MasukROTTEN SECRETS~CLAIRE'S POV~I stopped. I didn't turn around right away. I just listened to the wind coming off the river.I knew I should keep walking. I should get in my car, lock the doors, and drive back to the man who actually gave a damn about me. But I was exhausted. I needed five minutes where I wasn't fighting a war or cutting off my own mother.I turned around.I walked over to the wooden bench. I looked down at him. Richard didn't move to make room. He just stared up at me with red, bloodshot eyes.To my own surprise, I sat down on the far edge of the bench.Richard blinked, genuinely shocked. He had expected me to run.We sat in silence for a long minute. I took in his appearance from the corner of my eye. He looked incredibly tired. The handsome, chiseled face was still there, but it was hidden under days of dark stubble and ash-gray skin. The Richard I knew was pristine. Privileged. Perfect.This man just looked rough. Broken."Is Alexander waiting around the corner
THE FINAL CORD~CLAIRE'S POV~The steady beep-beep-beep of the monitor changed beat.I looked up from my phone. On the bed, my mother's eyelids blinked. She groaned, a low, raspy sound, and opened her eyes. She blinked at the ceiling, then turned her head slowly until her gaze landed on me.Confusion. Then, recognition."Claire?" she croaked.I didn't smile. I didn't rush to hold her hand. I just stood up, smoothing my blazer."Hello, Mother," I said calmly. "I was beginning to think you might cross over to the other side before I got to say what I've been keeping inside for three years."She frowned, trying to sit up, but she was too weak. She looked around the empty VIP room."Where is your father?""He's coming," I said. "But I'm here. I've been here for five days, watching you breathe."She let out a breath, turning her face away. "I thought you hated us.""Correction," I said, stepping closer to the bed. "I hate you, Mother. Not Dad. Dad is just a casualty of your personality. Yo
TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT~CLAIRE'S POV~The coffee in the hospital waiting room vending machine was terrible, but it was hot, and that was all that mattered.I sat on the vinyl chair, staring into the dark liquid. My mother was sleeping. The doctors said she was improving, but every time the monitors beeped, my heart skipped a beat. I felt stretched thin, like a rubber band ready to snap."Claire?"I looked up. Standing near the elevators, looking unusually shabby, was Annette.She was wearing a trench coat that was buttoned wrong, and there was a smudge of something dark—dirt? grease?—on her cheek. She looked like she had been through a war."Annette," I said, standing up. "What are you doing here?"She walked over to me, her movements jerky and nervous. She kept glancing down the hallway as if she expected someone to jump out at her."My father," she said, her voice raspy. "He... he had an accident. A fall at home. I had to bring him in.""Oh my god," I said, my earlier suspicion soft
SINS OF THE FATHER~ALEXANDER'S POV~The iron gates of the Blackwood estate groaned as they swung open. They were rusting at the hinges....a fitting detail. The rot inside this family had set in long ago, but now it was finally visible on the outside.I drove the SUV up the long, winding driveway. I hadn't been here in years, not since Thomas died. But the shadows of the oak trees still looked the same as they did when I was a boy, hiding behind them, watching a family that refused to claim me.Ilynos sat silently in the passenger seat, his hand resting near his holster."Stay in the car," I ordered, parking in front of the huge double doors."Sir," Ilynos warned, eyeing the stiffness in my movement from my healing ribs. "You shouldn't go in alone. It's hostile territory.""I'm not walking into a fight," I said, stepping out into the cool evening air. "I'm walking into a reunion."I didn't knock. I pushed the front doors open. The hall smelled of lemon polish and old money....the sho
THE ART OF SURVIVAL~ANNETTE'S POV~The jar of artisanal olives I had dropped shattered against the floor, the sound exploding like a gunshot in the silent house.For a second, nobody moved.I stared at the scene, my brain trying to process the impossible. Richard Blackwood, covered in blood like a butcher. David Blackwood, holding the corner of a rolled-up rug. And my father... my father lying facedown on the floor, a dark pool expanding around his head."Dad?" I whispered.Then, survival instinct kicked in. I took a slow step back toward the open door. Just one step."Grab her!" David shouted.I turned around to run, but Richard was faster than he looked. He lunged, his bloody hand clamping around my arm. I screamed—a high, piercing sound that I hoped would reach the street—and swung my purse at his head."Get off me!" I shrieked, kicking and clawing. "You murderers! Help!"David was there a second later, grabbing my other arm. They dragged me backward, my heels skidding uselessly
THE CLEANUP CREW~DAVID'S POV~I stepped over the threshold, my boots sticking slightly to the floor.Brad Sterling lay face down on his expensive Persian rug, a halo of dark blood rising around his head. The bronze statue Richard had used—a heavy, modernist abstract piece—lay dumped next to him."What the hell happened?" I demanded, my voice tight.Richard shrugged, wiping a splatter of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. It just spread it further."He tried to attack me," Richard said, his tone conversational, as if we were discussing a change in stock prices. "I asked him a simple question. I asked where Monica was. The bastard knew, David. I saw it in his eyes. He smirked at me. So I... corrected his attitude."I ran a hand through my hair, gripping the strands tight enough to hurt. "Is that the reason you killed him? Because he smirked?""Relax," Richard scoffed, walking over to the sidebar. "He's not dead. He's just dramatic."I looked at Richard, who was now casual
GHOSTS BETWEEN US~CLAIRE'S POV~I'm fucked.That’s the very first sensible thought I have as I look at myself in the small mirror above the bar cart in the conference room. I have a smear of lipstick on.My hair is mussed. I look exactly like what I am….a woman who just let her ex-husband touch
SLIPPERY LOYALTY ~CLAIRE POV~The office still smells like bergamot and sage, just like it did two years ago. Dr. Elman hasn’t changed a thing. Same cream-colored walls.Same stack of outdated Psychology Today magazines on the glass table. Same soft, annoying calm in her voice.“Hello Claire, long
THE FIRST CRACK~CLAIRE'S POV~The red satin dress feels like liquid fire against my skin as I move through the Hampton's charity gala. The wrap neck design accentuates my collarbones, while the short hem shows off my legs. Each step I take, my Louboutin heels click against the marble floor.I str
RICHARD’S TORMENT 2~RICHARD POV~Two hours later, I still lie in the mess of what we did. The couch cushions are crooked. Monica's shirt is back on. My pants are somewhere on the floor. Monica's breathing is still uneven. Her skin is flushed and wet.But I don't feel satisfied like I expected.In







