Fault Lines
1024 Words
The morning sun washed the O’Connell estate in gold, its manicured gardens glistening after a night of light rain. The air smelled faintly of roses and wet stone, beautiful, controlled, and utterly deceptive.
Anika stood on the terrace, sipping her coffee as preparations for the wedding unfolded below. The staff moved like clockwork, decorators setting up marquees, florists unloading crates of orchids, photographers surveying angles.
From this height, everything looked perfect.
It almost convinced her that perfection existed.
Liam joined her moments later, slipping his arm around her waist. He smelled like fresh cologne and coffee, warmth and steadiness, the scent of home.
“You’ve been out here since sunrise,” he murmured.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “I kept thinking about the guest list. My father wants to invite the finance minister’s son, and your uncle insists on adding foreign investors. It’s supposed to be a wedding, not a corporate summit.”
Liam smiled faintly. “That’s what happens when your love story is worth billions.”
She sighed. “It’s starting to feel like it belongs to everyone but us.”
He tilted her chin toward him. “Then maybe we will take it back. After the ceremony, let’s disappear. No press, no business, no expectations. Just… you and me.”
“Where would we go?”
“Anywhere no one knows our names,” he said. “You could wear your hair down and pretend to be just Anika, not a Morell, not a future CEO.”
She smiled. “And you could be a man without a boardroom.”
He laughed softly. “Now that’s a fantasy worth chasing.”
For a while, they just stood there quietly, watching the sunrise.
But neither of them noticed the figure standing near the edge of the courtyard, uncle Richard, talking quietly on the phone, his expression unreadable. When his eyes briefly lifted toward the terrace, they were cold as marble.
Later that day, Colby leaned against the hood of his car, flipping a silver lighter between his fingers. The flame flickered once, then vanished.
He hadn’t smoked in months, but lately the habit called to him, anything to burn through the restlessness building inside him.
Liam walked up, adjusting his cufflinks. “You look like a man about to start trouble.”
“Maybe I am,” Colby replied. “How do you stay so calm with everyone treating this wedding like a business merger?”
“Because it is one,” Liam said, smiling. “But it’s also more than that.”
Colby’s jaw tightened. “You actually love her.”
“Of course I do.” Liam’s voice softened. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted, smart, strong, unafraid of power. Why?”
Colby shrugged. “Just wondering what that feels like, having something real in the middle of all this performance.”
Liam chuckled. “You’ll know one day. Just don’t fall for anyone who can negotiate better than you.”
“I already did once,” Colby muttered under his breath.
Liam frowned. “What?”
“Nothing,” Colby said quickly, tossing the lighter back into his pocket. “Forget it.”
The truth was, Colby had always admired Anika. Not romantically at first, she’d just fascinated him. The way she looked people in the eye without fear. The way she stood toe-to-toe with their fathers during meetings and never blinked.
Although admiration had a dangerous habit of becoming something else, something he’d buried long ago, out of loyalty to his brother.
At the Morell mansion Anika’s brothers were gathered in their father’s private study, a room heavy with cigar smoke and tension.
Julian paced near the fireplace. “I still don’t like this marriage,” he said. “We can't just trust the O’Connells.”
“They’re businessmen, not mobsters,” Alexander replied, unimpressed.
“Not the father, the uncle,” Morgan said sharply. “Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Enough speculation,” Alexander snapped. “This marriage will happen. It secures the family’s legacy.”
Ethan, the youngest, glanced at his sister. “Are you happy, Ani?”
Anika smiled faintly. “Happiness isn’t part of the contract,” she said. “But yes… I love him.”
Her father’s expression softened, just slightly. “Then that’s enough.”
But Ethan didn’t miss the flicker of sadness in her eyes when she turned away.
That night, the rehearsal dinner was smaller. Only family and close partners. The long dining table glowed under chandeliers, the air filled with laughter and expensive wine.
Colby sat opposite Anika, trying not to stare as Liam spoke beside her.
She laughed at something Liam whispered, her eyes bright.
Colby looked away quickly, clenching his jaw.
Rita noticed. Mothers always do.
“Colby,” she said softly, touching his hand. “You’ve been quiet tonight.”
He smiled politely. “Just tired, Mom.”
Marcel raised his glass. “To family,” he said, “and to the future our children will build together.”
Everyone lifted their glasses.
Anika glanced across the table at Colby just for a second. There was something in his expression, something unguarded and fleeting, that made her heart stutter. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.
When she turned back to Liam, she told herself she had imagined it.
Later that evening, as the guests departed, Anika lingered by the staircase.
Liam was saying goodnight to his parents, and Colby walked past her on his way out.
“Goodnight, Colby,” she said softly.
He stopped, meeting her gaze. “Goodnight, Anika.”
There was a pause, long enough for the air between them to shift.
Then he smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Take care of him,” he said. “He means everything to me.”
“I know,” she whispered.
He nodded once, then walked away, disappearing into the night.
That would be the last peaceful evening they’d ever share.
By morning, the news would break.
Anika Morell’s fiancé, Liam O’Connell, dead.
Colby O’Connell found at the scene
- Writer
