VISIT

ERICA

ERICA

"He won the bet."

Those four words kept playing in my head over and over again, repeating like a broken record in my mind. The humiliation should have burned me to the ground. Annabel and Jessica’s sharp, mocking laughs were supposed to make me feel small, like the naive street girl they always accused me of being. I was supposed to feel utterly stupid for standing there in my own office, trembling like a teenager, surrendered to his touch.

But as the heavy oak door clicked shut behind the security guards pushing all three of them out, a strange, quiet calm settled over my chest.

I slumped back against the edge of my mahogany desk, my fingers tracing my bottom lip. It was still hot, still swollen from the pressure of his mouth.

I felt stupid, yes. But deep down in the hidden, honest corners of my heart, I had to admit something to myself, I was happy I got that kiss from him.

I loved him. God help me, I loved Andrew so much. No matter how many years had passed, no matter how many miles I put between us, no matter the dark mafia blood on his family’s hands or the bitter heartbreak he had caused me, my heart belonged to him. I had missed those kisses. I had starved for his touch for six excruciating years, lying awake in cold beds in Panama, dreaming of the warmth of his mouth on mine.

Now I had gotten it. After six long, painful years, his lips had touched mine again.

It was okay. I took a deep, shaky breath, letting the cool office air fill my lungs. I would take it as a gift I gave myself, a sweet farewell token to a love that was never meant to survive, and move on. It was a bet to them—a sick, petty game played by rich, bored sociopaths—but it wasn’t a bet to me. To me, it was real. My love was real, my pain was real, and that kiss was the final chapter of my foolish youth. I didn't need to fight them anymore. I didn't need to prove anything to Jessica or Annabel.

Thinking this, I squared my shoulders and wiped my face clean in the mirror. I sorted out a few remaining legal files on my desk, slid my laptop into my briefcase, clicked the office lights off, and walked out.

The city traffic was bustling like always.

The evening sun was dipping below the skyline, painting the concrete jungle in rich shades of orange and violet. Neon signs flickered to life outside coffee shops and high-end boutiques. Cars honked in a slow-moving crawl, but for the first time in days, I didn't mind the noise. I sat quietly in the back seat of my rideshare car, looking out the tinted window as the city drifted past.

I saw couples holding hands and walking down the sidewalks, wrapped in cozy coats against the evening chill. A young couple stood near a bus stop, laughing softly before the man leaned in and kissed her tenderly on the lips. Further down the street, near a corner bakery, another couple was arguing heatedly, gesturing with their hands before the woman turned her back, only for the man to gently pull her into his arms.

Seeing all of them—the pure love, the messy fights, the raw emotion—a small, genuine smile touched my lips. That was life. Love was messy, painful, and chaotic. Mine had been more tragic than most, but standing in the wreckage of my past, I realized I was still alive. I had two beautiful boys waiting for me, a brilliant career, and a heart that had proven it could still feel deeply, even after being broken into pieces.

When the car finally pulled up to my apartment complex, I stepped out into the crisp evening air, feeling lighter than I had in years. I carried my briefcase up the private elevator, ready to kick off my high heels, hug Leo and Lucas, and make a warm pot of soup with my mother.

I unlocked the front door and pushed it open.

The moment I stepped into the foyer, a sound echoed down the hallway that made me freeze in my tracks.

Laughter.

Bright, cheerful, cozy laughter was floating right out of my living room. I frowned slightly, pulling my keys out of the lock. I was expecting no visitors tonight, let alone anyone who would sit around making my mother laugh like old times. Mum was usually so reserved, so guarded around strangers—especially after her tearful breakdown about my father last night.

Heart pounding with a sudden, strange uneasy feeling, I walked down the short corridor and stepped into the brightly lit sitting room.

My briefcase nearly slipped from my fingers.

Sitting on the plush velvet couches, sipping iced tea from my good crystal glasses, were Jessica and Annabel.

They looked completely at home, relaxed in designer loungewear, smiling warmly as if they hadn't just been kicked out of my legal firm by armed security guards two hours ago. My mother sat across from them in her favorite armchair, her face relaxed, a rare, soft smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, Erica! You're home!" Mum said, turning her head as the floorboards creaked under my shoes. She looked at me with bright, nostalgic eyes, completely unaware of the ice instantly forming in my veins. "Look who dropped by to see us! I missed those days with them, Erica. It feels like old times again."

A cold, heavy rage flared in the pit of my stomach, burning away every drop of the peace I had felt in the car.

Jessica set her tea glass down on the marble coffee table with a delicate, deliberate clink. She looked up at me, her eyes twinkling with pure, malicious delight, while Annabel leaned back against the cushions, crossing her legs with a lazy, arrogant smirk.

"Erica, darling," Jessica said, her voice dripping with fake, sweet honey. "We were just telling your lovely mother how much we missed her home cooking from back in the day. We thought we'd drop by to check on the family... since we're all so closely connected now."

I stood rooted to the spot, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached. My eyes darted around the room frantically.

"Where are the boys, Mum?" I asked, my voice dangerously low and tight.

"Oh, the nanny took Leo and Lucas down to the play park in the courtyard ten minutes ago," Mum answered smoothly, oblivious to the deadly tension suffocating the room. She stood up, brushing down her apron. "Let me go to the kitchen and fetch some warm pastries for the girls. They were just telling me how hard you've been working at the office."

"Mum, stay in the kitchen when you go," I said, my gaze never leaving Jessica's eyes. "Do not come back out until I tell you."

Mum paused, blinking in confusion at my harsh tone. "Erica? What's wrong with you? They came all this way—"

"Go to the kitchen, Mum. Please."

Recognizing the sharp, unyielding edge in my voice, Mum swallowed hard, looked between the three of us with sudden uncertainty, and slowly walked out of the room, her footsteps fading into the kitchen aisle.

The moment the kitchen door swung shut, the fake smiles vanished from Jessica and Annabel’s faces like chalk wiped from a board.