Brielle's POV Edna pads softly over to Andrei, her hands extended in a soothing gesture, ready to relieve him of Alexis's sleepy weight. With the little boy snug in her arms, she glides up the stairs, softly whispering promises of bedtime stories and cozy blankets. It's a nightly ritual, but one that never gets old. Andrei’s head snaps up, his eyes locking onto mine. The jolt that shoots through me is unexpected, like an electric current passing between us. But his gaze holds no warmth, no recognition. His lips part, the beginnings of a smile starting to play at the corners of his mouth. But then, his expression falters, as if he’s wrestling with something within himself. He glances at the clock, then back at me. “A little late for bed, isn't it?” “I was waiting,” I whisper, the words a promise, a vow. “Waiting for you, forever if I had to.” He frowns, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You're not even changed yet. You should get to bed.” I glance at him, the irony of the situa
Ivy's POV With a smile as wide as the city itself, I hop out of the cab, stretching my arms out to the sky and feeling the energy of the city coursing through my veins. “I made it,” I mutter to myself as I watch my cab driver peel away from the curb and disappear into the colorful chaos of New York traffic. I gather leather suitcase and matching trunk, adorned with travel stickers and scratches from countless adventures, into the gates of the Blank Slate Gallery. The space stretches out like a cathedral, high ceilings and sparse furnishing making it feel both grandiose and intimate at the same time. And get this: not a single piece of art graces these bare walls. The title of the gallery looks pretty much like the gallery itself – everywhere looks, well, blank. Like you'd expect the typical gallery activities – art installations, exhibitions, and chic gatherings – but there's nothing. On my way to the front desk, I see a cat. There's a cat, its fur a mesmerizing swirl of gray
Brielle's POV. Behind Andrei, I meet his gaze in the mirror. Glancing away from Andrei's reflection, I give myself the once-over. My blue eyes are a bit bloodshot, but my A-line bob is still looking fierce. I try to give myself a reassuring smile, but it comes out more like a wobbly grimace. “What's going on? You're not exactly subtle.” Andrei asks. He's undoing his tie, the silk slipping apart with a soft whisper. Next, he sheds his suit jacket, revealing a crisp white dress shirt. “Ivy,” I murmur, “She's a firecracker, isn't she?” “Paul's on his way to NYC, where he'll keep an eye on her. Here's hoping he's up for the task.” Ivy's not the one I'm actually worried about. There's someone else who's got me biting my nails, and it's him, Andrei. I'm no therapist, but even I know that when someone's calling out a name in their sleep, it's a big deal. Every time Andrei sleeps, it's 'Odessa, Odessa, Odessa'. It's no longer just the odd sleep talking episode; he's now forgetting t
Brielle's POV “Spare me the theatrics. Your 'I don't remember' act is an insult. We both know you recall every word, every accusation. Don't try to gaslight me. I'm not that gullible. Own up to your words, or at least, have the decency to come up with a more convincing lie.” A flicker of hurt crosses Andrei's face before his features settle into a mask of offended dignity. “The thought of me calling you a traitor is laughable, Brielle. You should know better than anyone how absurd that is. I love you, and I’d never accuse you of such a thing.” I take a deep breath, acknowledging the sting of regret. Well, Brielle, it looks like you've done it again. Opened mouth, inserted foot. Maybe next time you'll think before you speak. Then again, He's denying everything. Again. I know what I heard. I'm not crazy, and I'm not misremembering. “I don't know what else to do. I'm at my wit's end. Can we please, for the love of all things sane, just go talk to someone? A therapist, a counselor,
Andrei's POV. I've just wrapped up a productive day at the office, where Leonardo and I made significant headway on a potential merger. This strategic partnership could be the catalyst we need to bolster our market presence and restore CCI's momentum. It's the reason I'm being so cautious. My reputation has already taken a hit, and I don't want to fuel the media's narrative. Even if the world thinks I'm unhinged, I'm determined to prove them wrong – or at least, not given them any ammunition. I’m heading to meet Greg after work. Greg's an experienced private investor who's always been a valuable asset to our operations. Typically, he engages in discussions with Paul, given my demanding schedule. Paul then keeps me informed. However, Paul's current assignment in New York means I'll be meeting with Greg firsthand. Dusk is fast approaching as I pull up to the meeting spot, a secluded park nestled in the outskirts of the city. The sprawling acres of grass and trees provide a sense
Andrei's POV Traffic is a parking lot, horns are blaring, and I'm white-knuckling the steering wheel, crawling through rush-hour, when Victor's voice drops a bombshell in my earpiece.“The oil and pharmaceutical sectors of the CCI are now registered under Jeremy's name, making him the official owner.”I'm stunned, but I quickly regain my composure, “Victor, what's going on? How did Jeremy's name get linked to those companies?”“It's public knowledge now. Your brother made the announcement himself during a press conference. He's claiming ownership of the companies.”“You'd better have a good explanation for this, Victor.”“Boss, I swear to God, I’m as clueless as a tourist in the goddamn Amazon. Jeremy’s always been ambitious, but this? This goes beyond any rational thinking. It’s downright insane. Time is of the essence. If we don't contain this story, our stock will take a nosedive within hours….”This can't be happening. I negotiated Brielle's release using those companies as leve
Brielle's POV Dr. Lane's sure doesn’t fit the stereotype of the stuffy, overly serious shrink. With his jet-black hair slightly tousled, his crisp white button-up shirt casually unbuttoned at the collar, and a black leather jacket resting over his broad shoulders like an afterthought, he looks more like a… a charming outlaw than a pillar of the psychiatric community. He smiles warmly, and his dimples soften his features, “Don't mind the look of surprise… I started my day with a ride – it's my morning ritual, clears my head and gets the blood pumping… Then I got the call to fill in.” I guess the universe had other plans for me. Instead of a professional-looking woman therapist, I get the James Dean of mental health. Not exactly what I signed up for. Where's the middle-aged lady with the comfortable shoes and the soothing voice? And with that, a smile—slightly awkward, a bit forced—creeps across my face. “I guess this is a bit of a curveball.” Dr. Lane’s grin widens at my word
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
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