"Come," Ethan said again, his voice a velvet lure, gesturing toward the far edge of the rooftop. The one that dropped away from the manicured lawns and twinkling neighbor lights, into the endless black maw of the woods beyond. "There's something you need to see. Over here."Samuel hesitated, his small frame rooted to the spot. The boy's mind raced—he could feel it in the way his fingers drummed against the railing, a silent Morse code of panic. Wrong place. Wrong time. Uncle Ethan's not right. Grandpa... he's sick because of him. What if he knows I know? But curiosity, that treacherous spark in every child, warred with the terror. And Ethan knew how to fan it."Don’t be scared, come on. It's just a firefly," Ethan added, injecting a note of boyish wonder into his tone, the kind he'd practiced in front of mirrors to disarm boardrooms full of sharks. "A big one. Glowing like a star that fell too low. You like fireflies, don't you? Remember the ones in the garden last summer? We chased t

While the others had been calling his name, Ethan had doubled back in the chaos he created, torch in one hand, his Swiss Army knife—multi-tool of the modern gentleman—in the other. A quick slash on the poor boy’s cheeks, three deliberate slash to mimic the claws of an animal –a wild animal, the blade's edge catching just enough to draw blood without severing too deep. After that, he smeared it with dirt from his own boot, pressed leaves into the wounds for authenticity. Bear? Coyote? Doesn't matter. Wild enough to sell the story perfectly. Now, as the lights danced, those marks stood out stark—jagged, brutal, a story written in flesh. And of course, who wouldn’t believe the scene as he planned it out?Was he proud to be doing this? To be slashing the face of the dead body of his poor nephew’s? Not exactly. Did he have a choice? Probably yes. He could have warned or even severely threatened the young lad. Somehow, he could have found a way to not kill a young kid. But did he do it?

The new apartment was small —small enough that every sound carried: the whistle of the kettle, the groan of the pipes, the low hum of traffic from the street below. Helen had tried to make it feel like home. She hung soft curtains, wiped every corner until it gleamed, and placed a little vase of fresh daisies on the kitchen table. Still, there was no hiding the cracks in the wall or the faint smell of rust in the tap water. It wasn’t exactly terrible, but it couldn’t be called a home when compared to the Cross’ mansion, where they came from.But somehow… it felt warmer than the Cross estate ever had.The first night had been quiet —uncomfortably so for Sasha and Ben, who were used to servants gliding in and out with trays and fine wines every single blessed day. For Helen, though, the silence was a kind of peace. There were no whispering relatives, no disapproving glares, no polished smiles hiding knives. Just family.She could live with that.Still, she missed her grandfather. She f

The morning light broke soft and lazy through the worn blinds, painting faint bars across the dining table. Breakfast had ended, but the air still smelled faintly of garlic and soy sauce, a reminder of the meal Adrian had made earlier — and the silence that followed it.Ben was the first to break it.He leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, arms crossed over his chest. A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.“You know, Adrian, I find you funny.” Ben said.Adrian raised his brows, “And why is that, Ben?” he asked in confusion. You talk about money like you’ve actually seen it. In your words ‘It won’t be a problem anymore’” he said with a short laugh, his tone half-mocking, half-curious. “Tell me, Adrian, what do you even know about money? You’ve been broke all your life, haven’t you?”Adrian didn’t flinch. He turned off the stove quietly, wiped his hands on a towel, and leaned against the counter. His expression was calm — almost too calm. “I know more than you t

Ruth tilted her head, all innocence. “Oh, dear, didn’t you know? The fight club incident — it’s all over the society circles. Everyone’s saying Fabio was humiliated there. Some even claimed he was attacked by a stranger. It’s quite the gossip.” Clearly, they didn’t know it was Adrian.Helen’s stomach twisted. She clenched her hands in her lap, trying to keep her composure.Ben cleared his throat loudly. “That’s… exaggerated, surely. Fabio’s a fine man. He even came by recently.”Ruth’s eyebrows rose, intrigued. “Really?”“Yes,” Sasha jumped in eagerly. “He visited us himself and even made us dinner. Such a kind gentleman. He and Helen will be married soon. Everything’s going smoothly.”Ruth’s lips curved into a knowing smirk and an almost visible insecurity. “Is that so? Because rumor has it, the Romano family’s been… reconsidering. They say Fabio doesn’t like being associated with drama. But I’m sure it’s just talk.”Helen’s pulse pounded in her ears. Every word from her aunt felt l