shattered at her feet. “I’m not repeating myself,” Nathara said, glancing at her watch. “Someone here talked. If you don’t tell me who, I’ll decide for you.” A man stepped forward. Middle-aged. New hire. “Madam, please. I have children.” Nathara looked at him, mildly curious. “And?” “I have nothing to do with this. I just got the job two days ago. Ma please I…” “Young man!” Nathara interrupted him. “You don
NARRATOR’S POV: The operating room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of machines, counting down the minutes of Chelsea’s life. Fourteen hours. Thats’s how long the surgery lasted. Every minute felt like eternity. Fourteen hours of surgeons moving in perfect coordination, of blood and precision, of a bullet lodged deep inside her skull being carefully extracted. Outside the glass wall, Ricci stood rigid, hands pressed against the counter, watching without looking. His heart was too loud; it drowned out the soft whirring of the monitors. He kept one thing in mind: Chelsea must stay alive. Finally, a voice broke the tension. “It’s out. She’s stable.” A surgeon said, walking out of the operating room in such a hurry, Ricci couldn’t start a conversation. After standing and holding his breath for fourteen hours, he could finally move and breathe. The news delivered by the surgeon sounded better than anything Ricci has ever heard. Relief hit him like
NARRATOR’s POV: The police did not announce themselves when they arrived at the Rutherford manor. They never did anymore. Their visits had become so frequent, sending in notices became unnecessary… nobody even read those things. Black vehicles slid past the iron gates like they owned the land, tires crunching softly against gravel that had once welcomed governors, tycoons, men who shook hands with power and left richer for it. Tonight, the house did not glow…it’s been chaos and confusion for a while now. The lights were selective. Strategic. Nathara Rutherford stood at the center of the drawing room, dressed in black silk, posture immaculate, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. She let out a brisk laugh as the officers walked through her door. “Mrs Rutherford,” the lead officer began, flipping open a leather folder, “you are being questioned again in connection with the disappearance and presumed death of your husband, Blake Rutherford, as well as allegations of obstruction o
CHELSEA’S POV They let me go after three days. ‘Oh Mrs Chelsea, your body bounced back stronger than ever.’ The doctor said it like it was a good thing. Three fucking days ago I almost died. Matter of fact. I did. I died. I died because whatever life is in me, is not mine. Ricci held my hand the whole drive back. I didn’t remember the road, the city, or the iron gates opening slowly in front of us—but my body reacted anyway. My stomach tightened. My shoulders stiffened. Back to the fuck ass hell hole. The manor felt wrong. Not haunted. Not dramatic. Just wrong. Like a place where something bad had already decided to happen again. Darkened lurked everywhere. What happened to this place? Ricci didn’t let go of me inside. He stayed close, too close, like if he loosened his grip I’d fall through the floor. At night I woke up gasping like the world was crashing down and every time, his arms were already around me. “I’m here,” he kept saying. “You’re okay.” I belie
Chelsea’s POV “Boss… we were rushing her into the ER now. The hospital’s in sight.” The voice faltered. Just slightly. Enough to make my chest tighten. “What happened?” I could hear Ricci yell through the phone. “There was a lot of blood. She was unstable. The twins—” The rest blurred. The ceiling lights streaked above me as they pushed the gurney faster, hands pressing down on my side, voices overlapping, numbers being counted that didn’t mean anything to me. My body felt distant, like it had already started letting go. My babies are gone? Again? I tried to speak. Tried to ask them to repeat it. To tell me they were wrong. That they hadn’t checked properly. My lips moved, but no sound came out. My throat burned. Anger and resentment filled me instantly. Why do they want me dead? Aria’s voice flickered through my mind. The warning look I’d ignored. The way she’d hesitated before letting me walk away. That bitch. Does she know about this too? I just wanted







