2025-08-15 14:33:55
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Hannah's Genuine Love
John's footsteps echoed faintly on the fog-shrouded pavement as he left Westwood Bridge behind, the river's dark waters swallowing the splash of the discarded gun. His heart hammered in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins like fire. Eleanor's sobs faded into the night, but her fear-stricken face lingered in his mind; the way her eyes had widened when he'd turned the tables, the tremble in her voice as she'd begged. For years, she'd treated him like dirt, a plaything to discard, and now she'd pulled a gun on him? The audacity fueled his anger, but beneath it was a cold satisfaction. He'd won that round, disarmed her in more ways than one. But the encounter left questions burning: Why was she so desperate? What did she suspect about Hannah? And who else was watching?He pulled out his old phone, glancing at the screen—no new messages. Good. But the Ravenshore device in his other pocket vibrated softly. He fished it out, seeing Evelyn's name. He answered quickly, keeping his
Eleanor's True Intentions
The night air grew thicker as John approached Westwood Bridge, the fog rolling in from the river like a shroud, muffling the distant hum of the city. The bridge arched over the dark water, its stone railings weathered and cracked, illuminated by sporadic sodium lamps that cast long, eerie shadows. John's footsteps echoed softly on the pavement, his breath visible in the chill. He checked his old phone again—8:57 PM. His heart raced with a mix of curiosity and caution. Who could it be? A Ravenshore contact with urgent information? Or a trap set by the Prestwicks or Fergusons, sniffing out his sudden disappearance from their lives?From afar, he spotted a car parked near the bridge's midpoint—a sleek red Mercedes Benz, its headlights off but its engine idling with a low purr. The sight stopped him in his tracks. That car... it was familiar. Too familiar. He squinted through the fog, his mind racing to place it. The red paint, the custom rims, the tinted windows—the exact model, the exac
Meeting The Unknown Sender
The soup steamed gently in the chipped bowl before John, its savory aroma filling the small apartment, but he barely noticed. His spoon hovered untouched, his mind filled with several thoughts.Suddenly, his old phone buzzed on the table, jolting him from his thoughts. He picked it up, the screen lighting up with another message from an unknown number: ’Come to Westwood Bridge by 9PM tonight. Come alone.” His breath caught. Westwood Bridge—the old stone archway over the river, isolated and foggy at night. Who was this? A Prestwick spy? Someone from the Ferguson side, sniffing around after his divorce? Or worse, a Ravenshore rival already circling? The message was curt, commanding, with no room for questions. He stared at it, his heart pounding, wondering who this could be.Hannah's voice cut through the haze, soft but concerned. "John? Are you okay? You've barely touched your soup."He looked up, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes, quickly pocketing the phone. "Yeah, I'm fine.
Unknown Sender
Early morning light slipped through the dirty window of John’s old apartment, giving the cracked walls and dusty floor a pale glow. John woke up on the worn-out couch, his bruised body aching as he moved. The thin blanket over him smelled musty, a sharp reminder of his life before Eleanor and the Prestwick estate. Across the room, Hannah slept on the narrow bed, her dark hair spread over the old pillow, breathing softly. Even here, she looked graceful—yet John couldn’t decide if her being here was genuine or if she had another reason.He sat up slowly, wincing from the pain in his ribs. In his torn jacket pocket, the Ravenshore phone and black card felt like secrets he wasn’t ready to share. His old phone buzzed on the floor beside him. The screen lit up with a hospital message: “Surgery scheduled for 10:00 AM. Patient stable. Funds cleared.” Relief washed over him, but he kept his face calm, checking to see if Hannah was still asleep. His mother’s life was safe now, thanks to the Rav
Testing Her
Hannah walked John down the Prestwick estate’s driveway, moving with calm confidence. The night was cool, with the faint smell of wet grass in the air. Her silver Mercedes-Benz shone under the estate’s bright lights. John watched her as she went to the driver’s side, her dark hair glinting in the light. She looked completely composed, even after the family’s surprise and the heavy terms she had just agreed to.“Get in, John,” she said softly, her voice warm but tinged with a hint of nervousness as she opened her door.John paused with his bruised hand on the car door. The Ravenshore phone and card in his pocket reminded him of the secret he was keeping. Hannah’s offer; her sacrifice, felt overwhelming and hard to process. He slowly opened the door and sat in the cool leather seat, surrounded by the scent of polished surfaces and faint lavender. It clashed sharply with his torn, blood-stained clothes, a clear sign of how different their worlds were.Hannah started the car, the engine h
HANNAH PRESTWICK
The Prestwick estate’s living room was filled with shock and whispers. The air felt heavy, thick with the smell of whiskey and tension.John stood still near the doorway, his torn shirt sticking to his bruised body. In his pocket, he could feel the weight of the black card and the Ravenshore phone. Hannah’s words; her sudden proposal to marry him, still echoed in the room like thunder. Everyone was stunned.Eleanor’s mouth was open in shock, the divorce papers still in her hand. Winston’s cigar shook between his fingers. At the head of the table, Hailey Prestwick sat silently, her sharp green eyes focused and unreadable.It was Eleanor's father, Winston, who finally broke the silence. His loud voice filled the room, full of disbelief.“Hannah, do you even know what you’re saying?”Hannah didn’t respond. Instead, she stepped forward and knelt before Hailey, her delicate frame steady despite the weight of every gaze in the room. “Please, Matriarch,” she said, her voice soft but resolute
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