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My Hands Were Empty

last update Data de publicação: 2026-04-14 17:46:12

And damn it, the house really did feel like it was breathing again the second he stepped into the foyer.

Sebastian nudged the door shut behind him with his foot, handed his dark coat to Salma without really looking, then turned his eyes straight to Poppy. Only Poppy. The pharmacy bag landed on the console table. Not a single movement in him looked panicked.

I was still sitting on the sofa, one leg folded under my thigh, one hand automatically rubbing Poppy’s back, and suddenly I felt like an ex
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  • The Billionaire's Regret   A Father on the Rug

    Poppy won Bunny’s trial at eleven-twelve.Bunny was declared not guilty because, according to Poppy, “there was no evidence except the spoon was missing and Bunny looked suspicious, but that’s not a crime, that’s personality.”Sebastian accepted the verdict with a serious face.I looked at him from the sofa. “You know, if you keep treating all of this like a federal trial, she’s going to start asking for an actual courtroom.”Poppy immediately turned her head. “Can I?”“No.”“Daddy?”“No,” Sebastian said.I almost felt proud.Then he added, “But we can use that little table as a temporary courtroom.”I slowly closed my iPad. “Sebastian.”Poppy gave a small cheer, then coughed once because she got too excited. Not badly. But enough to make Sebastian immediately turn his head, his body leaning forward, his hand already moving toward the glass of water before I could even stand.“I’m okay,” Poppy said quickly, her raspy voice still sweet and annoying. “That was a victory cough.”“Drink,”

  • The Billionaire's Regret   The Cracked Floor

    Poppy went back to her castle, placing the pink-haired Barbie on the highest balcony. “Anastasia Sparkle will watch from a safe place. Bunny is the supervisor. Daddy is dino security. Mommy is...”She stopped and looked at me.I raised an eyebrow. “I’m what?”“The queen who gets mad when people are wrong.”Sebastian made a sound. A very small sound.I looked at him. “Do you have a comment?”“No.”“Good.”Poppy smiled, satisfied. “Perfect family system.”I nearly dropped my stylus.I looked back at Daniella’s report, but the letters blurred. Not because of tears. Don’t be dramatic. I was not that sad yet. It was just that the human brain sometimes refused to function when the heart was being dragged across a fluffy rug by a child with bangs.My phone rang.FaceTime.I looked at the screen.Adrian.His name appeared with a small photo of him smiling on a rooftop, his brown hair blown by the wind, his eyes warm, his hand around my shoulder. A photo that used to feel like proof my life co

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Spirit Heels

    This morning, Poppy still wasn’t allowed to go to school.The doctor said her body still needed rest. Her temperature was stable, her throat was better, her cough no longer sounded like an old machine with a grudge against the world, but still. No school. No leaving the house. Not too much activity. Plenty of fluids. Soft food. Medicine on schedule.Sebastian added his Romano version in a flat voice near the living room door. “And she doesn’t leave the house until the person who took those photos is found.”I looked at him over my coffee mug. “Thank you, Doctor Doom.”“Not medical advice.”“Yes. Worse. Advice from a man with security at my gate.”He didn’t argue.Outside, the rain hadn’t stopped since last night. Monaco looked as if it had been washed with expensive soap and a bad mood. The tall windows of the main room were blurred with drops of water, the back garden dark and wet, the stones near the reflection pool shining as if they had been polished for an elegant funeral.And Po

  • The Billionaire's Regret   Emotional Attack

    “Mommy!”I shot to my feet. My hand nearly knocked into the mug on the table, and the half-eaten pirozhki rolled on the plate. My body was already moving before my brain had time to spell panic.“Daddy!”Then the voice rose again, wetter now, louder.Sebastian stood too.The sofa chair scraped slightly against the floor.Rain against the glass, my own breathing, Sebastian’s footsteps behind me, all of it seemed to be pulled closer to my ears.I hurried into the main room.Poppy was sitting in the middle of the big sofa.Not where I had left her earlier, of course. Because even in sleep, that child had real estate ambition. The blanket had slipped down to her waist. Bunny had been thrown to the other side of the pillow, one of its ears pressed to Poppy’s cheek. Her long hair was a wreck, her bangs covering part of her eyes, her cheeks flushed, and tears were already running down both round little cheeks.My chest dropped.“Sweetheart.” I reached the sofa first. “Hey, hey. Mommy’s here.

  • The Billionaire's Regret   A Thousand-Piece Puzzle

    I stood, only because sitting made the room feel too honest. I walked to the kitchen window and looked out at the backyard. Rain clung to the edges of the leaves, dripping onto the stone. In the reflection of the glass, I could see Sebastian still sitting there, quiet, watching my back.“When I left,” I said, more softly than I had meant to, “did you look for me?”I almost turned around.I didn’t.“Yes,” he said at last.My hand tightened around the mug. “For how long?”“The first few months were the hardest. After that...” He stopped. “After that, still. But it got more difficult.”I turned around. “More difficult?”“Your family shut down every route.”I gave one dry laugh. “Of course they did.”“Your phone number couldn’t be traced. Your old apartment was empty. The accounts I knew about didn’t move. Hazel returned every letter from my lawyers unopened.”I could picture it.“Javier?” I asked.“Javier told my people to stop calling before he started considering it international haras

  • The Billionaire's Regret   A Sofa, A Storm, A Sorry

    Poppy went down at nine-thirty.The child fell asleep after refusing the blanket three times, asking twice for Bunny to be “positioned with more respect,” accusing her medicine once of having an aftertaste like “sad apple,” and finally giving up mid-sentence during a speech about why patients should have legal rights to extra cartoons.She slept on her side in my room, not on the sofa bed. Her weight was warm and solid in my arms, her cheek pressed to my shoulder, her long hair tickling my neck. Every few steps, she mumbled something unclear. Something about honey. Something about Daddy Shark. Something about Bunny being “emotionally exhausted.”Salma helped pull back the blanket, set up the humidifier, place warm water on the little table, then retreated with the expression of a woman who knew this house was storing too many bombs, but had chosen to save herself through tea and kitchen work.Now Poppy was asleep.Finally.I stood beside the bed a few seconds longer than necessary. Br

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