MasukDaniel stared at the phone lying on the table with narrowed eyes.For several seconds he didn't move.Then, with reluctance that was almost visible, his hand lifted and reached for his mother's phone.Daniel's eyes dropped to the screen.His jaw hardened the moment he saw the photo of Alina with a man Daniel knew.First photo. The man was standing too close to Alina's bed, his body leaning forward.Second photo. The man's hand on Alina's shoulder—light, brief, but from the camera's angle it looked like more than just a professional gesture.Third photo. The two of them looking at each other, the distance between them too close. Too intimate for the standards of a lawyer and his client.The anger on Daniel's face froze. The muscle at his temple twitched. Daniel's hand holding the phone tensed until his knuckles turned white."Adrian Lawson," Daniel said in a low and dangerous voice.Margaret observed her son's reaction carefully, her lips curving in a thin smile. Knowing Daniel had fal
On the other side of the city, Margaret arrived at Blackwood Enterprises approaching noon.Her steps were quick, her heels clicking on the marble floor with an unusual rhythm—too hurried for a Margaret Blackwood who usually moved with practiced calm. But this morning, that calm was cracked.The news of Steven Walsh's death had made it impossible for her to stay still.As a woman who had for decades been immersed in the world of business and high-class socialites—a world with glittering surfaces and dark roots—Margaret knew exactly who Steven Walsh was. A hired journalist. A scandal-spreader who could be bought by anyone with sufficiently deep pockets. When photos of Alina began circulating yesterday, Margaret had immediately suspected Clarissa was the one who hired him. The pattern was too clear. Too characteristically careless of Clarissa.What Margaret hadn't expected was that everything would end with a death.And one thing kept spinning in her head throughout the journey.Daniel w
The outskirts of the city in the morning felt different from the night that had given birth to it.The empty lot was now filled with yellow police lines stretching between rusty iron posts. Several patrol cars were parked at angles, their lights blinking weakly under the newly risen sun. A gray sedan—Steven Walsh's car—was still in the place where it had been found, its door open, surrounded by forensic officers working with routine movements that were almost monotonous.Adrian stepped out of his car, adjusted his jacket, and walked closer.He hadn't come by coincidence.Last night, one of his subordinates had managed to trace who first published the article about Alina. The name Steven Walsh appeared after several hours of searching—a freelance tabloid journalist, specialist in sensational news with anonymous sources. Adrian had intended to find the man this morning to dig out who had paid him.But before he could do that, news of Steven's death had already spread.And Adrian's insti
Daniel pressed his lips hard against Alina's.Alina gathered what little strength she had left.Her thin hands lifted, pressing against Daniel's chest, trying to push him away.But Daniel didn't move.Quite the opposite—the kiss deepened. More possessive. As if Alina's resistance only made his longing more uncontrollable.Alina panicked.Her breath caught. The world felt like it was closing in. And in blinding desperation, her hands moved on their own—her fingers gripped, scratched at Daniel's arm, her nails digging into his skin through his shirt.Daniel felt that pain.Sharp. Burning.But he didn't let go.The longing he had held back too long overcame the pain. He savored Alina's lips as if it were the only thing keeping him alive—until unintentionally his teeth bit too hard.A metallic taste.Blood.Daniel stopped. Drew back slowly.Alina's lower lip was swollen, slightly wounded at the corner. A drop of blood glistened under the faint light of the monitor.Something flickered in
At two in the morning, Daniel's phone vibrated once on the nightstand.He hadn't slept. Couldn't.The screen lit up in the darkness, illuminating half of his face that was flat without expression.A short message. No sender name. Only a sequence of words chosen carefully so they would mean nothing to anyone who didn't know their meaning.*Done. Clean. Nothing to worry about.*Daniel stared at that screen for a few seconds.Then the corner of his lips lifted slightly—not a smile, just a kind of cold acknowledgment of something that had gone according to plan."Good," he muttered to the darkness.He typed one word as a reply, then deleted that message from his phone as if the conversation had never existed. As if a man named Steven Walsh had never existed, had never written anything, had never dared to touch something that belonged to Daniel.It was done.But that satisfaction didn't bring the peace he had hoped for.Daniel lay on his large and cold bed, staring at the dark ceiling of h
The news broke just after dawn.By the time Clarissa scrolled through her phone over a cup of untouched coffee, the headlines had already multiplied across every gossip outlet she followed.JOURNALIST STEVEN WALSH FOUND DEAD — APPARENT SUICIDETabloid Writer's Body Discovered in Vehicle, Authorities Suspect OverdoseWalsh Battled Career Decline Before Tragic End, Sources SayThe articles told the same story, almost word for word. A struggling journalist. Mounting financial pressure. A man who had finally surrendered to his own despair, alone in his car on the outskirts of the city.Clean. Tidy. Exactly the kind of narrative that left no questions behind.And that was precisely what unsettled her.Clarissa set the phone down on the marble counter and stared at the blank wall across from her. Her fingers, manicured and pale, drummed once against the granite before going still.She didn't believe it.Not for a second.Steven Walsh wasn't the type to take his own life. She'd dealt with me
At five in the morning, a soft knock on the door woke Alina from sleep that had never really come.She'd been awake since three. Lying in bed with eyes open, staring at the ceiling, waiting for morning to arrive.Waiting for the chance to see Junior."Mrs. Blackwood?" Mrs. Helen's voice from outsid
At six in the evening, Daniel came home earlier than usual.His Bentley Continental stopped in front of the mansion with smooth precision that somehow felt menacing.He got out with briefcase in hand, posture rigid as always. White shirt still crisp despite it being evening. Tie perfectly knotted.
"You have no right to be here at all."Clarissa's words landed in the waiting room like something final.Alina stood very still."I'm not leaving," Alina said quietly."Actually." Margaret rose from her chair with the slow deliberateness of someone who had been waiting for exactly this moment. "You
Three days passed in a blur of careful avoidance.Daniel didn't return to Alina's room, though she heard from Mrs. Helen that he hadn't slept in the master bedroom either. He'd been staying in his study, working late into the night, sleeping on the leather couch when exhaustion finally claimed him.







