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.The muscles in his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth, his deep brown eyes flashing with anger. Yet, in their depths, a spark of vulnerability flickers, hinting at a pain that goes beyond mere fury.“You're really going to cut and run? Just wake up one morning and decide you're done? No discussion, no compromise. Just… gone. You always do this, Brielle, don't you? You do whatever you want, whenever you want, and to hell with everyone else.”I shake my head firmly, my voice trembling with conviction. “That's not true, Andrei. I'm just doing what needs to be done.”“What needs to be done? Yeah. Leaving me, walking out on our agreement, that's what needs to be done_”He runs his fingers through his hair, pacing back and forth as he struggles to contain his emotions. “How… why would you even consider leaving me like this? I don't understand. Have I wronged you in some way?”My heart shatters further, the words barely a whisper, “You haven't wronged me, Andrei. Not really. Exce
Brielle's POV. Just as my tears are about to spill, I catch a flicker of something in Andrei's eyes- a struggle. His voice is low, strained, like he's forcing the words out, “My apologies if my words caused you any distress. If leaving is what you truly desire, then by all means, please feel free to walk away." Andrei's "apology" is nothing short of infuriating. He speaks as if he's doing me a favor, offering me the gracious opportunity to leave. It's like he's treating this breakup like a casual conversation, not the unraveling of a relationship that I thought was solid. And I'm trying so hard to mask my pain, but His words really cut deep — the idea that he thinks I only care about his money is just really difficult to deal with. I'm literally dying inside right now. How could they all think that? I never cared about the money. It wasn't even on my radar. But Mom thinks I'm some kind of money-grubbing opportunist, and now even Andrei… Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm just a cha
Brielle's POV The autumn wind howls outside, but it's nothing compared to the ache within me… “Honey, here's a blanket,” Mom whispers, as she wraps the soft material around my shoulders. I accept it gratefully and pull it blanket tight around me, tucking my hands into its folds to stave off the chill. “You're not getting off the hook that easy, Brielle, If you don't eat, I won't either. We're in this together, you and me. You're not gonna starve yourself while I sit here eating a sandwich.” The food on the table stares back at me, “I'm not hungry, Mom,” I insist, my voice brittle. "I couldn't eat even if I tried." Mom's face crumples a little, her eyes speaking the words her lips won't. “Bri, I know this is hard. How long are you gonna keep crying over this? It's been two days since you got back home, and you haven't stopped,” her hands are gentle as she wipes the tears from my cheeks. "Did Andrei break your heart, or did he stomp on it?" I shake my head, "It's not lik
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
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