My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

💚 So, this story is dedicated to two particular authors with whom I have briefly touched on those issues, and who make amazing stories. paleseptember10 & Krooela. Go check them out, you won't regret it.

💚 HAPPY NEW YEAR

💚 Fallen Angel💚

How would have Christian Grey's life turned out if the Greys had intervened when Elena tried to sink her claws into him? Would he still be the same man as we know, or someone completely different ...

‼️Rated M - {Out Of Characters/All Human/Alternate Universe}‼️

‼️Romance/Angst/Drama/Lemons‼️

‼️AS/CG/The Greys/The Steeles/Jack Hyde/Elena Lincoln‼️

💚 READ & REVIEW, DON'T BE A SILENT READER 💚

Chapter 55: In The Name of the Mother (6,2K)

Christian's PoV

The hum of my office is the only sound as I review the latest acquisitions report. Numbers and projections blur together, but my focus keeps slipping. Ana. Always Ana. She occupies my thoughts in ways no one ever has, grounding me in a way I never thought possible.

A sharp knock breaks my concentration. I look up to find Kate Kavanagh stepping in, her expression unusually tense. This isn't the usual breezy confidence she usually displays when around Elliott. But then again, I've seen her only once or twice in the office since she started. She's always been adamant about keeping her private life separate from her professional one.

"Mr. Grey," she begins, clutching a tablet to her chest. "I need a moment. It's urgent."

I gesture for her to sit, already bracing myself. Kate doesn't often bring personal matters into the office, and I can tell by the tightness in her posture that this isn't just about work. She slides the tablet across my desk.

"Page six," she says, her voice clipped.

I pick up the device and scroll to the indicated section. The headline alone sends a jolt of anger through me.

Christian Grey: Billionaire, Bachelor… and Gay? Is Anastasia Steele Just a Beard?

My jaw tightens as I skim through the article.

"Christian Grey: The reclusive billionaire has always been a mystery, but whispers from a source suggest there's more to his story than meets the eye. Despite his recent public appearances with Anastasia Steele, sources claim their relationship might be nothing more than a carefully crafted façade. Grey, known for his years of celibacy and avoidance of the dating scene, has sparked rumors about his true preferences. 'It's not uncommon for men of his stature to hide their personal lives,' our insider shares. The question remains: Is Anastasia Steele just a convenient cover for Grey's secrets? Or is there more to this story? Adding fuel to the fire, Steele has been spotted without Grey on multiple occasions, leading to speculations about the authenticity of their romance. While Grey's PR team remains tight-lipped, the whispers are growing louder. Could the world's most eligible bachelor be hiding something?"

"This is trash," I mutter, throwing the tablet onto the desk.

"Trash that's circulating widely," Kate says. "I spotted it this morning."

That gets my attention. "That's the second time you've noticed something like this before Martin. Are you on top of this because it's Ana, or are you just that good at your job?"

Kate raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a tight smile. "Can I talk freely?"

"Of course."

"I don't want to boast, but yes, I'm good. I'm not the only one, though. The problem is Martin. The only thing he's good at is taking credit. Did you see a single press release about you buying SIP? About the situation in Taiwan? About you cutting ties with MRC & Co.? No, because Martin didn't think it was important. But we're on top of your image, Mr. Grey. He just makes sure his name is on everything."

I lean back in my chair, studying her. She's bold, but I can tell she's not exaggerating.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Because I'm the newest hire, and we don't mix personal and professional relationships here. Or at least, we're not supposed to."

I nod, understanding her predicament. She wouldn't be speaking this openly if we didn't already know each other personally.

"I'll have a talk with Martin and Jack," I say after a pause. "In the meantime, stay on top of things. And… make me a list of who's actually pulling their weight in your department."

"You're asking me to snitch?"

"I'm asking you to tell me who deserves a raise. I trust you to know the difference."

Kate hesitates but nods. "Understood."

"Also … try to see who can be this 'insider'. I know it's not from my personal acquaintances, so it has to come from here."

"I'm already on it."

I nod, hiding my impressed state. She's really on top of things. Whether it's out of loyalty to Ana, or because she's passionate about her job, I know I can rely on her.

She leaves, and I stare at the tablet again. The photos of Ana linger in my mind, a sharp reminder of the scrutiny she faces because of me. I can't stand it. I need to go home.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

The hum of my office still lingers in my mind as I leave for the penthouse. The article about me and Ana continues to gnaw at my thoughts, and no matter how hard I try, I can't shake the feeling that the world is closing in on us. I need to clear my head.

When I walk through the door, the penthouse is quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of my mind. I set up my laptop in my home office, but the screen blurs as my thoughts keep drifting back to the article. I really don't care that they think I am gay, they have been speculating for years, but the pictures of Ana alone are odd to me. Were they taken by that creep who followed her a while back, or do I have to worry about another creep?

A soft knock on the door pulls me from my reverie. Ana steps in, and instantly, the room brightens. Her smile, her warmth, everything about her makes the world feel a little less heavy. She looks radiant, cheeks flushed from the cold outside.

"Hey," she greets, leaning down to kiss me.

"Hey," I murmur, pulling her onto my lap. The weight of the day seems to melt away as she settles against me, but the article still lingers in the back of my mind.

"What's wrong?" she asks, immediately sensing my mood.

I hand her the tablet, and she skims the article, her eyebrows raising at the headline. A laugh bursts from her lips as she reads.

"Maybe I should get pregnant," she says, her tone light. "Then they'd stop thinking you're gay. Though I should probably sign a prenup first, so they don't think I'm a gold digger too."

I stiffen, the frustration I've been holding back bubbling to the surface. "It's not funny, Ana," I say, my tone sharper than I intended.

She chuckles, shaking her head. "Christian, it's ridiculous. Let them talk. I don't care what they think."

Even when she's exasperating, she's beautiful. I pull her close, burying my face in her neck, letting her warmth soothe me. "I want Sawyer with you 24/7."

"Christian…"

"Ana, babe. Please. I don't want anything to happen to you. Especially not because of me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. And your father wouldn't let me live anyway."

She laughs softly, her fingers threading through my hair. "Fine. But only because I love you."

I kiss her, the tension from the day melting away as her lips meet mine. She tastes like home, like everything I've ever wanted. The kiss starts slow, tender, but soon, the intensity builds. The desk behind us beckons, and I lift her onto it, losing myself in her completely.

I kiss her, letting my frustration melt away as her lips meet mine and happy that she conceded so quickly and easily. Maybe it's the fact that she's been photographed without her knowledge. She tastes like home, like everything I've ever wanted.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

It's Halloween night, and the penthouse feels too empty without her. I've never had this feeling before. I used to like being alone in that penthouse, but that was before Ana, and now the silence wraps around me, oppressive and heavy. I glance at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time. Ana is in New York, out with Elliott, Kate, Mia, and José, celebrating Halloween like most people our age do. If I didn't have this important meeting looming over me tomorrow morning, I would have gone, no matter how much it's not my scene. The thought of her out there, having fun without me, gnaws at me.

On one way, I get it. She deserves this. Time with her friends, a break from all the weight of our lives. She's been so patient with me, with my issues. She deserves to live freely, without being tied down by my… issues. But even as I try to tell myself that, I can't shake the knot in my stomach.

The jealousy is a constant buzz, vibrating beneath the surface. José. He's always there. Always touching her, laughing with her, looking at her in that way. And I hate it.

She tells me over and over that José is like a brother to her, that there's nothing there. But I don't trust him. I never have, and I never will. There's something about the way he's always around her, the way he's so comfortable with her, that makes my blood boil. And it's not just because of the way he touches her—his hand on her, sharing her secrets, his laughter too close to hers. It's the way he looks at her. Like he wants more. I would want more if I were him.

I pick up my phone, scrolling through the photos they've posted on social media. There's a quick glimpse of a boomerang video on Mia's feed—a shot of her, Kate, and Ana laughing, drinks in hand. Ana's head thrown back in that carefree way she does when she's genuinely happy. José's arm is around her waist, his hand resting a little too low for my liking. I feel the familiar spike of jealousy in my chest. My stomach churns.

I throw my phone down on the counter, my fists clenched. I should be happy for her. I should be glad that she's out there, enjoying herself. But all I can feel is this gnawing ache, this feeling of inadequacy.

Then my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen. A text from Ana.

I open it, and my heart skips a beat. It's a group photo. Ana, Elliott, Kate, Mia, and José all smiling, arms around each other, a snapshot of the night and their costumes. Ana's smiling, looking so beautiful, but there's something about the whole picture that makes me pause. It's not just the image—it's the fact that she's sending it to me. She doesn't like pictures. This one feels like a little piece of her, a gesture of intimacy, even from a distance.

I stare at the photo for a moment, my emotions tangled. She's sharing a moment with me, even when she's far away. And yet, José's hand is clearly on her waist, his smile a little too wide if you ask me.

I throw myself into the boxing bag, trying to release the tension building inside me. The thud of my fists against the leather is satisfying, but it doesn't erase the unease gnawing at me. I throw another punch, harder this time, feeling the burn in my arms. This is what helps—this is what calms me when the thoughts start spiralling.

But even as I work out the frustration, I can't shake the image of her with him. Laughing. Touching. Living. And me? I'm stuck here, unable to be a part of that.

I pause, wiping the sweat from my brow. The ache in my chest isn't physical—it's the gnawing feeling of not being enough for her. I know she loves me, but sometimes, I wonder if she'll start to resent me for all the things I can't give her.

I head to the clay, focusing on the soft, cool texture in my hands. It's grounding. It's something I can control. The rhythm of my fingers shaping the clay helps, but the thoughts don't stop. She deserves someone who can take her out dancing, someone who can join her in those carefree moments. And I can't be that person.

I close my eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. She'll be back soon. I'll talk to her then. I just need to hold on until she's home.

My phone buzzes again. Another message from Ana.

I miss you. Can't wait to be back in your arms 😘 - A

The words hit me harder than I expected. I smile, the ache in my chest easing just a little. She misses me. Even after all this distance and fun she's having, she still thinks of me.

I quickly type a reply:

I miss you more. Come home soon. - C

I set the phone down, the knot in my stomach loosening. She'll be back soon. And until then, I'll keep waiting.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

Thanksgiving. A time for family, food, and… dysfunction. This year, it's a circus. My parents are hosting, and the guest list includes Elliot, Kate, her brother Ethan, Mia, and her friend Maya. Standard fare. But the wildcard? Ana's parents.

The Colonel and Carla. Together.

They're going to stay at Escala. With us.

I sit at my desk, staring at my laptop screen, trying to focus on work. But the thought of them—the Colonel and Carla, divorced yet somehow inseparable—won't leave me alone.

It's not just the oddity of their relationship. It's the gnawing suspicion I've carried since I met Carla. Ana doesn't look like either of them. Her delicate features, her piercing blue eyes—they don't match the Colonel's rugged, military sharpness or Carla's fiery, dramatic beauty.

I've never said it out loud, but I'm convinced Carla cheated on the Colonel. And worse, I think the Colonel knows and learned to live with it. It's the only explanation for how they act—like a couple who's still deeply in love but separated by some unspoken truth. It's unsettling. And then there's the deeper fear, the one I can't shake: is this the kind of love Ana expects? To forgive the unforgivable? To accept betrayal as part of the deal?

I rub my temples, trying to shove the thought aside. Ana would never cheat. But then again, the Colonel probably thought the same about Carla once.

"Christian?" Ana's voice breaks through my thoughts. She's standing in the doorway, her laptop in hand, a soft smile on her lips.

"Hey," I say, leaning back in my chair.

"Mom called," she says, stepping into the room. "She wants to know if we can pick her up from the airport Wednesday morning. Dad's driving in later that day."

I nod. "Of course."

She tilts her head, studying me. "You okay?"

"Fine."

She doesn't buy it. "You're dreading this, aren't you?"

"No," I lie.

She sets her laptop on the desk and crosses her arms, her smile turning playful. "Christian."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "It's not that I don't want them here. It's just… complicated."

"How so?"

I hesitate, but the words spill out. "Your parents. They're divorced, but they act like they're still together. It's… unusual."

Her expression softens. "They've always been close. The divorce wasn't because they stopped loving each other. Far from it. It was just… circumstances."

"Circumstances," I echo, the word heavy on my tongue.

She steps closer, her hand brushing against mine. "Dad is going to behave, I promise. And if he doesn't, we'll survive. It's just a few days."

"It's not him I'm worried about," I admit.

Her brow furrows. "Then what?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Forget it."

She doesn't press, but her eyes linger on me, searching for answers I'm not ready to give.

Later, I'm on the phone with my mother, going over the final details.

"Christian, darling, it's going to be wonderful," she says. "A true family celebration."

"Wonderful," I echo, my tone flat.

She laughs. "Oh, stop it. It's one day. You can handle it."

One day. Easy for her to say.

"Are Ana's parents comfortable staying at Escala?" she asks.

"They'll manage," I reply, though I'm not entirely sure.

"And you?"

"I'll manage," I say, the words feeling heavier than they should before letting her know that will see her on Thanksgiving. Then I join Ana on the couch, her laptop open between us as she finalises the plans. She's scrolling through recipes, debating between pumpkin pie and pecan.

"Both," I say without hesitation.

"Both?" she echoes, raising an eyebrow. "Are you planning to eat two desserts?"

"Maybe."

She laughs, shaking her head. "You're impossible."

I glance at her, my chest tightening at the sight of her smile. "And you love me anyway."

"Always," she says softly.

For a moment, the chaos of Thanksgiving fades into the background. But the unease lingers, a shadow I can't shake. If the Colonel can forgive Carla for betraying him, what would I do if Ana ever…

No. I won't let my mind go there.

As long as she's by my side, I can handle anything—even the Colonel and Carla under my roof.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

Thanksgiving at my parents' house is warm and full of life. The dining room hums with conversation, laughter, and the occasional clink of silverware against china. The air is thick with the aroma of roasted turkey, sage stuffing, and spiced pumpkin pie, mingling with the faint, woody scent of the crackling fireplace in the adjacent living room. Mom has outdone herself, as usual, with a spread that could feed an army. Platters of food are arranged with the kind of precision only she can manage, each dish a testament to her tireless effort to make the day perfect.

The Colonel, Ray— as everyone else but Elliott and I seem to call him—is surprisingly pleasant. His usual stern demeanor is softened, and he even cracks a joke about military life that gets everyone laughing.

"I'll tell you," Ray says, holding a glass of red wine, his voice carrying over the chatter, "you haven't lived until you've had powdered eggs three meals a day for weeks on end."

Carla smirks, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "You loved those eggs. You used to send me recipes to try and recreate them at home."

The Colonel raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "That's because I was trying to save you from my mother's meatloaf."

The table bursts into laughter, the sound rolling through the room like a wave. My mother, ever the gracious hostess, chimes in with a story of her own, her smile as bright as the candles flickering on the table.

"Oh, I can relate. Carrick once tried to impress me with a casserole. I'm still not sure what was in it."

My father grins, entirely unfazed by the jab. "It was an experiment. You married me anyway."

"Barely," my mother quips, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

Carla chuckles, her laughter warm and genuine. "Parenthood is just a series of experiments, isn't it? You try your best and hope your kids don't end up writing a memoir about your mistakes."

Mia laughs, waving her fork in the air like a conductor leading an orchestra. "I've considered it. Working title: How to Survive the Grey Family."

The Colonel shakes his head, mock-serious, though the corners of his mouth betray him with a smile. "Kids these days. No respect for their elders."

Carla leans back in her chair, her tone teasing. "Says the man who let Ana climb trees in her Sunday dress when she was six and taught her to flip off anyone telling her to get down."

"She wanted to climb, so she climbed," the Colonel says with a shrug, as though the logic is irrefutable. "She's tougher than she looks."

I glance at Ana, who's sitting by my side, my hand on her knee, her smile soft and understated. Her eyes shimmer with a mixture of love and amusement as she looks at her parents. For a moment, I forget my suspicions about her parentage, caught up in the warmth of the moment.

Midway through the meal, Elliot clears his throat dramatically, drawing everyone's attention like a seasoned performer.

"I have an announcement," he says, his grin wide enough to rival the Cheshire Cat's.

Kate nudges him with her elbow, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress her own smile. "We have an announcement."

Elliot's grin widens, clearly relishing the suspense. "Fine. We have an announcement. Kate's moving in with me."

The room erupts into a cacophony of congratulations and laughter. Mia teases them about taking their time, and my father raises his glass in a toast.

"About time, Elliot," Carrick says, smirking. "I was starting to think you'd never settle down."

"Careful, Dad," Elliot shoots back, his tone light but pointed. "I've been settled for a while. You're just catching up."

Kate grins, leaning in toward the table. "Oh, come on, Mr. Grey. I've clearly been the stabilizing force in his life."

Carrick raises his glass again, his smile broad and genuine. "To Kate, then. May she keep him in line."

"Good luck with that," Mia quips, earning another round of laughter that bounces off the walls and fills the room with its warmth.

I glance at Ana, still sitting beside me as she sips on her iced tea. She's smiling, genuinely happy for them. But when I look at her a little longer, she feels my gaze. Her eyes flick to mine briefly before she looks away, her lips curving into a faint smile that lingers just long enough to make my chest tighten. This seems like the promise that she too might be moving in with me soon.

As dessert is served, and my mother unveils her famous pumpkin pie, a recipe she's perfected over decades. Ana surprises everyone by bringing two pies of her own—pecan and apple, their golden crusts glistening under the soft light of the chandelier.

"Homemade?" my mother asks, her eyebrows lifting in impressed surprise.

Ana nods, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "The pecan is a family recipe."

As the pies are passed around, the conversation shifts to fond memories and shared experiences. Carla and Grace find themselves near the dessert table, their voices carrying a warmth that matches the flickering candles.

"There's something about having everyone together like this," Carla says, her voice soft but filled with emotion. "It makes all the chaos worth it."

Grace nods, slicing into the pumpkin pie with practised ease. "Absolutely. It's rare these days, isn't it? Everyone's so busy with their own lives."

Carla sighs, her gaze drifting toward Ana, who's chatting with Mia at the other end of the table. "It's moments like this that remind me how lucky I am. Even if they're grown, they're still our babies."

Grace smiles knowingly, her eyes twinkling. "And they always will be. Though I'll admit, it's nice to see them happy and settled. Ana seems to bring out the best in Christian."

Carla glances at me briefly, her expression unreadable before she turns back to Grace. "He's a good man. I can see why she loves him."

The warmth in her tone catches me off guard, and I focus on cutting into my pie to distract myself. The room continues to buzz with life, the kind of energy that only comes from being surrounded by family. For a moment, I let myself sink into it, the laughter and love wrapping around me like a blanket.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

Thanksgiving lasted well into the night, so we all went to bed as soon as we got home, knackered to the bone. And yet, I wake up abruptly, my chest tight, my shirt damp with sweat. The remnants of the nightmare clinging to me, the images vivid and unrelenting. My biological mom's hollow face, her sad, distant eyes haunting me. And as if it is not enough, Elena's manipulative voice is added to the mix, her hand reaching out as if to pull me back into a place I've fought so hard to escape.

I sit up, glancing at Ana. She's still sound asleep, her breaths soft and even, her face serene in the dim light. I run a hand through my damp hair, careful not to disturb her.

Slipping out of bed, I grab a fresh T-shirt from the drawer and head to the kitchen. The quiet hum of the house surrounds me as I flick on the light, its soft glow giving me some sort of small comfort.

Hot cocoa. That's what I need. Something warm, something grounding. I pour milk into a saucepan and watch it heat, stirring in the cocoa powder with slow, deliberate motions.

The nightmare wasn't loud or chaotic. It was subtle, insidious. A mix of memories and fears that seeped into my subconscious, blurring the lines between my two pasts. My biological mom wasn't cruel—she was broken. Her sadness, her helplessness, had shaped my earliest years. And Elena… Elena had exploited that vulnerability, twisting it into something I still struggle to untangle.

I take a deep breath, the rich scent of cocoa filling the air. It's comforting, but it doesn't erase the weight pressing on my chest. This is the first time I've dreamt of both of them together. The first time those two worlds collided in my mind.

The milk begins to simmer, and I pour the cocoa into a mug, taking a slow sip. The warmth spreads through me, easing the tightness in my chest.

I glance toward the living room, where the faint outline of the bay window is visible in the darkness. A shadow catches my eye. Someone's there.

I set the mug down and step closer, my bare feet silent against the floor. As I approach, I see Carla sitting on the floor by the window, a cup of tea cradled in her hands, her gaze fixed on the night outside.

I watch her as she gathers her thoughts, her eyes fixed on the bay window. The silence between us feels heavy, filled with years of pain and unspoken truths. Finally she looks at me, her expression soft. "Trouble sleeping?" I ask, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"Just… being a parent," she says quietly, her voice cracking slightly. "You always worry for your child."

I nod, understanding more than she knows. I always worry about Ana, and though Carla has been unfaithful to her husband, and she left her daughter behind, I am sure that she will always care for Ana.

She turns toward me fully, her gaze steady. "She never told you about me and why she and I aren't as close as she is with her Dad, did she?"

I shake my head, unsure of what to say though I still let her know, "She said I was welcome to ask."

Carla sighs with a nod and a sad smile, her gaze drifting back to the window, her thoughts far away. "No matter how many times I have told her that I don't mind, Ana will never share a secret that isn't hers. In a way, I can see Ray in her for that."

There is a small silence as she sips on her tea, her eyes lost in space before she says in a soft whisper, "I am sure that you have guessed it already, but though she is his daughter for all intense and purpose, Ana is not Ray's biological child."

I feel the weight of her words settles in my chest. I knew something wasn't right, but hearing it out loud changes everything.

She continues, her voice soft but steady as I don't move to get closer to her and do my best to not show any of the judgement I am feeling toward her. "Ray used to travel a lot because of work. Even more than now. But when he would come back, he was all for me. He'd take me out, shower me with gifts, make sure I felt loved. And he promised that he'd be more present when we would start our family. He wanted so many children and he wanted to be present in their lives. Not just a distant figure, or worse a dead one. He comes from an only-child family and didn't want that for his children."

Carla smiles at the memory, a soft warmth in her expression. "I've known Ray since I was thirteen. He was sixteen. First, we were friends, then lovers. He was my first everything—love, kiss, time. He proposed the day I turned eighteen. I know that nowadays it isn't seen with a good eye, but Ray was my everything and I was his everything, and it's all that mattered to us. Still, we waited to actually get married for me to finish my studies and for him to have a better position that allowed him to get us a nice house. We got married the day he turned twenty-five. And for five years, we lived a perfect life. I loved waking up to his burnt eggs and I loved making him dinner. I loved hearing him take care of the garden as I would work in the office, and reading his letters when he was away. I loved putting the laundry on the line outside and being surprised by his return with his sweet arms taking me in."

Her smile fades, and she looks out the window again, her eyes clouded with something darker. "Do you know anything about military families?"

I shake my head, not sure where this is leading.

"It's a community," she says quietly. "I stayed home and worked on translating. I even did a couple of live interventions. But I had friends and I was never alone or lonely. Everyone knows everyone in this life. Ray's best friend, Jose SR is the father of Jose, Ana's friend who did the exhibition. And Miguel who you saw there also has his parents in the army. I was friends with everyone. When Ray was away, it was hard, but I never felt lonely. Because we all look out for one another. Or… that's the unspoken rule."

She pauses, her voice growing distant. "I was a beautiful young woman. I am not being vain, but I know God gifted me in that aspect. Or cursed me ... it always depends on how you want to see it"

Finally, I move to sit on the floor by her side as I feel a knot form in my stomach. I don't like where this is going. She keeps her eyes on the window, and from the corner of my eye, I can see her ghostly reflection open her mouth and say,

"A new neighbour moved in. We all welcomed him by showing him around, telling him which store was best to buy from, and which days were best to pot plants. I even made him a shepherd's pie as a welcome gift. Ray was gone for two more months, but that was nothing new. I had his sweet loving letters, my job and my friends.

This new neighbour would often come and stay longer than necessary, but at first, I thought it was because he was feeling lonely. He didn't have anyone back home, he was just an army man with no family life. But then ... when he started insinuating things, I made it clear that I wasn't one of those wives cheating on their husbands. I loved my husband and if he couldn't respect that, he should hang out with the single women of our community ...

He didn't care."

Carla stops, and I can feel the weight of what she's saying without her finishing the sentence. I already know. And to think I was accusing her of cheating when she endured the worst of things. Her eyes are still lost in space as she clears her throat and continues

"When Ray came back, I was six feet under. It's a miracle he found me alive. I was a shell of myself. He had to hospitalise me and that's when I learned I was pregnant. The only reason Ana or I are here is because of Ray. I was ready to end this but he pulled me back up. He cared for me, he never left my side afraid that I would do the unthinkable when he wasn't home and when Ana was born, he refused to have her adopted and recognized her as his own. He's been a better parent to her than me because he can forgo her heritage when I still struggle to do so. "

I swallow hard, trying to process it all. I understand what she means. I still have nightmares about Elena, I can't imagine how it would feel if I were in Carla's situation. And I can't help but admire the Colonel even more. "What happened to…?"

"The week after Ray came back and had me hospitalised, he had a fishing weekend with Jose Sr. Gina, Jose Sr's wife, stayed with me at the hospital the whole weekend, apologizing for not seeing anything but I was too wrapped up in my pain to register anything. The man disappeared that weekend, Ray never talked about him again. When I would ask, he would simply say that he acted like the husband he promised to be in our wedding vows and that he provided for my safety."

My respect for the Colonel grows even more. I understand better the offer he's made me about Elena. I look at Carla and her unshed tears as she opened this dissimulé part of her past to me and I ask, "Does Ana know?"

Instead of saying anything, Carla pulls out her phone, showing me an old picture. It's Ana, but not the version I know. The picture is older, and Ana looks different—more masculine, with a harder expression. And I understand. She knows. She looks just like the man in the picture, down the dimple in their left cheek. She took nothing from her Mom and everything from this man. That's why she doesn't like pictures. She knows she looks like her mom's worst nightmare. She doesn't want to have reminders that she's the reason her mother has nightmares, the reason why her mother almost took her own life.

My heart aches as I look at the photo. I can't imagine what that must have been like for Ana, growing up with that knowledge.

Carla's voice drops, filled with guilt. "I love her with all my heart, but… sometimes when I look at her ... I see him. I tried for so long to keep it to myself. She didn't ask for any of it. But… it's easier said than done. So, I asked Ray for a divorce. I put my child first because I know Ray loves her above all else. And he gave her the love she needed. The distance helped. And it took me years of her begging me for me to tell her the truth. Who wants to burden their child with that kind of go ugly truth? And though I know Ana is glad to knot the truth, it doesn't mean I don't feel guilty every single day that goes by. If I had been stronger, she wouldn't have this weight her shoulder."

I place my hand over hers, offering comfort. "I don't think she holds it against you."

Carla smiles, though it's tinged with sadness. "You're sweet."

She looks at me, and for a moment, I see the weight of years in her eyes.

"Ana is my Ray." I tell her, feeling the weight of what is happening dawn on me. Ana was the only person outside of family and Eric whom I told about Elena. But Carla has been so raw, I feel I should let her know about my own struggles and how her daughter helped me. If anyone can truly understand and relate it's her.

I take a deep breath, looking down at my feet as I continue, "When I was fifteen, I… I was seduced by a family friend. For two weeks, she took advantage of me. I haven't touched a woman since. I had so many issues already, and it didn't help. But Ana… she took me as I was and let me come out on my own. She made me see the beauty in me and that I am not defined by what happened to me. The same way Ray did to you"

She squeezes my hand, offering silent support. "She loves you."

I look up to see Carla smile, a little brighter this time so I assure her of this truth too "She loves you too."

She stands, brushing off her clothes. "I should get back to bed before Ray wakes up and worries."

I watch her leave, the weight of her words heavy on my heart. There's so much more to this story than I ever realized, and yet, it's clear that Ana is loved, deeply and unconditionally.

I walk back to the bedroom, the weight of Carla's words still heavy in my chest. My mind races, piecing together everything I've learned tonight. Ana's aversion to pictures, her quiet resilience, her unwavering love for her mother despite the unspoken pain—it all makes sense now.

When I step inside, the soft glow of moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a serene light over Ana. She's curled up on her side, her breathing steady, her face peaceful. For a moment, I just watch her, marvelling at the strength she doesn't even realize she has.

Carefully, I slip into bed beside her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, drowsy and confused.

"Christian?" she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.

I don't answer. Instead, I press a kiss to her temple, then her lips. It's slow, tender, filled with everything I can't put into words.

"What's wrong?" she asks softly, her brows furrowing.

"Nothing," I whisper, my voice steady. "I just love you, Ana. More than anything."

Her expression softens, and she reaches up to touch my face, her fingers brushing my jawline. That simple touch, so warm and unguarded, undoes me.

I kiss her again, deeper this time, pouring every emotion I feel into it. She responds, her hands sliding into my hair, her body melting into mine. We move together, slow and deliberate, as if time has stopped just for us.

In this moment, there's no pain, no past, no shadows—only us. Ana, my light, my salvation, my everything.

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💚Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed💚

Finally we know all about Ana and Carla ... Did anyone see that coming? And what do you think will happen in the next chapter ... Because I think you're going to like it ^^

(Just so you know, one of my 2025 goals is to finish THREE fanfics this year. So you are in for some treats^^)

💚 E L James owns the names of the characters from the Fifty Shades franchise, Everything else is mine (including the mistakes and grammar errors).

Love, Mina 💚💚💚