A/N: Wanted to clear this up before you start the story. Selena and Aretha are the same person. She changes her name from Selena to Aretha later on in the book. Thank you!
𝑺𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒂
“Mrs. Berfield, I must say you look quite stunning tonight.” The umpteenth business partner Daniel has introduced me to tonight says, shooting me a smirk but he may as well be talking to my cleavage just like most men here had done.
Today is supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, but the lecherous stares from men and judgmental glares from their female companions are making it difficult to enjoy the moment. The atmosphere in the extravagant events hall is filled with joy and anticipation as both the Winthrop and Berfield families gather to celebrate multiple milestones—my husband's 30th birthday, his induction as CEO of his family business, and my personal favorite surprise for him: the news of my pregnancy.
After three long years of marriage and struggling to conceive, I’m thrilled to finally give Daniel the heir he’s always wanted, hoping it will bring him happiness and mend the strain in our marriage. Although I’m aware of his infidelity, I hold onto the hope that this news will bring us closer. Yet, standing beside him and feeling the waves of anger and displeasure rolling off of him, alongside the unwanted attention from others, makes it hard to hold onto that optimism.
“Stunning?” The woman accompanying the man who'd spoken just now scoffs, not trying to tone down her voice or hide her disdain for me. “More like a cheap whore flaunting her assets for some attention.”
I wince at her harsh words, regret flooding me as Daniel's grip on my waist tightens painfully—one of the consequences of allowing my foster sister, Stella, to choose my outfit. She’d insisted my usual plain-Jane style wouldn’t suffice for the wife of Berfield Finance’s new CEO and convinced me to wear one of her revealing, flashy hand-me-downs. While I should have refused, seeing my husband's jaw drop as I descended the stairs back at home made it seem worth it.
For the first time in ages, I'd felt truly seen by him, his desire evident as he admired me throughout our drive to the venue. At that moment, it'd been exhilarating to finally hold Daniel's attention after overhearing him label me as ‘boring’ to his friends before. But now, under the scrutinizing stares of others, the thrill has turned to discomfort, making me regret my decision.
“If you would please excuse us, Mr. and Mrs. Roy. Do enjoy the party in the meantime.” Daniel says to the couple before dragging us away, his grip on my waist growing more painful, it's sure to leave a mark. My husband strides across the huge rented hall, tossing quick responses to greetings from the guests, his pace quick and hard to keep up with in my heels as he guides us to a secluded corridor.
Gripping my hand, he yanks me forward roughly until I’m standing before him, trying to regain my breathing after the unexpected workout he’d just put me through. I gauge Daniel’s expression as he levels me with a harsh glare, making me swallow nervously.
“Did you purposely dress like a whore to seduce every man in this room tonight?” He spits at me, his words like a punch to my guts. Instinctively, I shrink back from him, raising my hands to try to cover my exposed shoulders and chest as a wave of self-consciousness overwhelms my senses.
“I-I— Daniel, that’s not—”
“And why wear something so flamboyant? Do you think you’re a model like Stella? As my wife, you should be blending into the background and not trying to outshine me on my special day. What fucking stunts are you trying to pull, Selena?” he seethes.
“None! Daniel, none at all. Please, it w-wasn't my intention to outshine you tonight. I-I—It was just Stella who—”
“—tried to warn you.” A new voice cuts in and I turn towards it to see my foster sister in question approaching us.
Her words make me frown in confusion. “What?”
Stella shrugs nonchalantly, coming to stand beside Daniel. “Don’t pretend as if I didn't try to warn you about your choice of outfit, Selena. I told you that not only is it overly provocative for a married woman like yourself but also that wearing the same dress I’d worn to the premiere of a popular movie would surely cause PR problems for Danny and his family.”
My eyes instantly widened as I finally realized why the dress had looked so familiar when she brought it out. Stella had worn the vibrant stained glass dress to the premiere of the hit movie starring a popular actor, Jared Molloy. My sister who had coerced me into wearing this dress was now putting the blame on me and doing it right to my face.
She returns my look of disbelief with a completely innocent expression yet the dark emotion swirling in her eyes is one I’ve neither seen before nor can I decipher, but it's potent enough to send a shiver down my spine.
I open my mouth to speak up but before I can, an outburst from my husband draws my attention to him. Daniel looks livid with his face flushed bright red and I cautiously move another step away from him, still attempting to pacify him. “Honey, that’s not—”
“You’re wearing the same god-damned dress Stella wore to a movie premiere?! Are you trying to ruin the Berfield family name, Selena? Next thing you know, the media is making assumptions about the business secretly going bankrupt if you can't even afford to buy a new fucking outfit for your own husband's birthday rather than recycle something of your sister's. Fucking hell, Selena!”
I flinch in fear and embarrassment when I realize what Stella had tricked me into doing and how I'd played right into her trap like a fool. I struggle not to smack myself across the face but Daniel’s next words succeed in doing just that.
“Tell me, Selena, is this your way of getting some attention from the public? If so, I can’t believe I married someone so fucking selfish and stupid.”
Tears well up in my eyes as I shoot Stella a betrayed look, earning a triumphant smirk from her, before quickly returning my focus to my husband, trying to explain myself and hoping he hears me out but we’re once again interrupted by the presence of another person—Melinda, my foster mother.
Blind hope blooms within me as I turn to her for help in this matter but before I can even manage to speak, she shoots me a death glare, traversing her gaze up and down my body with a disgusted expression on her face, and my stomach bottoms out ominously.
“What have you done, Selena?” Melinda says, her voice heavy with rage and contempt.
“M-Mother. I promise it’s not like that. Stella—”
I'm abruptly cut off by a sharp, painful slap across the face, making my head whip to the side due to the force of it. The sound rings out loudly in the corridor and a surprised gasp follows after but I'm in no mood for Stella’s theatrics as I turn my stiff neck back to face my foster mother, overwhelmed by the shock of what she’d just done to me.
My loved ones had just turned against me because of something as trivial as my outfit.
I palm my cheek in hopes of suppressing the sting there but regardless, the tears that filled my eyes due to Stella’s lies, Daniel’s insults and now, the hit from Melinda, still overflow and begin trailing down my face. Blinking repeatedly, I try to speak, to defend myself but I can only manage to let out a whimper.
I watch as Stella grips her mother’s arm, feigning concern for me when she's the one behind this in the first place. “Mother, you shouldn’t have done that. That’s too much punishment for her simple mistake. Selena hadn’t meant to wear something like this. Perhaps she’d done it to impress Danny since it’s his birthday tod—”
“I could care less about what the whore chooses to wear!” Melinda yells, making me flinch at her choice of words while Stella gasps again. “How dare she attempt to tarnish the reputations of the Winthrop and Berfield families by committing adultery?!”
Once again, I’m filled with shock and confusion by my foster mother’s words yet I’m too frozen by the sequence of events to refute their accusations.
Melinda takes a threatening step forward, most likely intending to hit me once more but she is quickly stopped by my husband and Stella who are more interested in hearing what she has to say than my safety.
“What, Mother? What do you mean?” Stella asks and Daniel echoes the question.
“Yes, Melinda. What do you mean by ‘adultery’?”
Breaking out of their hold, Mother walks to the entrance of the corridor leading back to the party and gestures outside. “Come, see for yourselves.”
Without delay, Stella and Daniel move toward the entrance and I follow shortly after them, curiosity winning out but I make sure to give some space so as not to get slapped in the face again by Mother. The first thing I notice when I look out to the hall is that the party seems to have slowed to a halt, the gentle background music now replaced with quiet murmurs as everyone in the room is now focused on something at the front.
Confused by what is going on, I follow everyone’s gaze to the front and my heart drops quite literally to my feet when I take in the huge projector that’d initially been showing a slideshow of my husband, the celebrant, but is now showcasing something totally different for everyone to see.
It’s a slideshow of my own pictures, but not just any picture of me—risque and incriminating ones featuring me in bed with an unfamiliar man who, although his face has been blurred out, it is quite evident in his hair color and body features that he isn’t my husband.
A violent shudder rakes through my body yet only one thought crosses my mind repeatedly: why are such pictures of me being displayed? And completely fake photos at that.
“How could you resort to such a thing, Selena?!” Mother yells first, pulling me out of the safety and seclusion of the corridor, to the center of the hall. Her outburst makes head turn and before I know it, I’ve got the attention of the entire room on me and much more, courtesy of the people who have already taken out their phones to begin filming the scene.“Mother, I—”I'm cut off by another slap from Melinda, one I'd been avoiding and is twice as painful that I have to bite down on my lower lip to prevent crying out. “How dare you shame our family like this?! Is this how you repay us for taking you in when you had nothing?! It's ingrates like you that discourage benevolent people like the Winthrops from taking in orphans to help them secure a brighter future! How could you do this to us?!”She swings her hand again to hit me but is quickly held back by my foster brother, Tyler, who shoots me a death glare and a smirk that appears almost victorious as he tries to calm his mother. Bu
The first sound I hear as I regain consciousness is the steady, rhythmic beeping of a machine beside my head. A pained moan escapes me as I open my eyes, only to close them back when a harsh, bright light overhead greets me like an abrupt slap to the face. I wince, lifting my hand to shield my eyes but the tug of an IV in my wrist stops me. Giving it a moment, I blink my eyes open again, adjusting to the light while the pungent scent of antiseptic fills my nostrils, mingling with a metallic tang in the back of my throat as I notice the various machines connected to me. My brows furrow in confusion and just as I reach the conclusion that I'm currently at the hospital, I hear a familiar voice speak up beside me. “Selena, you're finally awake.”I turn to see my best friend, Yemaya, watching me, her chocolate brown eyes glistening with concern and unshed tears. She moves closer, taking my free hand and squeezing it in hers. “You have no idea how terrified I was, sweetheart. I thought I'd
I'm grateful for the numbness that envelops me as I step into the mansion I’d regarded as home since childhood—a place I had believed was a sanctuary of love and family. However, now, with the veil of illusion lifted, I see it for what it truly is: a den of betrayal. But despite everything, I refuse to believe my husband, Daniel, is involved in their treachery, which is what I'm here to confirm. Yemaya informed me that he'd been staying at the Winthrop mansion while I was hospitalized, and though she strongly opposed my decision to visit, she'd driven me here and was waiting outside, ready to barge in if I wasn't out within ten minutes. Her unwavering support reassures me as I walk silently down the familiar corridor lined with obnoxiously expensive artworks. Nearing the end of the hall, I begin hearing voices emanating from what I recall as the drawing room—a room that's never fulfilled its purpose.I don't know what to expect as I approach the ajar doorway but the sight of my husban
Six Months Later The hum of soft conversations and the occasional clink of cutlery greets me as I step into The Gilded Stag, a beacon of luxury in the heart of London. Although I've been working here for a little over a month, the understated elegance of the restaurant never hesitates to stun me. Subdued lighting glints off the crystal chandeliers, giving the place a warm and cozy vibe while servers glide between polished tables draped in pristine white linens. I clock in at the side station, exchanging curt nods and murmured hellos with my coworkers. “Good evening, Elena.” The maître d’, Colette, greets, her French accent as crisp as her tailored uniform. “It is a slow one tonight.”“Appears so,” I reply, grabbing my program sheet for the night. Colette nods and strides off, leaving me to make my way to the alcove where my grand piano sits. It's tucked in a corner near the bar, just enough to let my music drift around the restaurant without overwhelming the guests. I love the space
CameronI don’t fixate on people—it’s never been my style. And with women, I’ve never had to try too hard. The Lancaster name alone is enough to have them flocking towards me, though most recognize me before I even speak.Yet, here I am, over a week later, still thinking about her—the pianist from one of my family’s restaurants. About that punch and how, despite the bloody pain, it only made her more intriguing. About the way she looked at me, not with interest, but irritation, like I was more of a nuisance than a man worth her time. It should’ve pissed me off; should’ve bruised my ego along with my nose. Instead, it’s got me walking back into The Gilded Stag, feeling like I’ve got unfinished business.Officially, I’m here to celebrate another successful acquisition. But let’s not kid ourselves—that’s just an excuse. Dining at one of my own restaurants has never been my idea of celebrating. No, I’m here for her. And this time, I want my best mates to be present for this.I’ve booked a
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚The elevator dings before the doors slide open and I step out into the dimly lit underground garage of the restaurant, a sigh escaping my lips. The fresh, cool air that rushes at me makes my body sag in relief as I weave through the many luxurious cars of varying brands and colors parked here, my phone pressed to my ear.I could've simply gone to relax in the staff lounge which is on the floor below the restaurant but it's routine for me to stretch my legs during my break since I spend hours seated on a bench plus, I don't want to risk bumping into a co-worker in there and being forced to interact. Perhaps not entirely safe but the underground garage is where I find myself on most nights. It provides the privacy I desire and it's the only other place besides the restaurant and lounge (which take up the 29th and 28th floors respectively) we, the staff, have access to within the entire 30-storey building complex and thus, the best place for me to stroll.“Wait, are you bei
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚The cab smells faintly of stale leather and cheap air freshener. I sit curled against the window as the morning fog hangs low over the streets, blurring the corners of buildings and streetlights. Tiny beads of moisture cling to the cab window, streaking slightly as the car moves. I watch them absentmindedly, my thoughts just as heavy as the damp air outside.Another day. Another appointment. Another round of cautious optimism. Another chance for disappointment to sink its teeth into me.I shouldn’t hope, but I do. Every single time.The cab jerks to a stop in front of the hospital, the familiar white building looming before me. I swallow the lump in my throat, fumbling in my purse for cash. My fingers tremble slightly as I hand the cabbie the rumpled money, my pulse thrumming in my ears."Keep the change," I mutter, pushing the door open.Cold air bites at my cheeks as I step out. The hospital doors stand just a few feet away, but I hesitate, staring up at the building lik
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚I step off the bus, adjusting the strap of my purse as I start the familiar walk back to my apartment. I've only walked past a few houses when a chill suddenly creeps down my spine, having absolutely nothing to do with the cold.I’m not sure what sets me off first—the way the air suddenly feels heavier or the prickling sensation at the back of my neck. But the moment I stop to listen closely, I hear it.Footsteps. Slow. Careful. Too careful. Like they have purpose.My breath hitches, and my fingers tighten around the strap of my bag. It could be nothing—someone else walking home or going for an evening stroll—but my gut tells me otherwise.Forcing my legs to keep a steady pace, I walk faster, my heart pounding with every step. The streets aren’t deserted, but they’re quiet enough that every little noise feels amplified.I turn the corner onto my street, my building in sight. Almost there.But my heart lurches when the footsteps behind me seem to pick up speed, closing in.
𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚Dinner at home later that night is a warm affair, filled with laughter, the clinking of utensils against our respective plates and the delectable aroma of my mother's home-cooked meal. Despite having more than enough servants to handle every task in the house, Mom always insists on preparing dinner for the family herself. She always says that nighttime is the only time we truly come together to dine as a family, and thus, she would never miss the chance to feed us all then. The effort, the warmth—it never fails to remind me that I'm part of a new family now. A family that truly cares for one another. It's the kind of comfort that wraps around me like a familiar embrace, something steady and grounding after the whirlwind of today's events.Dad sits at the head of the table, swirling a glass of red wine in his hand with a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild wine beside him, which is quite a surprise compared to his usual glass of water, juice or cup of tea— while Mom busie
𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧I step into Elena—or rather, Aretha's path just as she tries to make a quick getaway from the room. The expression on her face pulls an amused smirk from me as I stop right in front of her, my stance completely calm and nonchalant as I shove both of my hands into my pants pocket, my gaze resting heavily on her. If she thinks I'm going to let her walk out of here just like that, without having her acknowledge my presence at least, then this gorgeous bird is sorely mistaken because I am not about to let her slip through my fingers again—the guys and I aren't about to let that repeat itself. Not when we've finally found her again after nearly two months of searching. I stare down at Aretha, taking in this woman that'd played her way into our lives like a haunting yet melodious tune, when in reality, she's a force to be reckoned with, a mystery. A woman who looks so dewy-eyed and delicate on the surface, but deep down within her, she hides an intricate web of secrets and
𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚I take a deep breath, steadying myself as I stand before the long, polished, marble conference table, my flash drive connected to the projector. The large screen behind me displays the opening slide and heading of my presentation: “Lancaster Luxe x GemsThorne: A Partnership of Timeless Elegance.”The room is silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Seated before me are the board members of Lancaster Luxe—men and women of influence, their sharp gazes fixed on me, assessing, waiting. They exude power, each one a formidable presence in their own right, yet none feel as intense as his.Cameron Lancaster.He sits at the head of the large table, his figure an embodiment of unshaken authority. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that seems molded to his tall, broad frame, his posture is deceptively relaxed with one hand resting against his chin and the other drumming lightly against the surface of the table. His expression is unreadable, and yet his eyes…
𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚My car rolls to a halt by the curb and after briefly thanking the driver, I step out, lifting my gaze to take in the skyscraper looming over me and every other passersby. The Lancaster Luxe headquarters is a towering, sleek high-rise building that gives off a modern yet old-money charm with its mirrored windows that reflect the morning sun combined with limestone accents. The building, as a whole, exudes a kind of influence that only generational wealth can command.I make my way toward the grand entrance, waving at the guards stationed there as I walk underneath the golden chandelier and through the automatic doors. The interior of the building is just as lavish and breathtaking as the exterior with their crystal chandeliers and the tiled marble floorings but I'm too preoccupied with my task here this morning to pay any attention to the decoration. Besides, if it all goes well today, I'll be seeing more of this in the nearest future.I step up to the receptionist counter
𝐀/𝐍: Selena's name has finally been changed to Aretha so from now on, her POVs will be tagged 𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐀𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚I make my way into our family dining room, only barely registering the warmth and light rays of the morning sun spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the front yard of our grand mansion. My mind is too preoccupied, my nerves strung tight like the familiar keys of a piano before a musical performance. Two weeks of thorough research, two long weeks of sleepless nights spent burning the midnight oil, and two whole weeks of meticulous planning have led to this very day, and to this moment—where my proposal pitch to the prestigious Lancaster Luxe will be taking place.Anxiety eats away at me when I'm reminded once again of how truly important today is. Today isn't simply about securing a partnership deal with a business empire as reputable as our family's. But it is also about proving myself, and reclaiming my rightful place. It's also about making a
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚My mouth is still agape as Dad nods in response, his countenance completely serious. I vaguely hear Mom laugh softly from beside me before she cups my jaw and pushes it back up to close my mouth. I swallow hard, blinking repeatedly. “Y-You’re… serious, Dad? This isn't some kind of joke?” I ask, chuckling in disbelief as I glance from him to Mom and back again. Dad nods once more, giving me a small smile. “We are, princess. Deathly serious, in fact.”“But that would mean…” I trail off, the realization crashing over me like a tidal wave. My birth family aren't just rich—they’re the elite of the elite. They don't just exist within high society, they define it. Their reach extends across various industries from the finance industry to the mining one, which our jewels and jewelry division, GemsThorne, is largely a part of. And so, for me to be the head of that… it sounds very, very unbelievable. I swallow hard, my heart hammering in my chest. “It feels so surreal t-that you
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚I've never been in Clive's home office since I began staying here but I should've expected that, just like the rest of the mansion, it'd be bathed in luxury as well.Dad's office space is as refined and commanding as the man himself—a room that demands attention without needing to ask for it. Different shades of the color brown dominate the large space, starting from the dark mahogany furniture, to the elevated floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that line the opposite wall and are brimming with leather-bound tomes, gleaming awards and neatly arranged artifacts, and finally, to the opened curtains flanking the massive windows overlooking the surrounding grasslands of the Hampstead Heath nearby.The warm glow of chandeliers catches on the gold accents which frame the room, making everything glimmer with subtle opulence. An expansive map, framed with gold, dominates the wall between the shelves that's behind his imposing wooden desk— acting as a silent testament to the vast reach
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚On the third day of our transformatory spree, I wake up with a singular goal in mind and that's to erase every trace of my past still left. The weight of old names and old identities presses down on me like chains I’ve long outgrown. Today, I’m cutting them loose.Althea is already at the breakfast table when I step into the sunlit kitchen. She’s sipping on what I'm sure is her routine morning pick-me-up—chai tea, not coffee as the faint aromas of cinnamon, ginger and other spice blends curl into the air. Seated completely untouched on the dining table before her is a large platter that holds a classic, full English breakfast, consisting of some crispy bacon strips, blood sausages, baked beans, hash browns, a couple of fresh cherry tomatoes gotten from the greenhouse at the backyard of the mansion, black pudding, fried eggs with runny yolks, and sauteed mushrooms. A separate set of plates surround the platter, containing few slices of toasted sourdough bread, some porrid
𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚The late afternoon sun spills through the tinted car windows, casting muted golden rays across the dashboard while my gaze drifts over the countless shops and buildings we pass by, distractedly taking in the sights. A muffled tapping sound fills the silence in the car and I turn my head to face the only other person here with me. Althea is the one seated behind the wheel this time, after having decided to chauffeur us to our one and only destination for today. Her flawlessly manicured fingers drum idly against the leather as we cruise through the city. The scent of her signature perfume—a mixture of jasmine and something deeper and muskier—lingers in the air, blending with the faint smell of the leftover coffee im the cup holder between us.I look at her, noticing the slight curve of her lips, a tender, meaningful smile playing there as if she’d already been anticipating my nerves. “You’re more quiet than usual today, sweetie. A penny for your thoughts?” She remarks, fli