COLTONMy life wasn’t always perfect.Hell, it was never normal.Not like those businessmen you read about in glossy magazines, smiling in tailored suits, posing with their perfect wives and perfect lives. Not like those billionaires who inherited empires and spent their days playing golf.No. I built everything I had by bleeding for it.I worked my ass off for years—days that bled into nights, nights that ended in boardrooms or back offices of my hotel and club. I made deals most men wouldn’t dare touch. I fought for contracts, clawed my way into industries that didn’t want me, and outmaneuvered men twice my age with twice my resources.And when I wasn’t working, I was… distracting myself. Expensive liquor, nameless women, empty nights that blurred together. None of it meant anything. It was just a way to forget that underneath all the success, all the power, I was still just a man with nothing real to go home to.Except my sister.She was the one good thing I had left. I’d check on
AVASunlight streamed through the tall windows, soft and golden, warming my face. I blinked awake, disoriented at first, until the scent of whiskey and cedar hit me.I wasn’t in my bed.I sat up slowly, realising I was curled on the couch in Colton’s study, his shirt draped over me like a blanket. My heart skipped at the sight of it—soft white cotton, still carrying his scent, his warmth—but then I noticed the empty room.He was gone.I swallowed hard, pulling the shirt tighter around myself as reality crept in. What had I done?Shoving the thought down, I got up quickly, grabbing my discarded pyjamas and underwear from the floor and clutching them to my chest. My only goal was to get to my room without seeing anyone. Without being seen.I cracked the study door open and peeked into the hallway. Empty. Good.I hurried down the corridor, barefoot, my hair a mess, Colton’s shirt hanging far too loose on me. Each step felt like walking on a tightrope over a pit of mortification. If Marga
AVA Days blurred together.I lost track of how many sunrises I’d watched through the tall glass windows of Mr. Colton’s house. At first, I’d thought the view might be enough to distract me—the rolling hills in the distance, the endless manicured gardens, the soft morning light spilling over everything like liquid gold. It was beautiful, breathtaking even. But beauty gets dull when you have no one to share it with.I hadn’t seen Mr. Colton since that night in his study. No texts, no calls, no brief glimpses of him passing through a hallway. Nothing. Just an occasional note relayed through the staff: Mr. Sinclair sends his regards. Mr. Sinclair says to rest. It was polite, detached… empty.He had left me in this house like a fragile piece of porcelain that needed guarding.The nurse, Margaret, was kind enough, but she wasn’t company. She was efficiently wrapped in a starched white uniform—appearing in my room every morning to take my blood pressure, ask how I was feeling, and remind me
AVA I don’t know how long I sat there. The TV droned on, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. My ears were ringing. My body was frozen, stuck in that one second of stillness when the world had cracked open and swallowed something I hadn’t even realised had become… familiar.Miss Sinclair. Dead.She was just here. She was just smiling, just reassuring me, just walking past me in a rush. And now… dead.My hand moved on its own, reaching for my phone. The screen was still lit with the message I hadn’t had the heart to check earlier.Colton: Don’t leave the house. I’ll be there soon.I swallowed hard and set the phone back down before I did something stupid like call him and demand answers I wasn’t ready to hear. Or accuse him of… what, exactly? Nothing about this made sense.Miss Sinclair hadn’t seemed scared—only tense. Rushed. Like she was late for something important. And now she is gone.I pushed the covers off and stood, my legs wobbly beneath me. The silence in the villa had never felt
AVA The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the room, sharp and cold as it crept up my nose. Bright, clinical lights hummed above me, and I blinked up at them, trying to calm my racing heart. I was lying on the hospital bed, the lower half of my body draped in a sterile sheet, legs spread and secured in position. My hands clenched the edge of the bed, but Miss Sinclair stood beside me, her hand sliding into mine with a reassuring squeeze."You’re doing great," she said softly, her voice calm and steady. "It won’t be that painful, I promise. Just a little pressure."I nodded, but my jaw remained tight, my nerves strung taut like violin strings. This was it—the embryo transfer. The moment everything had been building up to. The whirlwind tests, the silent dinners, the contract I’d signed last night with trembling fingers—it all led to this single, surreal moment.A nurse leaned over me, adjusting something on the monitor beside the bed. The doctor stood between my legs, fully focused, w
AVA We pulled up to the villa in silence. The engine’s soft hum faded as the car settled, and for a moment, I just sat there. I wasn’t sure why my stomach had twisted into knots — maybe it was the quiet, maybe it was the hospital. I stepped out, my heels clicking softly against the stone path, and the evening air kissed my skin, cool and crisp. I folded my arms, more out of nerves than cold, and followed her up to the door. The moment I stepped inside, my eyes darted around instinctively — to the couch where we left Mr Colton as if expecting to find him still there waiting for us. My gaze lingered a second too long at the empty couch. I pressed my lips together and stepped further inside, my shoulders stiff. Miss Sinclair watched me a moment too long. A knowing glimmer sparkled in her eyes, and I felt my breath hitch. “Are your eyes searching for my brother?” she asked, her voice dipped in playful curiosity. I choked — literally. My breath caught in my throat, and I coughed,