MasukThe house had gone quiet, but Aiden had stopped noticing the silence.He sat alone in his study, surrounded by documents that seemed to multiply every time he turned a page.Property records.Old access logs.Company registrations.Marcus Hale's information.Blackwood connections.And the authorization records he'd already studied more times than he cared to admit.His mother's name was there.His father's name was there.He already knew that.That wasn't what bothered him anymore.What bothered him was why they had been given access in the first place.Aiden leaned back and rubbed his tired eyes.His mind kept returning to the same question.Why had Daniel Scott needed a property like that?And why had someone gone to such lengths to use it years later?His phone rang.Aiden looked at the screen. Lucas.He answered immediately. “It better be something good.”“I found something.”Aiden straightened. “About the authorization?”“Yes.” Lucas's voice carried a seriousness that immediately
Damien remained standing long after Aiden's car disappeared from view.The engine's fading sound seemed to linger in the evening air, even after the road had gone quiet again.He should have gone back inside.The children were still waiting for the last few boxes of supplies to be packed. The other volunteers were already cleaning up the learning centre. But Damien couldn't move.His eyes remained fixed on the empty road.Something about what he'd just witnessed bothered him. He couldn't explain what it was.Aiden had come to pick Evie up. That wasn't strange. Aiden had always been protective of her. Everyone knew that.But the way he'd looked at her...Damien frowned.It hadn't looked like an ordinary brotherly concern.He remembered Aiden's expression when he approached them. The tension in his jaw. The way his eyes had moved between Damien and Evie.Jealousy.The word entered Damien's mind before he could stop it.He immediately rejected it.That's ridiculous. Aiden was Evie's broth
“Are you jealous?”He didn't answer.Her mouth slowly curved.“You are.”“I don't like the way he looks at you.”“He was helping me.”“He was flirting with you.”“He was being friendly.”“He wasn't.”Evie shook her head. “You're impossible.”“And you're not getting back out of this car until I calm down.”She stared at him. “That's not how this works.”Aiden's expression softened slightly. “You don't get to say anything right now.”Then, instead of arguing, he moved into the passenger seat at the back of the car and pulled her gently toward him.Evie landed across his lap, making her straddle his waist, startled. “Aiden!”He wrapped an arm securely around her waist.“What are you doing? And why are we in the back seat? Are we not going home?” “Slow down, angel. One question at a time.”“Well, what are you doing?”“Reminding myself that you're here.”She stared at him. “You could have just asked me to sit beside you.”“I could have.”“Then why didn't you?”“Because I'm jealous.”The h
Morning arrived at the Scott mansion in a rare moment of tranquillity. Illuminated through the expansive, ornate windows of the breakfast room, cast a warm glow on the polished mahogany table and illuminating the swirling steam rising from Evie's steaming mug of coffee, which shimmered with a near-golden hue. Evie sat comfortably with her sleek laptop open beside her chipped ceramic plate, her fingers deftly scrolling through a lengthy list of names on the illuminated screen. Aiden caught sight of her routine activity. "You're already working?" he inquired softly, raising an eyebrow.She looked up. “I'm not working.”“You've been staring at that laptop for ten minutes.”“Because I'm preparing for the outreach program.”Aiden poured himself coffee. “The one at the learning centre?”She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. We're helping the children with tutoring today, and we're also taking books and basic school supplies.”Aiden watched the excitement brighten her face.“You're looking forw
Grace looked down. She could tell her.She could tell Maria about Isabella. About the money. About the drink. About the photographs.About the threats. She could finally stop lying.But then she remembered her mother's face.Her mother's small house.The medical bills Isabella had once offered to help with.And the threat that had followed when Grace tried to pull away.“If you speak, your mother will suffer.”Grace's throat tightened.She shook her head. "Nothing."Maria frowned. "That doesn't look like nothing."Grace forced herself to smile. "I'm just tired."She turned before Maria could ask anything else.She walked down the corridor.Made it around the corner.Then stopped. Her eyes burned.She pressed one hand against her mouth to keep herself from crying. She had almost done it. Almost told the truth. But fear had won again.That evening, Isabella called.Grace stared at the phone for several seconds before answering. She already knew why Isabella was calling. She didn't want
Morning arrived like a sudden slap, jolting her awake. Grace had become skilled at sensing danger through subtle cues: the house's usual activity level dipping into silence, signalling that something was amiss. Scott Mansion rarely fell completely quiet; always, there was some background noise—perhaps the faint clatter of dishes in the kitchen, the soft footsteps echoing across polished marble floors, the steady hum of the air-conditioning system, or the distant, muffled sound of a door opening and closing, each detail building a picture of normalcy that, when absent, hinted at trouble.But that morning, the silence felt unnervingly different—thick and oppressive rather than gentle. It seemed to follow her closely, almost tangible. As she carried a silver tray piled with teacups and pastries through the dimly lit servants' corridor, it pressed insistently against her back, making her shoulders tense. She had barely slept, her mind haunted by a relentless thought that refused to leave







