Brielle's POV Andrei's intense stare pins me. “You seem uneasy, Brielle What's wrong?” My eyes dart away, taking in the breathtaking view. The rolling hills, lit up by the moon, are like a velvet painting come to life, and the Carter estate glows like a lantern against the dark backdrop. Beautiful scenery, but I'm getting bad juju. Something's off, and it's freaking me out. Andrei's gaze snaps back to mine, his eyes narrowing. “Don't conceal your fears, let me know if something's amiss.” His hand slips behind the hem of his coat, his fingers vanishing from view as though he were tucking something away within its folds. It’s a discreet movement, almost imperceptible, but there’s an undeniable weight to it. I shrug, eyes still scanning the surroundings. “Nothing, Andrei. Just paranoia.” His eyes, dark and intense, bore into mine, questioning my sincerity. I nod, trying to convince myself more than him. “Yeah, I'm good.” “Sure?” “Honestly, it's just a weird feeling I have,” I
Ivy's POV. After hanging up with Andrei, I take a look around and shudder at the creepy atmosphere. The peeling paint, dusty furniture, and flickering lights make this place feel like a haunted house. But my gaze keeps drifting back to the door. It's a behemoth – thick, metal-reinforced, and intimidating. More like a gate than a door, really. I recall trying to secure it earlier… struggling to lift that heavy metal bar and slide the bolt into place. . I'm still catching my breath from that crazy escape. Liam and Eva were too busy arguing to notice me making a run for it. I took off like a shot, pounding up the stairs two at a time. That was either genius or madness. Eva went ballistic, firing three shots that narrowly missed. The woman's got a serious screw loose – Locking myself in here, I've temporarily dodged the bullet, but the clock's ticking. How soon can Andrei rescue me from this hellhole? Each passing moment feels like an eternity. Liam and Eva's fury intensifies, th
THIRD PERSON "You're abandoning ship, Liam? Coward!" Eva's tailing Liam, her feet pounding the ground. He whirls around, his face set in a determined grimace. “This place is a death trap. Every minute we waste, we're one step closer to prison – or worse. You can stay here and rot if you want, but I'm not sticking around to take the fall for all this." “Our plan, our company — we've just started building this thing from scratch! What's going to happen to it all? It's all on the line_” “Fuck it! If you're gonna stay behind and babysit everything, then go for it! You do that shit! I'm ghosting,” Liam walks out, leaving Eva seething. She shoots him a parting glare, accompanied by a scathing curse. But she's not done yet. She's hot on his heels, her feet moving swiftly. “You think you can just bail on me? Think again, Liam.” He storms out of the dilapidated building, slamming the creaky door behind him. The place is a total dump. The surrounding woods are super eerie, wi
Andrei's POV. Whoever shot at wife better start praying to whatever god they believe in, 'cause they're gonna need all the divine intervention they can get once I get my hands on them. The estate's on high alert. I've reinforced the perimeter, stationed extra men around and sealed off all exits. Brielle's staying put, no arguments. I know she can be stubborn, but I won't budge. She'll remain safe at home while my team and I tackle this Ivy situation, no matter how deadly it gets.However, the latest update has my gut twisting. The location's been rigged with explosives. It's absolute chaos unlike anything I've ever witnessed. Events unfold at breakneck speed, but nothing could've prepared me for this. Paul and the explosives expert assured me they'd defuse the bomb, but now I'm gripped by doubt, “How long until extraction?” I ask, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Paul's voice crackles through the earpiece, “Three minutes, tops. We're still working on disabling the security feeds.
Andrei's POV I stand by the window of my office, gazing out at the city skyline. The bustling streets below seem to stretch on forever. My thoughts are lost in the urban landscape when Sarah's soft voice breaks the silence. “Sir, package just arrived.” I turn, and there's Sarah with this gorgeous bunch of roses. Thick, velvety petals in deep red and pink Sarah's cheeks flush as she places the flowers on my desk. “They're pretty. Meant for your wife, I presume? Who else deserves these three dozen beauties?” A smirk plays on my lips, my gaze drifting to the bouquet, “You think Brielle would love this?” “I think she'll love them. They're beautiful.” However, Someone else is getting lucky today, I hand Sarah the roses. “Stick these in the car, would you? I'm done for the day.'” *** I arrive at the hospital around 3 pm, just before visiting hours end. Standing in Jamie's doorway, I take in the serene scene. She sits upright, clutching a teddy bear to her chest, eyes fixed on the
Brielle's POV I glance towards the entrance, and my heart skips a beat as Andrei stands there, his presence a welcome relief. Finally, he's home. But my attention quickly shifts to the unsettling scene unfolding before me. Helen's behavior is erratic, and I'm lost. She's been ranting about bad omens and curses, things that need to be “cleansed.” I exchange a bewildered glance with Andrei, his expression mirroring my confusion. I thought I knew Helen, but this superstitious side of her is unfamiliar. And who is this elderly man she's brought along? His presence only adds to the chaos. Andrei's face darkens, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene. He looks like he's about to explode. “Oh, Andrei, thank goodness you're here! We need your help to chase away the evil spirits…" Helen motions for him to follow. He keeps his eyes trained on me, gritting his teeth… Well, don't stare at me like that... “The Oracle's here,” she announces. “He traveled 120 miles just to get here.
Brielle's POV Ivy's gaze pierces mine, and I feel my cheeks flush. “You, of all people, handling company finances? You can't even manage your own expenses.” I cringe inwardly. Why do I always bring my emotional luggage – and a side of financial chaos – to her perfectly organized life? “Marketing, Brielle. That's your expertise. Not accounting. What possessed you to take on that role?” I squirm under her scrutiny, shame washing over me. Andrei's offer had seemed like a vote of confidence, a sign that he trusted me. But now, I realize my ignorance. “Andrei suggested it,” I admit. Ivy's expression turns stern. “And you didn't question it? Didn't think twice about taking on a responsibility that's so far out of your league?” I shake my head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and defensiveness. “You have to tell Andrei or if things go south, it's gonna be on you. Or have you told him?” I wince, the weight of responsibility crushing me. Ivy's right, I have to tell Andrei. But how do
Brielle's POV.Mom thinks she's saving me, but from what? Love? Happiness? The Carter's imperfect chaos?Her words are stuck in my head, and I'm freaking out, doubts eating away at my trust in Andrei. Fear's got me in a chokehold.I'm torn between loving him and listening to her warnings. What if she's right? What if the Carters are hiding something?Why did she have to say that? Why now? Just when I thought I'd found my happiness.The Carters may have their skeletons, but they've got heart. Helen and Edna are the ultimate package deal — love, laughs, and culinary mastery.I recall their frantic prep for my wedding: 'Don't trip!' 'Smile!' Now, they're my quirky family. They've been sweet and reassuring since day one. What's not to love?I reminisce about my whirlwind wedding to Andrei. One night, rescue; next day, 'I do.' But those two lovely ladies made me feel like I'd known them forever.And that initial nervousness was forgotten. Marrying a stranger, coping with his wheelchair-b
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
Brielle's POV A limp noodle, a happy mess… Post-coital bliss has turned me into a lazy, love struck lump. I think I might be smiling… no, scratch that, I'm definitely smiling… on the inside and out… it's a smile that says, I'm happy, I'm sated, and I'm not moving from this spot for at least an hour. “Lost in thought, Ms. Monroe?” Andrei smirks, that devilish glint in his eye making my heart skip a beat. “What's on your mind?” I look at him, with his tousled, ‘I-just-got-laid’ hair and that perfectly imperfect smile, I can’t help but smile back. “Just thinking about how ridiculously perfect you are, even when you’re a complete mess.” “Oh, is that all? Well, if it’s perfection you’re looking for, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” I roll my eyes, shaking my head with a grin. “You’re unbelievable.” With a soft sigh, he turns to his side, his chest bare and rippling with muscle. My gaze drifts over his smooth, perfect skin, and I feel a flutter in my chest. I clutch the
Brielle's POV I'm looking at Andrei hunting for that signature spark of trouble that ignites his eyes, ready to unleash a torrent of teasing and laughter at my expense. There’s no playfulness in his voice, no trace of that smirking smile that usually hides whatever he’s feeling. “Brielle, I've spent years negotiating contracts, but none as important as this. Will you be my wife, not just on paper, but in every way? My heart races as the truth hits me: this is real – Andrei's proposing.” “Yes,” the word just slips out, a whisper that's almost lost in the silence… I'm not even sure I said it out loud. “Yes,” I repeat, my voice stronger now, surer. “Yes, Andrei, I’ll marry you. For a fleeting instant, he's a kid on Christmas morning, beaming with excitement….it's not quite steady. His jaw muscles twitch, slightly. “We'll pretend to be apart, to make them think we've gone our separate ways. It's the only way to keep you protected, to keep them guessing and off our trail. We'l
Brielle's POV Mr. Weston, the picture of professional unease, twitches in his chair “Mr. Carter, are you sure—” “Affirmative. Revise the agreement to reflect a payout of $100 Million, effective immediately.” Suddenly, it's like time stands still. All I can hear is my ragged breathing and Mr Weston's faint intake of breath. He looks taken aback, his eyes darting uncertainly between me and Andrei. Andrei's eyes narrow slightly, his gaze intensifying as he studies me. He looks fascinated, like a scientist examining a rare specimen. “Is that what you want?” he echoes, his tone playful, almost teasing. The scoff that escapes my lips is half contempt, half exasperation. “What I want?” I repeat, my voice steelier now, “I want you to stop treating me like some sort of business venture. I’m not an employee, I’m not a shareholder, and I sure as hell am not a transaction.” Andrei's head jerks in a curt nod. Mr. Weston needs no further explanation; he scoops up his papers, rising sm
Brielle's POV We roll up to the Carter Estate in that sleek, silent machine of a car, and my nerves start going haywire like a bunch of ants at a picnic. Why am I this freaking nervous? It's not like I'm about to meet the Queen of England. I've handled tougher audiences – like my aunt Mildred's grilling at Thanksgiving dinner or that infamous TV conference where I accidentally swore and cursed at the journalists, including Eva Adams. Our press conference three days ago was a carefully choreographed dance, where I aimed to humanize Andrei Carter, all while preparing for the possibility that he'd announce our divorce on live TV. I couldn't help but think: This is it. This is how I die. Not from a broken heart, but from embarrassment, however, The elephant in the room remained unaddressed even though the news had already spread like wildfire. The car rolls to a stop, the sudden stillness jolting me out of my thoughts. Marcus, moves to open the door, which I take as my cue to vacat
Brielle's POV. Gazing at the mirror… Wow. … I'm a walking, breathing embodiment of corporate style. My pencil skirt is a streamlined, black number highlights my curves without being… overly revealing. My stilettos are a three-inch pointed toe box with a glossy finish a red sole that adds a pop of color to my outfit. I look like I just stepped out of a magazine ad for 'Successful Women Who Don’t Need No Man.' From the outside, I’m polished, professional, and put-together. But on the inside, I’m a total dumpster fire disguised as a grown-ass woman. I’m like a fancy chocolate truffle—shiny and sweet on the outside, but a melty, gooey mess on the inside. “And the award for ‘Most Uncomfortable Signing Session’ goes to…me, Brielle!” I whisper, trying to lighten the mood. “Let’s just hope the divorce papers aren’t written in blood—that would be a real b*tch to clean up.” I adjust my blouse, smoothing out any wrinkles, as if that’s going to make this whole ordeal any easier. Da
Brielle's POV. Coffee is brewing, laughter is flowing, and our morning mayhem has officially begun – we're chatting, chuckling, and generally making the most of our time together over coffee. Dad's back from his humanitarian aid trip to Africa, and we're scrambling to catch up, to rediscover our family rhythm after months apart. I lean back in my chair, my eyes drifting to his feet as he stretches out his legs. The flip-flops look out of place in our cozy suburban home. They're like a dead giveaway that he's been soaking up the African sun. Paired with his brown shorts – the perfect blend of practicality and vacation vibe – he looks like a completely different person. Gone is the suburban office drone, replaced by a chilled-out, sun-kissed humanitarian with a heart of gold. “Africa's a pretty wild detour from your usual routine of hitting up the grocery store. How’d you like it?” I ask. Dad chuckles, a grin spreading across his face like a sunrise. “Wild doesn’t even begin
Ivy's POV “Oh, Ms McCarthy, you're as transparent as a ghost in a haunted house. I'll give you a choice: either you come clean, or we play a game of 'Art Detective.' And trust me, I always get my man… or painting.” “I-I don’t know what to tell you, Valtor. I swear on my life that the painting is gone. Stolen or lost, I couldn’t say, but I’m as much in the dark as you are.” I'm forcing my voice to stay even, but my heart's racing. The door behind Valtor is locked tighter than a bank vault on Christmas Eve, and he’s got the key on him. Surely, I underestimated the situation, and I'm giving myself a solid 10/10 for sheer stupidity. Valtor's eyes narrow, his expression turning predatory. “You're playing with fire here, and I’m not afraid to burn. You know I've got more tricks up my sleeve than a magician with a gambling addiction. So, if you want to walk out of here with your skin intact, you better start singing like a canary.” He saunters over to the window, his gaze scanning t
Ivy's POV. Fourteen days. That's how long it took me to pour my soul into a lie. After delving old art archives from the 1700s I found some pretty wild 'facts' about the painting. I took what I needed, ignored the rest, and made a replica that turned out… impressive, it's almost as convincing as the truth itself. Valtor is behind me grinning like a mischievous imp, clearly thrilled. “Ivy, Ivy, Ivy… you sneaky thing!” I feign modesty, giving him a slight curtsy. “It was a privilege to work on such a masterpiece, Sir Now, if you'll excuse me… I must prepare for our esteemed guest's arrival." “Of course, of course. Mr. Logan will be here soon. Make sure you look the part. We must give him the impression that he’s dealing with a true connoisseur of art." He gives me a casual nod before heading out. “Just be your charming self, Ivy. And, you know, maybe don't mention the whole 'forgery' thing!” My lips twitch in a manic grin, “sure thing Mr. Valtor... I live to serve.” The