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 povMy hands curled into fists as I walked ahead, my steps sharp and deliberate.Unbelievable.Of all the things I had expected from today, getting interrogated for something as harmless as giving a brunch recommendation was not on the list.I could still hear Mr. Garcia’s words in my head. “It wasn’t professional.”Professional.Right.Because professionalism clearly included him acting like some possessive, overbearing—I exhaled sharply, forcing my irritation down as I reached Amelia.She looked up from where she was crouched, gathering small rocks in her hands. “Audrey! Look, I found a heart-shaped one!”I smiled despite myself, kneeling beside her. “You did? Let me see.”She eagerly placed it in my palm. It was more oval than heart-shaped, but I wasn’t about to ruin her excitement.“It’s beautiful,” I told her.She beamed, then peeked over my shoulder. “Where’s Daddy?”Good question.I didn’t look back as I answered, “He’s coming.”I felt him approaching before I saw him.
Michell povI was pouring myself a cup of coffee when Ms. Taylor walked into the kitchen. She was dressed simply—jeans, a fitted sweater—but there was something different about her today. She looked well-rested, for one. And she wasn’t moving as stiffly as yesterday. The only reason I knew that was because I had noticed. Unfortunately. She walked to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and then, as if she had just remembered something, turned to face me. Her lips pressed together for a second before she exhaled. “Thanks.” I arched a brow over my coffee. “For what?” “For the ointment,” she said stiffly. “I appreciate it.” I took a slow sip, letting her words settle. I hadn’t expected her to acknowledge it—at least not this quickly. Ms. Taylor was stubborn, almost irritatingly so, and I figured she’d rather suffer than admit she needed help. But here she was. Saying thank you. I set my coffee down. “I didn’t do it for you.” Her brows furrowed. “Sorry?” I lean
Audrey povI was still annoyed. Even after the hot chocolate, even after Amelia’s adorable marshmallow mustache, even after the warmth had seeped into my bones, taking away the last of the bookstore’s chill—I was still irritated. Because Michell Garcia made no sense. One second, he was scolding me like I had committed a crime by existing in the same space as another man, and the next, he was… What? Taking care of me? I didn’t know what to do with that. And judging by the way he had looked at me in the kitchen—calm, unreadable, and frustratingly composed—he knew exactly what he was doing. I wasn’t going to overthink it. I had a job to do. Simple as that. “Did you brush your teeth?” I asked, tucking the blanket around Amelia. “Yes,” she said, yawning. “Did you really?” She hesitated. “Maybe…” I gave her a look. She huffed dramatically, throwing back the covers. “Fiiine. But only because I like you.” I grinned. “Lucky me.” She padded off to the bathroom,
Audrey povI laid back against the pillows, exhaustion finally settling deep into my bones. The ache in my calf had dulled to a throbbing reminder of the past, but it was easier to ignore now. Easier to pretend it didn’t still own a piece of me. My eyes fluttered shut, my breathing slowing. And then— The dream came. Soft. Warm. Familiar. I was small. No older than four. Strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly. A deep, gentle laugh rumbled in my ear as I was spun through the air. “Sweet girl,” a voice murmured, filled with a tenderness I had never known in my waking life. “You’re getting so big.” I looked up, but their faces were blurred—faint outlines of two figures bathed in golden light. A woman’s hands smoothed over my hair, fingers tracing gentle circles against my scalp. “You’re so precious, my love.” My chest ached. Not from sadness, but from something deeper. A longing I didn’t understand. Then, just as quickly, the scene shifted. I
MICHELL POVShe didn’t see me at first. Didn’t hear me when I walked up. She was too lost in the conversation—if you could even call it that. Her voice had started out steady. Cautious. And then, piece by piece, I heard it crumble. I hadn’t meant to listen. But the moment I heard her mother’s voice—cold, distant, almost bored—I couldn’t walk away. Then she told her about the divorce. And the woman laughed. Ms. Taylor had curled into herself, like she was trying to make herself smaller, like she wasn’t sure she was even allowed to take up space. And I knew, then. This wasn’t the first time. This wasn’t new. This was just another wound from a lifetime of them. I had never wanted to be wrong about something so badly in my life. But I wasn’t. The conversation kept going. She told her about the accident. About her leg. And her mother’s response? “Then why are you calling me?”A slow, burning anger curled in my chest. I almost stepped forward. Almost gr
AUDREY POVThe room was colder than I expected.Not just because of the air conditioning, humming softly in the background, but because of everything. The walls, the equipment, the chair where I sat, my hands gripping the armrests just a little too tightly.I kept my arms crossed as I sat on the examination table, my fingers pressing into my skin, trying to hold myself together. The room smelled like antiseptic and faintly of lavender—probably something they used to mask the sterility of the place. It was quiet. Too quiet.The way the physician spoke like this was just another routine case. Like it wasn’t my life he was talking about. Like it wasn’t my body that had to be opened up and put back together. “You’ll need surgery.”I heard the words. Understood them. But they didn’t sink in right away. It was like hearing something underwater—muffled, distant, unreal. I should have expected it. The pain never really went away, no matter how much I ignored it. Some days it was w
MICHELL POVI stood outside the MRI room, arms crossed, watching through the glass as the machine whirred to life. Audrey lay on the table, perfectly still, but I caught the slight tension in her hands, the way her fingers curled just a little too tightly against the fabric of the hospital gown. The doctor had asked me to step outside before beginning the scan—not that I had argued. I wasn’t about to interfere. Still, I didn’t like standing here. Didn’t like watching without being able to do anything. I glanced at the physician, who was focused on the monitors, reading the images as they appeared on the screen. His expression remained neutral, unreadable. I had seen enough medical professionals to know that meant nothing. The rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk of the MRI filled the silence, and I shifted slightly, resisting the urge to speak. To ask. To demand an answer now. The moment the call came through, I knew something was wrong. My assistant’s voice was tight, uneasy.
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