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Dim lights and sticky floors
Last Updated:
2025-11-02 01:34:44
Latest chapter
The Price Of Her Mercy Sparks in the Stacks
NORAI’ve always thought college would be a place of dull lectures, endless assignments, and the occasional cafeteria disaster, in fact it has been for a while now, until sitting in Professor Cross’s class turned everything upside down. I should be taking notes, focusing on algorithms and coding syntax, but all I can do is watch him. His pen moves fast across the board, black ink forming symbols I barely understand, and yet, the way his brow furrows when he explains a concept makes my stomach twist. I try to shake it off, it’s stupid. He’s my lecturer, not some dream man I can chase. But the world seems to conspire against me every time our eyes meet. It starts small. From glances in the library while I’m pretending to research for an assignment, and lingering look when he passes by during group projects, to the tiniest smirk that seems reserved just for me. Every time it happens, I feel like my chest is going to split in two. I know it’s unprofessional, gosh it’s kinda forbidden
The Price Of Her Mercy A donation to the donor
MIRAPale light filters through the curtains, touching the edge of the world like a blessing. Jackson sleeps beside me, one arm stretched where I had been. His brow is creased, even in rest. He carries the war into his dreams too.But something in me is different. Quieter, and settled. Seeing everyone happy gives me hope. I sit on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of my decision lock into place like a final puzzle piece.This doesn’t end with guns. It ends with mercy, it ends with truth, It ends with me. I won’t let this story devour another generation. I won’t let Nora grow up haunted by ghosts she never created.I won’t let Aurora’s name be spoken only in whispers and scandal. The past doesn’t get to dictate the future anymore. Downstairs, the house is still. No more alarms going off on its own, or doors creaking open. For once, there’s silence. The good kind.I make coffee, letting the steam warm my face, let reality touch me slowly, then my phone vibrates on the counter. one
The Price Of Her Mercy Home truths
JERRYI land back in Sunrise Bay with salt still clinging to my skin and my head still full of New York lights. The airport smells like recycled air and burnt coffee, and for a second I miss the way my girlfriend laughed into my chest last night, naked, warm, telling me I snore like an asshole but kissing me anyway. Real life hits fast and hard, like it always does here.I drive straight from the airport to the mansion. My suitcase rattles in the trunk like it’s impatient to be unpacked, like it knows I don’t belong anywhere for too long. The gates open as I punch in the code into the metal code box just close to the edge.The security made it so that it automatically does when you put in the code. That way, not many people can trespass anymore. I drive in slowly and it hits me with the same quietness, same wealth, and the same familiar ghosts hiding behind glass walls and trimmed hedges.Mira opens the door herself.She looks softer than before. Not weak. Never that. Just quieter.
The Price Of Her Mercy Life outside the Bay
JERRYNew York hits me the second I step out of the cab. First with the noise of busy people going about their business, then the smell of cold breeze, dust, and luxury, then cold air cutting through my jacket. Horns scream, and people move like they have somewhere to be even if most of them don’t. The city doesn’t care who you are or what you’ve survived. It just keeps going. I respect that.Mabel, my love waits near the entrance of her building, phone in hand, coat half buttoned like she ran down without thinking. When she sees me, her whole face shifts into the warmest smile I’ve seen in a while. Without hesitation, she walks straight into me and wraps her arms around my neck.“Hello to my favorite investigator,” I mutter, kisses pouring on her neck.“You look tired,” she says into my collar.“Yeah? You should see the other guy,” I answer, a small laugh escapes her, soft and real.Her apartment is warm. Really clean as usual, but lived in. There's a half folded blanket on the couc
The Price Of Her Mercy The real danger
MIRAThe room is still holding its breath from Jackson’s accusation. Aurora doesn’t move. She doesn’t flinch the way someone innocent might or sharpen the way someone guilty would, either. She simply sits there, her hands folded over each other on the table, her gaze steady on me. And that calm is somehow worse than either panic or rage.“Yes,” she says quietly. “I’ve been visiting him.”Jackson is on his feet immediately, chair scraping violently across the floor. “You expect us to just accept that?” His voice is low, furious, carved sharp by betrayal and instinct. “That you’ve been sitting across from the man who tried to destroy us, who stalked our child, who invaded our home… All for some information.”“I expect nothing from you,” she cuts in, eyes barely flicking in his direction. “But I will not pretend I haven’t done what needed to be done.”I raise a hand slightly, a silent signal for him to stop. He doesn't like it, but he does. His body is tense beside me, a coiled spring.
The Price Of Her Mercy Family Matters
MIRAI reach for the file. Inside are documents, contracts, old correspondence, unfamiliar signatures stamped with organizations I don’t recognize, and yet I feel their shadow instantly. Shell companies layered on top of bigger shell companies,financial manipulation, incentive payments, legal edges sharpened to wound from first slice.My father’s name appears in some places not as the instigator, but as a piece on a board and so does Jackson's father’s name. Both of them tied to a quiet, faceless consortium operating beneath the surface of government, banking, and private acquisition. In other words, they were a part of the third party organization.“They didn’t just pit our families against each other,” Aurora says. “They orchestrated the war, they fueled the hatred, every loss, every betrayal, every rumor… was a carefully planned strategy, not coincidence.”I turn the pages slowly, letters that were never sent, emails altered and re-sent through anonymous servers, bank transfers ro
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