Mag-log inSantino’s arms wrap around me so tightly that for a moment I can’t breathe, but I don’t care. I sink into him, my cheek pressed against the warm plane of his chest. I don’t even realize I am shaking until I feel it, his shoulders trembling too. When I try to pull back a little, just to look at him, I discover that his grip doesn’t loosen. His arms stay locked around me like he is afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.That alone makes my throat pinch with more tears.He finally exhales, slow and shaky, and his arms fall open. I lean back just enough to see his face. His eyes are red not from tears, but like he’s been holding something too heavy inside. He lifts a hand and wipes the wetness from my cheeks with the softest touch, like he’s touching something fragile. I lean into his palm without thinking, my whole body leaning toward his warmth and steadiness.Before I know it, our foreheads meet. We share breath, the cool night air brushing against our skin, the candles flickering arou
The moment I turn, my eyes land on Marcus first. He stands with his hands folded carefully, as if even he is afraid to breathe too loud. Then my gaze drifts to Santino. He’s still standing by the decorated table, the soft candlelight brushing over his tuxedo like he walked out of a magazine.But all I feel is heat rising in my cheeks not the nice kind. The stupid kind.Because it hits me all at once.There is no event.No party.This man… this man actually made me dress up like a clown just to lure me here for one of his tricks.My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache.I turn sharply and walk away, my heels sinking into the grass like a personal vendetta from God. Each step feels heavier, hotter, dumber. I feel overdressed. Overdone. Overplayed. And I am suddenly painfully aware of how much makeup I put on, how perfectly curled my hair is, how these diamond earrings shine under the garden lights. I feel ridiculous.Behind me, I hear hurried footsteps, long and fast.“Hailey,” Santino ca
(Hailey’s pov)I drive around for a long time with no real direction, letting the streets blur around me like watercolor. My hands stay loose on the steering wheel, and the soft hum of the engine almost pushes me into a weird calm. My mind feels full but empty at the same time. I stop at random red lights and sometimes forget to move when they turn green until someone honks. I don’t even care.A tiny, crazy idea sneaks into my head as I make another pointless turn, I could run away. Just go. Leave everything behind. Get on a plane, disappear into some quiet city where nobody knows my name, nobody knows my father, nobody knows Santino, nobody expects anything from me. The thought feels soft, warm, tempting. Like fresh blankets and the smell of vanilla candles.I picture myself somewhere far away, maybe in Greece or Bali or some island with bright blue water and cheap fruity drinks. I imagine myself walking barefoot on sand, hair blowing, skin glowing, and nobody calling my name or dem
Third Person POVMarcus stands there, eyes bright with the kind of reckless idea that usually gives Santino a headache. He straightens his tie even though it’s already straight, excitement buzzing through him like he’s just unlocked some ancient secret.Santino drags a hand over his face, exhausted and irritated.Why is nothing working?The dishes he made actual food made with his own hands sit on the table like a cruel joke. He hasn’t cooked in a long time. Not even for himself.“Okay,” Santino mutters flatly. “What did you ‘get,’ Marcus?”Marcus clasps his hands together dramatically. “We need to change the strategy.”Santino lifts one brow in silent judgment. Marcus continues anyway.“You’re trying to win her forgiveness by being… nice.”“That’s the normal human method,” Santino responds dryly.“Yes, but you’re not a normal human,” Marcus shoots back instantly, then narrows his eyes in regret. “I mean you’re not… accustomed… to gentle emotional approaches.”Santino glares.Marcus c
(Third person pov)The next morning arrived quietly, with soft light spilling into Hailey’s room and warming her sheets. She woke up feeling strangely light, almost cheerful, as if her body had decided on its own that today would be better. She stretched her arms above her head, feeling the sleep leave her limbs slowly. Then she got up and freshened herself in the bathroom, brushing her teeth while humming to a song stuck in her head. Her skin felt refreshed, and her hair fell loosely around her shoulders.For the first time in a while, she felt… good. Good enough to crave something fun. And the first thing that came to her mind was pizza hot, cheesy, and sinful. She decided she would drive out and buy a big one for herself. She would eat the whole thing too, with no guilt. That thought alone made her smile.As she left her room and walked down the stairs, the house felt unusually peaceful. No tension lingering in the air. No sharp, cold silence. Just calm. It made her steps lighter.
The drive back home feels unreal. The steering wheel vibrates under my hands, the bashed Jesko groaning with every turn like it also wants to collapse from stress. The cold morning air slips through the cracked window and brushes my face, but it doesn’t calm the heaviness inside me. My chest feels tight. My heart beats too fast and too slow at the same time. I don’t know how that’s possible, but that is how I feel.The guards at the gate stare at the ruined car for a moment before looking away. I drive straight through, letting the tires roll over the broken metal from the gate I destroyed yesterday. The compound is quiet. The sky above the mansion is soft and grey, the type of color that makes everything look tired.When I finally stop the car in front of the entrance, I breathe out slowly. My stomach twists, and I close my eyes for a moment, gathering whatever courage I still have left. My fingers tremble when I release the steering wheel. No matter how strong I pretend to be, r







