Diana shut her eyes tightly, as if that would pull them back in time. But it didn’t, because everything that happened wasn't an illusion and that was the worst part. She stood up abruptly and walked toward the window. The glass was cool beneath her fingertips. Outside, Riverage City stretched endlessly, alive... glowing and indifferent. Somewhere out there, Steven Kahuna was living a life she had once walked away from. And now... he was building something new with someone else. Dianna swallowed hard and her reflection stared back at her in the glass. Not the girl she used to be. Not the confident, assured daughter of Finn Guler who believed she could predict the future. No, this version of her looked… tired and exhausted, not just physically something more deeper more like someone who had made a decision years ago and was only now understanding its weight. Her mind drifted backward, to a different time, a different version of herself and a different version of St

Jackson met his gaze. “It has everything to do with consequence.” The word hung in the air as Finn frowned at it, “Consequence?” he repeated. Jackson nodded once, “There are things you don’t know,” he said. “Then why don't you enlighten me,” Finn shot back. Jackson held his gaze for a long moment, then he said, “No.” Finn blinked, caught off guard, “No?” he echoed. “No,” Jackson repeated, his tone firm. “Because whatever you think you’re protecting… you’re only making it worse.” Finn’s eyes darkened. “You don’t get to decide that.” “I already have.” The confidence in Jackson’s voice reignited the tension instantly. Finn took a step closer again, his presence looming. “You will fix this,” he said, his voice dropping into something low and dangerous. “You will return my daughter to the life she deserves, by divorcing her because she was far okay when she was not intertwined with you than she is since you came into her life.” Jackson didn’t move, he didn’t

The descent into Saudi airspace was smooth. Jackson Milton sat by the window, his gaze fixed on the endless stretch of gold beneath the wing. The desert didn’t move, it simply existed. Vast, indifferent, ancient in a way that made everything else feel temporary and that includes him. His reflection stared back faintly from the glass looking calm and composed. But beneath that surface, nothing was still. The engines hummed with a quiet, constant power, and for a brief moment, Jackson let the sound fill his head, drowning out the thoughts that had followed him across continents. This was it, no more guessing, no more silence. He was here, and whatever waited for him on the ground… would answer the questions that had been circling his mind for weeks like vultures. Or it would confirm something far worse. **** The heat hit him the moment he stepped out. Like a hand resting on the back of his neck, reminding him he was no longer in control of his environment. Jack

The house had not slept in three days at least not properly, not deeply and definitely not in the way a house should. Every corridor carried footsteps, every room held voices, and every surface seemed to have been touched, adjusted, perfected… and then adjusted again. At the center of it all was, Louisa Payne. “Not there,” she said sharply, her hand lifting mid-air as if she could physically redirect the placement of the floral arrangement from across the room. “It’s off balance. Can’t you see that it’s off balance?” The decorator froze, blinking. “It’s… centered, ma’am.” Louisa turned slowly. Too slowly. Her gaze alone made the room quiet. “Centered,” she repeated, her voice dangerously calm, “is not the same as balanced.” There was a pause. Then she walked forward herself, heels clicking with purpose, adjusting the arrangement just slightly... barely noticeable to anyone else, but to her... It was everything. “There,” she murmured. The decorator nodded qu

The night had settled into its rhythm... soft music weaving through conversations, laughter rising and falling like a carefully conducted symphony, glasses clinking in subtle celebration of something that looked perfect on the surface. And then, the doors opened, sending a quiet shift through the room like an unseen current. Conversations didn’t stop, but they softened. Eyes didn’t stare, but they turned. The kind of attention reserved for people who didn’t need to announce their arrival to be noticed. Finn Guler walked in first. He carried himself the way he always did... controlled, unyielding, his presence cutting through the elegance of the evening with something far more rigid. His gaze swept the room not with admiration, but with assessment, as though he were measuring the worth of everything around him and finding most of it lacking. Beside him walked Dianna and unlike her father, she felt everything. Every glance, every whisper that tried to hide itself. Every