Brielle
“You’re my wife,” he insisted, his words tinged with a sense of ownership that made me shudder. “You signed the contract, remember? It’s binding.” I tried to protest, but every denial was met with the same adamant response: “You’re my wife now.” *** Three Months Earlier… I groaned, struggling to wake up as my mom called my name for the tenth time, shouting it like there was no end to her chorus of “Brielle! Brielle!” Christ, Mom. Gimme a break. And before I could even open my eyes, she'd already yanked the covers off my bed, leaving me shivering and cursing in the chilly air. I groaned again, rubbing my eyes to clear the sleep away. “Seriously, Mom? Can’t a girl get some rest on a Saturday morning?” With a resigned sigh, I forced myself out of bed, brushed my teeth, and took a shower. After that, I joined Mom and Dad downstairs for breakfast. As Mom slid a plate of fluffy omelette in front of me, and she pinned me with a maternal gaze. “Hunny, did you write down that list I told you to make?” I sighed, picking up my fork. “I’ve got a lot on my plate, Mom. And not just this omelette.” I hadn’t even started the list. I've been busy, I was at the library yesterday, working on a project. And I was just exhausted when I got home. “I… I didn’t have time to do it.” “Brielle, you know how important this is to me. I want everything to be perfect for your graduation.” “Martha, you’re doing too much,” Dad said, coming to my defense. “All this fussing isn’t necessary.” “Thank you, Dad,” I was indeed grateful for the backup. “Why don’t we just order everything we need online and have it delivered right to our doorstep? Besides, We still have plenty of time before my graduation—three months, to be exact.” Mom’s eyes flitted between me and Dad, She appeared momentarily flabbergasted by our combined effort against her. She let out a sigh and reluctantly took a seat at the table, folding her hands in her lap, with features that I had clearly inherited. The same brunette hair, the same piercing blue eyes, the same olive skin. But the height difference between us was hard to ignore. At 5’10, I had clearly taken after my dad, while my mom stood at a petite 5’4. For all her quirks and sometimes overwhelming enthusiasm, I loved Mom deeply. And Dad, with his gentle, patient nature, had always been my rock. Together, they were my entire world, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them. “Brielle, hurry up and eat,” Mom said, digging into her own breakfast. “We need to leave soon.” I huffed, slumping my head on the dinner table and nearly toppling my plate in the process. Mom’s scowl deepened. “You want to break the plate? It might be more useful than whatever you’re doing with it now.” I rolled my eyes, picking up my fork and taking a defiant bite of my omelette. “Relax, Mom. I’m eating, aren’t I? I just don’t want to go to the market. It feels like we’re living in the… dark ages. Can’t we just order everything online? This isn't medieval times.” Dad couldn’t hold back his laughter, letting out a booming guffaw that filled the dining Area Mom shot me a scowl, but I couldn’t help the grin that threatened to break across my face. I tried to bite my lip to suppress my smile, but it was no use. Breakfast was over, the table was cleared, and I found myself in the passenger seat of Mom’s car, still feeling like I was sleepwalking through the morning. “You’re never going to get anywhere in life if you keep sleeping like this,” Mom said, shooting me a disapproving look as she started the car. After hitting up several shops for the necessary souvenir supplies—the hats, the t-shirts, the mugs, balloons, confetti, party supplies, you name it—we made our way to the grocery store to stock up on some essentials. Mom took the lead, bustling through the aisles, determined to make my graduation the event of the century. I didn’t have the heart to argue anymore, so I just trailed along behind her, trying to be a good sport. We stepped out of the supermarket, and suddenly, a deafening crash erupted behind us, the sound so piercing that it made my ears ring. I spun around, my eyes widening in horror as I took in the scene unfolding_ A car had flipped, hurtling towards the parking lot with dizzying speed. It caught fire immediately, sending smoke and flames billowing into the air. Panic spread through the area like wildfire, people scrambling to get out of the way of the fiery wreckage. My eyes flitted to a red truck that was speeding off, the driver fleeing the scene of the accident without a care. It was clear to me that this truck was responsible for the crash. And now the driver was trying to get away, speeding off into the distance as the chaos unfolded behind him. Paramedics rushed to the scene, doing their best to assess the situation and provide aid to the victims. They quickly loaded two badly injured people on stretchers and rushed them to the ambulance. One of the victims was a man, the other a woman. The woman seemed to be unconscious, a mask providing her with oxygen. The man, too, looked like she was fighting for his life. The entire ordeal played over and over again in my mind as we drove back home, the image of the car flipping, catching fire, and the truck driver fleeing burned into my memory. Sleep evaded me, Every time I closed my eyes, the accident seared its way into my subconscious. My mind fixated on the injustice of it all. The idea that the truck driver could get away with this haunted me. The local news revealed that the man involved in the accident was none other than Andrei Carter, the wealthy and powerful CEO of Carter Industries. And the woman with him, the one who tragically lost her life, was his fiancée. Three months later, the story resurfaced on the 9am news. The media had dredged up the horrific incident once again, sparking a renewed interest in the case. After scouring the internet for any scrap of information about the case, I was deep in the throes of a research marathon when the doorbell chimed. I jolted from my spot in front of the computer, and made my way to the door. As I opened the door, my best friend, Ivy, stood before me, an ear-splitting grin on her face. “Graduation partyyyyyyy!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing on the doorstep. I couldn’t help but grimace at the sound, “Good grief, Ivy. You could wake the dead with that voice!” Ivy snickered, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Hey, that’s not my fault!” “Can you please, for the love of all things quiet, calm down?” I pleaded, standing aside to let Ivy into the house. She stepped past me, still bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Nope! This is our graduation party Brielle. So I’m gonna go all out! Graduation partyyyyyyy!” Ivy bellowed, again, as if the whole neighborhood needed to hear. I swore I could feel the windows rattling in their frames. I put my hands over my ears. “Seriously, I don’t need you to wake the dead!” Ivy laughed, unperturbed by my irritation. “You’ve got mail!” she tossed a brown envelope in my direction. I plucked it out of the air, eyeing the package curiously. “What’s this?” “I don’t know either,” Ivy said, nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders as she headed towards the kitchen. The air was permeated with the smell of freshly baked cookies, and Ivy beelined straight for the treat. Mom and Ivy chatted away, seemingly oblivious to the world around them, while I curiously unfolded the papers from the mysterious package. As I scanned the documents, confusion began to wash over me. These weren’t the types of papers I expected—no internship acceptance, no job offer. Instead, the documents were filled with legalese, the kind that made my head spin. What in the world is this?Brielle's POV Graduation day had come and gone. Mom, Dad and I had celebrated, done the whole 'picture with the diploma' bit, and now I was ready to party. Ivy and I had hit up the local bar, and were letting loose, celebrating our newfound freedom from school. Mom, bless her heart, was unaware of this particular part of the celebration, also the fact that her goody two shoes daughter was pounding down the drinks like there was no tomorrow. “Hey, bartender, what's that drink called again? You know, the one with the little umbrella?” I slurred my words, barely holding it together. The bartender, a patient-looking woman in her forties, smiled kindly at me. “You mean Mai Tai, hon?” “That’s the one,” I said, giving her a thumbs-up. “I'll have another one of those,” I was having the time of my life. Ariana Grande’s 'Thank U, Next' blasted through the speakers, my head swaying from side to side, nodding to the beat. For the first time in my life, I was in a bar, getting tipsy_
Brielle's POV ”Oh my goodness, she's absolutely stunning!” I opened my eyes, and the first thing that struck me was the enormous size of the room bathed in natural light. The Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a breathtaking view of the city. The walls seemed to stretch on forever, adorned with exquisite artwork and sleek mirrors. The bed beneath me was… impossibly soft. “Drey’s picked a beauty this time,” a voice drawled from a distance “He’s got good taste, that one. I just hope she’s not as trigger-happy as the last one.” “Shhh, Edna. We don’t want to wake her. Let her rest. She’ll need all her strength.” “It’s her wedding day, Helen. If she doesn’t wake up in time, she’ll keep Drey and the priest waiting. You know we can’t have that.” Wedding day? Drey? I felt as if I were in some twisted dream, nothing making sense. But the fear coursing through my veins told me that this was all too real. I blinked my eyes wide open, hoping to clear the haze that clouded my mind, and fou
Brielle's POV The wedding was simple—a few documents to sign, the priest to preside, and a lawyer as a witness. Andrey insisted on taking photos, his enthusiasm for capturing the moment clear. And the wedding was over. I was now married to a man I barely knew. Three years, Mr. Carter had said, and I could walk away. It was a strange arrangement, but I couldn’t help feeling a sense of empathy for this mysterious man. His mask, his accident, his desire to protect his image…it all tugged at my heartstrings, and I found myself wanting to help him, despite my own confusion and uncertainty. After the ceremony, Edna served me a plate of cookies, claiming they were “special,” though I didn’t quite understand what she meant. But the cookies were delicious, and I savored each bite, letting the sweetness calm my nerves. As the bedroom door swung open, my head snapped up. I wasn’t expecting anyone to enter, but there stood Andrei, still wearing the mask and still sitting in his wheelchair.
Brielle's POV “You need to take him to the hospital, Ivy. What the hell were you thinking? What if he’s hurt? You can’t just leave him like that!” “I know, I know. But I can’t go to the hospital. They’ll think I did this on purpose. He’s…he’s got connections, Brielle. What if he’s dead? Or seriously hurt? They’re going to want an explanation." I glanced over my shoulder and saw Andrei deep in conversation with another well-dressed man—his lawyer or right-hand man, perhaps. After a moment, the two of them left the room together. Taking a deep breath, I rushed to the wardrobe, searching for something to wear over my simple shirt and jeans. I found a coat and threw it on, quickly checking the room for my shoes. “Ivy, you need to check his heartbeat,” I said, my voice urgent as I spoke into the phone once again. “Is he still breathing?” “I’m so scared, Brielle… I… I can’t even go near him right now. I’m scared I might’ve killed him.” Frustration welled up inside me. “Pull yoursel
Brielle's POV “Now,” Andrei confirmed. “Why the rush to leave so quickly, my dear? We've just begun our journey as husband and wife. Shouldn't we savor this time together?" I swallowed hard, my throat constricting as my anxiety intensified. With a slight shake of my hand, I attempted to grasp the handle of Andrei's wheelchair, but before I could, he swiftly placed his hand over mine, gently guiding it away from the wheelchair. “I’ve got this, Brielle.” He then pressed the controls on the armrest of his wheelchair, and I adjusted my pace to match his. But my mind was still spinning from the chaos Brielle unleashed. Knocking someone out cold with a bottle? Sure, I knew my bestie can be a bit crazy sometimes. But to hit someone with a damn bottle? On top of everything else, we didn’t know if Liam had any ties to Andrei. No. Please, God. Drey is already neck-deep in problems. He's been through a great deal such that I feel empathy for him. And then, out of the blue, Ivy
Brielle's POV With a heady mixture of panic and disbelief coursing through me, I practically bolted from Ivy's bedroom, “For God’s sake! What in the world did you do? What happened here?!” “Stop sounding so hysterical, Brielle. You’re scaring the shit out of me." The absurdity of Ivy’s statement knocked me off-kilter. I whipped around to face her, “Are you fucking serious? We’ve got a guy lying here, dead or dying, with blood all over his face, and you’re telling me to not freak you out? Yeah, let’s just crack open the champagne and party,” I drawled sarcastically. “Because who cares that there might be a dead guy in your bedroom, right? We’re clearly the life of the party here.” All jokes aside, I faced Ivy with a steely gaze, demanding answers. “What the hell happened?' My patience wore thin with every passing second. Ivy was hesitant and right now, time was the one thing we didn’t have. “Spill it, Ivy, or I’m walking,” I warned, leveling a steely gaze in her direction
Brielle's POV Desperation twisted Ivy’s face, her eyes pleading, “Liam’s life is hanging by a thread, Brielle. Every minute we argue is another minute we lose. If you’re scared of seeing Sanjay again because of some ancient history between you two, you need to get over it. Fast." Jeez. I thought I got over him. Why the hell am I so worked up at the thought of seeing Sanjay again? Sanjay's this adorable, Indian guy I used to have a major crush on. I mean, I tried everything—cards, letters—to get his attention. And nothing. I’m still kicking myself for being so stupid. I’d tried so damn hard to get over him, to put those feelings to bed once and for all. What if seeing Sanjay again stirs up those old feelings? What if I start liking him all over again? I’d already tied the knot with someone else, and the last thing I needed was any more complications. In a nervous tic, I began twisting the ring on my finger, a gesture that caught Ivy’s eye. She gave me a questioning look, an
Brielle's POV Entering the grand living room, of the Carter estate, I was greeted by a familiar sight: Andrei, seated in his wheelchair, a slight, almost knowing smile playing across his features, visible even in the soft, subdued lighting that cast a gentle glow across the room. “I'm glad you made it back safely. Ms. Monroe.” My smile was subtle. But then, a sweet, divine scent captured my attention: the roses in Andrei's grasp. Those flowers were a sight to behold—all delicate and fragrant. With a gentle, almost courtly gesture, he presented me with the bouquet. I gratefully accepted them. But a nagging thought gnawed at the back of my mind. It wasn't my birthday, and it was far too early for Valentine’s Day. Curiosity getting the better of me, I inquired, "What’s the occasion?” “Not everything needs to be tied to a specific occasion, When you share your life with someone special, every day is something to be cherished. And that, Ms. Monroe, is what I wanted to do
Jeremy's POV Enter Jones. Don't let his age fool you – the man's a certified brainiac. He settles in, and We get down to brass tacks, discussing the details. “I'm cutting ties with Andrei for good and taking full control of the two companies I snatched from him. I'm consolidating my ownership with a vertical integration strategy, aiming for a 100% stake with zero ties to the Carter empire. I'm expecting Andrei to try rallying his allies or attempting a hostile takeover, but I'm ready. I've got my lawyer drafting a bulletproof shareholder agreement and setting up a poison pill strategy to block any takeover attempts.” The old man listens intently, demonstrating a clear grasp of the situation. He takes meticulous notes as I outline my plan. “I'll be darned, Jeremy. You're one of those 'new-fangled' thinkers, aren't ya? I swear, you're so smart, you make me feel like I just fell off the turnip truck.” A lopsided grin spreads across my face, oozing self-assurance. I've got all th
Jeremy's POV All nonsense put aside, I slam the map onto the table, “Eyes on me,” I bark, “I don’t have time for screw-ups. “ My hand jabs into the tabletop, each thrust an exclamation point to punctuate the severity of the situation. These morons can be as dumb as a box of rocks sometimes, and the effort it takes to get through to them has my temper running hotter than a desert sun. '“At 0200 hours, the target will land at the Kahului Airport, Maui. The airport is primarily a regional hub, with limited security, which should make our operation smoother than a freshly ironed aloha shirt." I inform my crew, their faces intent as they listen to my debriefing. “Our scouts will monitor the flight’s arrival, keeping a constant line of sight on the target as they exit the plane and enter their transportation. We’ll have an unmarked SUV parked nearby, with the windows blacked out to prevent recognition. The driver will be wear a chauffeur's uniform, his ID on display for anyone wh
Brielle's POV Marcus brings the car to a smooth halt, his courtesy never faltering even in the dark of night. With a gentle gesture, he opens the door, his eyes following my every step as I emerge from the car. The night air is cool and still, with only the stars and the moon to light my way. The darkness seems to swallow the surroundings, obscuring the path ahead. But I know this is an outdoor venue, a garden maybe Because it's like a perfume bomb went off — roses, jasmine, lavender… it's heavenly. My eyes are glued to this one spot in the distance, where a warm light is shining softly. There's something about it that's just so inviting… I feel myself being pulled towards it, Just as I'm transfixed, I sense someone behind me. I don't need to turn around to know it's him — Andrei. His cologne is unmistakable, it's just… him. It's familiar, comforting, exciting all at once. I'm anticipating a sweet, gentle gesture, but Andrei throws me a curveball. He wraps a blindfold arou
Brielle's POV Ivy shoots me a curious glance as we wait for the traffic light to turn green. “Where are you off to, all dressed up?” she asks, her voice competing with the sounds of the morning commute – car engines, chatter, and the wail of sirens in the distance. I chuckle and say, “Just a meeting.” Ivy gives me a skeptical look. Luckily, the traffic light changes, and I drop her off, cutting our conversation short. Today is a whirlwind of meetings. After dropping Ivy off, I kick things off with my accountant, who somehow makes finance fascinating, I know, I'm surprised too. Next, I meet with a business buddy to brainstorm, bounce ideas, and possibly create a few new ones. Post-meeting, I need a caffeine intervention, so I grab a coffee on my way to collect Ivy. We arrive home, and she's having a major stare-down with her reflection, analyzing every strand. Girl's checked herself out so many times, I'm starting to think she's trying to set a new record. Been there, done
Brielle's POV The countdown to our family trip to paradise is on… Mom and Dad flit about the house like over-caffeinated hummingbirds, filling suitcases with swim trunks, sunscreen, and flip-flops. Me? I'm trapped in a vortex of second-guessing. With their anticipation bubbling over, this conversation's going to be a pit of lava. The truth is, it's not that I don't want to go—it's just…well, Ivy. She's like the world's most unexpected surprise party. You're not sure if you're going to love it or hate it. Mom’s descent down the stairs takes on a new intensity as she catches sight of me at the staircase’s midpoint, “Brielle, What’s the holdup? You should’ve been packing hours ago.” Dads glued to his watch like a limpet on a rock, his gaze fixed on the relentless march of time as he hustles after Mom. Meanwhile, I’m standing at the end of the stairs, frozen with indecision. My smile is more of a grimace, a thin line of discomfort stretching across my face as I scramble for an e
Andrei's POV. My fingers hover over the keyboard, ready to dish out another serving of banter, when a sixth sense alerts me to Paul’s presence. Instinctively, my face shifts from its usual mask of irreverent charm into a serious, professional veneer. Shutting my laptop, I gaze at Paul with interest, “New York… did you conquer the city, or did it conquer you?” Paul chuckles, “I think the city won this round. I got lost in Times Square for an hour, but, it… It was worth it.” “Don't worry. Getting lost in Times Square is just the city's way of saying, 'You're welcome to come back anytime'.” Paul's laughter trails off, and I swiftly shift gears, my expression transforming from amusement to intensity. “Brief me,” “It's not good, boss. Ms. McCarthy's has somehow managed to get on Valtor's radar, and now she's facing some very real and very serious threats.” “They're on her tail?” “More like they're closing in. We're running out of time.” What was she thinking? Getting mixed up wit
Brielle's POV Coffee in hand, I glance out the window, checking out the morning view… and my gaze lands on that super creepy spot. I could've sworn I saw someone watching me from there last night. It's just so unsettling. I keep replaying it in my head, trying to make sense of it, but it just leaves me with this creepy, crawly feeling that refuses to go away. I shudder, shaking off the uneasy feeling. I set my coffee down, refocus on my screen, and begin typing out my email, “Dear Mr. Carter, congratulations. You've managed to turn me into a millionaire with no idea how to spend it. I've dreamt of this day my whole life, and now that it's here, I'm just… stuck. My bank account is overflowing, and I'm starting to feel like Scrooge McDuck, swimming in vaults of gold coins. Help?" I hit send and wait, my eyes fixed on the screen. Minutes later, my email pings. Andrei's response has arrived. "Spending money is an art form, Ms Monroe. I recommend starting with something clas
Brielle's POV Marcus's gaze meets mine as I step out of the vehicle, his head inclining slightly in a formal nod. “Ms. Monroe.” “Marcus,” I say, deadpan, and he nods solemnly. It's a ridiculous game we play, but I've grown fond of this little dance, this familiar back-and-forth that never gets old. A realization strikes me, a sudden epiphany that halts my journey to the front door. “Well, isn't this a pickle in a jam jar?” I mutter to myself. “This morning, I strode out of this house on a mission—to become a free woman by sundown. Instead, I’m returning, engaged.” The diamond ring on my finger sparkles. I glance at it, feeling a flutter in my chest. No, I won't take it off. It's a symbol of belonging – to someone who's stolen my heart. I spin around, and there's Marcus, waiting. I don't want to keep him hanging around, so I head inside, trying to be all graceful and stuff. Let's just say I'm feeling delightfully… rumpled. As I swing open the front door, a symphony of sizzles
Brielle's POV “She said you'd betray me,” Andrei responds, and feel the tension rolling off him. He's clearly got some pent-up emotions brewing beneath the surface. “You believed her.” The words slice out of my mouth, my tone more accusatory than I meant it to be. “Somewhat…" He shakes his head as if to dispel the memory. “I don't want to believe her. I don't want to think that you'd ever do that to me.” He rips off the black pants he'd put on just moments ago and strides over to his wardrobe. He yanks out a fresh pair of distressed denims and slides them on. The jeans are perfectly faded, with ripped knees and frayed hems that give Andrei a rough-around-the-edges vibe. “Oh, Andrei, I’m not surprised. Those accusations didn’t come from thin air, did they? Someone put them in your head, someone gave them life. Someone twisted your faith in me.” My stare falls, settling on the knotted sheets tangled around my legs. “Enough of this nonsense. We've got business to attend to. Mr