Emily's POV“The whole thing was unbelievable,” a woman at table four murmured, her voice carrying just enough for me to hear.“I know,” her friend replied, barely bothering to lower her tone. “Imagine—him of all people. And right here, in her restaurant? Poor thing, she must be humiliated.”I didn’t need to ask who they were talking about.Rumors had spread like wildfire, twisting and turning with every retelling until I barely recognized the truth within them. Some said Damian’s family had stormed in, demanding he return home as if I were some villainous temptress keeping him hostage. Others whispered that it had been a dramatic public breakup, a love triangle exploding right before their eyes. A few even speculated that I had known all along—that I had planned for this scandal, as if I thrived on chaos.None of them were right.But none of them were completely wrong either.The restaurant bustled with life around me, the clang of silverware against plates, the murmur of conversatio
Emily's POVThe next night back in the city, the bar pulsed with life. The air was thick with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the scent of whiskey and warm candle wax. It was a full house tonight, the kind of crowd that thrived on the energy of music and conversation. Once, a night like this would have exhilarated me. But tonight, the weight in my chest was too heavy, the dark cloud over my mind too thick to shake."You're brooding," Emma teased, nudging me with her elbow as she sipped on her cocktail. "Again. Honestly, I should start charging you every time you slip into moody silence."I shot her a look, but a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "I’m not brooding."She arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. "You’re sitting at a bar, staring into your drink like it personally wronged you. That is textbook brooding."I sighed, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. "I just-.""Ah-ah," she interrupted, wagging a finger. "No tragic monologues tonight. You need to have fun, Emily. Rea
Emily's POVThe band had wrapped up for the night, but the revelry showed no signs of stopping. I perched on a barstool, my cheeks flushed from drink and the remnants of adrenaline still rushing through my veins from my impromptu performance.Emma clinked her glass against mine, grinning like a cat who had just knocked something expensive off a shelf. "To finally seeing you let loose," she declared, swaying slightly as she threw back the rest of her cocktail.I giggled, leaning on her shoulder dramatically. "I always let loose."She snorted. "Oh, please. You are the queen of restraint. If there was an Olympic event for brooding, you’d take home the gold.""I’m not that bad," I protested, slurring slightly.Emma raised an eyebrow. "You just spent the last six months looking like a Victorian widow haunting her ex-lover’s estate."I gasped, clutching my chest. "I am deeply offended.""You should be." She winked. "But you’re also drunk, which means I win."She wasn’t wrong. The room swaye
The car rolled to a slow stop in front of my house, and the weight of the night pressed down on me like a thick, suffocating fog. My head swam, my body heavy with exhaustion, but beneath the drunken haze, a sharp edge of dread coiled in my chest. I knew what was waiting for me behind that door.Damian shifted in the driver’s seat, exhaling through his nose as he glanced toward the house. The porch light glowed dimly, a beacon against the night, and through the front window, I could see faint shadows moving inside."They’re awake," he muttered.I groaned, letting my head flop against the seat. "Of course they are. Because why wouldn’t they be waiting up for their mess of a daughter?""You’re not a mess," he said firmly.I snorted, cracking an eye open to look at him. "I am currently drunk, dramatically spiraling, and about to walk into a family intervention. That, my dear doctor, is the definition of a mess."Damian didn’t argue, but his jaw tightened as he stepped out of the car and w
Emily's POVThe morning air was cool against my skin as I made my way to the restaurant, the scent of fresh bread and roasted coffee drifting through the streets. My head still ached from last night’s disaster, but the worst part wasn’t the hangover. It was the mortifying memory of how I had fallen apart in front of everyone—my family, Damian… Damian.I groaned, rubbing my temples as I quickened my pace. The sooner I got to work, the sooner I could drown myself in tasks and forget that last night ever happened.But, of course, the universe had other plans."Emily."I froze mid-step, my heart lurching violently against my ribs.Damian stood just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his dark eyes fixed on me with quiet intensity. He looked impossibly calm, as if he hadn’t spent the night witnessing my complete unraveling."You’re up early," he observed, his gaze scanning me as if assessing whether I would collapse at any moment. "How are you feeling?"“Fine,” I said sharply. The tense
Maya's POVThe glow of the dim overhead lights reflected beautifully off the rim of my glass as I lifted it, savoring the expensive cocktail in my hand. Around me, my friends laughed and chatted, their voices a gentle hum of admiration and indulgence. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and fine whiskey, a mix of sophistication and luxury—everything I had always deserved.Louis sat beside me, his dark, smoldering gaze locked onto me with that slow, knowing smile that made every other woman in the room seethe with jealousy. I could feel it, the way they watched us, the way they whispered. They wanted what I had. They wanted to be me. And who could blame them? I had it all—wealth, beauty, power, and a fiancé who worshipped the ground I walked on.“This place is… quaint,” one of my friends, Ava, mused, running a manicured finger along the rim of her glass. Her usual taste ran more toward exclusive members-only lounges with imported champagne and name recognition.I smil
Maya's POVEmily moved through the bar ready to take their order, her face perfectly neutral, her posture stiff.A slow smile curved my lips. The moment was too perfect.Seizing my opportunity, I gestured toward her with syrupy sweetness. “Oh, everyone, you must meet Emily.” I let my voice rise just enough to ensure I had the group’s full attention. “This is Damian’s ex-girlfriend.”The reaction was instant. Heads snapped toward her, eyes widening with interest. The conversation that had been focused on me—on my flawless life—shifted, their curiosity now directed at the woman who had, once upon a time, held Louis’ heart.Emily’s steps faltered for just a fraction of a second, her fingers tightening around the tablet in her hand. She recovered quickly, but I had seen it. The weakness. The sting.I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Oh, you don’t mind the introduction, do you, Emily?” My voice was light, pleasant, perfectly polite, but the underlying message was clear.She met my gaze
Maya's POV“Oh, Damian has always been the noblest of men,” I cooed, swirling my untouched champagne as I leaned forward, my smile delicate yet sharp. “It’s no wonder he has such a dedicated following. Isn’t that right, Emily?”Emily barely spared me a glance as she set down another tray of drinks with practiced ease. Her expression was composed, unreadable, and it infuriated me.“I wouldn’t know,” she said lightly, her tone void of any emotion that would suggest familiarity. “I was never his patient.”The table let out an exaggerated collective gasp, ever the dramatists when a bit of juicy gossip was at play.“Oh?” I feigned a surprised blink. “I thought… well, with everything I’ve heard…” I trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air like perfume.Emily smiled at me then, and I despised how calm she looked. “Damian is a wonderful doctor, but we’ve never had that kind of relationship.”I tapped my chin as if deep in thought. “Interesting. But tell me, Emily, how is your fami
Damian's POVThe restaurant had been packed from the moment the doors opened, the energy electric, the kitchen a well-oiled machine producing dish after dish with precision and perfection. Emily had been in her element, her passion shining through with every plate that left the pass. And now, as the final customers lingered over their desserts and the staff began winding down, she stood at the bar, a champagne flute in hand, her cheeks flushed from the rush of it all.I stood beside her, watching the way her eyes sparkled in the low light. “You should let them close up,” I murmured, swirling the golden liquid in my glass before taking a sip.She turned to me, instantly shaking her head. “I can’t just leave them to do everything. It was a crazy night.”Her assistant manager, a sharp-eyed woman named Lila, overheard and let out an exasperated sigh. “Emily, go. Seriously. We’ve got it under control.”Her sous chef, a burly, no-nonsense guy named Felix, chimed in from across the bar. “We’
Damian's POVFrom across the restaurant, I watched Emily’s expression shift as she spoke on the phone in the office. A faint smile tugged at her lips, her features soft, even playfully relaxed. It was a look I recognized but didn’t often see—at least, not when she was with me. With me, she was always guarded, careful, as if some invisible weight rested on her shoulders.The way her fingers curled loosely around the phone, the way her eyes flickered with amusement—it wasn’t just a casual call. She wasn’t just handling business. This was different. This was personal.My fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of my phone. Nathan’s voice echoed in my mind, teasing and knowing, and I could still hear Emily’s casual remark—"a private invitation."Psychology would categorize this as an irrational jealousy response. But at this moment, I had no intention of suppressing it with logic.Sliding my phone into my pocket, I made my way toward the office.She had just ended the call, still staring a
Emily's POVEmily barely had time to catch her breath before she was back in the kitchen, calling out to her chefs as they fired up dish after dish. The energy was intoxicating, the air thick with the smell of sizzling meats, fragrant broths, and caramelized garlic. But that night for dinner, with their reservations full, there was something new in the mix.Truffle fried rice.The dish had started as an experiment, a luxurious take on a humble classic, and after Nathan’s viral video, she knew the timing was perfect. A blend of creamy truffle, perfectly fried rice, and a balance of umami-rich flavors that made every bite melt on the tongue. She had tested it, perfected it, and now it was ready to make its grand debut.As soon as the first plates hit the tables, the reaction was immediate. Customers took that first bite and practically melted in their seats. Word spread fast, and soon, orders flooded the kitchen, the dish flying off the line like gold dust. It was a hit.Emily barely co
Emily's POVThe kitchen buzzed with energy, the air thick with the scent of sizzling garlic, rich broths, and seared meats. Pans clattered, knives chopped in rhythmic precision, and the steady hum of the lunch rush filled the space. Emily moved with practiced ease, her sleeves rolled up, her hands expertly tossing noodles in a steaming wok. Sweat beaded along her hairline, but she didn’t care. This was her domain, her sanctuary.But then her phone vibrated again. And again. And again.Her brow furrowed as she wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, glancing at the notifications flooding her lock screen. Her heart pounded, her pulse quickening with every new alert.The numbers didn’t lie; Nathan Park’s short video had exploded, racking up thousands of likes, shares, and comments in just a few days. It was everywhere. Food bloggers, influencers, even critics had latched onto it, praising the restaurant’s revival and raving about the dishes.Emily sucked in a breath, pushing through the swin
Maya's POVI finished the last bite of my dessert, a delicate fruit tart with a buttery crust and just the right amount of sweetness. It had been a perfect evening, just like the ones I had always envisioned for myself—peaceful, luxurious, and completely under my control. No unexpected chaos, no unwanted guests, no one to question me or undermine my authority. This was my home, my life, and I was finally at the center of it all.I picked up my phone again, absentmindedly scrolling through my messages as I sipped on my herbal tea. A new text from my mother, Lyla, caught my attention.Have you considered keeping things simple for the wedding? A smaller venue, something more intimate? No need for extravagance, sweetheart. These things are about the union, not the spectacle.I nearly scoffed aloud. Not the spectacle? What was even the point of a wedding if not to be a spectacle? This was my grand moment, my crowning achievement, the culmination of everything I had worked toward. I had spe
Maya's POVMy life was finally perfect.Louis was always busy with work, but that was exactly what I wanted. He was dedicated to the family business, leaving me to enjoy the luxury of our new home, a spacious, pristine sanctuary untouched by chaos. No more bizarre herbs strewn across counters, no more foreign guests parading through the house at all hours, and, most importantly, no more Lucy. I had won.The house was everything I had dreamed of, the kind of place women envied and whispered about over brunch. A classic American two-story home, wrapped in elegant ivory siding, with dark shutters that framed tall, stately windows. The front yard was a masterpiece—symmetrically trimmed hedges, a smooth stone pathway leading up to a grand mahogany door, and a black wrought-iron gate enclosing it all in a picture-perfect vision of stability. No overgrown vines creeping over walls, no bizarre statues cluttering the yard. It was polished, refined, and entirely mine.The backyard was just as f
Louis's POVMaya let out a sharp, humorless laugh, eyes widening as she stared at my mother in utter disbelief. “Thanking you?” she spat. “For what? For making me live in this?” She gestured wildly around the room, her hands trembling. “For making my house smell like rotting plants? For forcing me to drink God-knows-what every single day? For making me feel like I am losing my sanity?”Lucy sighed, rolling her eyes slightly, as if Maya were nothing more than a dramatic child throwing a tantrum. “You’re exaggerating,” she said with that same infuriating calmness. “The house isn’t that messy. You young people are just too accustomed to sterile, lifeless spaces. A home should have character. It should be full of life, full of culture. You act as if a few books out of place and a few herbs drying in the air is a disaster.”“A few herbs?” Maya shrieked. “There are piles of them, everywhere! It looks like a witch’s lair! And the books? They’re not even ours! Where do you even get them?” She
Louis's POVThe moment my phone rang and I saw Maya’s name flash on the screen, I knew something was wrong. I had been getting ready to leave work, shrugging on my jacket, when I answered. The second I picked up, her voice hit me like a storm, raw, frantic, and nearly breaking apart with rage and frustration."Louis, I can't do this anymore!" she cried, her voice shaking. "I swear to God, I am losing my mind in this house! Your mother is unbearable! She’s always here, always interfering, always treating me like I’m some child who can’t take care of myself! And those—those disgusting concoctions she keeps forcing on me, I can’t take it, Louis, I won’t take it! Do you have any idea what I walked into today? Do you? The house is a disaster! It looks like some kind of apothecary exploded, and the kitchen—Louis, I went into the kitchen, and there were dead bugs in the food. Dead. Bugs!"I gripped my phone tighter, momentarily stunned into silence. My mind should have been focused on Maya,
Maya's POVI couldn’t take it anymore. My hands were trembling as I clutched my phone, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The sheer disgust of what I had just seen, the chaos of this house, the stench that clung to every surface, it was all too much. I swiped at the tears on my cheeks, pressing the call button with shaking fingers. The phone barely rang before Louis picked up."Maya?" His voice was steady, indifferent, as if he hadn’t just left me to drown in this nightmare of a house.I felt my composure shatter the moment I heard his voice. "Louis, I can't do this anymore," I cried, my words tumbling out in a desperate, breathless rush. "I swear to God, I am losing my mind in this house! Your mother—she is unbearable! She is always here, always interfering, always shoving her ridiculous remedies down my throat, and I have had enough!"There was silence on the other end, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop. "She keeps making these disgusting concoctions and insists I drink them.