Bianca stands before the mirror in her private apartment, framed by warm lamplight. Her fingers trail lazily along the glass as though she were stroking her own reflection. She sprays a mist of her most expensive perfume across her throat and wrists, then leans closer, mashing her crimson lips together until they glisten.Her gown clings to her like a second skin. Black silk, cut daringly low in the front, exposing the soft swell of her breasts. The slit climbs far up her thigh, leaving little to imagination when she moves. Every curve, every line of her body is meant to tempt. She shifts her stance, arching one hip, letting the slit part wider. She tilts her chin, watching herself with satisfaction. Yes. She looks like sin wrapped in silk.She poses, crossing one leg in front of the other, her lips curving in a slow, sultry smile. From the mirror, she catches movement at the corner of the room. Ramon. He is trying not to stare, but his eyes betray him. They linger too long on her nec
Adrian’s gaze lingers on her, steady yet unbearably sad. His eyes, usually warm and filled with a quiet strength, now look hollow, as if some part of him has been stripped away.Adrianna grips the blanket tighter, her knuckles white. She cannot bear the way he is looking at her, as though he is the one guilty, as though her mistake has wounded him more deeply than herself.“Adrian…” her voice cracks, fragile. “I… I don’t even know what to say. I…”He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his broad shoulders hunched under the weight of the moment. For a long time, he does not speak. When he finally does, his tone is soft, careful, but it trembles at the edges.“Don’t say anything yet,” he murmurs. “Don't do anything yet. Don’t decide tonight. Don’t decide tomorrow. Just… breathe. One breath at a time.”She blinks, startled. “But—”He raises a hand gently, not to silence her, but to reassure. “I know what you’re thinking. What does this mean? What Lance will say… what everyo
The doctor slides the needle gently out of Adrianna’s vein, placing a small square of cotton on the mark before taping it down with practiced precision. His hands are steady, the sort that has repeated this act so many times it has become ritual. Yet his expression carries the quiet weight of words he has already spoken.“You need rest,” he says, his voice even, almost fatherly, as he adjusts the stethoscope looped around his neck. “Both physically and emotionally. Your body is under strain, and prolonged stress will worsen that strain. Increase hydration, no stimulants—absolutely no caffeine, no alcohol. Eat balanced meals. Fresh fruits, green vegetables, lean proteins. Prenatal supplements will stabilize your folate and iron levels. You are mildly anemic—your hemoglobin is low—so we will address that as well. Most importantly, your sleep cycles must stabilize. Irregular rest can heighten your risk of complications.”The words are measured, professional, but every syllable slams agai
The sun hangs high, blazing gold against the endless blue sky. The water sparkles like liquid glass, every wave breaking into diamonds beneath its light. Around the lagoon, the group is alive with laughter, splashing, and the occasional shriek of excitement as someone dives beneath the clear surface to chase after the fish swimming in bursts of color.Bianca is the loudest of them all, her laughter carrying over the water, her hair catching the sun. She dives and resurfaces like a child unburdened, her smile as wide as the horizon. Adrian is beside her most of the time, teasing, racing her through the reef, and pulling her into little water fights. Their sibling energy fills the air, infectious, keeping everyone smiling.Everyone except Adrianna.She sits on the shore, legs stretched forward, the fine white sand soft and cool beneath her hands. Her bikini is modest compared to Bianca’s, her cover-up lying forgotten beside her. She stares out at the water, at the endless stretch of blu
The restaurant sits right on the edge of the lagoon, its floor open to the sand, its walls nothing more than tall wooden beams and linen curtains that sway with the night wind. Lanterns hang low, their golden light flickering across polished teak tables. The air smells of salt and charred seafood. Somewhere, a violin plays softly, the notes blending with the crash of waves.The long table gleams under the lantern glow. Platters of lobster, bowls of steaming rice laced with saffron, skewers of king prawns and pineapple, tropical salads glistening with lime, trays of dragon fruit, papaya, mango. Every dish is arranged like a piece of art. A bottle of chilled champagne sweats into an ice bucket near Lance's chair.Lance sat at the head of the long teak table, his posture perfect, his knife and fork untouched. His presence was a wall of authority, yet his eyes moved constantly—watching Adrianna, watching Adrian, watching Bianca as she laughed too loudly, sipping her passionfruit juice lik
The roar of the jet’s engines faded into the salt-heavy air as the Vallerand jet touched down on the sleek runway of Malé International Airport. The humid wind rushed in the moment the aircraft doors opened, warm and fragrant with the scent of seaweed, coconuts, and brine.The world here was a painting come to life. The sky glistened like polished glass, its deep blue horizon cradling the ocean below. The sea fractured into a thousand shades of turquoise and emerald, jeweled with sunlit ripples and dotted with islands the size of pearls. White sand gleamed in the distance, impossibly pristine, as if untouched by time.Paradise. A word whispered in glossy travel brochures. But for those descending the jet stairs, paradise was an illusion, a stage where unspoken dramas were about to unfold.Lance was the first to step down, his tall frame cutting a figure of absolute control. Dark sunglasses concealed the storm in his eyes, but inside, he was boiling. His jaw flexed once as he scanned t