ERIN'S POV FLASHBACK As I strode out of the living room, I gazed at the bunch of keys in my hand, a symbol of Mr. Clinton's kindness in offering me a place to stay. Yet, despite his generosity, I couldn't shake off the suffocating feeling of defeat. It was an all-too-familiar sensation, one that had haunted me since childhood. Defeat was annoying, painful, and heart-wrenching, tearing apart every shred of hope and shattering the fragile happiness my mother had worked tirelessly to provide. My mother was my everything, the reason I toiled day and night, juggling multiple jobs to support our struggling household. It all began when I was thirteen, naive and innocent, believing my parents' marriage was built on love. But that illusion was shattered when my father abandoned us for a woman half his age. He brought the bitch into our household, treating her like some goddess while turning my mother and me into punching bags. Not a day passed when he wouldn't leave an imprint on our fa
SARAH'S POVPanic set in as I watched Miss Ross struggling to breathe. Her pulse was faint, her face turning pale as her eyelids slowly drooped, her body surrendering to darkness. Mr. Clinton's expression transformed from calm to frantic, refusing to let the worst happen.He had already started CPR when the paramedic arrived. Her chest felt fragile beneath his hands, and he silently prayed it wasn't too late."What happened?" one of the paramedics asked, rushing toward us."Peanut allergy," I replied, my voice shaking as my eyes welled up. "S..she ingested peanuts."The paramedic quickly took over CPR, and they rushed her to the vehicle, sirens blaring as we drove away.****At the hospital, the ER team swung into action. Doctors and nurses swarmed around her, shouting orders and administering medication."Anaphylaxis," a doctor called out. "Get her on oxygen, stat!"I stood aside, drowning in the tension as urgent murmurs and frantic noises enveloped me. This was my fault. I should h
After hours of questioning, the police finally left, leaving me drowning in the silence of the duplex. The place felt empty, cold, and devoid of any liveliness that had once ensued during dusk; the time when we gathered around the dining room for dinner. Our interactions were warm and rich in conversation, a stark contrast to the silence that now dominated the whole place.I sauntered past the dining room; the emptiness seemed to expand, swallowing me whole. I wandered around the living room, tracing the outline of the vacant couch.I sighed, clutching my phone in my hand. I would often glance at the time and watch how the hours ticked by with no sign of Mr. Clinton."After telling him to come back early, yet he's still out there..." I mumbled, averting my eyes from the screen. I let out a sigh in frustration and made my way to the veranda, a cool, serene place for relaxation—Mr. Clinton's second favorite spot, and it was soon turning into mine as well.Looking at the glamorous view o
I rushed out of my room, eager to shake off the lingering frustration from last night's conversation with Mr. Clinton. The constant denial of his feelings was a relentless gnawing ache trapping me in a vicious cycle of confusion and longing. Every glance, every gesture, every whispered word from him left me spinning my own wheels, desperately making me seek a way to make him admit he feels something for me. Even if it was to stir a tiny feeling within him, one that he can't quite ignore or back away from. As I turned the corner, I collided with a familiar figure— the one who had the power to shatter my heart and soothe my soul. "Easy there, where are you rushing off to?" Mr. Clinton said, steadying me by the shoulders. I apologized, avoiding his gaze. His disappointing words from last night were still fresh in my mind. "Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going," I said flatly, attempting to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed my wrist, sending a twinge of electricity jolting
He attempted to walk away, but I held his arm, blocking his path. "We can't leave this conversation unfinished," I said, my tone serious and filled with curiosity. "Is there something I don't know?" Gently, he dislodged himself from my grip; his eyes had lost their sparkle, dulling to a serious gaze. "Sarah, there are things that are too painful to talk about..." he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. I felt a pang in my chest, sensing the depth of his emotional turmoil. His words hung in the air like a challenge, beckoning me to probe further. "What happened?" I asked, my voice softer. He hesitated, his eyes scanning the surrounding area as if searching for an escape route. "Some wounds never heal," he whispered, his gaze drifting back to mine. I held his gaze, determined to uncover the truth. "Share it with me," I urged, my tone gentle yet persistent. He sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his words. "I can't right now, or do you want to see t
Not wanting to push the issue further, I decided to drop the subject and respect his boundaries. "Tell me whatever terrible thing you did when you're ready." I flashed him a brief reassuring smile and then returned to my task. Just then, a loud coarse voice echoed from the living room, snapping both our focus to the doorway. "XAVIER! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!" Mr. Clinton let out a sigh as he hastened towards the doorway. Curiosity etched on my face as I trailed behind Mr. Clinton into the living room. "Who's that?" I whispered, tugging on his sleeve. Mr. Clinton's expression was a mix of frustration and wariness. "My troublesome sister," he murmured, picking up the pace. "Sister? Mr. Clinton, you have a sister?" I asked, my brow furrowing in surprise. "You never told me." He didn't respond, his face stern and serious as if he was ready for an intense battle. And it made me wonder why his sister's presence seemed to stir up his frustration. As we entered the living ro
After a few minutes of intense argument between the siblings, they finally backed down, with Mr. Clinton emerging as the winner of the heated debate. His persuasive arguments and calm demeanor ultimately convinced his sister to reconsider her decision to spend the night with Miss Ross. But Juniper didn't just back down without flashing him a stern look, her voice firm and resolute. "I left my kids at home, so I am only staying for the night. Early in the morning tomorrow, I'm taking her with me," she said, leaving no room for negotiation. Mr. Clinton nodded in agreement, breathing a sigh of relief. "Fine... you can take her away tomorrow." Juniper's lips curled in a sneer as she turned to me, her eyes shooting daggers at me. Instinctively, I shifted to the far end of the sofa, not wanting to offend her any more than she already was. "Mother, have you eaten breakfast?" she asked as she settled back on the sofa, her expression softening. "A little at the hospital, but Sarah was
With our foreheads touching, his lips grazed mine tantalizingly. His hot breath fanned my face, warming my skin and filling my senses with his scent—a subtle blend of cologne and raw masculinity. I noticed his inner struggles resurfacing again, just like the last time he kissed me. His constant repulsion is really pissing me off. "Sarah..." he whispered, his voice husky and low, vibrating through my entire being. "We shouldn't..." His words trailed off, leaving unsaid thoughts hanging in the air. "Shush, Mr. Clinton... don't start." I whispered back, cutting him off. "You promised not to hold back anymore," my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. He didn't respond immediately; instead, he pushed me back against the edge of the pool, his chest pressed against mine, the warmth radiating from his body enveloping me. "You're a temptation, Sarah... a sweet and treacherous one." He whispered, his lips still hovering over mine as his hand slithered down, tracing every