All Chapters of Abyss.: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

It had been exactly one week since the incident, and the weight of it still clung to me like smoke.The office still smelled faintly of burnt coffee and old paper, even though the cleaning crew had come twice. I sat behind my desk, the city lights smearing gold across the glass wall behind me, when Juan pushed through the door without knocking.He dropped the files with a soft thud and sank into the chair opposite me, legs crossed, head tilted back so he could stare at the ceiling like it owed him answers.“I think they’re all connected,” he said quietly.I waited, thumbing the edge of one of the folders. “Who?”“The guy who burned down her house. The intruder who came through the window and turned the knife on himself. That hotel photo leak that had your faces plastered everywhere for three days straight.” He paused, tapping one finger slowly against the desk.“ Same signature. Same sick mind pulling the strings.”I looked down at the carpet. The words landed heavier than I expected.

Isabelle looked devastating in that dress. The cream fabric clung to every curve I hadn’t fully noticed until tonight, soft hips, the gentle swell at her waist, the way it dipped low at her back. She was thick than I’d let myself admit before, and God, it suited her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.“Hey.” Lucas’s voice snapped me back.He stepped forward and pulled Isabelle into a quick hug. She hugged him back, easy and familiar.“What are… you doing here?” she asked, smiling as she eased away.They talked low, comfortable but my gaze stayed glued to her. The way the light caught the glitter in her dress, the shy tilt of her head when she laughed. She was driving me out of my mind just by existing.“Oh,” she said, glancing at me. “He didn’t tell me you’d be here too.”“I didn’t know he’d be here either,” I replied, sliding my hands into my pockets. “Juan must’ve invited him.”“We should go,” Lucas said, eyes on Isabelle.“Um…” She hesitated, looking at me. “We’ll meet you there. I’ll

The venue screamed old-money luxury the moment our car rolled up. A fleet of gleaming Bentleys, Rolls-Royces, and Lamborghinis lined the circular drive, their polished chrome catching the golden hour light like jewels. Valets in crisp black uniforms moved with practiced efficiency, doors opening and closing in quiet symphony.Ahead stretched the red carpet,plush crimson velvet unfurling like a royal invitation, flanked by velvet ropes and a phalanx of photographers. Flashes popped like distant fireworks. We were stepping into the spotlight, and for once, it felt like we belonged.“I’ve never done this before,” Isabelle whispered, her voice barely above the hum of the crowd. Her fingers tightened on the clutch in her lap, emerald silk shimmering under the exterior lights.I glanced at her, those red waves cascading over one shoulder, the off-the-shoulder neckline framing her collarbones perfectly. “Just walk like you own it. Head high, shoulders back. You look breathtaking.”She ex

Someone really needs to research Mondays and why so many people hate them. From what I've gathered online, it's not just the memes, studies say it's hardwired, the abrupt shift from weekend freedom to work drudgery spikes stress hormones, even for retirees. For me? It's those damn files and endless meetings that pound headaches into my skull. But honestly, it's not all bad as long as things run smoothly, I don't have anything against it. Except this Monday. It was a deceptively quiet blue sky day outside, but inside my office? Pure chaos.“You started it!” one staffer shouted at the other.“I left the machine clean and working, but him..he always acts like he knows everything!” the second fired back.“Do you all think this is a joke? You’re grown adults acting like babies,” I spat, anger boiling over.“I’ll pay for the machine, but you two will pay for your stupidity. After you leave this door, I don’t want to see you ever again. You’re fired.” My voice was low, edged with exhaustio

After an hour on the road, the car finally slowed. Rain hammered the roof like it wanted inside. We stepped out under the porte-cochère, water sluicing off the black SUV. The new house rose ahead glass walls reflecting storm clouds, sharp modern lines cutting the night. Everything untouched, still wrapped in plastic and cardboard, waiting for someone to claim it.Isabelle stared up at the soaring facade, raindrops catching in her lashes. “Are we staying here permanently?”I didn’t answer. I just followed her inside.The door clicked shut behind us. Rain roared against the windows, muffling the world. The foyer smelled of fresh paint and new wood clean, sterile, untouched.She turned.We were suddenly so close.Her jasmine scent wrapped around me, warm and dizzying. Those big eyes pulled me under. I couldn’t look away. I couldn't think.She was beautiful in the dim entry light, wet strands clinging to her neck, coat slipping off one shoulder, satin dress molded to every curve from th