تسجيل الدخولEmily
Nathan did not return until later, his lips swollen from the kiss and Lily trailing behind him. I simply laced my hands around his, adjusting his tie as cameras clicked around us, wanting to take a hot shot of the latest elite couple in the society. I felt those eyes on me again, but I ignored it reaching for a glass of champagne as I and Nathan climbed the stage, thanking everyone for coming and participating in this 'special moment' that would mark the beginning of a union between two families Everyone clapped, murmuring how perfect we seemed together. I downed the drink in a toast, distancing myself from Nathan the moment we were no longer the focus of attention The alcohol warmed me quickly, loosening the tight coil in my chest. Conversations blurred into background noise—laughter, clinking glasses, polite congratulations. I smiled when required, nodded when spoken to, but my thoughts kept drifting back to dark eyes and a voice that didn’t ask permission. By the time the party began to thin out, I felt… light. Not drunk enough to lose myself, but enough that the edges softened. Enough that my body felt louder than my conscience. When I finally excused myself, it was with a polite lie about being tired. A housekeeper pointed me down a hallway. “Guest rooms are on the right,” she said. I nodded and walked—slowly, carefully, heels quiet against the carpet. The door I chose looked like any other. I didn’t realize my mistake until I was already inside. It was obvious it wasn't a guest room, the room was tastefully designed and the specificity and complexity of it could not be denied. I looked around, whoever lived here was definitely not someone to mess with, the expensive decorations alone were enough to make my father grovel and make my stepmother's mouth water. It was larger. Masculine in a way the guest rooms weren’t—deep colors, clean lines, a faint scent of expensive cologne and something sharper beneath it. I should have left. Instead, I sat on the edge of the bed. My head felt heavy. My thoughts slow and slippery. I told myself I’d rest for a minute and then find the correct room. That was when the door opened. I looked up, surprise evident on my face. Why was he here? I forgot to ask Nathan about him. The unknown man stood there, jacket already off, sleeves rolled back, as if he’d been expecting to end his night alone—which was normal, except he should be in a guest room, not here. He seemed older, probably in his late thirties, and carried himself with a weight of authority and confidence. His gaze dropped to me. The silence stretched. “You’re in the wrong room,” he said. “So are you” I retorted. He raised an eyebrow, didn’t move to leave. Instead, he closed the door behind him. The click echoed in my chest. “You’ve been drinking,” he observed. “A little,” I said. I stood, a little unsteady, and he reached out—to steady me. His hands hovered, giving me time. Choice. I didn’t step away. That was when his fingers finally closed around my arm. Warm. Firm. Controlled. “You should leave,” he said quietly. “So should you” I replied. Neither of us moved. Then his lips were on mine. I froze, then kissed him back, if Nathan could frolick around with Lily right under my nose, then I could allow myself this one night of passion. The mysterious man pulled back just enough to look at me. “This doesn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” he said. I nodded. “I want it.” That was all it took. His lips were back on mine. Deeper now, more aggressive, like he wanted to swallow me whole. I responded as much as I could, moans slipping out of me before I could control them. I clamped my mouth shut trying to stifle the moans as his mouth traced down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. That would definitely leave marks, but I was too overwhelmed to worry about that. His eyes moved slowly towards my hands covering !y mouth. "What are you doing?" he asked. Curiousity and something else...fear maybe, flicking through his eyes. "There are people in the house" I replied, expecting him to get it. But he didn't. "And?" "They'll hear us. And what if the owner of the room comes in?" He smiled, relief spreading across his face as he buried his face in my neck. "I thought you changed your mind." he said, his hand moving along my back to unzip my dress, his eyes locked into mine. I place a kiss on his lips. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I'm being so bold right now. This is so unlike me, but it would be nice to unshackle myself once in a while right? "I didn't" I reply, dropping my arms and letting the dress fall down to my waist. It was an armless gown and I didn't wear a bra underneath. His gaze moved over me slowly, as if committing each part of me to memory. The desire and hunger in his eyes made my proud of myself in a way I'd never been. It made me feel beautiful. I stood up gently, letting the dress fall to the ground and kicking my heels away. His eyes roamed over my body as he took me in, his desire for me burning in his eyes. I loved it, the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the world made my heart race. "We still have to be quiet" I reminded him as he took my hand in his and guided us back to the bed. "Don't worry, this room has enough soundproofing" there was pride in his voice "you can scream as much as you'd like." I flushed, my heart racing as he laid me back against the bed, his lips all over me again, this time harder and faster like he couldn't wait to taste every part of me. My hands moved along his torso to undo the button on his shirt and I gasped at the feeling of his skin on my fingers. He was fit. For an older man, I wasn't expecting much but he was muscular, his body packed with muscles in the right places, how could someone be this perfect? My hands moved along his upper torso, fingers brushing him softly above his belt. He flinched, his breath getting deeper as he grabbed my hands, pinning them above my head with one hand as he continued worshipping my body with kisses, his other hand tracing the lines around my breast, making me moan in anticipation. I gasped as he took the breast in one hand, kneading it softly, his thumb rubbing my nipple in a way that made my toes curl, heat pooling in my belly. His mouth was on the other breast, bitting and sucking, his other hand left mine, taking my breast in it. I screamed, my back arching forward as his tongue traced circles along my nipple. His mouth left my breasts, tracing kisses down my belly. His hand stopped at the strap of my underwear and he looked up at me, his eyes begging for permission. I nodded, once, and he smiled, the underwear gone in an instance. "You're wet" his voice was tense, his breathing ragged, like he was trying to restrain himself. His fingers moved along my inner thigh and I sucked in a breath, my eyes shut in embarrassment. "Look at me" he commanded, his thumb tracing circles around me, my eyes flew open, insides twisting at the authority in his voice. "Oh my God!" I screamed, my body tensing as he slipped a finger into me, heat pooling low in my belly as I clung to him, my fingernails scratching into his back. Another finger, and I came, screaming loudly as the heat rushed through me. "Fuck" his voice was husky, eyes locked onto mine, "do you really want this? Can I?" Why does he keep asking the same question? I nodded. His hands left me to unbuckle his belt and I watched as his pants came off, his eyes on mine as he took off his underwear. I tensed, and he smirked, "don't worry it'll fit" "It... it's my first time," I stammered, how am I supposed to survive that thing. "I know" he replied, "I'll be gentle" He moved closer, and I instinctively moved back, my eyes locked at the weapon between his legs. He grabs me, pulling me closer as he settles himself between my legs. "I'll be gentle, I promise" he reassured, lips brushing against mine. But I didn't believe, how gentle could you be with that thing. The kiss deepened and I felt myself melt in his arms, the tension leaving my body slowly. His mouth left mine as his hands slipped between us, his eyes locked on mine as though reassuring me. I winced as I felt him enter me. He tensed, his eyes on me. "Continue" I said, my teeth gritting in pain. Another thrust and I cried out, tears pooling in my eyes, he paused, holding me in his hands as he soothed me. "Are you ok?" "I'm ok, is it all in?" "This will do for now" he replied, "you can't take more " I wanted to protest, but he shut me off with a kiss, withdrawing a bit and thrusting back in as slowly as he could. The rest of the night unfolded in fragments. I don't know how many times we did it or how long we spent, but I loved every bit of it, his mouth tracing slow, deliberate paths; his hands learning me with patience that felt almost dangerous. He guided rather than took, watching my reactions like he was memorizing them. I felt exposed in a way I never had before. Desired without my mask on. Wanted without having to fake it. The quiet sound of my name on his lips. Time blurred. Thoughts dissolved. By the time I finally slept, it was with his presence wrapped around me, warmth enveloping me in a way that made me feel protected.Emily The exhibition opened on a Friday evening in October, the gallery walls washed in light that made Hope's sculptures glow with an inner luminescence I hadn't expected. She'd chosen marble for this series, the same Carrara I'd worked with for decades, but her treatment was different—rougher, more aggressive, the figures emerging from stone with a violence that suggested struggle rather than revelation. I stood in the center of the room, surrounded by my daughter's work, and felt the strange displacement of seeing my own artistic DNA expressed in a voice entirely foreign to me. The maternal hands I'd sculpted twenty years ago, cradling invisible possibility, had become something else in Hope's hands—hands that gripped, that fought, that tore at the stone that imprisoned them. Her "Emergence" was not gentle. It was a battle. A birth that cost blood. "Mom." Hope appeared at my elbow, twenty-six and fierce and still, in her way, the child who had asked if Leonard killed Serena. She
Emily “Mom?” Hope’s voice held that careful hesitation she used when she wasn’t sure she was supposed to find something. “I was looking for winter coats in the storage room, and this was in a box behind the trunks.” I wiped my hands on my apron, something tightening in my chest before I even turned. The album rested in her hands—old leather, cracked spine, edges yellowed with time. I knew what it held before I touched it. I had put it there myself, years ago, part of the careful structure of forgetting I’d built my life around. “Come here.” She climbed onto the kitchen bench beside me, all long limbs and lingering softness, her hair still tangled from sleep. I opened the album. The first photograph showed Leonard Vale at his height—standing on the steps of the original Vale Corporation building, silver hair immaculate, smile precise and practiced. He looked powerful. He looked kind. He looked exactly like the man I had loved. “Who is that?” Hope traced the image lightly, the
Adrian Mr. Carter, I am writing to inform you of my formal retirement. My health no longer permits the duties I have performed, and I wish to spend my remaining years in peace. I have arranged my departure to minimize disruption to your household. Mrs. Carter need not know the details; I have told her I am returning to family, as we discussed years ago. I request one final meeting, at your convenience, to conclude our business. I will be at the coastal property in Portugal from the first of next month. You know the address. Lin Wei I read it twice, then fed it to the fire in my study. The paper curled in on itself, blackening, the words I had already memorized dissolving into ash. I stood there longer than necessary, stirring what remained with a poker. Emily found me like that. She paused in the doorway, took in the fire, the silence, and said nothing about what I had burned. She had learned, over the years, the borders of my quiet—where questions would land and where they woul
Emily Lily’s letter arrived on a quiet Saturday morning. It stood out the moment I saw it resting on the counter—thin, pale, and out of place among grocery receipts and Leo’s crayon drawings. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had sent me a letter. Everything came through screens now. Messages, emails, quick calls. Things you could delete with one tap if they became too much. I picked it up slowly, turning it over in my hands. My name sat on the front in neat, careful handwriting. Too careful. Like each letter had been written with hesitation. Leo sat on the kitchen floor nearby, completely absorbed in his world. Bright plastic blocks scattered around him in uneven piles. He hummed softly, stacking and restacking, his tiny fingers working with full focus, unaware of anything beyond his small creation. Hope had already left earlier that morning. She’d slipped out with her usual quiet energy, a quick kiss to Leo’s hair, a vague wave in my direction. The studio had been calli
Emily's POV We moved into a new estate three months ago. There was no need to, we just wanted somewhere more secluded and private. Hope had christened it "the house on the hill" in the simple declarative way of children, and the name had stuck. It was it's official name now. My studio was bigger. Adrian had insisted on installing proper heating, proper lighting, a small kitchenette where I could make tea without walking back to the main house. He'd done it quietly, without asking what I needed, simply observing my habits and anticipating them with the thoroughness that characterized everything he did. This morning, I was working alabaster. A small piece, intimate, a study of hands cradling something invisible—air, perhaps, or possibility. The stone was responding well, its grain smooth and cooperative, and I'd lost track of time in the way that still felt like stealing, like getting away with something I wasn't supposed to have. "Mom! Aunt Lila's here and she said she brought chao
Emily The beach was beautiful. Perfect. Everything an honeymoon needed to be. White sand stretching to horizons that dissolved into turquoise, then deeper blue, then the vast indifferent sky. The resort Adrian had chosen was small, private, hidden behind walls of flowering hibiscus and guarded by staff who appeared only when needed and vanished when they weren't. No photographers. No business calls. No interruptions from the world we'd deliberately left behind. Hope was with Madam Lin, who had insisted on accompanying us "just in case," her eyes avoiding Adrian's with the careful neutrality she'd perfected over five years. I'd almost argued, almost pointed out that a honeymoon should be uninterrupted, but Adrian had agreed before I could speak, and I'd understood—some part of him still didn't trust the peace we'd built, still needed backup plans and safety nets and the quiet assurance that our daughter was protected even in our absence. So we'd flown to the Maldives, to water so c
Emily Moving out turned out to be easier than I expected. Not emotionally. But practically. I didn’t take much with me. A few boxes of clothes, some books, my laptop, and the small sculpture tools I had kept hidden away for years like a guilty secret. Everything I owned fit into just a few bags
Adrian If someone had told me a few months ago that I would be standing in the middle of a tiny apartment, arguing silently with Viktor Cross over who got to carry Emily’s boxes, I would have laughed. Now, it felt like a battlefield. The apartment was small—too small for my liking. A narrow livi
Emily I didn’t expect the news to spread so quickly. But of course it did. In families like ours, nothing stayed quiet for long. By the next afternoon, I received a message from Nathan’s mother asking me to visit the Carter residence. The tone was polite, but I could almost hear the disapproval
Emily I woke up slowly. Not the gentle kind of waking, but the kind where awareness seeps in through discomfort. My body ached—deeper than soreness, deeper than fatigue. It was the kind of ache that reminded me of everything I didn’t want to think about yet. I stared at the ceiling for a moment,







