The soft patter of rain against the windowpane filled the quiet of Margaret’s room. The scent of lilies—remnants from the funeral—still lingered faintly in the air. She sat on the edge of her bed, hands clasped together on her lap, eyes fixed on nothing. The black dress she wore earlier was folded neatly across the chair by her dresser, but she still felt its weight pressing on her chest, heavy and suffocating.John’s funeral had drawn a crowd—friends, acquaintances, business partners—but now, everyone was gone. The laughter, the murmured condolences, the pitying stares had all faded, leaving her in the echo of her own silence.She hadn’t cried at the graveside. She had stood still, stoic, her eyes dry. She had told herself she was past this—that John’s betrayal, his absence, his failures as a husband had hardened her beyond the reach of tears.But now that she was all alone, her mask had cracked.Her trembling fingers brushed the edge of an old picture frame that sat on the nightsta

The following morning was gray and cold—the kind of morning where the clouds hung low enough to feel like they were pressing down on the city. Chloe hadn’t slept a wink. The night had been endless—every time she closed her eyes, she saw Harry’s face behind steel bars, or worse, Wilfreda’s smile fading into a memory she might never see again.By the time she reached the front of the precinct, Chance was already waiting, leaning against his car. He hadn’t slept either.“Hey,” Chloe greeted quietly, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders.Chance gave a brief nod. “Hey. You ready?”“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she murmured.Together, they stepped up the precinct stairs, their footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. Inside, the building smelled faintly of disinfectant and old paper—a mix of bureaucracy and cold justice. Officers moved briskly through the corridors, radios crackling, phones ringing.Chloe’s heart thudded in her chest as they approached the front desk. “We’re here

They stepped out of the West Wing doors into the crisp autumn air. The motorcade was lined up perfectly—sleek black vehicles gleaming like onyx beneath the midday sun.The Secret Service agents adjusted their earpieces as Julia climbed into the main car. The doors shut with a muted thud, sealing her inside with silence and the faint scent of leather.As the convoy rolled forward, her gaze drifted to the passing scenery—the fountains, the lawns, the gathering press behind metal barriers. Somewhere beyond the chaos of flashing cameras, the Prime Minister’s convoy was approaching from the opposite end of the drive, accompanied by police motorcycles and diplomatic flags fluttering in the breeze.Julia composed herself, reaching for the calm she’d perfected over the years. When the car stopped in front of the South Portico, she stepped out gracefully, every movement measured and confident.The Prime Minister of India—an older, dignified man in a white Nehru jacket—descended from his vehic

Chance stood between them, feeling the heat rise like static before a storm. His heart pounded against his ribs as he looked from Wilfreda to Chloe, both women now locked in an invisible tug-of-war—one desperate to reveal the truth, the other desperate to bury it.Helsin, now visibly unsettled, took another step forward, clutching her robe around her shoulders. “Wilfreda,” she said slowly, “you’re shaking. What is this about? Is something wrong?”“No, Mom,” Wilfreda said quickly, her voice almost breaking. “Nothing’s wrong. Please, just… go back inside. I’ll bring the tea in a minute.”But her mother didn’t move. Her eyes, soft yet searching, lingered on her daughter’s face for a long moment before turning toward Chance and Chloe. “I'm not blind, just so you know. You three look like ghosts. Whatever this is, I deserve to know.”Wilfreda’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her entire body trembling. “Mom,” she said weakly, “please… just go.”Helsin hesitated, confusion deepening th

Chloe gasped softly, a hand covering her mouth. Chance, however, sat frozen, his mind reeling as the truth settled in like lead.Helsin’s words came out broken, remorse dripping from each syllable. “I woke up the next morning and hated myself. I watched him leave, after he realized what I had done with him.""And Julia?" Chloe asked."She was mad after she found out, and that was the end of the our friendship." Helsin replied, took a brief pause and then continued. "As for Steven, he went ahead to marry Julia, built a life with her, and I kept my silence. Until Wilfreda was born. Until the truth started clawing its way back up.”She finally looked up at Chance, her tear-streaked face raw with guilt. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t plan to ruin lives. I just wanted… to feel seen.”Chance’s hands curled into fists at his sides, but he said nothing. His chest rose and fell unevenly, the storm inside him impossible to contain.Wilfreda, who had been standing by the doo