Ace Merrill Stand By Me Novels & Stories

When he accidentally found this album at my place before, he'd scoffed, calling it childish, though he reluctantly agreed to take a couple of photos with me. I lit a fire in the brazier and placed the entire album inside. As the flames consumed our faces in the photos, my love burned to ashes with them. Just then, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find James standing there with a bag of medicine. His eyes moved past me to the brazier behind, his handsome brows immediately furrowing. "What are you doing?"

"Why can't you be more considerate of her, Tiffany? I'm doing this for the sake of our family. Can you really bring yourself to tell Lynda the truth?" I dug my nails into my palms, trying to snap myself out of it. But my silence only made them even more anxious. The next moment, Samantha Jenkins, my mother-in-law, who was standing beside me, started persuading me again. "The doctor said that it's just temporary amnesia. She might be fine in a couple of days. Just be patient. Everything will be fine once Lynda regains her memories!" The familiar words reached my ears, and it finally hit me. I'd heard these words all too many times—but that was all before I died.

Once upon a time, this place had been my turf. I pushed open the door to see Janae sitting inside with a wide smile. She seemed to have been waiting for me. "You look like a stray dog now, Renee. So what if I'm a stand-in? I'm the one Marcus loves now, and you are nothing. You're not even worthy of being my stand-in now!" she said. I stood there dazedly and looked around the familiar room, feeling like my heart was bleeding. Then, I heard Marcus' voice in the distance—he was shouting and warning me not to do anything to hurt Janae.

Even the crowd on the sidelines jeered at me. I saw my reflection in the mirror. I stood in a hospital gown with tangled hair, a bluish pallor, bloodshot eyes, and lips cracked from dehydration. I looked haggard and bedraggled. When I received the photo of Andrew and Ivy kissing, my composure gave way. Hungry for answers, I rang him repeatedly and fired off messages, but he stayed silent. With no better choice left, I had come to Connolly Group to look for him. Noting my silence and my refusal to leave, the bodyguards clamped my shoulders and forced me toward the doors.

“What’s official?” “Us. Like me, your boyfriend and...” he wasn't done speaking before Miranda started coughing. “Come again?” She said, “I said...” she interrupted again. “I know what you mean, but excuse me, you don’t ask a girl out that way. I mean don’t you watch movies?” Ace smiled. “Who cares about what happens in movies? We are already mates.” “Me, I care.” She said, touching her chest. Ace sniffed. “Okay fine. But first you will have to wait till I get out of the hospital. For now, we are friends.” He said, bringing his hand out for a handshake.

They wanted blood, denial, spin. They weren’t going to get any of that. I stood just behind the curtain with Alice in my arms. She was quiet, unusually so, her fingers wrapped around a loose strand of my hair as if anchoring herself. She had barely slept. Neither had I. But she felt solid against me—warm, alive, safe—and that was enough. Ace stood a few feet ahead, reading something on his phone one last time before slipping it into his pocket. He wasn’t wearing armor today. No emotional distance. No detached executive calm. He looked like a man who had chosen something and was prepared to defend it publicly.

I published a ten-minute statement video through my studio's verified account. No tears. No angle. Just evidence. Part one: five years of Whitmore & Co.'s ledgers, overlaid with the timeline of my original design files. Clean proof that for five years, one person had been running that entire company's output. Part two: an HD audio recording. From the night it ended. Ethan with his drinking buddies in that yacht cabin. "She was always Celeste's stand-in..." "All it takes is one sad-puppy act and she'll pull an all-nighter and give me a whole season for free..."

He wheels himself toward his studio without another word, the door slamming behind him hard enough that the sound echoes through the whole house. I stand there alone in his room, staring at the exercises we barely got through, and feel something crack open in my chest. ***** That evening, I’m sitting on the floor of my room with my back against the bed, phone pressed to my ear, waiting for Renee to pick up. She answers on the third ring. “Hey, girl. How’s mansion life?” Her voice is so normal, so familiar, that I have to close my eyes to keep from crying. “It’s hard,” I manage.

" its abe " what? what was he looking for? did he leave something with me or what. " did you forget something" " no please I just need you to come out" " what happened" I said I opened the door " I got locked out and I need a place to sleep" " have you tried telling the hotel staff" " yeah they said till morning before anything can be done" " okay well fine I guess we could share the bed its big enough for three" Abe's pov------

“You have thirty minutes. Get here now and stop keeping everyone waiting.” The message was sent. A red exclamation mark appeared beside it. Dominic stared.