He hurried into her ward, and kissed her forehead before anyone could even say anything, yet the weight of it settled on him — whoever had tried to harm her wasn't just anyone. They had to be close enough, powerful enough, to erase a person in a matter of minutes.
Megan's cheeks flushed nervously with embarrassment. Kissing her forehead?
"Thank goodness you woke up." He smiled, calmly sitting beside her bed. Mo and Emily watched silently, giving each other side eyes and grinning ear to ear.
"Well," Meg said, her eyeballs trying to fix into his as she shrugged. "I'm fine now, better. Thank you for saving my life, I owe you one."
"No, it's nothing Megan,"
"You can call me Meg."
"Meg." He smiled widely as he slowly repeated the name. To Megan's ears, it sounded heavenly.
Mo mischievously cleared her throat as she gave them a kind of look that says, 'Hello lovebirds...', quickly becoming serious almost at the same time.
"Did you see the... Stranger?" She asked, fixing her gaze on him as Meg did too, anxious for his answer.
"I'm sorry no," Michael replied as he bowed his head in disappointment, really sorry for not giving them the answer they wanted to hear. "I searched the whole party, even asked the securities, they couldn't give me information of the strange wine servant. They showed me the list of the people that served wine that night...there was no male amongst them."
"What?!," Mo sounded more shocked at this news. Megan was just heaving and shutting her eyes, her strength failing her, Emily rubbing her shoulders in sympathy. "What of the CCTV cameras? Did you check them?"
"There were none."
"In a big party like that? Why?" Emily's voice rose in bewilderment.
"I don't know. But I couldn't find anything from last night. Maybe it was already tampered with. But I promise you Megan," he said, taking her hands. "I'll try my best to really catch this perpetrator."
"No, " She countered immediately. "No you really don't have to Michael. This is not your problem, you might get hurt."
"Megan Adams!" It was Rose, barging in immediately as she yelled her name. Running to her bed, she gave her a very tight embrace that wanted to choke Meg, while almost pushing Michael down.
"Oh Meg dear. Thank God you're safe. I'm sooo sorry for what happened to you. It's all my fault. I should've been there. I should have..."
"Whoa, whoa Rosie," Megan began immediately, disentangling herself before she could draw a last breath in her squeezing hug. Letting Rose even continue her dramatic frets was something she wanted to avoid. " I'm okay now. I'm alive and...feeling better. Besides, I was with Michael. He was the one that rushed me here."
"Oh," Rose calmed down as she intently gazed at Michael. Meg turned to him.
"Michael, this is Rose, and then..." She gestured to her left where Emily was sitting. "Emily. Girls, this is Michael. Michael DeLaney. He's our..."
"I'm her boyfriend." Michael cut in sharply, giving a wide smile. "Nice meeting you guys."
"Oohh," the girls gasped in unison. Why weren't they ever informed of this latest news? Meg would hear from them. Mo herself was confused. She gazed at Michael. Wow. Easy catcher. She smiled.
"Well, hi Michael. It's nice meeting you too. We didn't know our friend was dating such a handsome guy like you," Rose was rambling. "You know, we're even surprised she finally has a boyfriend!"
Megan just sat on her bed. Eyes bulging out like large coconuts. Mouth gape, opening and closing. What the hell is happening? Boyfriend? Hellooo? She was confused, gazing at Michael, then Rose as she talked endlessly. He had seen him for the first time before their door, as a total stranger and that day....
FLASHBACK ::::::
Snowflakes danced outside the frosted glass, each one a silent echo of the past.
The winter sky was pale and heavy, like a canvas soaked in memories, deep memories.
She stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself and her long dark curls spilling over her shoulders. Beside her, Morgan mirrored the stance, the only difference being the cascade of her auburn hair that framed a solemn face. They leaned against the silvery window ledge, their breath fogging the glass.
Outside, the world was quiet. The Adams estate stood tall and proud amidst acres of white, the tall iron gates barely visible beneath the snowfall.
" It was this time of the year....." Megan whispered, her voice almost lost in the hush.
" When they died."
Morgan nodded slowly. " I remember the firewood scent in the hall, the way Dad's cologne mixed with it. " She had paused, as if her own swallowing choked her. " And Mom's red coat, even the last time she wore it. She always fussed about you not washing it well." Mo added as she let out a little laugh.
Then there was Silence. One that felt like they were in a graveyard. The air between them was cold, not from the chill of winter, but from the hole grief had carved into their hearts. It had been three years since the assassination. Three long brutal years. And every snowfall brought it back.
Megan's fingers traced a line through the misted glass.
" Do you think they knew?"
" Knew what?"
"That someone was coming for them."
Morgan's throat tightened once at this question. She thought hard of the answer. Then it clicked. " Dad wasn't the type to be caught off guard. But maybe..... maybe he trusted too easily." And that might be it. Their father had trusted someone enough to not know that his life was at the risk. To have felt relaxed, and not even anticipate his own death. He didn't have much friends than his business associates, so who?
The door creaked open. It was Nanny Fiona, holding a tray of hot cocoa, her eyes kind but weary.
"Girls, " she said gently, " you'll catch your death by that window. Come sit by the fire."
Morgan gave a nod, but Megan didn't move. She glanced outside still, steadily. Nanny Fiona muttered words as she left quickly, like she left something cooking.
"They never caught who did it Mo," Megan continued. " And it breaks me."
" It breaks us, Meg." Mo said quietly, as she rubbed her shoulders. " But we'll find out, we will one day, I know."
The snow was still descending, meekly now, but in her heart, in Megan's heart, a fire had been stirred, not of warmth, but of vengeance.
Because love had been stolen from them. And someone would pay. She had promised she would find this assassin. The enemy. Someway, somehow. She vowed to give back every ounce of what was delivered to them. Make them feel it. Terror. Emptiness. Regret.
They parents had been murdered when they were just seventeen, on an unfortunate winter season, so every snowfall brought the memory back. Fresh and vivid.
"We still had many things to do with them, but we were never opportuned. We never went for that vacation yet." A tear lingered in her eyes as she spoke.
"The Paris vacation right?" Mo laughed with a tearful voice as she looked at Meg. "God, they gave thousands of excuses and promises for it."
Nanny came in again, interrupting them. Her face was looking questioning.
" Mo? Someone finds you. Not Rose, not any girl."
And both girls turned in wonder. This was unusual.
"Were you expecting Rose?"
Meg shook her head. "No, she never said she was coming. Well, let's see who it is then." She said as she began following Nanny downstairs, and Mo hurried behind her. They slowly walked to the door, and Meg was the one that had the door opened, with a confused look.
" Oh, " Mo smiled. " Michael."
Megan turned to her even more surprised.
"He's our new neighbor."
~~~~
Morgan had met him earlier that day, when snow fell in soft, whispering layers, blanketing the entire neighborhood in a silvery hush. From the third-floor window of the Adams' estate, the winter garden glistened under the morning frost, untouched and perfect. But that morning, something shifted — something new arrived.
A black Bentley pulled into the estate next door, tires crunching against fresh snow. The engine purred like a beast on leash, sleek and quiet — but commanding attention. From the driver's side, he stepped out.
Michael DeLaney.
That was the name etched on the gold plate now fixed to the towering gates of the neighboring mansion. And he was the kind of man who didn't walk into a room — he owned it.
His tall frame was draped in a tailored camel coat that dusted against his black slacks. Thick brown hair, the color of burnt chestnut, was tousled just perfectly. A sharp jaw, warm hazel eyes rimmed with thick lashes, a slight cleft in his chin. And those lips — soft, full, and so well-shaped it almost seemed unfair.
There was a coolness to his gait, a gentleness in the way he adjusted his scarf, and when he greeted the movers with that voice — oh, that voice — it was warm, deep, like velvet sliding over honey. Polite, steady. Intoxicating.
And that was the moment Mo saw him.
She was by the gate, snapping pictures of the garden with her vintage camera, wrapped in a cream coat and snow boots with a splash of rose gold lipstick that matched her gloves. The moment their eyes locked, she blinked, once... twice. And he smiled. She walked close to him.
"New neighbor?" she asked, a playful glint in her voice.
"Looks like it," he said, extending a gloved hand. "Michael DeLaney."
"Morgan Adams," she replied, shaking his hand, holding his gaze just a moment too long. Her voice danced on the air, flirtatious and teasing. He laughed softly, eyes dropping to her boots and then back up. "Stylish. Are you a model?"
"Part-time heartbreaker," she joked.
They talked for a few minutes, about the snow, the view, the old oak tree that stretched between both estates. And Morgan didn't miss pointing out that their former neighbor was a dispomaniac.
"So be careful as you go in, there might still be bottles of wine littered everywhere."
Michael laughed. And that moment, he liked Mo's chatty nature and the way she laughed.
But as fate would have it —
Later that afternoon, he saw her. Again.
Only... not her.
Meg stood in the hallway, reaching for the front door to receive a package. Her hair was slightly wind-blown, face fresh and without makeup. Unlike Mo's fiery red highlights, Meg's locks were jet-black, soft waves brushing her shoulder blades. Her eyes — almond-shaped and with the silvery grey — caught the sunlight, and for a moment, Michael stood frozen at his doorstep across the street, convinced Morgan had changed clothes... and personalities.
"Mo?" he called out, walking towards her.
She turned. Confused.
"No. I'm Megan."
He blinked. Once. Twice. "Wait… You're not Morgan?"
Meg tilted her head. "That's my twin."
And suddenly, Michael's mind was a chaos of wonder.
Twins?
Identical?
But different?
He stared as Meg walked back in, her posture poised, her aura quieter, warmer — softer. It wasn't just the hair color. There was a gentleness to Meg that Morgan didn't wear on the surface.
Michael DeLaney stood on his snowy porch, lips slightly parted, chest rising with a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
This... was going to be interesting.
Megan however had wanted to ask the stranger who he was, and how he knew her sister. But then on another thought, she would ask Mo instead. But she didn't.
~~~~
" Oh, new neighbor? I think it was you I met then. You mistook me for my twin."
Mo smiled. " I forgot to tell you I have another body." She joked. Michael was gazing at the twins. To him, this was more fascinating.
"Anyways, I forgot to introduce myself," he said to Meg. " I'm Michael DeLaney, and I must say, the both of you are breath-taking."
Megan laughed. This caught Michael more than ever. Hers was lovelier.
" Well, thank you Michael. I'm Megan Adams."
Nanny appeared from the kitchen, carrying a tray of coffee.
" I thought we have a visitor. Come on in, feel welcomed."
And the girls stepped aside as he gently came in, thankful.
" I must say, your home is beautiful." He said as he say on a sofa, and Nanny handed him a coffee. "Thank you Madam..."
" Fiona," Nanny smiled. " And thank you because indeed it is. So, you packed in today?"
"Yes ma'am, and I only met pretty Mo first, so I thought I should come say hello...."
Morgan came and sat beside him, taking up her own cup of coffee.
"Well, do you skate? My sister is the best skater ever."
Megan turned immediately. Mo gave her a wink. "Oh Mo." And she began up to her room.
" What? Meg, no?"
" Let me dress up, will you?" She yelled from her room, and Morgan gave a wide smile while Michael chuckled. Again, he gently sipped his coffee.
In few minutes they were set for the stroll, and the two of them set off the lane, towards the frozen lake at the edge of the woods.
The silence between them was comfortable at first — footsteps crunching over snow, the occasional crow overhead. Yet Megan could feel his glances, the way Michael seemed to study her as though piecing together something he couldn't name.
On the lake, the world opened wide. Frosted branches leaned over the banks, casting long, skeletal shadows on the ice. Megan pulled on her skates with practiced ease, and when she stood, the blades cut a clean rhythm across the frozen surface.
Michael, watching her glide effortlessly, shook his head with a laugh. "You weren't exaggerating. You are good."
She turned in a slow arc, cheeks pink from the cold. "Morgan brags for me. I don't say it myself."
He joined her, a little stiff at first, but not unskilled. Together, they skated the breadth of the lake, their reflections fractured in the pale ice below.
"Tell me about you, Michael," Megan said at last, her voice low but carrying in the still air. "You said you just moved here."
Michael's gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the winter sun hung pale and tired.
"Yes. And indeed, your former neighbor was an alcoholic, Mo didn't lie." He chuckled, and Meg loved something about it. He was very handsome she could clearly see now. She could say, more than any boy in her campus.
" Oh, she already told you. Mr. Almond. A habitual drunken elite. Yet, seeing that you bought that mansion, you must be.... okay." She smiled.
"Well, I am," Michael said as he tried surpassing her a little. She caught up immediately. " Although my parents are both resting in peace, I'm... okay. Well, I only have an uncle who raised me till I was .... fifteen."
Something in his tone pressed against Megan's chest. She slowed, coasting to a stop. "I understand more than you think."
He looked at her then, hazel eyes intent. "Do you?"
She nodded, taking a slow breath. "Three years ago, during winter. My parents were assassinated. My sister and I—" she hesitated, swallowing hard, "—we were left with nothing but each other. If it wasn't for Nanny Fiona, we wouldn't have made it this far. She's been… mother, father, everything. She lost her own family too. Her husband and only son died in a plane crash on their way back from Hungary. And yet, she still chose to raise us like her own."
"We're same."
Megan nodded again. " It's not bad though." She laughed as she drifted away from Michael. But he felt it, the words where heavy. The pain was still there. As fresh as ever. Hidden even behind her soft laughter.
He wanted to say something, but the weight of it seemed too fragile for simple sympathy. So instead, he skated closer, his hand brushing against hers, not quite holding, not quite letting go.
"You're stronger than most people I've ever met," he said quietly.
Megan looked down at the ice, her breath rising in faint clouds. "Or maybe I just learned how to wear strength like a coat in winter," She smiled. It always melted Michael. The way her lips curves so lovely whenever she does that. " And hey, you just met me, how can you even tell?"
"I can. Because I know. I can see you beyond what you can tell."
"You're way too good with your words. Tell me, you must be a playboy, aren't you? Who's your girlfriend?"
Michael chuckled. " I'm an extrovert yeah, but I'm alone. I don't have any. And no, I'm not a player."
Megan gazed into his glinting eyeballs. Then she looked away.
"Well, I see truth."
"You do?"
She hesitated, and then turned back in her skate.
"Are we heading back already?"
" Yes, I wish to. It's getting dark already. Do you want to continue?"
"No, it's okay," Michael smiled. " I can't continue alone."
Megan stopped in her tracks. She steadily gazed at Michael.
"How old are you, Michael? I'm twenty."
"I'm twenty-five. Perfect, isn't it?"
"And, are you falling for me already Michael, are you minding Mo?"
Michael chuckled as he gazed down for a while. " Do you also see it?"
Megan sighed in disbelieve. " You can't fall for me," she stated, as though a warning as she came closer to him. " I'm going to disappoint you."
Michael didn't believe. Staring into her grey eyes, she might mean it. But what if it'sworth it?
PRESENT :::::::
"And so Meg, wow! We're so happy for you. I particularly." Rose concluded with smiles. She gazed at Michael and he gave a little shrug and a wink. Then the doctor interrupted them.
"Miss Megan Adams, you've been discharged. You're good to go now."