The days blurred into each other, each one more unbearable than the last. It had been nearly a week since Regan last stepped foot in the house. I went through the motions like a ghost. Mornings began with waking up to an empty bed, the sheets on his side still perfectly smooth. I would wander down to the dining room, where Susan and the others set out breakfast, their expressions carefully neutral. Most of the time, I didn’t touch the food. The taste of anything felt foreign to me, and my stomach churned at the thought of eating.I spent hours trying to distract myself, but everything I did felt hollow. The books I picked up went unread after a few pages. The TV droned on in the background. Even music, which had always been my escape, felt unbearable.Every evening, I found myself sitting by the living room window, staring out at the driveway. My phone was always within arm’s reach, its screen lighting up every now and then with messages or calls from people I couldn’t bring myself to
The car door slammed shut, and I hesitated for a moment, glancing at the towering gates in front of me. My heart thudded painfully against my ribcage, but I forced myself to take a deep breath. Marianne was already walking ahead of me.I stepped out of the car. My eyes swept over the grand estate. Marianne was leading me into the house, but I felt a disconnect like I was walking into a place I didn’t belong.I adjusted my red dress. The fabric clung to my body, creating the illusion of confidence, of control. It was bold, daring even. I thought of it as my armor, a way to hide the weakness that had been creeping through my veins for the past week. The dress, a tight-fitting, satin fabric, shimmered slightly under the light, cut just above my knees. The hemline was sharp and clean. It was a fiery red, the kind of color that demanded attention. The deep red mimicked the color of my lips.Marianne glanced over her shoulder, giving me a nod of approval as she led me inside, her heels cli
The women around the table giggled, a high-pitched, practiced sound that filled the room. The blonde woman, who had commented earlier, leaned in.“Oh, I must say, your stepmother has always had an eye for fashion,” she commented, eyeing my red dress. “She’s always been the one to make everything look effortlessly chic.”Marianne smiled at the compliment, her lips curling upward, though I could see the flicker of something dark in her eyes as she glanced at me. It was brief, but it was there.“Well, it’s not all me. Anastasia certainly knows how to shock us all, doesn’t she?” She turned toward me, her eyes narrowing just slightly as she added, “She’s always been quite the surprise.”The comment surprised me, and I could feel the eyes of the women around the table shift, their interest piqued. I kept my gaze steady, refusing to let any of the unease bubbling in my chest show on my face.“Yes,” one of the other women, a brunette with perfectly manicured nails, chimed in, “It’s so rare to
The women had slowly made their exits. Caroline, however, was the last to rise, her movements deliberate but stiff. She gave me a polite nod, a faint smile pulling at her lips, but I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she held herself back from saying more.“Take care, Anastasia. Call me if you need anything else.” She reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear in an almost affectionate gesture before she held my hands. Her eyes are almost apologetic. "We should talk some other time. Something we didn’t do after what happened"I nodded absently, feeling her pressed my hands. A weak smile flickered on my lips, though I didn’t feel it as I watched her disappear from my sight.I was left alone with Marianne, who had stood from her chair. Her heels clicked sharply on the polished floor. The cool evening air hit me like a slap in the face as we stepped out into the open. Once inside the car, it was unnervingly quiet. Marianne sat across from me, her eyes unfocused,
The living room was dim, lit only by a few scattered lamps, and there, slouched on the couch, was Regan. His usually immaculate appearance was disheveled—his shirt untucked, his tie loose, and his hair a mess. But what struck me the most was the empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and the way he barely seemed to notice my presence as I walked closer. He was drunk.I stood frozen for a moment, taking in the sight of him. My heart ached a tight pain that spread through my chest, making it hard to breathe.“Regan,” I whispered. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself closer to him, ignoring the way the maids stood frozen behind me.He sat slumped in the chair, clutching a half-empty bottle like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His head hung low. I knelt in front of him, my hand hesitating before reaching out. “Regan,” I pleaded softly, “please… you need to stop. You need to sleep. You’re—”His eyes snapped open, bloodshot and wild, and his hand lashed out before I could even re
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the faint outline of my reflection in the window. The storm had quieted, leaving only a steady drizzle against the glass. My chest felt hollow, the weight of Regan’s words still pressing against me like a phantom ache.The door creaked open, and I didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. His presence was unmistakable—heavy, like a shadow you couldn’t shake.“Anastasia,” he said, his tone sharper than necessary. I didn’t respond, my hands gripping the fabric of my dress tightly. He sighed; the sound laced with impatience. “Your mother called. She’s arranged a trip for us—two days at some resort by the coast.”I blinked, “A trip?”“Yes,” He stepped further into the room. “She thinks it’ll be… good for us.” His words dripped with disdain, but there was something else in his voice—a reluctance, a sense of obligation he couldn’t shake.I turned to face him, my eyes meeting his. “And you agreed?”He shrugged, “What was I supposed to say? No? Sh
The car pulled up to the edge of the beach, and as soon as I stepped out, the scent of the ocean hit me—fresh, salty, and oddly calming. I glanced around, taking in the private beach stretching endlessly before us. The sand was so white it almost looked untouched, the kind of pristine that made you hesitant to leave a footprint. I’d seen beaches like this dozens of times, from the Amalfi Coast to private islands in the Maldives, but they never failed to leave me in awe.“Wow,” I murmured, unable to stop myself. Regan didn’t respond. He was too busy pulling his phone from his pocket, already distracted as the driver unloaded our bags from the trunk. The beach house stood a little further back. The house was striking—modern, minimalistic, and drenched in sunlight. Glass walls reflected the ocean, and the sleek wooden decks were accented with lush greenery. It was the kind of property that screamed exclusivity, even by my standards.The driver handed me my suitcase with a polite smile,
I woke up slowly, my eyes fluttering open to the soft light filtering through the window. For a moment, I was confused. The bed felt colder than it had the night before. I blinked, trying to push the lingering fog of sleep away. I sat up, glancing around the room. The door was ajar, and the faint sound of something clattering in the kitchen caught my attention. Curiosity tugged at me, so I pushed off the bed, walked toward the window. I peeked out at the view—blue sky, the calm waves of the ocean stretching into the horizon—and for a moment, everything felt surreal. After a brief moment of peace, my stomach growled loudly, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything since the flight the day before. I made my way to the bathroom, quickly brushing my teeth and washing my face before heading toward the source of the sound. When I reached the kitchen, I froze in the doorway. Regan was there, but not the Regan I was used to seeing. He was cooking, his movements fluid as he worked over the
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
The morning light streamed through the massive, floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, filling the space. The wide, sunlit room looked like something from a magazine spread—polished marble floors, pale cream walls lined with intricate crown moldings, and plush, oversized couches in soft champagne hues. The chandelier above sparkled subtly, catching the light.In the center of it all, a long rectangular table had been set up—draped in white linen and neatly arranged with tasting plates, tiny glasses, and silver utensils.Susan and a few of the maids bustled quietly nearby, arranging fresh pitchers of water and clearing empty plates.And at the far end of the room stood a cluster of smartly dressed individuals from Champagne and Roses Events Company, all smiling with their clipboards in hand and their nerves barely hidden beneath their professional exteriors.In the midst of it all—I sat poised at the head of the table, wearing a simple but el
I stared at the phone. The call replayed in my mind. His offer, unexpected and overwhelming. Something I hadn’t seen coming.Then—my phone buzzed again.The sound made me flinch, jarring me out of my daze. But when I glanced at the screen, my heart stuttered.Miguel Sanchez. Champagne and Roses Events Company.The one I had hired months ago for Regan’s birthday—before everything fell apart. Before Zarina. Before the accident. Before the child growing silently inside me.My fingers hesitated for just a moment before I swiped to answer."Hello?""Good afternoon, Ms. Anastasia!" the man chirped, his voice full of an excitement I couldn’t even begin to mirror. "I’m just calling to confirm that everything is set for your husband’s birthday! We’re almost ready with the setup—just wanted to ask if you’d like us to drop by your home and discuss final details like food options and guests lists!"My breath hitched painfully.
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