Merlina tucked herself into a quiet corner of the Belview College library, her notebook spread open beside her, crammed with scribbled notes, arrows, and circled names.
She flipped through old student newsletters and archived reports with sharp focus, her eyes scanning each page like she was piecing together a secret only she could solve.
Her finger froze over a headline: Dean's Wife Involved in Charity Scandal.
Merlina leaned closer, her lips parting slightly. There was something about the name… it tugged at her memory.
Behind her, two girls strolled past the aisle, their laughter cutting through the thick library silence.
"I'm telling you," one girl said, loud enough to carry, "if Craig Lesnar looks at me one more time in Lit class? I swear—"
"Please," her friend cut in, giggling. "That guy could ruin my life and I'd still say thank you."
Merlina's posture shifted subtly. She kept her eyes on the file in front of her, but her ears sharpened, capturing every word.
"Adriana is lucky as hell," the first girl gushed. "Did you see the car he picked her up in? God."
"She won't last," the second girl said knowingly. "Guys like Craig? They get bored. Fast."
Their voices faded into the shelves.
Merlina stayed still, staring at her notes, but her mind had drifted somewhere else entirely. Her jaw tightened as she snapped the file shut.
Under her breath, she whispered, "Craig Lesnar…"
***
At the Sanchez residence that night, the air was cold despite the gleaming surfaces. Everything was too neat, too curated — a house masquerading as a home.
Aiden Sanchez stood by the large window, a glass of scotch heavy in his hand, staring into the darkness outside like it could give him answers.
Behind him, Alistair lingered with restless energy barely contained, while Melissa sat curled up on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
"Fiona's been good for me," Aiden said, voice measured. "For us. How many times must I ask for peace in this house?"
Alistair's eyes narrowed. "Good for you? Or just easy on the eyes?"
Aiden didn't bother turning around. He just sipped his drink slowly, clinging to control.
"She's present," he said. "Which is more than I can say for you."
Alistair laughed, bitter and dry. "Present… like a goddaughter waiting for her cut?"
That hit its mark. Aiden turned now, his movements slow but sharp, his gaze cutting.
"Mind your words, boy."
But Alistair couldn't hold it in anymore. He stood up, his body alive with a fury too long ignored.
"You want us to pretend?" he said. "Smile for your replacement bride? After Mom—"
Melissa's voice, soft and aching, interrupted. "She was Mom's goddaughter, Dad. Her goddaughter."
The words sank into the room like stones thrown into deep water. Aiden flinched — just barely — and masked it behind another long sip.
"She's been part of this family long before things fell apart," he said quietly. "She knows me. She listens. She stays."
Alistair's voice dropped, dark and dangerous. "Did she know you before Mom left too? Were you already hers when you still belonged to Mom?"
Silence thickened.
Aiden's mask cracked — just for a heartbeat — before he straightened.
"You don't know what you're saying."
"I know enough," Alistair shot back. "I saw the way she looked at you. I saw the way you let her."
Aiden set his glass down with a dull thud that echoed through the tension.
"Enough," he said. "I will not let you rewrite what your mother and I had."
"You rewrote it first," Alistair whispered, his rage trembling at the edges of grief.
The room went still.
Grief, regret, betrayal — it hung between them like a ghost no one wanted to name.
Alistair's voice cracked as he pushed out the words. "Did you ever love her, Dad? Or were you just waiting for the lights to go out?"
Aiden stepped closer, his voice a low warning. "You're blinded by grief. I'm marrying Fiona. That's final."
"No," Alistair said, standing his ground. "You're not."
"Let's see you try to stop me," Aiden shot back, cold and cutting.
From the couch, Melissa's voice slipped through like a whisper breaking glass.
"She's not Mom," she said. "And she never will be."
Aiden's jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
There were no words left big enough to fill the crack he'd put in all of them.
"You changed the night Mom died," Alistair said, voice trembling. "You stopped seeing us. Even when we're right here. So tell me, Dad — did we just lose Mom… or did we lose you too?"
No answer.
Only silence.
Alistair didn't wait for a reply. He turned and walked away, his pain trailing behind him like a shadow.
Melissa stayed, caught between the ruins of her family.
And Aiden stood at the window, swallowed by the night outside, his face unreadable, a man alone in his choices.
In the darkness, his voice broke through in a whisper only the walls could hear "I never meant for it to be like this."
Outside, the night pressed in, cold and endless.