Audrey povThe air in the courtroom felt like it had thickened, the silence hanging heavy as the next part of the trial loomed. Harold’s plan to use me as the villain—the woman who had betrayed him—had begun to unravel in front of everyone, and now, Mr. Garcia’s legal team was ready to hit him where it hurt the most. My heart was pounding, and I could barely focus on the back-and-forth between the lawyers. Every so often, my eyes would flicker to Mr. Garcia, who stood across the room, exuding an air of quiet confidence as his team took over. Harold’s lawyers were still trying to salvage the story they had been telling—this narrative of my supposed infidelity. They had painted me as a woman who had been chasing after Mr. Garcia, trying to tear apart my family for a man who was far out of my reach. It was all lies, and they knew it. But now, they were about to see the truth. Mr. Garcia’s lawyer stepped up to the stand, folder in hand, eyes cold as he made his way toward the judg
Audrey povThe courtroom was filled with an eerie quiet as the judge re-entered the room. The gavel struck again, this time signaling the end of the long wait. Everyone slowly took their seats, the tension in the air almost suffocating.The judge looked over at us all, her eyes sharp and focused. She was about to deliver her verdict.“After reviewing all the evidence presented and considering the circumstances surrounding this case, I have come to a decision,” she began. Her voice rang out clearly, the authority in it making every word feel heavier than the last.I took a deep breath, bracing myself. My hands were cold, and despite everything I had endured, the nerves still lingered. It was hard to shake the feeling that something could go wrong at the last moment, but I couldn’t deny that this was my chance—my chance to finally break free from the control Harold had over me for so long.“Mr. Thomas,” the judge continued, turning her gaze to Harold, “it is clear from the evidence th
Michell povI walked beside Ms. Taylor as we exited the courthouse, the cold afternoon air brushing against us. The tension from the courtroom still lingered, but Ms. Taylor’s shoulders had visibly lessened. She wasn’t the same woman who had walked into this mess. She had won. And yet, she was silent.Reporters and photographers swarmed outside, their cameras flashing, their voices blending into a chaotic mess of questions and accusations. My security team was already in place, ensuring we had a clear path to the car.“Ms. Taylor, do you have a statement?”“Did you really have an affair with Mr. Garcia?”“How do you feel about the ruling?”I felt her stiffen beside me, her pace steady but tense. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The ruling had spoken for itself.I reached for the door, holding it open as she slipped inside. I followed, shutting out the noise of the outside world.The ride home was quiet. Ms. Taylor sat beside me in the car, staring out the window, lost in thoug
Audrey povThe door clicked shut behind me, sealing me inside the quiet sanctuary of my room. I leaned against it for a moment, closing my eyes as I exhaled. The court ruling. The media frenzy. The finality of it all. It should have felt like relief. It did feel like relief—mostly. But then there was him. Mr. Garcia. I had expected his help to come with conditions, and it had. I had expected him to be ruthless, and he was. But what I hadn’t expected was the way he had stood by my side, the way he had fought for me as if this wasn’t just another contract to him. And I certainly hadn’t expected the way he had looked at me just now. My fingers tightened around my phone, the warmth of his gaze lingering in my mind. I had seen that look before, on men who thought they could take something from me. I had spent years building walls to keep those looks at bay. But this was different. Michell Garcia wasn’t a man who took. He was a man who commanded.And yet, in that moment, he
Michell povHer skin was impossibly soft. Like silk warmed by the sun. The contact was fleeting—just a brush of her arm against mine as we moved in the kitchen. It shouldn’t have meant anything, but for some reason, it did. It sent a sharp, unwelcome sensation up my arm, something dangerously close to heat. A slow burn that settled in my chest, unwanted and unshakable. I stilled for a fraction of a second. So did she. Her breath caught, her lips parting just slightly. But before either of us could acknowledge it, before I could convince myself that I had imagined the way her skin felt against mine, I stepped back. “Sorry,” I muttered.For a second, it looked like she wanted to argue. But instead, her lips pressed together, and she shook her head.I didn’t wait for her response. I was already turning on my heel, leaving the kitchen before I made the mistake of brushing against her again.I took the stairs two at a time, my frustration mounting with every step.By the time
Audrey povI couldn’t sleep. The house was silent, wrapped in the kind of stillness that made thoughts louder, and heavier. I had Amelia to bed. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my mind restless, tangled in things I didn’t want to admit were bothering me. It should have been relief I felt. The trial was over. Harold had lost. I was free. But instead, there was this… tension. A tension in my chest that hadn’t lifted, no matter how many times I reminded myself that I was finally done with him. Maybe it was exhaustion. Or maybe it was something else—something I didn’t want to name yet. My fingers traced the edge of the blanket, my mind drifting to earlier in the kitchen. To Mr. Garcia. To the way our arms had grazed, the way his skin had felt against mine—warm, firm, solid. It was ridiculous that I even remembered it. It had been a second, a fleeting touch. And yet, my body had noticed. A shiver ran down my spine, and I turned onto my side, gripping the pillow a li
AUDREY POV After Mr. Garcia left, I turned my full attention to Amelia. It was easier to focus on her—to drown myself in the structure of our daily routine rather than dwell on things I had no business thinking about. We started the morning with her coloring books, an activity that always kept her happily occupied for a good hour. She sat cross-legged on the living room floor, her tiny hands gripping her crayons as she carefully colored inside the lines. “Audrey, what’s your favorite color?” she asked suddenly, peering up at me with those big brown eyes. I smiled, settling beside her. “Hmm… I like green.” She wrinkled her nose. “Like broccoli?” I laughed. “Not exactly. More like… the color of the trees outside. Fresh and bright.” Amelia hummed in thought, then grabbed a green crayon and started coloring the dress of the princess on her page. “I think I like pink. And purple. And yellow.” “So, all the colors?” She giggled. “Not brown. Brown is boring.” I gasped dram
Michell povThe morning was crisp, the kind of rare weekend morning that almost made me feel like I had the luxury of slowing down. Almost. Amelia had been buzzing with energy since she woke up, running around the house in her pajamas, demanding to know if we could go out today. I had already decided to take her for a walk, get her out of the house for a bit. Ms. Taylor had no choice but to come along. Not that she complained. But I noticed things. And this morning, I noticed that she had been limping more than usual. At first, I told myself I was imagining it. Maybe it was the way she moved, the way she shifted while standing at the kitchen counter. I knew she limped, but today was too obvious.But when she thought no one was looking, I saw the way her posture tensed when she took a step, the way she subtly tried to mask the discomfort in her expression. She was in pain or discomfort. And she hadn’t said a damn thing about it. I wasn’t used to people who didn’t
AUDREY POVThe room was quiet again. The nurses had left, and for the first time in a while, I wasn’t entirely helpless. Before now, I would have pressed the emergency bell, waiting for them to help me with something as simple as a bath. But today… today, I felt like I could manage. It was just a bath. I reached for the hem of my nightgown, peeling it off slowly. My fingers trailed down my sides as I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I still had my curves, the hourglass shape I had always taken care of, but something about me looked… smaller. Had I really lost so much weight in just a few weeks? I ran a hand down my stomach, feeling the slight hollowness there. My ribs weren’t visible, but I could see the difference. My collarbones were a little more pronounced, my arms not as full as they used to be. Maybe it was just the surgery. Maybe it was the stress. I sighed, shaking the thoughts away. I wasn’t weak. I wouldn’t let myself be weak. I turned, reach
AUDREY POVMorning crept in slowly, spilling soft light through the curtains and casting long shadows on the walls. The world outside was waking up, but I felt stuck in place—trapped between recovery and restlessness, between pain and the gnawing sense of isolation that had settled in my chest. I adjusted the pillows behind me, wincing as a sharp ache flared in my leg. It wasn’t as bad as before, but it was still there, a dull reminder that I wasn’t back to normal. Normal. I scoffed to myself. What even was normal anymore? I reached for the water glass on my bedside table, taking a slow sip before glancing toward the door. The nurses would be in soon. Then the doctor. Then another round of careful movements and quiet reminders that healing took time.I hated that phrase. But as I sat there, shifting uncomfortably, I realized something else was missing. Or rather, someone.Mr. Garcia hadn’t come last night. I swallowed, setting the glass down more forcefully than necess
MICHELL POVAnother week passed. The estate had settled into a routine—work, meetings, updates from the medical team. My schedule remained the same, yet there was an undercurrent of restlessness I refused to acknowledge. Every morning, the physician sent a report. Ms. Taylor’s recovery was progressing—slowly, but without complications. The nurses detailed her physical therapy sessions, the small improvements, the days she was frustrated, the times she refused to take painkillers until they insisted. She was impatient. She pushed herself too hard. She was, as expected, stubborn. I kept my distance. I wasn’t hovering. She was Amelia’s nanny—that was the only reason I checked on her. Amelia needed her to recover. That was all. I saw her occasionally, mostly at night, when the estate was quiet. It wasn’t deliberate. I simply worked late, and if I happened to stop by after, it was practical. A few minutes, nothing more. I visited her in the evening, she was propped up in bed,
Audrey povA week has passed.Recovery was humiliating. The morning light streamed through the window, golden and warm, but the brightness only sharpened the ache in my leg. I shifted on the bed, trying to sit up straighter, but a dull, relentless pain pulsed deep in my bones, like a bruise that refused to fade. “Slowly, Miss Taylor,” the nurse said gently, her hands firm as she adjusted the pillows behind my back. “I’m fine,” I replied, but the tremor in my voice betrayed me. “You’re pushing too much,” the nurse chided, but her tone was soft. “The swelling has gone down, but you’re still healing. Give it time.” I hated that word—time. It felt like punishment. From across the room, Mr. Garcia stood with his arms crossed, his gaze sharp as it tracked every clumsy movement I made. He never interrupted the physical therapists, never spoke over the medical team, but he was always watching. “Do you have to stand there like a bouncer?” I snapped, biting down on the anger tha
MICHELL POVVictor hadn’t arrived yet. He was supposed to be here by now. I checked my watch, then the door, as if expecting him to suddenly appear. But there was nothing. No call. No message. No unwanted presence at my doorstep. Maybe he had changed his mind. I wished he would. Wished he would stay away from my estate, from my life, from Amelia’s life. But Victor never abandoned what he set out to do. And if he hadn’t come yet, it was only because he was taking his time. I exhaled, pushing away the thought. There were more immediate concerns. Like the woman lying in the hospital bed in front of me. Like Audrey Taylor and her relentless, infuriating stubbornness. “I can still train her,” she said. Her voice was quiet but resolute. I turned to face her, my brows furrowing. “You can’t even stand.” “I don’t need to.” She gestured weakly toward the tablet resting on the bedside table. “There are videos, I can also talk to her through the movements.” Her fingers
MICHELL POVAudrey wasn’t good at staying still. Even half-conscious, pain slowing her down, she still fought against it. I saw it in the way her fingers curled into the blanket, in the stubborn set of her jaw when she thought no one was looking. And now, as she tried—and failed—to shift into a better position, I watched her frustration tighten her features, her breath coming out in sharp, measured exhales. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. But watching her struggle, seeing the way she hated every second of her own helplessness, was more irritating than I expected. “Stop trying to move,” I muttered. Her head turned toward me, sluggish but deliberate. “I’m not.”I raised a brow. She sighed through her nose, gaze flickering toward the ceiling. “Fine. Maybe I was.”I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. “You don’t learn, do you?”She closed her eyes briefly. “You sound like my mother.”That threw me off for half a second. Then she added, “That wasn’t a compliment.”A short
AUDREY POVPain. That was the first thing I felt, again that day after briefly waking up. Deep, heavy, like someone had poured molten lead into my bones. It clung to my leg, wrapped around my spine, spread into my ribs like fire licking up dry wood. I wanted to move, to shift even a little, but the second I tried, the pain sharpened, cutting through the fog in my head. My breath hitched. The effort alone made my body scream. The steady beep of a machine filled the silence. A sound I didn’t recognize at first. My mind felt sluggish, thick with something I couldn’t name. My eyelids fluttered, too heavy to lift, but I fought through it. I tried to swallow. My throat was raw, dry like sandpaper. I opened my mouth, but no words came out—just a weak rasp. Then, a shadow moved beside me. I blinked slowly, forcing my eyes to focus. The world was a blur, edges too bright, colors bleeding into each other. But as my vision cleared, I saw him. Mr. Garcia. He sat beside my bed, ar
MICHELL POVThe room was silent except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. I hadn’t moved from the chair beside her bed. I should have been working. Checking reports. Making calls. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat there, watching her breathe. Her face was pale—too pale. The stark white of the hospital sheets only made it worse. A thin tube supplied her with oxygen, and the IV in her arm fed her body the fluids she needed to recover. I didn’t like seeing her like this. Vulnerable. Weak. She had been fighting since the moment I met her—pushing, refusing to bend, standing her ground even when it was foolish. And yet, here she was. Unmoving. Silent. She should be awake by now. The doctors had assured me she was stable, that she just needed rest. But I didn’t trust assurances—not when I had watched her die on that table. Not when I had stood in that goddamn operating room, powerless, as the machines flatlined and the medical team scrambled to bring her back. I exhal
AUDREY POVThe cold seeps into my skin as they wheel me down the hallway, the thin hospital gown doing nothing to stop the chill. The lights above are too bright, glaring down like watchful eyes, making my vision blur at the edges. My body feels heavy, weighed down by something I can’t quite place—fear, exhaustion, maybe both.I hear footsteps beside me. Slow. Measured.Even without turning my head, I know it’s Michell.I tried to focus on him, to ground myself, but I couldn't.I open my mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but my tongue is too heavy, the anesthesia starting to drag me under.The last thing I see before the darkness takes me is Michell’s looking at me with those sexy weird eyes. MICHELL POVThe tension in my chest hadn’t eased. Not even a little. I stood by the operating room doors, watching as the nurses prepared Audrey. She looked… small. Fragile in a way I had never seen before. Her face was pale, eyes clouded with exhaustion and something else—something