The next day, Regan was still not coming home, and the day stretched before me. By the time I woke, the day had reached its peak. As the afternoon sun cast its golden rays through the window, a notification buzzed on my phone. Pulling it out of my pocket, I glanced at the screen. It was a text from Gerard. His message was simple – a request to meet.
Despite the fatigue that weighed me down, and the nausea churning in my stomach, I knew I couldn't ignore him. With a deep breath, I pushed myself off the couch. Moving on autopilot, I made my way to my room. The reflection in the mirror startled me. My usually bright green eyes were dull and shadowed. Choosing a red maxi dress, I slipped it on. The long sleeves offered a welcome layer of comfort, hiding the fading bruise blooming on my arm. The one I received from where Regan shoved me in a staff room. The red color felt like a shield, a way to mask the vulnerability I still felt.
Reachi
Author’s Note:First, thank you so much for reading and loving the first book of Anastasia Del Valle. Writing this story was a rollercoaster of emotions — and I’m incredibly grateful you came along for the ride.Some of you might feel frustrated or even hate Anastasia and Regan or the characters. But in writing this story, I wanted to show how complicated people can be, how uncertain we are when faced with pain, love, and choices. I want my characters to grow.Regan Del Valle loved one woman from the start. Anastasia’s arrival in his life was unexpected, and he never imagined he could fall in love with her. But when he saw his first love again, his mind was programmed to believe he still loved her. It became a battle between his heart and his mind. His journey is about the painful consequences of denial — of realizing too late, of being a coward when it mattered most.Anastasia Montreal was someone who gave her whole heart to one man — her husband. She believed that love meant staying
My voice cracked on the last word. I swallowed hard, trying to hold myself together, but my throat burned with everything I’d been choking back for months.“I’m sorry.”My breath hitched. My fingers curled tighter around the picture.“I’m sorry I didn’t choose you sooner. I’m sorry you had such a coward for a husband. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I broke you.”I looked down at her frozen smile, my thumb brushing the edge of the photo like she’d feel it somehow. I held it gently, carefully, afraid even now to damage the only piece of her I had left.“I let you believe you weren’t enough…” My chest heaved, “When the truth was… I wasn’t.”A tear rolled down my cheek. And then another. My shoulders shook, chest rising and falling in ragged bursts as the weight of it all came crashing down.“I kept telling you to leave. Over and over. I thought it made me noble. Thought I was protecting you by pushing you away. But I was just afraid.”A bitter laugh slipped through my teeth, strangled b
I leaned back, eyes tracing the ceiling blankly as I reached for the bottle again. My hand trembled slightly. The glass clinked softly against my teeth as I drank, not even bothering to taste it anymore. Just burning my throat. Then the blur took over.I don’t remember when I fell asleep—only that it was still afternoon and I woke up hours later with a stiff neck, a pounding headache, and the bottle still half-full in my lap. My hand reached for my phone without thinking. Muscle memory. A habit I hadn’t shaken, even when I knew it never brought what I wanted. I unlocked it and opened the voicemail inbox.There were several. I hit play. First was Ella’s voice—anxious, rapid, trying not to sound panicked.“Regan… hey. I—I don’t mean to bother you, but the funding pulled out this morning. We can’t meet the supplier requirements. I was hoping… if there’s anything you can do... just call me back, okay?”I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Next were messages from old friends. One after the other.“Bro, I
All of a sudden, my phone screen lit up again.Zarina.I stared at the name. I didn’t move and just let it ring, like I always did.The truth was, after that conversation in my penthouse—after the words we exchanged and the silence that followed—I left. I walked out. Closed the door behind me and never looked back. And I was surprised—honestly surprised—when I saw her at the party. I didn’t expect her there. I didn’t even know if I was going myself until the last minute. But there she was… and there I was… and there was Anastasia.Ever since the party—that night—I never stepped foot back into our house. I never saw her again. Not even once. I didn’t go back for my things. Didn’t say a word. I just… left. Not because I was angry. Not because I blamed her. I didn’t feel anything. Not rage. Not bitterness. Not even curiosity when the articles came out dragging her name across headlines. They tried to piece together her past, expose things she had long buried, label her like a scandal wai
3 months after Regan’s birthday party….Regan’s POVThe room reeked of liquor. Half-empty bottles littered the table, some toppled over, their contents bleeding into coasters that hadn’t been touched in weeks. A faint hum from the air conditioner filled the silence, but it couldn't drown out the ringing in my head—or the fucking emptiness of this house.No maids. No noise. No warmth. Just me. And this suffocating silence. The bedroom looked exactly how we left it.The curtains were still shut—hadn’t been pulled back in months. The sunlight had stopped trying to come in, like even it gave up on me. The only light came from the blinking red dot of the AC unit and the faint glow from a cracked lamp in the corner I hadn’t bothered to fix. It still smelled faintly like her. Vanilla and jasmine… buried underneath the overwhelming stench of liquor and stale air.Our bed was unmade. Her side untouched. I couldn’t bring myself to lie on it.Instead, I stayed curled on the velvet couch at the f
The ride to the airport was silent. I leaned my head back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, heart strangely still. Phoenix sat beside me, one hand still resting lightly in mine. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to.By the time the car slowed to a halt, the world outside had gone dark and quiet. There was no terminal. No waiting lines. No announcements over static speakers. Just a private runway. And waiting at the edge of it—a plane. Its wings caught the glow of the runway lights.The car door opened with a soft click.I stepped out, slowly, feeling the wind sweep across my face. It was colder here — the air biting at my skin in a way that felt strangely grounding. My hair whipped gently across my cheek as I looked ahead. The sky above us was dark, painted in thousands of stars.Phoenix, already beside me, was the first to move. Her heels clacked rhythmically against the tarmac as she walked, but just as the stairs came into view, she broke into a run. Her laughter — light and ch