THIRD PERSON. Eva grinned slyly, twirling her wine “Faking my father's death? Simple. But faking a pregnancy? That's where the real skill comes in.” Liam leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers "Andrei connected the dots, isn't he? I mean your lies about the death of your father.” “Thats Because The old man crawled out of his rock, seeking attention. I made it clear: I don't want him in my life. Still, he had the audacity to show up at Drey's office seeking me out. One careless move and he's jeopardized my entire operation. Unbelievable.” “Why fake it? He's a liability. Remove him. Dead men don't talk would have saved you the trouble.” Eva lets out a dry laugh, “You're insane Liam. Killing my father would make me no better than him.” Liam leans back, his eyes critical, “Sentimentality, Eva. Now that's a weakness. Let's not forget your actions drove an innocent woman to the brink and ultimately cost a patient their life.” “Collateral damage: one patient dead, one witness
Brielle's POV. Fancy parties aren't my thing, but for Andrei, I dress up and play as he works the room. It's one of those fancy schmooze-fests, where he meets with clients and business partners. His introductions are always a pleasant surprise: “My better half, Brielle…”, “The love of my life…”, or simply “My wife.” I take cues from his tone, exchanging warm hellos, handshakes, and effortless small talk. The names blur together — Ryan from Goldman Sachs, Maria from Madrid, Tom from Tokyo… My gaze drifts to Andrei, and suddenly, I'm tuned in to his frequency. Worried energy radiating from him. He's got that worried look, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. Constantly on calls, whispering into his earpiece. Something's brewing in his business, but I'm not entirely sure what. He introduces me to Reginald Thornton, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and with deep green eyes. "Mrs. Carter, it's a pleasure to meet you," Reginald says, his handshake confident, his eyes c
Ivy's POV "Three days unconscious?" I echo, stunned. I'm staring at this middle-aged woman in a nurse's uniform, thinking, 'Is she for real?' She's got the bedside manner of a brick wall. Just slapping up the IV and saying, "Hey, you're lucky you made it." What did that psycho Liam do to me? Three whole days, gone. What happened? Did he... did he hurt me? Leave me for dead? my head's spinning. I remember arguing, then nothing. I attempt to jerk my arm free, but a sharp, metallic bite stops me. 'Aww' Pain radiates from my wrist, and I glance down to see the glint of steel handcuffs securing me. How did I fucking end up here? Trapped, handcuffed, and clueless. This can't be real. I turn to the woman, hoping she'll help, "Please, nurse... whoever you are... You have to get me out of here. Seriously, I'm begging you. I don't know what's happening or why I'm here, but I need to go home. Now." The nurse leans in, her hand planted on her knee, and unleashes a creepy grin. "Trust me
Ivy's POV Liam flashes a wicked grin, the gun's muzzle pressed against my forehead. “Cómputo a la baja, Conejito.” I scrunch up. In response, Liam tilts his head to the side, a half-smile playing on his lips. “Means I'm counting down, bunny. Five seconds..." My mind's doing the 100 meter dash right about now, trying to find a way out of this mess. “You still thinking? There's only one way out.” Inches from my face, he holds up my cellphone." Contact Brielle. Have her meet you at the corner of Main and Elm at midnight. That's all." “No. I won't do it.” I shake my head fiercely. “No way I'm calling her.” One thing's for sure: Liam's a master manipulator. Can't trust him as far as I can throw him. What if calling Brielle seals her fate? If he goes and hurts Brielle, or worse, kills her? I have no clue what their sick plan is. I already failed her once, and the guilt's eating me alive. But maybe, just maybe, this is my chance to make it right. Liam lowers the gun, his
Brielle's POV. The party's winding down. Guests are filtering out, and Drey's still exchanging goodbyes with the stragglers. But I know we're leaving soon — he's not one for late nights. He taps his earpiece, and I recognize the subtle gesture. He's speaking to Paul. "Prepare the car for departure. My wife and I will be leaving in ten minutes." His words send a flutter through my chest. Wife. I still get butterflies hearing him say it. Andrei pauses, his tone shifting from crisp to curt. “Not tonight. Let's catch up on business tomorrow.” His words trail off, and I sense a hint of frustration. Whatever “it” is, Andrei's clearly not eager to delve into it tonight. He angles his wrist, checking the hour, “we'll discuss over coffee tomorrow.” I watch him, studying the lines of his face, the tension in his jaw. His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, everything else fades away. “Ready to head home?” he asks, his voice softer now. I nod, smiling. “Whenever you are.” With that, Andrei
Brielle's POV. Edna's silence is deafening. Since walking in on Andrei and me kissing, she's said nothing. No lectures, no questions, no reactions. Whenever I try to meet her gaze, she's conveniently occupied. Is she avoiding me? Avoiding the conversation? Her evasiveness fuels my anxiety. Did she already confide in Helen or Mom? I know I made a promise to them, but my heart… It won't listen and trying to shake off my feelings proves impossible. *** “C'mon, Brielle eat something. You've been starving yourself since last night. Now, Andrei told me to make sure you don't skip meals, and I'm not going to let him down.” No denying Edna's kindness; she's a sweetheart through and through. I take a deep breath, my hands fiddling nervously with my napkin as I meet Edna's eyes. “Edna, we need to talk… about last night. What you saw between Andrei and me.” She raises an eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across her face. “You two are married, Brielle. Kissing is perfectly acceptable – encou
Andrei's POV. “Regrettably, the acquisition has stalled. We were on the cusp of finalizing the purchase of the Carter industry's shell with all key components in place. However, the sellers unexpectedly withdrew from the negotiations.” I hear the news and my jaw clenches, muscles tensing with frustration. I scan the paperwork, my dissatisfaction growing. Everything appears flawless, meticulous. “What's their justification for pulling out?” I ask Paul, “No explanation whatsoever. They simply withdrew without justification.” I shouldn't be dealing with this nonsense. Liam's theft is clear-cut. He leveraged my stolen shares to launch his own company. Why must I navigate this labyrinthine process to retrieve my rightful property? “Paul, I believe it's time to escalate this matter. Involving the authorities is our best course of action. Assemble our legal team and prepare for a comprehensive counterattack. We'll pursue all available avenues to protect our interests and hold Liam
Brielle's POV “Trading champagne toast for coffee breaks, a 9 to 5 maybe?” Andrei raises an eyebrow intrigued, I nod contemplating, his expression turns thoughtful, “I admire your desire to change. What sparked this?” “Just feeling unfulfilled I guess.” “Carter Industries is always open for you, Brielle. It could be a VP position, or a marketing role, or a board membership – whatever you desire.” I know Eva's doing her sabbatical at Carter Industries, and frankly, I want no part in the drama that comes with it. I'm trying to escape the trophy wife trap, not get sucked into more dysfunction. Why did Andrei even mention Carter Industries? Does he not get it? I want to start fresh, not navigate Eva's manipulations. I swear, that woman has a radar for vulnerable moments. She'll sense my uncertainty and pounce. I've had enough of her condescending smiles and veiled insults. Andrei thinks I'm just being stubborn, but he has no idea what it's like to be in my shoes. Eva's prese
Andrei's POV. I'm heading towards my car at a rapid pace, my mind consumed by thoughts of what could be happening. But when I try to call Paul, I'm met with an annoying busy signal. I hear Helen's frantic voice behind me, but I don't have time to reassure her. I rip open the driver's door and dive into the seat. My key jams into the ignition, and I crank the engine to life. Taking a moment to collect myself, I turn to Helen… “Keep Alexis indoors, lock every door, every window. Don't open them for anyone. Not a neighbor, not a delivery guy, not even a cop. No one. You're the only one I trust to keep him safe. I'll be back as soon as I can." Helen's subtle nod is enough. I floor it, racing away from the Carter estate. It's Jeremy. I'm certain of it. He's the only one twisted enough to pull a stunt like this. I slam the pedal to the floor, racing towards Brielle's apartment with a gut full of rage. What's his twisted motive for snatching her because I know it's him – the sick
Andrei's POV “I need you to wrap things up, Paul. Adjourn the meeting until tomorrow evening. I'm slammed right now. Get out of the office and go pick up Brielle — it's almost 7 pm,” I tell him over the phone, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. This guy can be a bit of a space cadet sometimes. I swear, I told him to leave the office early and pick Brielle up on time. What's going through that head of his? He's still rambling on, saying something about how he thought I was going to pick up Brielle myself. But honestly, I don't have time for this conversation. I'm not in the mood to argue, and even on a normal day, I wouldn't hesitate to debate him until I proved my point. I suck in a deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill my lungs. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers is nice and all, but I'm not exactly here to stop and smell the roses. My mind's preoccupied with one person: Brielle. The woman who's been on my mind 24/7, and who I'm about to put
Brielle's POV I take a deep breath, my heart still racing, but he looks more concerned than angry. He calmly rolls up his sleeves, slip off his shoes and pads silently over to the window. He pushes it open, and a rush of cool air sweeps in, carrying the scent of the night with it. I breathe deeply, feeling the freshness fill my lungs, and suddenly, I'm alive again. Returning, he takes my hand gently, his fingers locking into place with a tender yet thrilling pressure. My heart begins to flutter, and a wave of excitement washes over me as he escorts me to the bathroom. He towers over me, his eyes locked on mine, and carefully begins to unbutton my T-shirt. He slips the shirt off my body, his fingers grazing my skin, and tosses it aside, Warmth spread through my core, settling in the sensitive area between my legs. My heartbeat quickens, and my veins thrum with anticipation, He selects a plush towel from the heated rail, dips it in warm water, and gently wrings it out. The sof
Brielle's POV Just as I'm about to toss back another shot, he swoops in and snatches the glass right out of my hand. I'm caught off guard, and my eyes widen in surprise. I'm left standing there, feeling a little silly and a lot relieved… “I believe we've concluded our meeting. Now, how about I make sure you get home safely?” I wave my hand dramatically, nearly losing my balance. “Oh no, no, no! The meeting's just getting to the good part.” I declare, my words slurring slightly. I point a wobbly finger at him. He's still gazing at me with an infuriatingly calm expression. Meanwhile, I'm over here, dying from embarrassment and struggling to stay upright as the room spins like a crazy top., I'm pretty sure I'm going to need a map to find my dignity tomorrow morning… I push myself up from the bar stool, but my legs have other plans. I stumble, and my face heats up with embarrassment. Note to self: being bold and fearless is way easier in theory. Right now, my main priority is no
Brielle's POV. Aurum - where the rich and powerful come to eat like kings and queens while pretending to discuss business. I've heard the food is divine, the service impeccable, and the ambiance… well, let's just say it's the perfect place to make a statement. Or, in my case, to lure out a certain elusive CEO. The exterior is sleek and modern, all glass and steel, while the interior is warm and inviting, with rich wood accents and crisp white linens. My heart's racing, and I'm obsessively checking the clock. II've been flirting with a staff employee to get a rise out of my boss don't judge me, it was a desperate plan and now the moment of truth is finally here. Will my mystery boss step out of the shadows and reveal his face? And, more importantly, will he be the ridiculously handsome and infuriating Andrei Carter? I'm 99.9% sure it's him… Only Andrei could throw me under the bus like that, and I just can't fathom why he's been hiding. I'm bursting to see him, to fi
Brielle's POV I'm deep in thought, pondering the mystery that is Jeremy, when the speakers starts blaring and scares the daylights out of me, “Aren't you going to get down to work? Or are you just going to continue perfecting the art of doing nothing.” Okay, Mr. Carter, I think it's time to level up from 'Mysterious Voice' to 'Actual Human Being'. With renewed interest, I sit up straight. “Sir, I'd appreciate the opportunity to meet you face-to-face. Is that something we could arrange?” “A meeting in person is… not possible, Brielle. At least, not at this time. Let's just say that my… situation requires a certain level of discretion. But I assure you, our working relationship will continue to be… productive." “Of course, I can respect your desire for anonymity. But, if you don't mind me asking, what's the harm in a simple introduction? I'm curious to see if the rest of you lives up to the charm of your voice.” “Really?” he says, his tone as neutral, but with a hint of mischi
Brielle's POV Ivy rubs her fingers on her temple, “I swear, Brielle, you're going to give me gray hairs. What were you thinking, not telling me about… Not telling me about everything?!” I shoot her a frantic glance, willing her to keep quiet. But it's too late. Mom's already descending the staircase, a curious expression on her face. “What's going on? You two look like you're sharing a state secret,” Seriously, Mom? Now? “It's really nothing. Ivy and I were just talking about, you know, stuff.” I wave my hands dismissively, hoping Mom will drop it, but she's not buying it." “Stuff?” she echoes, arching an eyebrow skeptically, “Well, 'stuff' seems to have gotten you two pretty worked up. Care to share what's got you so whisper-happy? Wait a minute, Brielle,” Mom eyes narrow as she notices my outfit. “Aren't those the clothes you wore to work today? What have you two been up to that you haven't even had time to change?” I shift uncomfortably, trying to find a way to explain wi
Brielle's POV It's another Monday, and time seems to have gone into overdrive. It's as if someone hit the fast-forward button on my life, and I'm racing through days at breakneck speed. I step out of the car, my eyes adjusting to the bright morning light, when suddenly, I'm met with a sight so surreal that I rub my eyes, convinced I'm still dreaming. There, emblazoned across the glass walls of CCI, is a vivid, technicolor rendition of the portrait of me. It's me, frozen in time, my features heightened by the vivid pigments splashed across the canvas. My jaw drops in shock as I stare, mesmerized, at the larger-than-life image of myself. Stunned, I take a few hesitant steps towards the building, my heart thudding against my chest. It's like déjà vu all over again, except this time, the portrait is staring back at me with an intensity that makes me want to shrink back into the shadows. Once inside the lobby of the office building I find myself scrutinizing the faces of those
Brielle's POV The doorbell's shrill ring cuts through the silence of the house, and Mom pops her head out of the kitchen. “Brielle, can you get the door please?” I'm right in the middle of crushing this project. My fingers grip the mouse like it's a lifeline, but I know I'm beat. Mom's expectant gaze is practically burning a hole through the wall. With a dramatic sigh, I push my chair back, and trudge towards the door. Whoever is on the other side better be worth it. The doorbell rings again, and I'm already halfway to the door. “Brielle!” “Got it, Mom!” I holler back, trying to save her the trouble of wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. She's been cooking up a storm in the kitchen all morning, and I've been busy with work. I swing open the door, and my eyes land on a gentle-looking man standing on our porch. He's dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, and his warm smile puts me at ease. But what really catches my attention is the bouquet of sunflowers in hi