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Semua Bab Ashes of Love; Fire of Vengeance : Bab 81 - Bab 90

120 Bab

Imprisoned

(Jennifer’s P.O.V.)Four years ago, my father locked me inside my bedroom like it was a punishment he could seal with wood and steel.He took my phone first. The landline connection was cut off. Meals came on a tray left at the door, like I was a prisoner no one wanted to deal with. No one was allowed in.Except him.And even when he came, it was never a father visiting his daughter. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t ask if I was eating. He would walk in, close the door behind him, and stand there with that same cold patience.He had only one demand.“Marry the man I choose. Forget Adrian.”At the office of Smith & Hale, Adrian was not in a good position either. Dad was already planning how to trap him in some “administrative malfunction” case and send him to jail. I didn’t know the details back then. I only knew Dad had the power to ruin someone quietly. He threatened me with Adrian’s downfall.That was the point when I almost gave up.Fine. I will do what he says.Because it wa

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The first move

Hope is a dangerous thing.It does not arrive gently. It does not knock and wait to be welcomed. It slips into your blood like fever, quick and bright, and suddenly the cage around you looks less like iron and more like something that can be broken.For one terrible moment, I let myself imagine it too clearly.The front gates. The long driveway. The guards turning their heads at the wrong second. My body moving faster than my fear. The cold night air filling my lungs. Freedom.Then Oliver shifts in my lap with a sleepy sigh, and reality comes rushing back hard enough to make me feel ashamed.Leo is still watching me with those solemn, dark eyes that children should never have. Eyes that have already seen too much, understood too much, and still somehow hold innocence inside them like a stubborn little flame.He thinks he is helping.And I… God help me… I want to let him.That want sits inside me like a stain.I look down at Oliver first. His small hand is fisted in the fabric of my dr

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Chosen by the wrong man

“Did you miss me?” Mr Shaw asks, that same satisfied smile resting on his lips.This is not the first time he has come to this room. Every night, he knocks, and every night I lie perfectly still beneath the sheets, pretending to be asleep. I keep my breathing slow and even, my eyes shut, my fingers curled into the blanket while his presence lingers on the other side of the door like a shadow that refuses to leave.In the morning, he waits for me at the breakfast table, even after everyone else has finished eating and gone.I barely speak to him. He fills the silence himself, talking about random things in that smooth, controlled voice of his while serving food onto my plate as if care and control are the same thing. If I do not want to eat, I tell him no. Otherwise, I stay quiet.The only good thing is that we do not have to face each other much. Most of the time, he stays busy with his upcoming election campaign and office work. On some days, when he remains at home, he joins us for

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Mrs Sabrina Shaw

The rest of the day passes without trouble. After breakfast, Mr Shaw leaves for the office, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the hallway long after the front doors close behind him.Jason heads to the headquarters of Smith & Hale. Our new attorney, Mr Sterling, has instructed him to attend regularly, understand the work, and especially report any case-related matters directly to him. Neither Mr Shaw nor Heidi objects to that decision.Sara and Sasha are no longer going to school. None of their friends answer their calls anymore. One classmate had agreed to share lecture notes, but only on the condition that she be told every piece of gossip about me.Inside Shaw Mansion, I have nothing to do except sit and endure the slow drag of time. If I open social media, the comments and curses from strangers are more than enough to fill my stomach with bitterness. So lately, I have started painting. It is not that I am an expert artist, but I could not think of a better way to pass th

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The party

The venue comes into view before evening fully falls.Our car glides through a pair of massive wrought-iron gates, their black bars crowned with gold tips that gleam under the fading light. My breath catches the moment we pass through them.This is no ordinary house. It is almost a palace, with towering columns, wide stone steps, and arched windows glowing amber against the deepening dusk, reminding me of Shaw Mansion or Smith Manor, but even those seem restrained compared to this place. The estate feels older, heavier, as if history itself is pressing down from the walls. I would not have been surprised if royalty had once walked these grounds.Mr Shaw must notice the look on my face.A faint, knowing smile touches his lips as he leans back in his seat. “Sterling’s great-grandfather was a lord,” he says, his tone smooth and casual, as though he is discussing the weather. “His grandfather was a former president. This palace holds more than two hundred years of history.”So I was righ

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A party of secrets

“Are you feeling uncomfortable, ma’am?”The voice cuts through the haze in my head, pulling me back to the present.I turn slightly and find the same waiter standing beside the sofa... the one who brought me the juice earlier. Under the warm chandelier light, his face looks careful and polite, with a trace of concern in his eyes.“You look pale,” he says again, lowering his voice as though he doesn't want the others to hear.For a second, my throat is too dry to speak. The room feels bright and stifling, thick with perfume, laughter, and the clink of glasses. My fingers tighten around the stem of the glass in my hand before I manage to whisper, “Can you bring me a tissue?”“Of course, ma’am.” He gives a small bow and walks away.Before I can even steady my breathing, Mr Shaw steps closer.“What happened to you?” he asks, his brows drawing together. “Why are you sweating?”His tone is low, almost gentle, but it does nothing to calm me. He pulls a neatly folded handkerchief from his poc

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White marble, red blood

Something cold splashes across my face. Not once, but twice. The shock of it cuts through the dark like glass.I drag in a broken breath and choke on it immediately. My throat burns. My lips part, but all that comes out is a weak, ugly cough. Something cold runs from my temple into my hair, then slips down the side of my neck. I can’t lift my hand to wipe it away. I can barely feel where my body is.For a moment, I don’t know where I am. There is only darkness, and sound. Men’s voices cut through the haze, close and rough, but they blur together before I can understand them.Someone’s shoes hit the tile hard. A man grunts. Another voice spits out a curse.Then another splash hits my cheek, and my eyelids twitch open.Light stabs into me at once, so bright that my vision swims and the world loses its edges. Everything is only shape and motion, blurred into streaks of pale gold and shadow. The floor beneath me tilts strangely. My head feels too heavy for my neck, as though someone has f

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Falling into the quiet

When I wake the second time, the white ceiling greets me first.A machine beeps softly somewhere near my left side. Air conditioning whispers through a vent overhead. Rubber wheels squeak faintly in a distant corridor.The smell of antiseptic reaches me next.I try to move, but my body feels heavy, sluggish, as if I’ve been asleep for far longer than I actually have. My eyelids flutter open with reluctance, and my mouth feels dry. My tongue tastes faintly of bitterness, and it’s hard to swallow.I blink rapidly, trying to focus, my vision still swimming.“She is awake,” a man’s voice says, low and steady. “Please... check.”Jason.A woman in a white hospital gown leans over me. “Let me call the doctor,” she offers, adjusting something on the IV line.I clutch the blanket beneath me, my fingers digging into the soft fabric.“My baby...” The words scrape through my raw throat. The pain of speaking is almost worse than the physical ache in my head.At the sound of my voice, the nurse’s e

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Police outside the door

After two months and three days, I step back into my apartment. As the door creaks open, I hesitate for a moment, bracing myself.I had expected it to be filled with dust, a reflection of my absence. Instead, a wave of warmth and familiarity hits me like a soft embrace as I cross the threshold. I inhale deeply, taking in the smell of my old space. The faint scent of wood polish is mixed with the lingering notes of lavender, a smell I always miss so much.I glance around. The apartment looks as if no time has passed, everything in its place, just as I’d left it. Before I even arrived, Steve, the butler of Shaw Mansion, had already ensured that it was taken care of. No dust, no mess. Just… my home, waiting for me.I walk deeper into the apartment. My stomach tightens a little, unfamiliar now, with the curve of pregnancy, and I brush my fingers over my abdomen. The weight of it has become something I’m still learning to carry. The reflection of my growing belly stares back at me from the

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An unbearable truth

I’m sitting in a room where a sharp light is burning right above my head. My body is slumped in the cold metal chair, exhausted from all the things that happened today. The rest of the room is swallowed in darkness, an almost oppressive gloom that makes the bright overhead bulb feel like an interrogation spotlight. My eyes sting, the light too harsh, a constant reminder of the chaos that’s happened. My throat is dry, and scratchy. Every inhale feels like sandpaper scraping against the inside of my throat. I need water. I need something to drink, anything to stop this constant burning sensation.A sharp kick in my stomach makes me wince. The little one inside me seems to sense the tension, too. Now it’s trying to remind me that I’m not alone, I need to keep my baby safe too. I gently place my trembling hand on my belly, feeling the pressure beneath my skin.“Mommy’s here,” I murmur hoarsely, though my voice cracked. “She won't let anyone hurt you.”But not only do my words feel li

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