All Chapters of The Man Of My Dreams: Chapter 11 - Chapter 17

Sunlight streamed in through the windows and brushed the heads of students as they moved from room to room in the King's Bridge University Architecture Quad in the midst of the autumn morning.She was sitting at a quiet wooden bench next to the fountain by herself, working on her last-minute revisions on her structural design homework on her tablet. Her mind was almost calm, for the first time in weeks. When asked about her mother's surgical date, she had been pre-programmed into City Heart Hospital, and her tuition account had a zero dollar balance. She had crashed over a frightening financial cliff she had been at for months and it was gone.But each time she shut her eyes, she did not see blue prints or tuition receipts.Her eyes saw the gray eyes of Adrian.You found me."The dream that had haunted her the past night still tingled her skin. It could no longer be ignored as a psychological malformation. Adrian was going through the same connection – that nocturnal sanctuary that he live

Inside Recovery Room 412, the only sound was the steady beat of the cardiac monitor's beep.Aurora sat in an armchair, clutched her mother's floppy hand, the mattress surrounding her was pulled up tight. Grace's face was paper pale, her greying hair pushed back from her brow, a transparent nasal cannula providing additional oxygen. The sheet was white, her chest rose up, slowly, fragile, but steady, under the white sheet.Alive.A breath shook Aurora as she laid her forehead against the edge of the bed. The fear that had been deep within her for since she was sixteen had finally relaxed, and she was plagued by a bone-ache.A heavy door behind her, creaking with silicone grease, opened.Aurora stood taut and ready for Damien's quick march, his demand for answers, his bruised ego demanding blood. But the steps were too silent, calm.The small visitor's sofa was draped with a dark wool coat. Adrian moved in gently to the wash of fluorescent lights with two paper cups from the machine dow

At the top of the brass doors to the Kingsbridge Administration Building, the clock struck the hour of eight in the morning.The autumn fog hung low over the stone steps outside, as it prevailed inside the executive boardroom. The walls were lined with heavy mahogany, and the air, with its faint aroma of roasted bitter coffee and imminent destruction.Vivian Sinclair was seated at the conference table close to the head, with her legs folded, in a perfectly fitted cream suit. Her pretty fingernails jangled against an open leather pocketbook. Richard Kingsley sat, like a statue of stone; behind his white, cold eyes was a storm. Damien sat slumped beside him, black faced and determined to look out at the rained-on window. He seemed as if he's waiting for a grenade he has set off, to explode.This is too much moral uncertainty," Dean Sterling said, his hands shaking as he adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles. The leak to the student press – though not identified – is taking traction. If it