LOGINRoderick stood just outside the courthouse steps, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the stone pavement. He adjusted his suit jacket, ready to leave, when Victor stepped up beside him.“What are your plans now?” Victor asked quietly, hands in his pockets. “About Aria?”Roderick exhaled slowly, staring out at the busy street. “I’m still going to put her on a trust fund. She’ll get it when she turns nineteen. She shouldn’t have to pay for her parents’ crimes. But right now, I need to prioritize telling her the truth. I don’t want to keep her in the dark for too long. Before that, though, I think Taylor should be the one to do it. She wants to meet her mom.”Victor nodded slowly, watching his son. “Any news on Camille?”Roderick’s expression darkened. “Not yet. It’s really difficult finding someone who doesn’t want to be found.” He paused, then added, “Anyways, I’m leaving now.”He turned and walked toward his waiting car without another word.--- The afternoon sun beat do
The morning light poured through the tall arched windows of the Crown City Courthouse, casting long, sharp shadows across the polished marble floors. Roderick walked down the central aisle with measured, deliberate steps, his lawyer on his right and Victor on his left. He was dressed in a sharp black suit that fit him perfectly, but nothing could hide the exhaustion carved into his features — the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders carried the weight of too many sleepless nights.They took their seats on the prosecution side, the wooden benches creaking softly under their weight. Across the aisle, Helen sat alone, her hands clasped so tightly in her lap that her knuckles were white. She looked smaller than usual, older, her eyes red-rimmed as she stared straight ahead, refusing to meet Roderick’s gaze.The side door opened with a heavy, metallic click that echoed through the room. Two prison guards in crisp uniforms escorted Taylor into the courtroom. She was handcu
Miguel stood over her, breathing hard, eyes dark with fury and lust. Camille scrambled backward on the bed, but he was faster. He unbuckled his belt with quick, angry movements and grabbed her wrists. She fought him, twisting and kicking, but he pinned her down with his weight.“No— Miguel, please!” she begged, voice breaking. “Don’t do this. I’m sorry…just stop!”He ignored her completely. He forced her arms above her head and wrapped the belt tightly around her wrists, buckling it to the sturdy wooden bed stand. The leather dug into her skin as she pulled desperately against it, the metal clinking loudly.Miguel got off the bed and walked to a side door she hadn’t noticed before. He opened it, revealing a hidden room bathed in low blue lighting. The walls were lined with shelves of sex toys, restraints, whips, paddles, and other equipment… a private, fully equipped space designed for his darkest desires.He disappeared inside for a moment and returned holding a thick, realistic d
Roderick sat on the edge of his king-sized bed in the master suite of the penthouse, the city lights twinkling far below the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was past 7:30 PM, and the exhaustion from the day weighed heavily on his shoulders. His laptop was open on the bedside table when a notification from Ten popped up.He clicked it open. The screen filled with several photos and a short video clip. Conrad was captured at one of the southern seaports, speaking closely with a group of rough-looking merchants near their boats.Roderick’s jaw tightened as he watched the footage. Ten’s call came through immediately after.He answered on the first ring. “What’s the context of this video?”Ten’s voice was steady on the other end. “I wasn’t able to get the full conversation. Conrad and the merchants went into one of the small lodging houses at the port right after. But there’s no doubt about it — Conrad is one of Miguel’s most trusted men. He’s been lingering around that area lately but hasn
Camille paced the length of the lavish bedroom like a caged predator, her bare feet silent on the thick Persian rug. Every step she took was sharp, agitated, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as if she could physically fight the walls closing in around her.‘How did I let this happen?’ The thought burned through her mind like acid. She, Camille Lockhart — the woman who had clawed her way from nothing to build C&A Sardines into a powerhouse — felt weak. Pathetic. The frustration clawed at her chest until she wanted to scream. She stopped at the window, yanking the heavy velvet curtain aside. Nothing but endless dark forest stared back at her. Trees so thick they swallowed the moonlight. There were no lights, no roads, no hope.She truly was in the middle of nowhere. The realization settled like lead in her stomach. Even if she screamed until her throat bled, no one would hear. Even if she ran, how far could she get before he caught her? The isolation was suffocating.
The black SUV glided to a smooth stop outside La Belle Époque, one of Crown City’s most elegant restaurants. Golden hour light bathed the stone façade, and soft piano music drifted faintly from inside. Roderick killed the engine and stepped out, adjusting his sleeves before opening the back door.Adrian and Aria tumbled out, still buzzing with leftover energy from their afternoon at the park. Adrian’s shirt had a grass stain on the sleeve, and Aria’s hair was slightly windswept. Both kids looked happy but tired.“Come on,” Roderick said, offering each of them a hand. “Let’s get something good to eat.”The hostess recognized him immediately and led them to a quiet corner booth with a view of the small garden patio. Candles flickered on the table. Roderick helped the children settle in, then took his own seat across from them.Menus were brought. Adrian’s eyes widened at the pictures. “I want the cheesy pasta!”Aria pointed at the same page. “Me too, but with the red sauce. Not the whi
Camille sat on the edge of the king-sized bed, phone clutched tightly in her hand as the clock struck 10:17 p.m. She had called Roderick’s line twenty-three times. Twenty-three unanswered calls. Each one rang until it went to voicemail, his deep voice coolly instructing callers to leave a message.
Camille Lockhart wondered, not for the first time, what a truly married couple looked like. Did the wife wake up to warm arms and softer kisses? Did the husband look at her like she was the only woman breathing on earth? Or was marriage simply this — two strangers sharing the same expensive cage, b
Roderick was done for the day. It was already 5:30 pm. He had been supposed to leave much earlier, but he had spent the last half the time sitting at his desk, staring at his phone, trying to summon the courage to call Camille. Every time he picked it up, his thumb hovered over her name, and the c
Camille dragged herself into her bedroom, shoulders heavy from the long, stressful day. The meeting with the wholesalers had drained her completely. The demand for glass containers was turning into a logistical nightmare — overtime for the workers, new machines that weren’t fully ready, and the co







