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minor dependents, major threat

Author: Abigail Dee
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-07-09 17:28:10

It took forty minutes, two stories, one glass of water, one absurd negotiation over whether the red car was allowed to “breathe” outside his bedroom door, and one very quiet threat from me before Aiden finally fell asleep.

The red car stayed in the garage.

The little toy car was allowed to sleep on the nightstand.

It was a compromise that, according to Aiden, still violated several basic rights of professional drivers, but his eyes had grown too heavy for him to continue the lawsuit. He slept o
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  • The Wrong Bernardi   friendship, with archival evidence

    “I heard you.”“That was intentional.”Kehlani laughed as she washed her hands at the kitchen sink. “I missed this house.”“This house?” I grabbed a small towel. “The place where my son renames drivers, Darren insults planters, and you perform illegal dental exams in the foyer?”“Yes.” Kehlani smiled, softer this time. “This house.”I pretended to be very busy drying Aiden’s hands.It was easier than letting my face do something annoying, like soften.Darren was already sitting at the island, positioned like a talk show guest waiting for his interview to begin. The second Aiden finished washing his hands, Darren pulled him onto his lap. Aiden settled there like it was his personal throne, little legs dangling, his black bangs drying into a mess across his forehead, his face deeply satisfied now that he had a full audience.“Mami said we have to eat first,” Aiden reminded Darren, whose hand was already drifting toward a croqueta.Kehlani pointed at Aiden. “Look at that. Moral authority

  • The Wrong Bernardi   love, leverage, and french fries

    Darren took the lunch bag from Elma’s hand and kissed both her cheeks before she had a chance to escape.“Elmo.”Elma closed her eyes. “Don’t you start too.”“Darling, I respect your stage name.”“It’s workplace trauma.”From Kehlani’s arms, Aiden pointed at Elma. “Elmo complained the whole car ride.”“Because you tried to explain to Hans that the carpool line needed a pit stop,” Elma said, pulling Aiden’s little jacket out of the backpack.“Hans agreed.”“Hans did not agree. Hans said, ‘Okay, buddy,’ because he’s afraid of you.”I turned. “Who’s Hans?”“The substitute carpool driver,” Elma said. “His name is Kenneth.”I went quiet.Darren looked at Aiden with a level of pride that was genuinely disgusting. “You gave the man a new name?”Aiden nodded. “He looks like Hans.”“Based on what?”“His face.”Kehlani closed her eyes. “I can’t laugh. I’m an adult.”“You can,” Darren said. “I’ve already laughed internally hard enough to generate an invoice.”I walked over to Aiden and wiped a l

  • The Wrong Bernardi   god help me, he has the face

    His cheeks were flushed from excitement. His eyes were blue, bright, offensively beautiful, and his face, God help me, his face was a miniature replica of one particular Bernadi man, only chubbier, stickier, and significantly more likely to be carrying rocks in his pockets.Elma stood behind him carrying Aiden’s backpack, lunch bag, water bottle, and one piece of school artwork that appeared to have been created with paint, glitter, and a personal vendetta against clean surfaces. Her hair was slightly mussed around her face.She looked at me. “He saw Darren’s car.”Aiden proceeded to do something that was clearly not a ninja salute, not a driver salute, and not anything ever recognized by any legitimate martial art. One little hand crossed over his chest, two fingers came up in a peace sign, his knees bent, and then he made a quiet engine noise.“Vrrm-ya.”Darren covered his mouth with one hand. “Perfect.”Elma looked up at the ceiling. “He practiced that in the carpool line.”I close

  • The Wrong Bernardi   the boy & the sensei

    “Darren, I’m holding something sharp and my emotional vitamins are running low,” I hissed.“That threat lost its impact after the thirteenth time you said it before brunch over the course of our friendship.” Darren had already opened one of the paper bags on the island, pulling out food containers like he was performing an organ transplant. “Oh, this is still hot. Kehlani, look. The empanadas survived Maya’s psycho planter.”“My planter is not psycho,” I said, reaching for the cutting board.“It tried to break a hot man’s ankle.”“If that planter has taste, I’m letting it live.”Kehlani passed behind me with a pastry box in her hands, then stopped near the oven. She tilted her head and sniffed the air like a dentist who could smell a cavity from a spiritual distance. “Cake’s almost done?”“Fifteen more minutes.”“It smells incredible.”“Thank you. It’s the only thing in this house that doesn’t have an opinion.”“I have an opinion about that,” Darren called out.“You always have an opi

  • The Wrong Bernardi   luxury coping mechanism

    So I made a cake.A lemon olive oil cake, because apparently I had a terrible pattern in life and kept giving lemon-flavored things to problematic men, sharp-tongued best friends, and houses that needed to smell like something other than bad decisions. This one was not for Rhysand. That was important. I even said it out loud while zesting a lemon into the bowl.“This is not for Rhysand.”I mixed eggs, sugar, olive oil, lemon zest, yogurt, almond flour, a little vanilla, and salt. The mixer hummed softly. Morning light poured through the large windows, reflecting off the stainless-steel bowl, my nude-red nails, and the thin ring on my finger that I’d bought for myself after Cruz Atelier landed its first six-figure client. That ring always comforted me. There was no man behind it. No promise. No family contract. Just me, a paid invoice, and good taste.The cake went into the oven at nine-oh-two.The smell started rising twenty minutes later.Lemon. Sugar. Warm olive oil. A little elegan

  • The Wrong Bernardi   scope creep, emotionally

    This morning, I decided not to go into the office.Not because I was afraid of running into Rhysand. Obviously not.I was Maya de Cruz. I did not fear men. I charged them layout change fees after business hours and made them repeat themselves if they called me sweetheart. I once made a billionaire wait seventeen minutes outside a ballroom because he said, “All white flowers are basically the same,” and needed time to repent.So no, I was not afraid of Rhysand Bernadi, the man who had stood in my kitchen yesterday, laughed because I threw a wet sponge at him, then gone to dinner with his fiancée after leaving behind sentences that should’ve been locked in a basement and labeled flammable.I was simply choosing to work from home.Like an adult woman.In cream silk pants, a thin off-the-shoulder sweater, my hair tied up carelessly, and my laptop open on the kitchen island like a small altar where I sacrificed my patience.Aiden was already at school.That helped.The house without Aiden

  • The Wrong Bernardi   Dawn Found Me Guilty

    Morning arrived far too politely for something that should have come in carrying a fire extinguisher.I woke before the sun was fully up, with pale light slipping through the gap in Rhysand’s suite curtains and falling over my skin like an accusation.For a few seconds, I didn’t move.There were ge

  • The Wrong Bernardi   Bad Boy Kiss Better

    He picked up his whiskey and took a small sip. It’s too easy. Too controlled. I wanted to disturb him. I wanted to make him lose his flat fucking face. I wanted something tonight to be messy, unmanaged, not wrapped in family and money and shame.“I’m not a good man, Maya,” he said quietly.“I know.

  • The Wrong Bernardi   Bad Reputation, Better Smile

    Ricky took my hand and led me through the crowd. A few guests turned to look. Someone called my name. My aunt from Cartagena waved far too enthusiastically.I ignored her.Then I saw Rhysand Bernadi.And the most annoying thing was that Ricky had not been exaggerating.The man stood at the edge of

  • The Wrong Bernardi   Safe Choice

    HawaiiI knew something was going to go wrong the moment Mama started crying when she saw me coming down the stairs.Mama cried like she had just watched her baby being delivered to a royal sacrificial altar, when in reality her baby was wearing a white silk dress with a low-cut back, my great-gran

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