All Chapters of Ripples And Hills: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Elviira.Wisteria Vine, Northern FinlandDecember 23rd, 1981.It’s extremely dark outside.The winter air is brutally cold, the kind that bites straight through lace and silk. My thin dress offers no protection, only shame. The frozen trail crunches beneath my feet as I run, thudding, trembling, seeking solace in the jaws of death. Jaws of death that I know I should run away from. But I don't want to run away from it. I'm running towards it.Yes, I’m running toward death. Because if I don’t, my life ends in another way. A slow, bitter death... inside that house. That house I once grew up has become a thorn on my flesh. A bane to my once peaceful existence.My name is Elviira Laine. I’m the only daughter of Niko and Sini Laine, heirs to the once-glorious Wisteria Vine.And today, I was married.To Richmond Hills, a wealthy Scottish businessman, twenty-two years older than me. He is forty. I am eighteen.To the world, it was a fairytale union. Wealth. Power. Status. Applause rang the mo

Alexa.Jon’s warning comes too late.We slam into the refreshment table with the force of a car crash, glass, chocolate, and sweet desserts exploding around us. The music screeches to a halt, and silence punches the room. Every pair of eyes swivels to us.I blink, stunned, covered in red wine, icing, and shame.Then I see them. My parents, stone-faced. My mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, my father’s jaw clenched. Ashley, pristine and perfect in white, stares at me like she’s watching a tragedy she predicted. Her smirk is a knife.And then… Hulio.He looks at me with a strange mix of pity and disgust, like I’m something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. His gaze lingers, just long enough to carve the humiliation into my chest—before he turns and listens to a whisper from some elegant woman beside him.That’s when the tears come. Quiet at first. Hot and sharp.I bolt.I barely make it to the hallway before I slam into something solid. I almost fall again—God, not again—but arms ca

Alexa.Saturday, December 24th. Morning…The morning after is worse. Despair still overwhelms me. My heart is overtaken by mixed feelings as I lay on the bed. The vacuum groans as Stella cleans my room.“Miss Alexa, you don’t look well. Should I call your mum for you?” Stella’s worried tone distracts me.“No, Stella. I will be fine.” I grumble inside my pillow.Reluctant to wake up.“But...”“I’m fine.” My tone is clipped.I’m anxious. Scared. My head is throbbing hard.“Sorry Miss.” Stella mutters.I barely register her apology. I’m considering not going for breakfast. But grandma would worry if I don’t.‘You need to eat, Alexa,’ she always says. ‘I don’t want you skin and bones like Ashley.’How do I face my family now that I’m awake? How do I erase what happened last night? How do I avoid all the harsh words that will sting the moment they’re thrown at me.′These are the thoughts that race through my mind as I finally descend the stairs slowly, each step heavier than the last. I wi

Hulio.Sunday, December 25th – Next day; Christmas Morning.Knock. Knock. Knock.“Hulio!”That voice. Impatient. Sharp. Familiar. I groan, burying my face in the pillow, willing the sound to disappear. But it doesn’t. My head throbs. Wine? Whiskey? Champagne? Maybe all three. Either way, regret’s hammering behind my temples.I ignore the door and roll toward the warmth pressing against me. Chelsea. Naked, soft-skinned, a sleepy moan escaping her lips as my hand slides over the curve of her hips.“Hulio!”Ahh! Helia again. Louder. Unamused.“Just a minute,” I bark, low and clipped.Chelsea stiffens.“He’s going to fire me, if he sees me like this…” she whispers, her voice trembling, laced with dread.I pull her closer, kiss her shoulder.“Relax, Chelsea. I promise—he won’t.”I say softly, teasing. Knowing full well I might be lying.She bites her lip as I slide out of bed, dragging on a pair of pants. The door flies open as soon as I unlock it. Helia stands there, tension radiating fro

Alexa.Night.It’s night now. I’ve slept most of the day. Doctor Edgar came with a sedative—stress relief, he called it. Said my body was stuck in absolute shock.He’s right. I still feel the tremor beneath my skin. My stomach rejects even the mildest food. I puked all day and slept the rest of the day. No one celebrated Christmas today cause of today’s chaos.My sanctuary became a battlefield. Christmas day became horror. My body remembers.I sit up in bed just as the door creaks open. Mum steps in first. Dad follows. Both cautious. Eyes soft, worried.Mum’s voice wavers.“How are you, kiddo?”I blink, startled by the emotion in her tone. Concern? Real concern? What does this mean?“We came earlier,” Dad says gently. “But you were asleep.” They sit beside me—one on each side. It feels foreign. Unnatural. I don’t remember the last time I was cradled between them like this. Silence sits heavy between us. Thick. Unfamiliar. Awkward. And it hurts.“You don’t have to do this,” I rasp.The