A Love Restored

The worn leather of the armchair in Felix’s study had probably absorbed more stories than I’d read in my lifetime. I ran my feather duster over its plush curves, sending dust mates swirling in the sunbeams. Whenever I saw this, dust highlighted by the sun. I’d always think back to Mrs. Walter’s eighth grade science lecture about the tyndall effect,

Cleaning Felix’s space was always a balancing act – respecting his privacy while ensuring the room sparkled like a well–cut diamond. In his study, he didn’t keep much. Some books. Journals. Many old journals. They were inside a locked cabinet. 1 had seen him locking the cabinets once. No one was allowed to touch those. I was just here to vacuum and dust the surfaces,

My dusting feather snagged on something tucked between the cushions. A leather wallet, worn but not shabby, pulsed with the unmistakable hum of wealth. My heart jolted – Felix’s wallet. No wonder 1 hadn’t seen it on the side table for weeks.

His office was two floors up. I knocked, waited, then knocked again. The only reply was the silence. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

Felix sat behind his desk, typing away furiously at his laptop. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing at the intrusion. “Can I help you, Flora?”

“I found this in your study, I held out the wallet, feeling oddly vulnerable under his scrutiny, and oddly unwanted in this room. Lately, . he had taken to working from his home office more often. Sometimes, he had meetings here.

He shot out a hand, snatched the wallet, and tucked it into his desk drawer without a glance. “Thanks”

His curt dismissal hit me like a slap. The warmth I’d felt at finding his lost treasure evaporated, replaced by a chill that crawled down my spine. I stood there, tongue–tied. I had thought he would speak to me. Maybe we could have exchanged some polite greetings.

“Is there anything else?” he asked, his gaze licking back to the paperwork as if I were an inconvenience, an intruder.

My voice, when it emerged, was barely a whisper. “No, Mr. Corsino, Just wanted to return what’s yours.”

I turned to leave, the echo of my own footsteps sounding like accusations in the cavernous office. The sting of hurt, sharp and unexpected, refused to dissipate.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

Why was he being like this?

The realization hit me like a brick. He was mad at me. For not telling him the truth that night. I hadn’t even seen him since, and it had been three days. I had thought he was just busy and we hadn’t crossed paths, but he was deliberately avoiding me.

The knowledge of that hurt. But I had things to do. I busied myself around the house. 1 made myself some lunch and ate it quietly in a corner. Ever since I had moved here, I hadn’t seen Felix. Or Linda. Even Liam. I had had a quiet few days, except meeting with Tommy and going dress shopping with Lexi that day. But it was nice and had given me time to settle in. I had cleaned the room thoroughly. I had unpacked, I had put up my few things on the walls a picture of me with my mom, a picture with Tommy, one with Lexi

My shift was almost done, and I decided to sit on the porch for a while to get some fresh air. Just as I sat down, my phone buzzed with texts.

The evening air was brisk as I stared down at my phone, the screen casting an eerie glow on my face. A series of text messages frogs–an unfamiliar number left my hands trembling, the threatening words reverberating in my mind. I bit my lip, desperately trying to hold back the fear that threatened

to consume me.

Dad

His texts were short, sharp blades, to the point:

“Come home, Flora. Don’t make me come get you.”

“Felix can I protect you forever.”

“Remember what happens when you disobey.”

I stared at the flickering screen, then typed, deleting, typing

g again. Finally: “Leave me alone.”

The phone stayed silent, the wasp subdued. But the buzzing fingered in my bones, a chilling reminder of the needed to escape the claustrophobic silence.

danger t

stalked me. I needed air,

Chapter 75

My boots crunched on the gravel path, my breath puffing white against the chill air. It was supposed to be a peaceful walk, a solitary communion with nature to calm myself down after reading the threatening texts from Dad.

He was planning something. I could feel it. He was even using a new number, probably a burner phone,

As I rounded a bend, a flash of

white c

caught my eye, tucked beneath a fallen ook leaf,

Curious, I bent down, the leaf crackling in my hand as I peeled it back. A crumpled receipt emerged, the ink faded but still legible. My throat tightened as I read the words: “Thunderbolt Arms & Ammo. Purchaser: Liam Blackwood.”

My breath hitched. Liam had bought… a gun? Why in the world would he need a gun? My mind reeled, with possibilities. Did he get caught up in some bad debt? Was he being threatened? Was he in trouble? Was he the trouble? My stomach churned with a cocktail of worry and concern.

Why would he need to buy a gun? I knew for a fact all the security personnel had guns of their own. And other weapons. This Was a maña family, after

all.

The image of Liam’s mischievous grin, his sweet demeanor, our friendly companionship, clashed horribly with the grim reality of a gun purchase.

The crisp air felt suffocating. Should I confront him? Tell Felix?

Torn between concern and caution, I clutched the receipt in my pocket, its crumpled edges digging into my palm like an accusation. Should I keep it safe, a silent observer of Elam’s possible secret, or act as a shield, stepping into the line of fire of whatever trouble he might be courting?

With a sigh, I tucked the receipt deeper into my pocket, its presence a burning ember against my skin. It was an unwanted burden, a knot of responsibility I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle. But something, some sliver of concern, same echo of that conversation I had overheard, wouldn’t let me ignore it.

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