جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 40

Camila called Mateo over fifteen times. Every single call went straight to voicemail. By the tenth call, panic had already fully settled inside her chest. By the fifteenth, she was fighting tears. She paced around the living room anxiously while rain hammered loudly against the windows outside. The weather somehow matched her emotions perfectly. Messy. Heavy. Chaotic. “Come on, Mateo…” she whispered shakily while trying his number again. Still nothing. Her mind kept replaying Lucas’s words over and over again. *You think he loves you?* *He’s probably using you to get back at me.* Camila squeezed her eyes shut hard. No. She refused to believe that. Not completely. Because whatever existed between her and Mateo felt too real. Too intense. No one could fake the way he looked at her. Right? Still… Doubt had already planted itself inside her chest. And now it was growing. Camila grabbed her purse quickly. She needed to see him face-to-fa

Camila stood frozen inside the hidden room while rain poured heavily outside the studio. Her heart still struggled to process everything Mateo had just confessed. The heartbreak. The betrayal. The addiction. And most shocking of all— Mateo was M.A. The mysterious billionaire painter whom the entire world admired. Suddenly all the missing pieces finally made sense. Why did he never care about family money? Why did he live comfortably despite supposedly being “cut off.” His paintings felt too powerful, too emotional to belong to an ordinary artist. Camila looked around the room again. The paintings no longer felt intimidating now. They felt tragic. This room was not proof that Mateo still loved his ex-girlfriend. It was proof of what heartbreak did to him. He painted pain because pain nearly destroyed him. Camila slowly turned back toward him. Mateo looked nervous now. Actually nervous. Like he was waiting for her to pull away. Waiting for h

The journey to Craneford took nearly two days. By the time Arabella’s carriage rolled through the countryside roads, every part of her body ached from exhaustion. Endless hills stretched beneath gray autumn skies while cold wind rattled against the carriage windows. London already felt far away. Good, she thought bitterly. Let society forget me entirely. She sat quietly wrapped in a dark wool cloak, staring blankly at the passing landscape. Villages became fewer the farther north they traveled. Large estates disappeared, replaced by forests, rivers, and lonely open fields brushed gold by autumn. Everything felt quieter here. Sadder somehow. The carriage finally slowed near sunset. “We’ve arrived, my lady,” the driver called. Arabella straightened slowly before peering through the window. A large stone manor stood at the top of a small hill surrounded by dying rose gardens and tall overgrown hedges. Smoke drifted weakly from only two chimneys. The Craneford es

Edwin came out for a swim to clear his head, he heard footsteps or rustling behind a tree but he ignored it because he suspected it might be some animals. He pulled off his clothing and jumped into the water. Immediately the water touched his skin he felt relaxed relieving the stress of the whole day. He could have sworn Someone was watching him. Then he heard the crack of a branch. Edwin stood motionless in the water, every instinct suddenly sharpened. The night had been silent moments ago. Now he could feel another presence hidden beyond the willow trees. His dark gaze settled on the shadows near the pond’s edge. “Who is there?” he asked calmly. Silence answered him. But he had seen movement. Small. Quick. Not an animal. A person. Edwin slowly moved toward the shallower part of the pond, water rippling around his waist. He reached for the loose white shirt resting near the rocks before pulling it over his shoulders without taking his eyes off the trees.

Edwin had made a mistake. That became painfully clear the moment he returned to Emerson Manor. He should not have teased her in the marketplace. Should not have watched her blush beneath his words. Should certainly not have admitted that roses reminded him of her. Yet despite all reason… He could not regret it. Edwin loosened his cravat as he entered the library, but the familiar quiet of the manor brought him no peace tonight. Because Arabella Rose Hamilton had somehow followed him home inside his thoughts. Again. He poured himself a drink and moved toward the tall windows overlooking the darkening hills of Craneford. Rain threatened in the distance. The countryside was calm. But Edwin’s mind was anything but. He still remembered the sight of her standing outside the bookstore earlier that afternoon. Soft curls moving gently in the wind. Pink cheeks. Wide startled eyes. Beautiful. The word returned relentlessly now. Not the polished beauty Lo