Regan’s POVI woke up slumped over my desk, the dull throb of a headache pounding against my skull. The empty bottles scattered across the table painted a picture I didn’t need to see. The bitter taste of last night’s whiskey lingered in my mouth as I rubbed my temples, trying to clear the fog clouding my thoughts. It was no use. The memory of that night clawed its way to the surface. Her face came rushing back, vivid and haunting. Anastasia—her head turned slightly to the side, crimson streaking down from her temple. Her eyes, wide with pain and disbelief, bore into me like accusations.And me—like a goddamned fool—standing there frozen, saying nothing.A groan escaped my lips as I pushed myself upright. Every muscle in my body protested the movement, stiff from a night of brooding and drowning in liquor. My head spun as I glanced at the clock on the wall. Three days. It had been three days since Anastasia walked out of that party. Three days since I last saw her.I never reached h
Anastasia's POVThe grand estate loomed before me; a vision of opulence bathed in the warm glow of a thousand twinkling lights. Lush gardens, meticulously manicured, flanked the sprawling mansion, and I could see guests and prominent conglomerate families making their way inside, their laughter and chatter filling the air.The driver, sent by my grandfather, pulled the car around to a discreet entrance at the back. As I stepped out, a woman in a crisp uniform materialized at my side. Her smile was polite, her hair was pulled back in a tight bun."Miss Anastasia," she greeted, her voice smooth as silk, "please follow me."I was a vision in red – a long, flowing halterneck gown that hugged my curves perfectly, red stilettos that clicked softly against the polished marble floor, and even my lips and nails matched the fiery shade. But despite the glamorous facade, I felt anything but. Nausea churned in my stomach, and a cold sweat slicked my palms. Every nerve in my body screamed at me to
Our family scattered like well-rehearsed performers, each drawn into conversations with different groups of guests. Regan and I found ourselves in the center of the room, surrounded by a cluster of people who seemed more interested in gushing praise than having a genuine conversation. I forced smiles, answering their questions with as much grace as I could muster."You look absolutely stunning tonight, Anastasia," a woman with elaborately styled copper hair and a dress dripping with diamonds fawned over me. "And so radiant together! A Montreal and a Del Valle, a match made in business heaven, some might say.""Thank you," I replied, my smile strained but practiced. The woman, whose name I couldn't recall, continued to chatter, but my attention had drifted. Dread dropped on my stomach as I spotted a familiar blonde head making its way through the crowd.Zarina, her blonde hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, approached our group, a smug smile plastered on her face. Beside h
I looked away, trying to focus on another guest who had come to speak with us. The woman, a socialite named Mrs. Harrison, was animatedly discussing their latest charity event."Anastasia, you simply must join us next month. It’s for a wonderful cause. We’re raising funds for children’s hospitals.""That sounds lovely. I’ll see if I can make it."Meanwhile, Regan seemed distracted, his eyes constantly darting around the room. He barely acknowledged Mrs. Harrison’s husband, who was talking about his new business venture."...and that’s why we’re investing heavily in renewable energy," Mr. Harrison was saying. "It’s the future, don’t you agree, Regan?"Regan snapped back to attention. "Yes, absolutely," He glanced at me, then back at the door.Mrs. Harrison looked at Regan with concern. "You seem a bit preoccupied, Mr. Del Valle. Is everything all right?"Regan cleared his throat, his face flushing slightly. "I apologize, Mrs. Harrison. Just a lot on my mind at the moment. Excuse me fo
My gaze darted towards the doorway, a desperate hope that Regan might somehow show up and intervene. And then, as if on cue, the doors swung open, revealing both Regan and Zarina stepping through the threshold. They entered side-by-side, their expressions unreadable. Regan's eyes met mine, surprise replaced by worry crossing his features.The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My breath hitched in my throat, a strangled gasp that escaped my lips before I could stifle it. Pain, raw and searing, ripped through my chest. My mind was a chaotic mess. Hurt mingled with anger.Before I could even contemplate a response, the emcee called my name again, his voice booming through the silent hall. "Miss Anastasia?"A hand, cool and firm, materialized on my arm. I looked down to see my stepmother, her face plastered with a wide, predatory smile. The smile didn't reach her eyes, though, and the grip on my arm was like a vice, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my flesh. I knew ex
A flicker of movement on the edge of the stage caught my eye. The band members exchanged confused glances. Then, a familiar face emerged from the shadows – the old man from my music school, his kind eyes crinkled in a smile that held a lifetime of understanding. It was a small gesture, but it was enough.Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. Taking a deep breath, I raised my trembling hands and hovered them over the cool ivory keys. The music book in front of me lay open, displaying the familiar score of "Moonlight Sonata."In that moment, guided by the raw ache in my heart, I began to play. The first notes were hesitant. But as I poured my emotions into the music, the pain of loving Regan, the bitter sting of betrayal, a transformation began to take place. The gasps of surprise from the audience, the almost imperceptible click of hundreds of cameras capturing the moment – all faded into the background.Tears streamed down my cheeks; each note a raw expression of the pain I
I wiped my tears away with trembling hands and looked at him. Regan’s jaw was clenched, his face grim and unreadable. Yet, there was something in his eyes—an unspoken emotion that made my heart ache even more. He walked over to me, each step heavy with hesitation, and reached out a hand. His fingers brushed against the red mark on my cheek with a gentleness that belied the chaos around us.My eyes met his, brimming with tears and pain.“Anastasia,” he began, his voice raw and full of regret. “I’m so—”But he couldn’t finish. A voice cut through us like a knife, sharp and demanding.“Regan!”We both turned, startled, to see Zarina standing in the hallway, her arms crossed and her expression cold. Her voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation.“I need to talk to you. Now.”Regan hesitated, his gaze flickering back to me. His hand dropped to his side, leaving the warmth of his touch lingering on my skin.“Zarina, not now,” he said firmly, his voice carrying an edge of irritation.“P
Sheila’s POVThe door to the operating room swung open with a soft hiss, releasing a waft of sterile air tinged with antiseptic. I stepped out, still clad in green scrubs, my hands trembling faintly from the adrenaline of the past hours. Tugging off the blue net cap, I raked a hand through my sweat-damp hair, my chest tightening as the weight of what just happened began to settle in."Dr. Cortez," a nurse called out as she hurried toward me. "The patient's family is here waiting outside."I froze, my brow furrowing. "Family? Are you sure about that?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, the lingering edge of fear and exhaustion bleeding through.It wasn’t uncommon for patients to arrive at the hospital without anyone. But Anastasia... Anastasia’s world was complicated. Her family was complicated."Yes, Doctor," she replied softly, her eyes glancing briefly at the operating room doors behind me. "They're asking about her condition."My heart thudded painfully in my chest, the gho
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