As I stepped into the house, my heart still racing, I bolted to my room to get out of my soaked dress. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Regan’s hand had felt in mine, or the way his gaze lingered just a little too long. I slipped into a soft, oversized shirt, hoping it would calm the chaos swirling inside me. But the second I opened my door, there he was again—standing by the window, his silhouette bathed in moonlight. “You changed fast,” he said, his voice low, carrying that teasing edge that made my stomach flip. “Could say the same for you,” I shot back, noticing his loose joggers and plain black shirt. He looked infuriatingly good, and I hated how aware I was of it. “You know, you looked really happy today. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like that.” “Is that… a bad thing?” “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Not at all.” We stood there, the dim light from the window casting shadows between us. The air felt heavy, charged with something I couldn’t name.His
His fingers brushed softly against my skin, trailing along my legs, igniting a fire that spread through my entire being. I let out a long, quiet sigh as his touch neared places that left me trembling, the anticipation unbearable. A gasp escaped me, my voice trembling as I murmured through the haze of pleasure clouding my mind, "Regan." I lost control when he gently trailed his nose up mine, his touch igniting a fire within me. His hands moved with such deliberate tenderness, removing my remaining clothes as though I were something precious. My head spun, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.A soft moan escaped my lips, reverberating in the quiet of the room, as his fingers glided over my skin, leaving a trail of warmth. The sensation sent shivers down my spine; each caress more electrifying than the last. His tongue traced along mine, the motion slow and deliberate, sending shockwaves through my body. My gasps filled the air, unrestrained and raw, as I felt the ache of desir
When I opened my eyes, the soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains. It took a moment for the events of the night to settle in my mind, and when they did, a mixture of emotions washed over me. Regan’s arm was draped around my waist, his body warm against mine. He was still asleep, his breathing slow and even, his face relaxed in a way I rarely saw. It was strange to see him like this—unguarded. Peaceful. I stayed still, not wanting to wake him, but my heart raced when his arm tightened slightly around me, pulling me closer.“You’re awake,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.“So are you,” I whispered back, a shy smile tugging at my lips.He didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze unreadable as it lingered on my face. Then, almost in a whisper, he said, “You’re not what I expected.” I blinked, unsure how to respond. “What does that mean?” Regan smirked faintly, his thumb brushing against my hip. “You’ll figure it out.” Before I could press him further, he rolled awa
I watched him as his demeanor changed, the carefree expression on his face replaced with tension. My heart skipped a beat as I saw him glance at me hesitantly, his eyes filled with unease.“I… I need to leave,” he said, his voice tight.My stomach twisted with unease. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”He remained silent.“Is it about Mom? Dad? What’s wrong? Tell me”Regan didn’t immediately respond. His gaze flickered to me, then quickly away, as if he didn’t want me to see the strain in his eyes. He took a deep breath and said the one word that shattered my heart.“No”The weight of Regan's words sank in, and my stomach twisted tighter with every passing second. I tried to process everything, but it felt like my mind couldn’t catch up with the emotions swirling inside me. The concern in his eyes, and the urgency in his voice, all pointed to something I couldn’t quite grasp, but I feared I already knew.I stepped closer, my heart hammering in my chest. “Is it……” My mind raced, hoping I
The tears fell freely down my face. I couldn’t understand what had just happened—Regan’s abrupt departure, the empty words, the silence. It was like everything that had felt so real between us had just slipped through my fingers. I didn’t know how long I stood there, letting the tears fall, before I heard the sound of tires crunching against gravel. A car pulled up, the headlights piercing through the dark night. I quickly wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself, but I couldn’t stop the tremor in my hands. The door opened, and a woman stepped out.The woman has soft, chestnut-colored hair that cascades in waves down her back. She had a warm smile. She wore a simple, elegant outfit—a tailored jacket over a soft blouse. Her smile widened when she saw me, and she walked toward me with open arms.“Miss Anastasia! I’m so glad to finally meet you. Your mother spoke so highly of you, and I was so thrilled when she called me and told me you and your husband were looking for a place to have a
The road blurred before me, my vision a mix of tears and rain streaking down the windshield. I didn’t know where I was going, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to drive—to escape, to feel something other than the pain. I slammed my hands against the steering wheel, my fingers curling into the leather as I tried to steady my breath. “What the hell am I doing?”I was speeding, too fast for this kind of rain, too reckless in my desperate attempt to escape. The road in front of me was a blur, the rain so heavy I could hardly see past the windshield. The wipers swiped back and forth, but it didn’t help. Everything felt so... suffocating.“Why am I doing this?!” I muttered aloud, my voice shaking. “You’re being stupid, Anastasia!”The sound of the tires skidding on the wet pavement made my heart leap into my throat. I swerved, panic rising. I didn’t even know what I was doing.I tried to correct myself, but before I could even think, a flash of movement caught my eye.“Ahh!” I screamed, my
He stood there, drenched from head to toe, his rugged features softened by the concern on his face. His brown hair was tousled by the wind, a few strands clinging to his forehead as he made his way closer, his jacket sticking to his frame in the rain. The jeans he wore were soaked, hugging his lean figure, and despite the storm, there was a warmth in his eyes—a warmth that was the complete opposite of the coldness I felt inside.I could barely believe my eyes when I saw him standing there."Anastasia," he said again, his voice carrying a sense of relief mixed with panic.His face was full of concern. Without saying a word, he rushed over to me, kneeling beside me in the rain, his hands reaching out, but stopping just short of touching me."What the hell happened?"I could see the worry etched into his face, his brow furrowed, and his eyes scanning me, searching for answers. But I couldn't speak. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him properly. I just stared at the blood on my han
The car's engine hummed softly as Alex drove away, his focus entirely on the road ahead. We didn’t speak much during the drive, but I could feel Alex’s concern in the way he occasionally glanced at me, his brow furrowed with worry. I felt so exposed, and vulnerable, and yet there was something about his calm presence that grounded me. Eventually, we arrived at the house he had rented, a charming place. The rain was still pouring down in sheets, but I barely noticed it as Alex helped me out of the car and led me inside. The house was cozy and warm. He guided me to the couch, urging me to sit as he went to gather supplies. I watched him move around; his actions were quick but gentle. It was clear he knew what he was doing. “Just a few scratches,” he muttered as he carefully cleaned the scrape on my knee.The warmth of his touch as he tended to my wounds made me feel something unfamiliar, something soft, and I didn’t know whether I should be grateful or confused. "Thank you," I whisp
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
“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