LOGINThe morning light filtered softly through the blinds, casting stripes across the bedroom floor. Layla stirred, blinking against the brightness, but her body felt heavy, weighed down by the memories of last night. The warmth of Voss’s presence lingered beside her, the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to the sheets, but it wasn’t comforting this morning. Her stomach was tight with worry. The thought of his mother loomed over her like a storm cloud. What could she have discovered? What could she possibly know about her past? She tried to push the thoughts away, to focus on the quiet calm of the morning, but they kept circling, growing heavier with every heartbeat. Voss was already awake. The soft clinking of cups and the low hum of the coffee machine reached her ears as she slipped out of bed. He didn’t look up as she entered the kitchen, his focus entirely on preparing their morning coffee. He moved with a precision that betrayed the tension in his shoulders, the set of his
Voss stood just inside the doorway, his hand still resting on the doorframe as if he had forgotten how to move forward. His jacket hung loosely from one arm, his tie already tugged halfway loose. He had come home exhausted, shoulders tight from meetings and endless decisions, mind still tangled in numbers and problems that refused to stay at the office. Adrian had always found a way to make him work harder than he should, not that he was complaining although he sure could use a break. Then the smell reached him. It stopped him cold. Warm coconut. Tomato. Spice. Something creamy and rich that wrapped around him before he could think. It was not sharp or overwhelming. It was gentle. Inviting. The kind of smell that did not demand attention but quietly pulled you in. He blinked slowly and looked past Layla into the apartment. The lights were softer than usual. Not dim, just warm. The small dining table had been cleared and set neatly. A pot rested on the stove, steam curling l
Layla stared at her screen as if the message might vanish if she blinked too hard. She reread Elara Vance’s words again and again. Each time the meaning hit her with a fresh rush that tightened her chest.Elara Vance. The Elara Vance. The woman whose exhibitions filled halls from Paris to Seoul. The woman whose critiques could elevate an artist into a new orbit or crush them with the gentlest sentence. The woman Layla had quietly admired for years.And Elara had sent her a message. Not a reaction to a story or a polite acknowledgment. A message. A glowing, encouraging one that praised her Aurora piece.Layla pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart was racing so fast she felt it against her palm like a trapped bird. Excitement pushed at her ribs, but disbelief tangled with it until she felt almost dizzy.She whispered to the empty apartment, “How did she even see it?”That question slithered in slowly but then rooted deep. She had not uploaded the Aurora painting. She had not shown it o
The boutique was quiet enough that Layla could hear her own breath… uneven, shallow, trembling. The charm glinted mockingly in Mrs. Caldwell’s manicured hand, catching the light like something alive. Layla swallowed. Her cheeks burned. Her vision blurred at the edges. And then… The soft chime of the door. A voice, sharp as glass cutting through silk: “What’s going on here?” Every head turned. Sienna stood framed in the doorway, breath slightly short, cheeks flushed, pregnancy glow doing nothing to soften the fury radiating off her like a warning flare. Layla had never been so relieved to see anyone in her life. The first attendant, Rebecca, went frozen, her mouth slightly parted. She knew exactly who had walked in. Everyone did. Sienna Hawthorne wasn’t just the CEO’s wife, she was a household name, a former A-list actress whose face had been plastered on billboards even now. Rebecca’s knees visibly buckled before she scrambled to put on a bright, sugary smile. “Mrs. Hawtho
The morning air was crisp as Layla and Sienna stepped out of the penthouse, sunlight spilling over the balcony railings and flooding the hallway with soft gold. Sienna locked the door behind them with one hand while balancing her purse under the other, humming lightly. She had been glowing ever since her second trimester started—happier, calmer, and entirely obsessed with preparing for the twins in every way humanly possible.“Okay,” Sienna said, adjusting her sunglasses as they entered the private elevator. “Before Adrian changes his mind again, we are getting those charms. I found this new jewelry place—apparently they handcraft everything, real gold, real stones, all ethically sourced. Super classy.”Layla smiled. “I’m excited. You’ve been talking about these charms for weeks.”“For months, babe,” Sienna corrected with a soft laugh. “Alina and Leo deserve matching heirloom-level sparkle. Adrian wants something custom for them, and I want matching pieces for him and me and you too.
The midday sun streamed through the tall office windows in sharp golden lines, illuminating the stack of contracts spread across the table like they were waiting to pounce. Voss sat with a pen in hand, but his focus drifted somewhere far beyond the spreadsheets and production schedules. Across from him, Adrian flipped through a thick packet, making small, neat annotations in the margins.“You know,” Adrian said casually, not looking up, “fans still haven’t shut up about Sienna’s movie. One film and they talk like she walked off a throne.”He expected at least a smirk. It would’ve been normal. Instead, he got silence.Adrian frowned at the paper, then lifted his gaze. Voss’s eyes were fixed on a point on the wall, unblinking, hollow, like he wasn’t in the room at all.“Voss.”No reaction.Adrian tapped the table. “Voss.”Finally, Voss blinked and turned, startled.“Sorry,” he muttered.Adrian leaned back, crossing his arms. “You’re staring at that binder like you’re about to put it out







