A Spitfire, A Suit And A Death Sentence

CHAPTER 21: A Spitfire, A Suit And A Death SentenceSophia I remained rooted to the threshold, the morning air crisp against my skin, but it was the man in front of me that caused the real chill.I was officially being dissected. Not by a scalpel but by the intense gaze of the man standing before me.He stared back at me, studying me with a clinical, high-resolution intensity that made me feel like a slide under a microscope.Oh, sweet mother of pearls. Why is every doctor in the universe suddenly trying to X-ray my soul?First Harrison last night, now this one. Do I have ‘mysterious past patient’ tattooed on my forehead?Lionel Ashford didn’t just occupy space, he commanded it.Lionel stepped over the threshold, and his sheer presence was a physical weight.He was towering, six-four at least—a lean but solid jet-black-haired skyscraper of a man with deep blue eyes shielded by glasses that only made him look more like a gorgeous predator.I took an involuntary step back, Summer bump

“He Stole The Silver?”

CHAPTER 22: “He Stole The Silver?”AndrewThe air in my study felt like it had been sucked out of a vacuum.I stared at Lionel, my brain stuck on the word “dying” as if it were a foreign language I hadn't quite mastered.I stood back up and walked back toward him.“Explain,” I commanded, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register. “What do you mean, she's dying?”Lionel didn't blink. "Odette is very sick, Andrew. She’s been showing advanced symptoms of Huntington’s disease. It’s aggressive, and it’s not letting up."I let out a harsh, cynical bark of a laugh. "Huntington’s disease? Really? That’s the script she’s going with now? Lionel, you of all people should know that Odette is a virtuoso of the lie. Nothing that comes out of her mouth is true unless it’s been verified by a priest, a notary, and a forensic team. She’d fake a plague if she thought it would get her a front-row seat at a gala.""I ran the tests myself, Andrew," Lionel said, his voice husky and devoid of its u

A Spittle On The Sidewalk

CHAPTER 23: A Spittle On The SidewalkSophia The interior of Miss Aria’s cottage was a masterclass in cozy clutter.The air was a thick, comforting blend of lavender sachets, mismatched throw pillows, paperback glue, stacks of knitting magazines, yarn in every color imaginable spilling out of baskets and the faint, sweet smell of Vanilla.It was a space that didn't just welcome you, it hugged you until your ribs cracked.Miss Aria was ensconced in her throat—a high-backed rocking chair that rhythmically creaked against the hardwood like a ticking clock.At seventy, she was as sharp as the knitting needles currently clicking away at a bright blush-pink sweater.Her glasses were perched on the edge of her delicate nose, making her look like a particularly scholarly owl.I stepped onto the porch and gave a quick knock.“Sophia, dear, come in before you catch a draft,” Aria called out, and I entered.“There’s my girl,” She set the needles aside and opened her arms.I crossed the room and

A Telenovela Twist And A One-Way Trip To Kazakhstan

CHAPTER 24: A Telenovela Twist And A One-Way Trip To KazakhstanSophiaThe atmosphere in the study was thick enough to choke a horse.It smelled of Sharon’s soft baby smelling perfume and the lingering, metallic scent of the sudden heavy rain that had started to pelt the windows.Outside, the sky was the color of a fresh bruise, but inside, the storm was much more personal.I sat with my arms crossed tightly over my chest, my eyes darting between Sharon and Andrew like I was watching a high-stakes tennis match where the ball was made of C4.They were currently locked in a verbal wrestling match over Cyrus’s upcoming wedding—a Portland gala that sounded about as fun as a root canal without anesthesia.Sharon paced in front of the fireplace like a prosecutor building a case.“You have to go,” she said for the third time. “Cyrus's wedding is the perfect opportunity.”Andrew tilted his head, voice lazy. “Perfect for what? Spend four hours watching Cyrus pretend he knows how to love anoth

Birthday From Hell

CHAPTER 25: Birthday From Hell Delilah The Rusty Anchor smelled like spilled beer, fryer grease, and the faint citrus bite of whatever Lisa had used to wipe down the bar five minutes ago.Neon signs buzzed overhead—red "OPEN” flickering like it was having an identity crisis.Pool balls cracked in the back, cues scraping felt, someone yelling “eight ball, corner pocket!” and missing by a mile.The jukebox was stuck on a loop of old-school country that half the patrons were too drunk to notice.Phones pinged, glasses clinked, laughter rolled in waves.Jimmy stood behind the bar like a zen bartender monk, measuring pours with surgical calm while Hunt flirted with a group of regulars and Lisa restocked the speed rail, bottles clinking like impatient wind chimes.I perched on my favorite stool at the end of the bar chatting with Tony.He was sweet, harmless, the kind of guy who brought flowers instead of expecting them.“... I've done this countless times before but never in a bar but it

“Looks Like We’re Doing A Pool Scene, Baby”

CHAPTER 26: “Looks Like We’re Doing A Pool Scene, Baby”SophiaThe bathroom was a humid sanctuary, thick with the scent of bath bombs.I sat on the edge of Summer’s tub, sleeves rolled to my elbows, warm water sloshing gently every time she poked at the mountain of bubbles.Vanilla cupcake foam clung to her chin like a tiny beard, she giggled, blowing a handful into the air so it floated down like sweet-smelling snow.My phone rested on the vanity, speaker on, Daphne’s voice spilling out like a spoiled toddler mid-meltdown.My phone sat on the marble vanity, the speakerphone amplifying her voice until it bounced off the subway tiles like a jagged razor.I was currently knee-deep in suds, scrubbing a giggling Summer, trying to maintain my sanity while my sister treated a phone call like an audition for a daytime soap opera.“.... I'm telling you, Sophie, it's a hostage situation!” Daphne wailed.“I can't even film a simple TikTok tutorial without Ulysses lumbering into the frame like a