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
As Alex pulled up to the grand driveway, I felt a lump forming in my throat. The house loomed in the darkness, familiar yet somehow alien after the whirlwind of the past few days. I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, my hands trembling as I reached for the door handle. Before I could step out, Alex rounded the car and opened the door for me. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice grounding me. “You’re going to be okay. One step at a time.” I nodded; my throat too tight to respond. As I stood, he surprised me by pulling me into a hug. His arms wrapped around me firmly, shielding me for just a moment from the storm raging in my chest. “Call me if you need anything”“Thank you”He pulled away, his hands lingering briefly on my shoulders before he stepped back. I gave him a faint smile, the best I could muster, and watched as he walked back to his car. He paused for a moment before getting in, as if he wanted to say something else, but then he simply gave me a small wave and drove away. Turning
Five days had crawled by since the trip. Since the storm Regan left without a word, leaving the mansion feeling even emptier than usual. The silence in the house seemed to stretch on, oppressive and suffocating. The maids had fussed over me all morning, urging me to eat, but the sight of food on a silver platter only turned my stomach. Nothing felt right. I couldn’t shake the image of him walking away, of his cold eyes, and the thought that he might be with Zarina now.Zarina. Her name lingered in my mind like a bitter aftertaste. I had no proof, no confirmation, but the way Regan had behaved—it made sense. Maybe they were together. Maybe that was why he’d stormed off. The thought of him with her twisted something inside me, something dark and painful. I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn’t help it. It was all I could think about.I reached for my phone again, fingers trembling as I unlocked it. I scrolled through the messages and then tried calling Regan’s number, again, for
We pulled into the driveway, the festive decorations already visible through the front windows of Ella's house. Sheila parked the car and turned to me with a concerned frown. "Anastasia, are you sure you're up for this?" she asked softly. "We can turn around and head home if you'd rather.""No. I came this far. Besides, I wouldn't want to disappoint Ella."Sheila reached out and squeezed my hand gently. "Of course not. But if things get too overwhelming, don't hesitate to tell me, okay? We can sneak out anytime."Taking another deep breath, I forced a smile onto my face. "Alright, let's do this."We climbed out of the car and made our way towards the house. The cheerful sounds grew louder as we approached. As we reached the front door, it swung open, revealing Ella standing there, a radiant smile lighting up her face."Anastasia!" she exclaimed, "You actually came! I'm so happy to see you!" Before I could respond, she pulled me into a hug, the scent of fresh flowers and baby powder
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