An hour or two crawled by, each tick of the clock echoing in the empty room. Slowly, I took a deep breath, willing myself to pull it together. Fighting back the lingering tears, I splashed water on my face, hoping to erase any evidence of my breakdown. A quick look in the mirror confirmed my eyes weren't bloodshot anymore. Reaching for my red lipstick, I swiped it across my lips. A final touch of red on my nails completed the transformation. Staring back at me was a woman who looked strong, unbothered, anything but broken.
That's exactly how I wanted them to see me.
Downstairs, the sounds of the mansion bustling back to life pulled me from my self-imposed exile. The family was preparing for their berry picking. Taking a fortifying breath, I ventured downstairs.
The sight that greeted me was a sea of smiling faces, all gathered with baskets in hand. But something about those smiles felt forced. Living amongst these wealth
Dust motes danced in the afternoon sunlight filtering through the lace curtains. I was standing on the porch, waiting. My attention was snagged by the hushed whispers coming from behind me.Peeking out, I caught a glimpse of two maids, their uniforms crisp."Did you see her?" one, a young woman with bright, curious eyes, whispered. "Sir Regan's wife? Yes. God, she’s so gorgeous. Now, I know why Sir Regan married her?”The other, older and more wizened, scoffed. "Hardly wife material, if you ask me. All stiff and proper, not a smile to be found. Remember Miss Zarina?"“Yes”“Now that was a perfect match for Mr. Regan. They used to laugh together all the time. Always running through these halls, picking flowers, stealing kisses in the garden…"“Really?”"They were like two peas in a pod," the older maid sighed. "Such a shame things didn't work out."I took a deep breath and ignored them but failed anyway. Their words were engraved in my mind.Soon after, the chatter and laughter grew lo
I sighed as I glanced out the window, watching Regan, Zarina, and his cousins laughing and drinking outside. The middle-aged group had decided to go out on the lawn and have a bonfire there. I wanted to join them, but I knew it would be awkward. Besides, I didn't drink beer—I never liked the taste. Feeling a bit parched and seeing that it was already 8 PM, I decided to head down to the kitchen for a drink.As I walked into the kitchen, I was surprised to see a young boy standing near the microwave. It was Ethan, a quiet seven-year-old who rarely spoke or joined the other children. His face was still adorned with a pair of thick eyeglasses. I was sure the other kids were in the movie room with their nannies right now.I frowned, remembering that the boy was not at the dinner earlier. Seeing him alone now, I wondered why he wasn't with the others. I watched as he fiddled with the microwave, sighing to himself while his other hand was holding his iPad. With a gentle smile, I walked over
Regan's POVMe and my cousin were gathered on the terrace, the evening air filled with the scent of pine and the distant chirping of crickets. I leaned back in my chair, a cold beer in hand, as Reila launched into another one of her stories. She's talkative that's for sure."...and then, remember when Uncle Frank tried to impress that girl by riding Dad's old motorcycle?"Everyone burst into laughter. "He nearly broke his leg!" Tim added, slapping his knee.Zarina, sitting beside me, chuckled softly. Her laugh was like music, soft and light."He didn't walk right for weeks," she added, shaking her head and turning to me. "Right?""How did you know that?" Reila asked, laughing.Zarina pointed at me, "He told me.""I knew it," Reila said.I shrug, "It's not meant to keep a secret."Zarina laughed and I looked at her. She has a pretty smile and just an angelic face that made me fall for her even now unlike Anastasia who has this fierce and tough expression she always has. They are even d
Anastasia’s POVSoon after we finished the delicious meal, Ethan and I sat on the stools at the counter, facing each other. He was a little messy eater, but his tiny chomps were full of such enthusiasm that it was hard not to smile. "So, how's the food, champ?" I asked, leaning forward to get a better look at his cute, sauce-covered face.He stopped mid-chew, his brow furrowed in deep concentration for a moment, before offering a reluctant nod. A bubbly laugh escaped my lips, and I reached over with a napkin to wipe the red streak of tomato sauce from around his lips.Just then, a voice cut through our little moment. We both turned towards the door to see Regan leaning on a door frame, arms crossed, looking a little flushed but definitely not drunk. I felt a sudden rush of nerves, wondering how long he had been standing there watching us. My cheeks flushed as I straightened up, trying to maintain composure."Hey there," he said, "What's going on?"Ethan and I exchanged a glance, an
The sun was shining brightly as we sat outside in the garden for lunch. The table was set with an array of dishes, and everyone was chatting and laughing. Regan and his family filled the garden with their lively conversations. I sat next to Regan. It’s been 4 days since we arrived at the estate. One of Regan’s uncles, Uncle Henry, was in the middle of a story about his recent fishing trip, gesturing wildly with his hands. “And then the fish was this big!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms wide, making everyone laugh.I smiled politely, taking a sip of my iced tea. The food looked delicious, but my appetite was minimal. Regan was next to me, engaged in a deep conversation with his father about business, his face serious but relaxed.Suddenly, Uncle Henry perked up. “Hey, Richard!” he called out to Regan’s father, who was sitting at the head of the table. “You still planning that hunting trip later?”A cheer went up from the group, the conversation
Soon after, I found myself in front of the mirror in our bedroom. I had just stepped out of the shower, steam still clinging to the air, when the bedroom door creaked open. My mother-in-law entered, holding an outfit in her hands."Anastasia, dear, I brought you something for the hunt," she said, handing me the hunting gear. "You'll look perfect in this. Good luck later.""Thank you"She placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry about a thing. Hunting is more about patience and being in the moment. Just enjoy yourself and stay close to Regan.""Will do. Thanks again," I said, feeling a bit more at ease.After she left, I changed into the outfit. The rugged fabric felt strange against my skin, but I admired the way it looked in the mirror. The gear consisted of a fitted camo jacket and pants, sturdy boots, and a wide-brimmed hat that framed my face nicely. My dark hair, usually worn loose, was pulled back in a practical braid t
“He says he hates you,” she continued, her voice dripping with venom. “That he’s sick of your presence.”I shrugged, forcing a nonchalant smile. “Really? I don’t care what you say. He’s still with me, and that doesn’t change the fact that I am his wife.”Zarina’s eyes flashed with anger. She stepped closer, her teeth gritted. “You’re thick-faced, aren’t you? Why don’t you just let him go?! He doesn’t love you!”“I don’t care. I expected as much when I married him. And honey I’ll decide when to let him go, and I don’t have any plans to do so anytime soon.”Her face twisted with rage. “You’re delusional,” she hissed. “You’re living in a fantasy.”“Maybe I am. But it’s my fantasy, and as long as I’m his wife, I’ll fight for it," I pointed at her. "While you will be stuck as his side piece. A woman he can never be proud of. A woman he will never show off to parties or show to his business partners."Tears formed in her eyes as she gl
"He'll be back, Anastasia. He will be back" I muttered to myself.Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. I tried to calm my racing thoughts, focusing on the sounds of nature around me. The leaves rustling, the distant calls of birds, and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. But the longer I stood there alone, the more the fear began to creep in. I glanced around, trying to catch a glimpse of Regan. I was now anxiously tapping my foot on the ground.Then, suddenly, another gunshot rang out, much closer this time. I jumped, my breath catching in my throat. Panic started to set in, and I had to force myself to stay calm. Regan had told me to wait, and I had to trust that he would come back for me.As the minutes dragged on, I hugged my arms around myself, trying to fend off the chill that seemed to seep into my bones. I sat on the root of the tree, waiting. Two hours had already passed, and my nerves were fraying as the shadows grew lon
Another short silence stretched between us, and I could almost picture him standing somewhere across the world, arms crossed, watching over me the way he always used to."Why did you call, Uncle? Is there a problem?"“No, no, dear," he said quickly, reassuringly. "There is no problem.”I slumped back slightly into the chair."Oh," I exhaled, allowing the smallest smile to pull at the corner of my mouth, "that’s good to hear."But there was a pause on his end—a pause that said there was more. Much more.“I know you heard from Don Alonso,” he said finally.I stiffened, heart picking up again. Moment of truth.I swallowed. "Um, yeah… is it about the promise? Is that why you called?"There was no hesitation in his answer."Yes, it is," he said simply. "I know it must be hard to believe something like that even existed. I understand it must be shocking."I laughed softly under my breath, a dry, breathless sound.
The red velvet was rich beneath my fingertips, almost too luxurious for something that made my heart hammer with dread. The gold ribbon gleamed under the sunlight, tied so precisely it made my chest tighten.I stared at it for a moment—Just stared.As if the box itself was waiting, breathing, daring me to open it. Then, with a trembling breath, I pulled the ribbon loose and lifted the lid.Inside—Photographs. Dozens of them. Hundreds, maybe.My heart slammed into my ribs so hard it hurt. Picture after picture spilled before me, sharp and glossy and mercilessly real.Regan. Zarina.Laughing together. Hands brushing. Leaning into each other like lovers in secret. Whispering in corners. Clinging to each other in dark rooms. Moments I was never meant to see.Moments hidden from me while I played the fool. Dates were marked neatly in red ink in the corners of each photo.Some of them were recent.But
A flood of emails greeted me first—formal messages from the foundation, updates on business reports I hadn't had the energy to care about. Then, a few news articles—headlines about society events, political scandals—none of them touching my world anymore.I swiped idly through them, my mind elsewhere, my body still fighting the lingering nausea.Then I saw it.One message stood out among the floods.A simple text, from a name I hadn’t seen in months but had been waiting for without even realizing it.Ava Ramos.My assistant. My friend.She had taken a six-month leave to care for her mother abroad, but even from halfway across the world, Ava had still managed to handle the details of my business life better than anyone else could. She didn’t just work for me—she stood by me. Without judgment. Without condition.I opened the message with trembling fingers.Ava:Miss A, Just wanted to let you know my l
The morning light spilled into the room in soft, golden streaks, coaxing me awake. I stirred beneath the light linen sheets; my body slow to move. The nausea hit me almost immediately. A wave of dizziness and discomfort churned in my stomach, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before carefully sitting up.The clock on the nightstand blinked back at me—7:08 AM.“Ugh” I groaned, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool marble floor. I sat there for a moment, breathing through the nausea, pressing a hand gently against my still-flat stomach.Almost six weeks of being two people instead of one.And somehow, it already felt like my entire body had shifted. My chest tightened at the thought, and I forced myself to sit up straighter, blinking against the dizzying morning light streaming through the tall windows. I reached for the robe hanging loosely over the nearby armchair—a light ivory silk robe with delicate lace
“After Alisha died, the bond between our families… frayed. Your uncles—especially Alvaro—blamed Gregory. Maybe not for her death directly, but for the way she lived before it. For the silence. For the sadness that started showing behind her eyes.”I drew a sharp breath. I’d always known something was… strained between the Montreals and the Saavedras. Even as a child, I could feel the tension, though no one ever spoke of it.Don Alonso’s voice dropped lower, his tone thickening with something heavy. Not just memory—guilt.“After Alisha died, the bond between our families… frayed. Your uncles—especially Alvaro—blamed your father—Gregory. For her death directly, for the way she lived before it. For the silence. For the sadness that started showing behind her eyes.”His words struck something sharp and cold inside me. My hands freezing in place on my lap. I had always known, deep down, that there was a quiet rift between the Montreals and the Saavedras. It wa
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
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
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
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