It was a quiet Wednesday morning at the café, the kind of calm Klarisse usually appreciated. The early sunlight streamed through the large glass windows, casting a golden glow over the neatly arranged tables and chairs. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of pastries warming in the oven, creating a cozy atmosphere. Klarisse had just finished arranging the day’s special menu when the bell over the door jingled softly. She looked up, ready to greet the new customer with her usual polite smile. But the words froze in her throat. Standing just inside the door was a woman she immediately recognized—Maxine. Klarisse’s mind raced. She remembered Maxine vividly, the shy and fidgety woman who had once visited her café. The same woman Alexander had been looking for when he’d stumbled in weeks ago. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Maxine hesitated, her fingers nervously clutching the strap of her handbag. Her eyes darted around the café, as though contemplating whe
Klarisse stared at her phone, Alexander’s name glowing on the screen. For a moment, she hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She hadn’t expected him to respond so quickly—after a week of silence, his sudden call felt almost surreal. Taking a deep breath, she swiped to answer. “Alex,” she said evenly, though her voice betrayed a hint of relief. “Klarisse,” Alexander replied, his tone subdued but steady. “I need you to come and pick me up.” Klarisse frowned slightly, the frustration she’d tried to suppress bubbling to the surface. “A week of nothing, Alex. No calls, no messages. Your family is losing their minds, and you’re hiding away?” “I know,” he said softly, his voice almost apologetic. “I needed time. But I’m ready to come back now. Can you meet me?” “Where are you?” she asked, her frustration tempered by curiosity. “At the beach house,” he answered. “The one my family owns. It’s far from the city... isolated. No one knows I’m here.” Klarisse’s heart sank as she rea
Klarisse leaned against the car, arms crossed, staring at Alexander as he stood barefoot in the sand, the wind tousling his hair. The beach stretched endlessly in both directions, its tranquility at odds with her mounting anxiety. "You can't be serious," she said, her voice tinged with exasperation. "You want to stay here for another day? Do you realize how much chaos your disappearance has already caused? And now you want me to vanish along with you?" Alexander turned to her; his hands shoved into the pockets of his linen pants. "Just one day, Klarisse. One day to breathe, away from everything and everyone. We’ll go back tomorrow. I promise." Klarisse opened her mouth to argue but stopped when she caught the exhaustion in his eyes. His usual confidence seemed chipped away, replaced by a vulnerability she wasn’t used to seeing. "Alex..." she began, her tone softening. "Please," he interrupted; his voice low. "I just... I need this. I need a moment where I’m not 'Alexander Robinso
The moon cast a silvery glow over the beach house as Klarisse stretched her arms, stifling yet another yawn. She sat on the plush couch, her legs curled under her, while Alexander stood by the kitchen counter, pouring himself a glass of water. Alexander, seated across from her, leaned back with an amused smirk. "If you yawn any harder, I’m afraid you’ll swallow a fly." Klarisse shot him a tired glare. "I’m fine. Just a little... exhausted." "You’ve been yawning non-stop for the past half-hour," Alexander said, his voice laced with amusement. He leaned against the counter, swirling the glass in his hand. "Long day?" Klarisse nodded, rubbing her eyes. "I was at the café all morning, then spent hours driving to get here. And now this," she said, gesturing around. "Dealing with you." Alexander smirked, unbothered by her teasing tone. "Dealing with me? You make it sound like a chore." She gave him a tired smile. "Sometimes, it is." He chuckled, taking a sip of water before setting t
The early morning sun bathed the beach house in a warm, golden glow as Klarisse sat on the edge of the couch, her phone resting in her hand. Her thumb hovered over the "send" button of the message she had just typed: *Alex is with me now. He’s alright. I thought you’d want to know. * The recipient was Maxine. Klarisse wasn’t entirely sure why she felt compelled to send the message. Maybe it was guilt for knowing how deeply Maxine had cared for Alexander. Maybe it was a sense of responsibility, or perhaps something deeper, something she couldn’t quite admit to herself. Alex was in the bathroom, the sound of the shower running muffled through the door. He had no idea she was doing this, and Klarisse intended to keep it that way. Taking a deep breath, she hit "send" before she could second-guess herself. The message delivered instantly, and Klarisse’s chest tightened. She stared at the screen for a moment, half-expecting a reply, but none came. Sliding the phone onto the coffee tab
The grand Robinson estate loomed ahead as the car rolled to a stop in the circular driveway. Klarisse barely had time to process the nerves bubbling in her chest before the front door swung open, revealing Bronson and Angela Robinson standing side by side. Their faces, set with stern disapproval, matched the tension in the air. Alan and Kareen Fowls were just behind them, their expressions no less forbidding. Alexander groaned under his breath. “Here we go,” he muttered. Klarisse shot him a warning glance, silently urging him to hold his tongue. The moment they stepped into the opulent foyer, the scolding began. “Do you two have any idea what you’ve done?” Bronson’s voice boomed, echoing against the high ceilings. “Disappearing for days without a word!” Angela chimed in, her tone sharp with worry. “Do you understand the risks you’ve taken?” Kareen stepped forward, her voice softer but no less chastising. “What if someone had found out where you were? What if you’d been attacked?”
The soft click of the door closing behind them echoed louder in Klarisse’s ears than she thought possible. She stood frozen near the entrance of the Robinson estate’s grand master bedroom, her pulse quickening with every passing second. Alexander, standing a few feet away near the bed, seemed equally tense. Neither of them spoke as the reality of the situation sank in. It had been a long, grueling day. Dinner had been a formal affair, filled with polite conversation and carefully concealed tension. Klarisse had thought that after her and Alexander’s begrudging agreement to “try” fulfilling their parents' ultimatum, she could at least retreat to the privacy of her room to process everything. But no. Their parents had other ideas. “We’ve decided,” Angela had said with a tone that brooked no argument, “that from now on, the two of you will share a bedroom. It’s the only way to ensure there are no doubts about your union. Appearances must be maintained at all costs.” “Think of it as
The soft glow of the morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of the master bedroom, casting a warm light over the room. Klarisse stirred, feeling the plush sheets beneath her as she slowly came to consciousness. Her mind was still hazy from sleep, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. Then, she felt it—a solid warmth draped across her. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself nestled in Alexander's arms. One of his arms was wrapped around her waist, while his other hand rested lightly on her shoulder. His steady breathing tickled the back of her neck, and she could feel the even rise and fall of his chest against her back. Her first instinct was to freeze. *What on earth...? * She stared at the ornate ceiling, her heart racing. She didn’t dare move, afraid of waking him. A million thoughts rushed through her mind. She tried to piece together how this had happened. They’d gone to bed on opposite sides, carefully maintaining their "boundaries." But now... *Did he
Spring had fully arrived in Venice, and with it came a softness in the air that even the most hardened of old Mafia families could feel. The Robinson estate’s gardens were in full bloom, roses and jasmine threading through the hedges like nature’s embroidery. On any given day, the laughter of teenagers could now be heard echoing across the open courtyards.Lucas and Liana Robinson—twins born from a bloodline of legacy, leadership, and carefully kept secrets—were no longer the children their family once protected in silence. Now teenagers, their presence in the world of the Five Families was impossible to ignore. Yet amid the lingering shadows of history, their hearts were beginning to be stirred by something much simpler, yet just as powerful: the first spark of young love.Liana sat on a marble bench beneath the flowering archway that framed one end of the courtyard. Her sketchpad rested on her lap, open to a lightly penciled drawing of the garden before her. Across from her, Matteo,
The early spring light filtered through the great windows of the Robinson estate, bathing the drawing room in soft gold. It was a rare day of calm—a brief pause in the rhythm of power plays and legacy meetings that had long ruled the Robinson and Fowl households.But today, something else stirred under the surface. Something long delayed.Artemis Robinson stood near the tall windows, his gaze fixed on the drive beyond where cherry blossoms danced in the breeze. His arms were folded, his brow slightly furrowed—his usual composure softened by the weight of the decision he was about to confirm.Allie entered the room behind him, a cup of tea in hand, her other hand resting on her small bump. She was visibly pregnant, but it hadn’t slowed her down. If anything, the coming baby had strengthened her resolve.“He’s ready,” she said softly, her voice breaking through Artemis’s thoughts.He turned to her, his face unreadable for a moment, but then he nodded. “I know.”“You’re still worried,” A
The wind was gentle that morning as the car wound through the private forest road that led to the ancestral Fowl burial grounds. The towering trees, thick with the greens of early summer, whispered softly in the hush that followed four old souls making their way toward closure.It was the first time the Robinsons had agreed to come here—to Klara Fowl’s final resting place.Bronson and Angela Robinson stepped out of the car, the air around them filled with the kind of silence that demanded reverence. The land had long been in the Fowl family, hidden and guarded, far away from the public eye and the chaos of their intertwined legacies. Now, it was just them—the original architects of what had once been a powerful alliance built on marriage, promises, and quiet betrayals.Alan and Kareen Fowl followed closely behind. They weren’t dressed in mourning, but in solemn hues: dark greys and muted blues, fitting for a day that bore no celebration but sought peace.The gravestone sat atop a smal
The wind danced through the garden once more, as if time hadn’t moved forward at all. But it had. The olive trees were taller now, the hedges more filled out, and the café near the far side of the estate had long since expanded into a flourishing local favorite. The laughter of children that once echoed through these halls had matured into deeper, more grounded voices—still joyful, still curious, but shaped by the years.Inside the villa, Klarisse sat curled up on the same couch she and Alexander had picked out together all those years ago. Her cup of tea had gone lukewarm in her hands, but she didn’t mind. She was lost in thought, eyes following the movement outside—where two teens, tall and full of energy, walked along the path near the grove.Lucas and Liana.They were no longer the small, giggling toddlers who used to chase butterflies or sword-fight with wooden sticks. Now, they were confident teenagers—Lucas tall, athletic, with the intense, thoughtful eyes of his father. Liana
The air in the countryside estate was soft and warm, touched by the late afternoon sun. A gentle breeze rustled through the trees as if whispering old secrets among the leaves. The house nestled at the top of the gentle slope still bore the faint scent of vanilla and fresh lavender from the day’s baking—something Allie had insisted on doing herself despite having a full staff.She had always loved the calm of this place, far from the legacy-filled city of deals and hidden tensions. This house, built not far from Klarisse’s family villa, had been gifted by Artemis to Allie when she told him she wanted a home—*not a monument*—for their child to grow up in. It was here that their son, Matteo, was raised in peace.Matteo Fowl was turning thirteen soon. Though still technically a child, his questions lately had carried the weight of someone beginning to see the world not just as a playground, but as a web of complicated truths. And he was beginning to ask about *them*—the cousins.That mor
The sun was warm on the stone terrace, and the faint scent of lavender and rosemary drifted through the breeze. The villa—*their* villa—sat on the edge of a hill, wrapped in golden light and surrounded by low stone walls, winding paths, and rows of olive trees. The laughter of children rang out in the garden, light and carefree, accompanied by the sound of footsteps rushing over grass.Lucas and Liana raced past the windows, their matching dark hair bouncing in the wind as they chased butterflies with paper nets and the kind of gleeful determination only young hearts could muster.Alexander Robinson stood by the large arched window, a cup of black coffee in hand, watching the twins with a quiet smile. Behind him, Klarisse Fowl-Robinson stepped into the room, barefoot and wrapped in a soft linen robe, her hair still damp from the morning shower. She approached without a word and slipped her arm around his waist, resting her head against his shoulder.Home.It was the first time in year
The Council of Five convened in the grand chamber of the Robinson estate, its walls adorned with ancestral portraits and symbols of legacy. The air was thick with anticipation, as the members prepared to discuss a matter that could redefine the power dynamics within their intertwined families.At the head of the table sat Bronson Robinson, his demeanor as composed as ever. To his right was Alan Fowl, whose sharp eyes missed nothing. Opposite them were Angela Robinson and Kareen Fowl, both matriarchs with a deep understanding of the intricacies of their lineage. The fifth seat was occupied by Valentin Marconi, whose presence was both a reminder of past alliances and a testament to the enduring bonds between their families.Bronson began, "We are gathered here to discuss the implications of Artemis and Allie's forthcoming child. Given Artemis's position and the legacy he carries, this event cannot be viewed merely as a familial milestone."Alan nodded, "Indeed. Artemis, being the elder
The sun poured gently through the tall windows of the Robinson estate, casting warm gold hues on the white and blush-colored decorations that adorned the main hall. Delicate streamers, soft florals, and pastel balloons floated like clouds against the walls, and the scent of fresh peonies and vanilla drifted through the air. It was a peaceful day, filled with laughter and quiet joy—a stark contrast to the chaos that once defined their lives.The estate had been transformed into a soft, serene venue for a very special occasion: Allie’s baby shower.Guests bustled about with small gifts, trays of hors d'oeuvres, and glasses of sparkling juice. The entire Council of Five had sent their blessings, and the Fowl and Robinson families had gone all out. The garden outside was blooming, a symbolic touch Artemis had insisted on—flowers for new life, growth, and everything ahead.Inside, Allie sat in the drawing room, glowing in a pale blue dress that hugged her baby bump just right. Her hair was
The Robinson mansion’s private study had always been a place of power and quiet conversations—decisions that shaped alliances, safeguarded legacies, and at times, determined fates. Today, that room held such weight once again. The polished surface of the table between them reflected the two small velvet boxes—one black, one dark crimson—placed with deliberate care.Alexander sat quietly beside Klarisse, their hands resting just slightly apart. Both of them had seen and endured more than most in their lifetime, but this—this moment was something else. This was about their son. Their future.Across from them, Bronson Robinson and Alan Fowl wore unreadable expressions. Behind their eyes, legacies stirred—ones they had fought to preserve, often at great cost.“We agreed to meet privately,” Bronson began, his voice level but low, “because this is more than tradition. More than ceremony. This is about foresight.”Alan gave a solemn nod. “It’s time we talk about Lucas.”Klarisse instinctivel