The large garden loomed ahead, its vibrant flowers and sprawling yard basking under the afternoon sun—so bright, so full of life. The contrast made my emptiness feel all the more suffocating.Then, suddenly—SLAP!The force of it sent me crashing to the ground. A sharp sting spread across my cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth where my teeth cut into my lip. I gasped, my mind spinning, the world tilting as I stared at the dirt beneath me, too stunned to move.“Marianne, what the hell?!” Sheila shrieked.And then, in the chaos of it all, her voice sliced through the air like a blade."She’s pregnant!" Sheila’s voice cracked as if the weight of it had finally been too much to bear.The world went still. The air shifted, suffocating and thick with an emotion too heavy to name. Marianne stood frozen, her breath catching in her throat. Her anger twisted into something else—shock, disbelief, devastation. Her lips parted, but no words came out.I could barely move. My body was
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sprawling garden. A gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, carrying the scent of fresh blooms and damp earth. Birds chirped softly in the distance. I sat at the elegant wrought-iron table in the heart of the garden, my hands resting lightly in my lap. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, dappling the white tablecloth with shifting patches of light and shadow. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of jasmine, one of the many flowers my mother had once loved.I hadn’t stepped out into the garden for a long time, not like this. Not dressed in anything but red, that reflected the armor I had carried for so long. But today… today was different.I wore pink. Baby pink.It felt strange, almost foreign against my skin—soft, light, alive. I wasn’t sure why I had chosen it. Maybe because Susan had left it out for me, or maybe because I wanted to see if I could still feel something.Across from me, Susan bustled about, her pr
I exhaled softly, gathering my thoughts. I had spent the past week thinking about this—turning it over in my mind, debating, hesitating. I had run through the possibilities, the consequences, and the emotions tied to it.Was I strong enough? Brave enough? Was I really ready to let go of the past that had defined so much of me?I didn’t have all the answers.But what I did have now was a reason.A life growing inside me. A heartbeat that depended on mine. And that alone was enough.I had to move forward. I had to choose strength. I had to choose survival.For my baby.Morgan must have sensed my hesitation, because he set his cup down, his keen gaze watching me closely, but before he could ask me, I finally broke the silence."I know you must be thinking that I didn’t call you just for tea or to chat."A knowing smile crossed his lips. "That I am."I took a deep breath, straightening in my seat. My
I lowered my teacup slowly, setting it back on the saucer. My eyes dropped to my lap, where the soft pink fabric of my dress pooled gently, but all I could feel was the rising pressure in my chest.I need to say it.I need to say it.I had practiced the words. Over and over in my mind. But now, with him sitting across from me, waiting, I found myself choking on them.Still, I had to say it.I raised my gaze, meeting his eyes.“Mr. Morgan…” I began, and my voice cracked almost instantly. I cleared my throat, forcing steadiness I didn’t feel. “I need your advice.”He leaned in slightly, the air shifting around us, his expression attentive and calm. “Of course, Miss Anastasia.”“I need to know the legal consequences...” I paused, drawing in a shaky breath, “...of filing for divorce.”The words landed between us like a stone dropped into still water. Morgan blinked, his composure briefly slipping. His brows drew together, his mouth parted slightly—not in judgment, but in quiet, stunned sur
“I—” I let out a soft, breathy chuckle that didn’t feel anything like laughter. “Surprise?”Morgan blinked, slowly recovering. “You’re pregnant,” he repeated, more to himself than to me.I nodded.“For how long?”“Two weeks.”“I see” He sat back, absorbing that. Then, his voice low and even, “Then let me ask you, what do you want to do, Miss Anastasia?”I didn’t answer right away.Instead, I turned my gaze out toward the garden. The flowers were swaying gently in the breeze. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the lawn. It should have been a beautiful view. Peaceful. Soft. But all I could feel was the ache sitting beneath my ribs.“I want to file a divorce and keep my child hidden from Regan,” I said finally, the words slipping out like glass.Morgan didn’t respond, but I could feel the tension in the air sharpen.I let out another hollow laugh—bitter this time, raw and sharp. “He told me to abort it if I was ever pregnant,” I said, my lips curling into a smile that f
“We don’t have to go that far unless we need to,” Morgan said, his voice measured, his tone sharpening with conviction. “But if ever Regan decides to make a move—if he dares to use the fact that you kept the child from him as a weapon to demand custody—then we fight. With everything we have. The point is—you’re not defenseless, Miss Anastasia. You don’t have to run and hide in shame.”I looked down at my lap, my fingers twisting into the fabric of my dress. The breeze picked up softly, fluttering the edges of the tablecloth, and I found my voice just above a whisper.“I’m not running to hide,” I said, voice trembling. “I’m running to protect what he wanted to throw away.” “Then we build your wall before he even reaches the gate,” he said, more firmly now. “All we need is evidence. Records. Messages. Witnesses, if necessary.” He paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Did anyone hear him say it? About wanting you to abort the child?”I looked away, my throat tightening. I remembered it t
Morgan paused—and then, to my surprise, he bowed. Low.“Don Alonso.”My breath caught, and I instinctively stood up from my seat. Through the ivy-laced arch, a tall figure emerged, walking with the quiet dignity of age and command. He wore a dark coat despite the mild weather, his silver hair swept back neatly, and a cane tapping softly with every step he took.My grandfather.“Mr. Morgan. Always a pleasure.”“Likewise, sir.” Morgan’s voice held deep respect.And then he passed by him, leaving us.My eyes locked with my grandfather’s. He stopped a few feet away from me. It felt like I hadn’t seen him in so long.“Grandpa,” I breathed, my voice catching as I stepped forward.And without thinking, I stepped forward—arms wrapping around him, carefully but tightly.He didn’t hesitate. He held me back.Not just a pat on
There was a long pause between us.The kind that didn’t feel uncomfortable—just… heavy with things unsaid.We sat quietly, staring out at the garden bathed in the warm light of late afternoon. The hedges rustled softly as the breeze moved through them, carrying the scent of blooming roses and sun-warmed grass. A few loose petals floated gently across the stones. Birds chirped high in the trees.I reached for my teacup, the porcelain smooth and cool against my fingertips. I brought it to my lips and took a slow sip. The taste was soft—chamomile and lemon—meant to be calming. But instead of comfort, all I felt was the bitter knot in my chest, untouched by warmth.I set the cup down carefully, the clink of porcelain against porcelain sounding too loud in the stillness.Then, finally, Don Alonso spoke.“Have any of the Saavedras contacted you?”I blinked, confused.The Saavedras. My mother’s family.I frowned, turning toward
A few feet away, a guy swung off a gorgeous black and chrome motorcycle, pulling off his helmet in one smooth, practiced motion. He shook out messy, dark hair that flopped slightly over his forehead, then casually tapped at his phone, probably answering some boring business call.He was tall, lean but broad-shouldered, dressed in a fitted white shirt and dark jeans, a silver chain hanging loosely around his neck. He looked effortless—expensive without even trying. His boots were clean but worn, like he actually used them, and his watch probably cost more than most people’s rent.Definitely rich. Definitely reckless enough to park a beauty like that out here.As I crept closer, pretending to scroll on my phone, I caught him speaking into his call."Yeah, it's Alex Wright. I'll be there in five."Alex Wright.Cute name for a cute face.Too bad for him.I sauntered right up to him, still casually puffing on the cigarette
Phoenix’s POV(New Character Unlocked!)The airport was a blur behind me, nothing but noise, dragging suitcases, and a few too many side-eyes at my rainbow hair. I couldn't care less. Let them stare. I'd dye it neon green next time, just to spite them.Phoenix Alvira Saavedra.Protector of blood.I had barely tossed my designer duffel into the passenger seat of my sleek black Porsche 911 Turbo S before I was tearing out of the airport driveway, engine roaring like a beast that couldn’t be tamed. No text, no warning. Surprise was half the funWhen I pulled up to the driveway, though, her house was too still, too quiet. Just her maids fluttering nervously at the front door like they were waiting for a bomb to drop."Miss Anastasia is at the park, ma’am," one of them chirped, her voice way too high, her eyes flickering nervously toward my boots and leather jacket.
The gravel crunched beneath our shoes as we followed the winding path deeper into the trees. I tucked my hands into the pockets of my sweater, breathing in the cold, crisp air that somehow still wasn’t enough to clear the fog inside my head.We were still walking quietly when, out of nowhere, a sharp, familiar voice cut through the heavy air.I turned my head and there she was—Zarina.I felt Ava stiffen beside me immediately, ready for whatever was about to happen. Thankfully, the park had already begun to empty. The sun was sinking, and there were no curious bystanders.Zarina's steps were quick and sharp, her heels clicking with every furious stride until she stood a few feet away. Her doe-like eyes pinned me like a dagger, full of rage."You really have some nerve," Zarina hissed. She stepped forward, hand twitching at her side, and for a split second, I saw her hand lift—as if she were seriously considering slapping me.But Ava was faste
When I finally reached outside, the heavy doors of the terrace yard shutting behind me, the first tear slipped down my cheek before I could even stop it. Another followed, and another, until my vision blurred.Ava and Sheila rushed toward me the second they saw me, their faces etched with worry. Ava gripped my arm gently, her brows furrowed as she tried to catch my gaze."Anastasia, what happened? Are you okay? What’s wrong?" she asked urgently, her voice rising with panic.Sheila hovered close, her hand resting lightly on my back, grounding me, waiting for me to say something, anything. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t even form the words."I just..." I croaked out, blinking furiously against the tears still spilling freely down my face. "I just want to get out of here. Please."That was all I said. And that was all they needed.Without a word, Sheila nodded fiercely, wrapping an arm around me as they guided me quickly back to t
The wind stirred again, stronger this time, whipping strands of my hair around my face, making the hem of my dress flutter wildly against my knees. I tucked the loose hair behind my ear again, but it was pointless—the breeze only pulled it free a moment later. It was as if even the world itself refused to let this moment be still.Regan shifted, his jaw clenching, the warmth that had flickered briefly in his eyes vanishing. His shoulders stiffened, his whole posture changing, becoming closed off—cold. The sharpness in his expression was unmistakable now, like my presence alone was grating against him.“Well?" he said, his voice tight, clipped. "What do you want to say, Anastasia? Why couldn't you just say it over the phone like a normal person?"The way he said my name—sharp, almost annoyed—stung more than I cared to admit. I felt the words catch in my throat for a second, but I swallowed them down, forcing myself to speak without letting my voice crack.
I saw his expression shift instantly—surprise flashing across his handsome features, confusion knitting into the crease of his brow. Without a word, he took a few slow steps forward, each one deliberate, closing the distance between us until we stood face to face.And there we were. Breathing the same air. Yet feeling worlds apart.My palms grew clammy, fingers instinctively tightening around the soft fabric of my dress. My heart beat faster, almost painfully, each thud a wild drum against my ribs. I could feel the panic blooming quietly inside me, spreading its tremors into my bones, rooting my feet to the ground.The silence between us was deafening. Neither of us spoke. Neither of us moved.We just stared at each other, locked in this strange moment, as if any wrong move would shatter whatever was holding us together—or perhaps, whatever was left. It was the first time we had seen each other again after that confrontation in our house. The time I saw him sleeping with Zarina, the t
The car slowed to a stop at the edge of the Garden Café's private entrance.It was exactly how I had requested it. Empty. Private.The building itself was beautiful—a modern, elegant glass structure with wide-open archways leading to a sprawling outdoor yard that overlooked the city below. The afternoon sun painted the stone path golden, and a light breeze teased the white drapes framing the open terrace. The view was breathtaking, but even the beauty of it couldn’t settle the pounding in my chest.Ava killed the engine, pulling her sunglasses down and peering around skeptically. "Well. It’s a graveyard. Very fitting for whatever dramatic conversation you’re about to have."Sheila shifted nervously in her seat, glancing at me. "You sure you wanna do this alone, Stasia? We can wait inside. Hide behind a plant. Throw things if he says something stupid."I laughed under my breath, touched beyond words. I reached over, squeezing Sheila’s hand and then Ava’s shoulder. "No. I need to do th
The low sound of the engine filled the car, a background noise against the sound of traffic outside. Ava was behind the wheel, her sunglasses perched on her nose, one hand casually resting at twelve o'clock on the steering wheel. Her hair—that wild ginger bun—bounced slightly every time we hit a bump. Sheila was in the passenger seat, legs tucked up like a kid, fiddling with the radio stations every five seconds and earning glares from Ava.And me?I was curled up in the backseat, leaning against the window, staring out at the blur of the city as it rushed past. It should have been a normal car ride. It should have felt like any other day.But it didn’t.Because today...Today I was going to face Regan again."Are you sure you’ll be okay, Tasia?" Sheila asked for what felt like the millionth time, twisting halfway in her seat to look at me.I smiled faintly, "Yes, I’ll be fine."Ava snorted loudly, adjusting her grip o
Sheila laughed and shoved her playfully. "Please, I’m the life of this party. You’re the sidekick, four-eyes.""Four-eyes? Bold words coming from someone who tripped over a flat sidewalk last week!"Sheila scowled. "Did Tasia tell you that? It was uneven!""It was flat," Ava shot back without missing a beat. "Gravity personally requested you fall over to entertain the public."I couldn't stop laughing, hiding my face behind my hand as the two of them bickered like no time had passed at all. It was chaotic, it was loud, it was messy—And it was home.Sheila turned to me with an exaggerated sigh. "You see what I put up with? You should pay me hazard fees just for being friends with her."Ava rolled her eyes and leaned casually against the table. "Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome for making your life interesting."Susan and Elise were trying—and failing—to hide their giggles as they discreetly stepped