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
The forest felt eerily silent, the only sound was my ragged breathing. I tried to focus, to ground myself in the present, but the past and the present blurred together. It was almost suffocating. The pain, the fear, the helplessness—it was all suffocating until I could hear distant shouts now, voices growing nearer.Regan's voice cut through the haze, but I couldn't make out the words. I closed my eyes, trying to block out everything, but the images of my mother and Zarina's blood-stained figure were still on my mind.A hazy blur swam into focus as I registered the distant sound of Regan's voice calling Zarina's name. It echoed through the trees, distorted and faint as if I were underwater. My body felt numb, rooted to the spot where I had collapsed. Tears streamed down my face.Through my tear-filled eyes, I saw Regan materialize from the trees. He crouched beside Zarina, his face etched with fear as he cradled her head in his hands, calling her name with
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
“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
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—” 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 abor
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
Sheila froze. I finally looked at her, and there was nothing in my gaze. No fight. No anger. No will left to argue. Just sheer, crushing exhaustion.“I’m tired,” I murmured. “I feel sick. I don’t want to do this right now.”Sheila opened her mouth to protest, but then she really looked at me. I knew what she saw. I was pale. My lips were dry, almost cracked. The dark circles beneath my eyes were so deep they looked bruised. My hands, resting limply on my lap, trembled slightly.I wasn’t just exhausted.I was broken.Sheila swallowed hard, her frustration shifting into something else—something much more painful.For the first time, she didn’t argue. I just turned my head, looking back out at the horizon, my eyes unfocused, lost in the vast emptiness stretching before me.Sheila was quiet for a moment. I thought she had given up, that she would just walk away like everyone else eventually did.But then, suddenly, she broke.A soft sob escaped her lips, barely audible at first, before it
A Week LaterThe house was quiet. Too quiet.I sat motionless on the balcony of my bedroom, staring out at the vast expanse of green surrounding the mansion. It was a beautiful home—secluded, peaceful, far from the suffocating noise of the city. The kind of place people would call an escape. But for me, it was just another prison.Beside me, the plate of untouched food sat, the scent alone making my stomach twist. Nausea curled in my throat, threatening to rise. It had been this way for days. Every time I tried to eat, I ended up hunched over a toilet, dry heaving until there was nothing left. The exhaustion had settled deep into my bones, dragging me down, and making my body feel unbearably heavy.Susan and the other maids were here. I hadn’t asked them to resign; after Susan had called to tell me they resigned, I told them to stay. I didn’t know why. Maybe I didn’t want to be alone. Maybe I just didn’t care.They moved around the house, doing what they could, but none of it reached
My head shook automatically, small, frantic motions, my chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. "I—I don’t—what are you—?"Caroline pressed forward, her voice calm but firm. "Regan and Zarina—this is what’s best, Anastasia. You need to understand. The child, their child, deserves—"The words sliced through me like a jagged blade, making me flinch as if she had physically struck me. My ears started ringing, drowning out whatever else she was saying.Zarina’s child.Regan’s child.The bile rose so fast in my throat that I thought I would throw up again. My vision blurred, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I forced myself to focus on Caroline’s face. She was still talking—explaining, justifying, yapping—but the words jumbled together into meaningless noise. I barely recognized my own voice when I finally spoke. It was hoarse, breathless."Is this…" I swallowed hard, forcing the words out, "…because Zarina is pregnant?"Caroline visibly tensed. For the first time, she falter