Amelia sat in her grand but dimly lit living room, the weight of Father Michael’s words pressing heavily on her chest. The comfort of home did little to quell the storm brewing inside her. The air in the room was thick, as if even the walls shared in her despair. Her hands trembled slightly as she glanced at the untouched tray of food the maid had quietly placed beside her hours ago. She hadn’t eaten all day. The thought of food churned her stomach, amplifying the nausea rising from the pit of her guilt.The door creaked open, breaking the stillness. Victor stepped inside, his presence imposing but gentle. His eyes, sharp and searching, immediately found hers. “Mother?” he called softly, his voice heavy with concern, though he tried to mask it. “Why haven’t you eaten?”Amelia’s heart clenched at the sound of his voice, a son’s devotion wrapped in every syllable. She turned slowly, her gaze lingering on his face, the strong jawline that reminded her so much of his father. But her mind
The butler stood quietly in the dimly lit study, his eyes fixed on Anderson Blackwell, who was pacing with restless energy. The room was strewn with papers and open books, the result of a long night of brainstorming. Anderson’s brow was furrowed in deep thought, his usually calm demeanour disrupted by the gravity of their situation. Finally, Anderson stopped pacing and turned to the butler. “We need to get Lena out of the country, away from Victor’s reach. I’ve decided she should be transported to Germany until after she delivers. It’s the safest option for her and the child.” The butler raised an eyebrow, though his expression remained inscrutable. “Germany? That’s quite a distance. And what about the logistics? We’ll need to ensure her safety during transit and once she arrives.” Anderson nodded sharply. “I know. We’ll have to use every resource at our disposal. Arrange for a discreet flight and make sure she’s guarded until she’s safely settled there.” The butler hesitated f
Victor Montgomery leaned back in his leather seat, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as the plane descended toward the runway. His eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction, his mind already a step ahead. Anderson thought he could outsmart me? The thought amused him. He had waited patiently for this moment, and thanks to Raul, his most trusted assistant, everything had fallen into place perfectly. Raul had delivered valuable information: one of the Blackwell guards had cracked, spilling every detail of Anderson’s so-called master plan. It was laughable, really. Anderson, with all his resources, had failed to account for the one thing Victor excelled at—predicting the unpredictable. While Anderson thought everything was under control, Victor’s men were already in Germany, waiting for Lena’s arrival. The jet touched down with a soft thud on the runway. Victor adjusted his suit jacket, smoothing out the creases as he stood. He cracked his neck, his movements deliberate, unhurri
The night was unusually quiet in the Montgomery estate. Amelia paced the room, her heart pounding as if it carried a secret she could no longer bear. She paused by the window, staring at the darkened horizon. The reflection in the glass revealed her own haggard face, worn down by the weight of years—years of lies, deceit, and manipulation. Amelia turned from the window and beckoned her maid, her voice colder than usual. "Where is my son?" The maid hesitated, knowing the answer might unsettle her. "Madam... Victor is in Germany." Amelia’s breath hitched. "Germany?" she repeated, her mind racing. What was he doing there? Why wasn’t she informed sooner? The maid nodded, clearly sensing the tension in her mistress. "Yes, Madam. He’s been overseeing matters personally." Amelia waved the maid away with a dismissive hand. "Fetch me some ink and paper. I need to write a few letters tonight." "Yes, Madam," the maid curtsied and swiftly left the room. As soon as the door clicked shut, A
Amelia arrived at the hospital for what was supposed to be a routine check-up. As she sat on the examination table, her doctor frowned at the results on his clipboard.“Mrs. Montgomery, you haven’t taken your medication for the last month,” the doctor said, looking up with concern. “This is serious.”Amelia waved her hand dismissively, cutting him off. “I don’t need it. Don’t you see? I’m perfectly fine without all those pills.”The doctor sighed. “Amelia—”Enough!” She snapped, her voice ice-cold. “I’ve lived long enough to know what my body needs.” She slid off the examination table, grabbing her purse as she stormed toward the door.The doctor watched helplessly as Amelia left the room, her stubbornness an unmovable force. Outside, Amelia entered her car, her mind already far from the doctor's warnings. But as the door closed and the engine started, an unfamiliar voice greeted her from the front seat.“Who are you?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she saw a man in the backseat.
Victor stormed into the Montgomery estate, fury radiating off him with every step. His voice echoed through the grand hall, cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. “Where is her driver?!” The men flanking him froze in place, exchanging nervous glances. One of them pointed to the trembling chauffeur standing by the corner, eyes wide in terror. Without hesitation, Victor reached into his jacket, pulling out a sleek black gun. He aimed it with deadly precision and fired. The shot rang out sharply, reverberating through the silent house. The driver collapsed to the floor, his lifeless body falling with a dull thud. “Useless!” Victor screamed, his voice hoarse with rage. “All of you! Useless!” His breath came in ragged bursts as he glared at his men, his chest heaving. He couldn’t stop the storm raging inside him. He needed answers, and he needed them now. “Have you tracked her location yet?” His voice was low now, but the danger in his tone was unmistakable. The men b
Anderson sat up in bed, staring blankly into the shadows that stretched across the room. The Blackwell Estate, usually a sanctuary, felt like a suffocating cage tonight. No matter how he tried, sleep evaded him. His mind was heavy with thoughts—his mother's past, His other mother's death, Victor's endless schemes, and the newfound weight of his identity as Anderson Blackwell. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, and decided to take a walk, hoping the cold halls of the estate would clear his head. The estate was eerily quiet at this hour. The chandeliers hung like ghosts above his head, casting long, pale shadows on the walls. He wandered aimlessly, his footsteps barely making a sound against the marble floors. Somehow, he ended up in the library, the one place that always drew him in when he felt lost. As he walked past the towering shelves, something caught his eye—an old, ornate bookshelf that seemed slightly out of place. He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and
Three nights before Jacob Montgomery's death, a spirit roamed the earth in silence. Andrew—once known as a simple café boy—had died. His death had come without warning, but what followed was far more chilling. After his passing, his spirit lingered, restless, and wandering. He drifted aimlessly through cities and fields, unaware of the time that had passed. When the fateful moment came for his soul to return to his body after a week, his body was gone. Panic surged through him as he searched in vain. He couldn't find it. His body, his very own vessel, had vanished. There was no peace in this limbo, only a strange pull toward something he couldn’t understand. The pull eventually led him to a mansion. Something about this place felt familiar, more like Déjà vu. He couldn't place the exact connection, but the sensation gnawed at him. Was it the architecture? The smell of old wood? He drifted further, drawn by an invisible force until he found himself attached to a specific room. It wa