The Rewritten Love: A Second Beginning Max Charming

Fred had the woman sit on his lap, his fingers daring to explore beneath the soft fabric of her skirt. She caught his wandering hand, her voice a blend of reprimand and invitation, “Not here, Mr. Turner. Eyes are upon us.”

He inhaled deeply, the perfume enveloping her was rich and unfamiliar, a stark contrast to Mya’s subtle fragrance.

Fred was a man whose interest waned with the moon; no woman ever marked more than a week in his orbit before he found them as forgettable as the last.

As if on cue, a partition ascended, granting them a shroud of privacy. Her voice fluttered, a whisper of temptation, “Mr. Turner, might I assist you? This dress is quite delicate, after all.” Fred parted his legs in silent assent, and she slid to her knees, a willing accomplice to their hidden dance.

When Mya returned home, she was still thinking of how to ruin Serena Smith’s life. To claim Madelyn’s treasures as her own and flaunt them was an act of audacity that seared Mya’s conscience. Never had she witnessed such blatant shamelessness. Mya’s thoughts swirled into the quiet chaos of sleep, her grip on her plushy the only anchor to her reality. In the nebulous realm of dreams, she found herself adrift in an ominous forest, the breath of an unseen predator hot on her neck.

Then, without warning, a figure of menace materialized, thrusting her into a cage and clamping cold shackles around her wrists, his threat hanging in the air – obedience or eternal captivity. As the dream’s fog lifted, the man’s identity sharpened into focus. It was that man in the prison warden uniform.

Mya immediately woke up in a fright. She was sweating so heavily that her strawberry nightgown was soaked in sweat. She turned on the lights and held onto her plushy while shivering.

“Why did I dream of him out of the blue!” Mya said while patting on her face.

to death! Thankfully, it’s just a

clock. She remembered that she still needed to visit Madelyn tomorrow at

Monet’s first mentee had spread throughout Ventropolis. The public did not know Leonardo had already taken a

headline and scoffed,

whether to share the grave news. Leonardo pressed, “What’s going on?”

Leonardo

advanced brain cancer,” Kennedy finally said.

I just hearing about this? Take me

worry you,” Kennedy assured him. “She’s getting the best

to many, Leonardo Monet was actually part of the Johnson family. He had taken up the surname Monet to forge his own path, away from the

glanced in the rearview mirror, he saw Leonardo’s somber

but only Madelyn became his

her talent.’