In the Hollow of Her Heart

Name: In the Hollow of Her Heart
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

debby ahra

Romance | Completed

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Haunted by betrayal, Amara vowed never to love again. Her heart, once whole, now holds only echoes of what could have been - empty spaces where trust used to live. But fate is never done testing the broken. When Lucian crosses her path - enigmatic, persistent, hiding wounds of his own - Amara feels the walls around her start to crumble. His eyes see beyond her defenses. His words stir emotions she buried long ago. But love doesn't heal overnight... and some scars run deeper than others. In the hollow of her heart, can Amara find space for forgiveness, for hope - for him?

Modern Betrayal Attractive Romance

Chapter 14 Fault Lines

The day before yesterday 10:40

Chapter 1 Hollow Spaces

The house stood still, as if time had forgotten it.

Isabella Vaughn paused at the threshold, her suitcase resting beside her, and let her gaze drift across the marble floors and the once-grand chandelier that now hung dull and lifeless. Eight years had passed, yet the walls remained the same. They still whispered.

She stepped inside.

Silence cloaked her like a second skin. The air smelled faintly of lemon polish and something more elusive-faded memories, perhaps. Isabella's heels echoed sharply against the marble, each step punctuating the stillness. There was a stillness to the space, like the house itself was holding its breath.

Celeste had made sure the staff wasn't around. A private welcome. That was her sister's way-smiles that cut, embraces that smothered.

Isabella dropped her keys onto the hallway table, the jingle unnaturally loud in the hush. She hadn't come seeking warmth. She was here for answers-for the truth their father had hidden within the creases of this house.

Footsteps approached-measured, deliberate.

Celeste appeared in the archway, draped in sleek black silk, her expression a mask. "You're early."

Isabella offered a thin smile. "Couldn't stay away."

A pause stretched between them, weighted and sharp.

Celeste's eyes scanned her, as if assessing for damage. "You've changed."

"So have you."

Silence.

Then Celeste turned and walked away, leading her deeper into the house. "You'll take the west wing. I had the room aired."

"How thoughtful."

"Don't mistake it for kindness."

"I wouldn't dare."

The tension between them was a taut thread, ready to snap. Even their footsteps down the hallway seemed to disagree-Isabella's hesitant, Celeste's cold and precise.

As Isabella followed, her fingers trailed along the wallpaper, brushing the grooves and patterns like pages of an old story. Echoes of childhood laughter and bitter arguments clung to the walls-ghosts stitched into the fabric of the home.

This wasn't home. Not anymore.

But it was where everything had begun-and where something unfinished waited to end.