LOGINI didn’t sleep.Not properly.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the photographs.Two girls.Same smile.Same face.Frozen in frames like nothing had ever gone wrong.By the time morning came, I had already decided one thing.I wasn’t asking Damien about them again.Not directly.Because last night told me everything I needed to know.He wouldn’t answer.At least not in a way that made anything clearer.So if I wanted answers—I’d have to find them somewhere else.I was halfway through getting dressed when there was a knock on my door.Soft.Precise.“Come in,” I called.The door opened, and Damien stepped inside like he already owned the room.Which, technically—He did.His gaze moved over me briefly, taking in the half-finished state of my outfit.“You’re up early.”“I didn’t sleep.”“I noticed.”That
Or so I thought......I didn’t open the drawer.I just stared at it.For a long moment.Then I leaned back on my hands and looked up at the ceiling.“…no.”Because if I opened that manuscript again right now, I already knew what would happen.I wouldn’t sleep.I wouldn’t think.I’d just keep reading until I reached something I couldn’t unread.And based on the direction Katherine’s story was going, that moment wasn’t far off.So instead, I pushed myself up from the bed and walked to the window.The curtains were slightly open, letting in a thin slice of moonlight. The garden outside was quiet. Still.Normal.Everything looked normal.Which somehow made the house feel even stranger.I crossed my arms and leaned lightly against the glass.“Too quiet,” I muttered.Because it was.Not just tonight.Every night.The kind of quiet that didn’t f
I was just about to turn the page when I heard it.A sound.Soft.But too deliberate to be nothing.I paused, my finger still resting on the edge of the paper.The room was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that makes even your own breathing sound suspicious.Then it came again.A creak.Not inside my room.Outside.In the hallway.I slowly lowered the manuscript.“…okay.”That wasn’t normal.The house had been silent for the past hour. Completely still. Like everything had gone to sleep—including the walls.Which meant one of two things.Either Damien was awake.Or someone else was walking around his house.Neither option made me feel better.I closed the manuscript carefully, sliding the pages together and placing them back into the drawer beside the bed. My movements were slower than usual, like making too much noise might somehow make things wo
I didn’t want to read the next chapter.That’s the strange part.Up until now, Katherine’s story had been… complicated, but still warm. Romantic even. There were moments where I almost forgot the ending I already knew was coming.But twins changed things.Not just for Katherine.For the story itself.Because now I knew exactly who those twins were supposed to become.Sarah.And Samantha.Two little girls who, according to the manuscript, didn’t survive childhood.Which meant somewhere in these pages, things were going to go very wrong.I looked down at the stack of paper again.My fingers tapped the edge of the page slowly.“Maybe I should stop,” I muttered.Then I turned the page anyway.Katherine’s Manuscript — Chapter 7Pregnancy is not the glowing, magical experience people describe in novels.At least not for me.For me it felt like my body had been hijacked.The nausea started first.Every morning.Like clockwork.Damien noticed immediately.Of course he did.He notices everythi
I told myself I should sleep.That was a very reasonable thought considering it was well past midnight and I had already read more of Katherine’s autobiography than any sane person probably should.But the problem with stories—especially unfinished ones—is that they refuse to leave your brain alone.I stared at the manuscript sitting on the desk.Then at the door.Then back at the manuscript.Somewhere in this house Damien was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that his entire romantic history was currently being reviewed by the woman he had practically kidnapped into marriage.The thought made me snort quietly.“Your life choices are questionable, Hailey.”Still.My hand reached for the pages again.Because if Katherine’s story explained anything about the man I was living with, I wanted to know.I flipped to the next chapter.Katherine’s Manuscript — Chapter 6There is a moment in every marriage where the quiet routine suddenly changes.Sometimes it is something small.A disagr
The house had gotten quieter while I was reading.Not the peaceful, comforting kind of quiet either—the kind that tucks you in and whispers go to sleep like a normal person.No.This was the suspicious kind.The kind that made every small movement feel like a crime. Pages turning too loudly. Chair creaking like it was about to expose me. My own breathing suddenly became very… noticeable.Which made sense.It was late.Very late.The kind of late where responsible, well-adjusted people were asleep, dreaming about productivity and hydration.Unlike me.Who was currently sitting at a desk, reading what was essentially a private romantic archive—diary-adjacent material—about the man living down the hall.You know.The same man who kidnapped me.Totally normal behaviour.Absolutely nothing to unpack there.I shifted in the chair, tucking one leg beneath me, as if changing positions would somehow make this whole situation feel less unhinged.It didn’t.Still, I kept reading.Because apparen
I told myself I was going to sleep.That was the plan.Close the manuscript. Turn off the light. Pretend I had never just read three chapters of a dead woman describing Damien like he was some kind of attentive romantic hero.Very doable.Very responsible.I closed the manuscript.Then immediately
I should have stopped.That’s the responsible thing to do when you realise you’re reading something that was clearly not meant for your eyes.Instead, I turned the page.Because apparently my curiosity is stronger than my sense of morality.Also… if someone leaves a ma
The house had gotten quieter while I was reading.Not the peaceful, comforting kind of quiet either—the kind that tucks you in and whispers go to sleep like a normal person.
I told myself I was going to sleep.That was the plan.Close the manuscript. Turn off the light. Pretend I had never just read three chapters of a dead woman describing Damien like he was some kind of attentive romantic hero.Very doable.Very responsible.I clo







