Samantha’s POVJack's eyes darted between me and Nelly, taking in the disheveled state of the room, the scattered papers, and the unmistakable tension in the air. His brow furrowed, the storm brewing behind his gaze making it clear he knew something had gone terribly wrong."What the hell is going on here?" His voice was sharp, demanding an explanation. He glanced at me, concern flickering in his eyes before they darkened once more as they landed on Nelly.Ever the opportunist, Nelly got back on her feet, straightened her blouse and composed herself, her face shifting into a mask of feigned innocence. "Mr. Chairman," she started, her voice shaky yet calculated, "she—she attacked me! Completely unprovoked!" She gestured toward me with a trembling hand, her wide eyes brimming with fake tears. "I was just trying to help her, to show her the ropes, and she... lashed out."The audacity of her lie hit me like a punch to the gut. I could barely contain the anger rising in me. My hands clench
SamanthaThe next morning arrived in a blur, as if time had fast-forwarded overnight. I barely slept—tossing and turning until the first crack of dawn, my mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. The rush of excitement coursing through me felt like electricity pulsing beneath my skin, making my heart race uncontrollably. Louis would finally be exposed and by brother would be set free. The thought alone was enough to stir something uneasy inside me. I tried to shake off the feeling, but I couldn't deny that a sense of foreboding lingered just beneath the surface.Jack and I had spent the previous evening shopping for outfits—an experience that felt more like preparing for a high-stakes fashion show than attending a wedding. We’d spared no expense. Jack had insisted on finding the most exquisite dress, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. When we finally arrived at the venue, we were among the first guests, our presence like a power couple arriving on the red carpet. Heads turned, an
Samantha We all glanced toward the speaker’s announcement, then back at one another, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire, ready to snap at any moment. Jack was the first to break the silence, his voice low and almost too casual. "Dad, you didn’t happen to have any other children outside of your marriage with Mom, did you?"My eyes widened as I shot him a look. Was he serious right now? The question hung in the air like a grenade, waiting to explode.Jack’s father glared at him, the disappointment in his eyes cutting sharper than any words could. "How dare you disrespect your mother’s memory like that, Jack? Are you implying I cheated on her?"The raw emotion in his voice startled me. His anger wasn’t just a reaction—it was personal. Deep. I felt the crackle of old wounds surfacing, wounds I hadn’t even known existed. Jack, on the other hand, seemed unbothered by the storm he’d just stirred."Relax, Dad," Jack said, holding up his hands defensively, though his tone was
Jack's POVI slip my phone back into my pocket, catching the flicker of excitement in Samantha's eyes. She doesn't need to say a word. I know exactly what she's feeling. After everything Louis has put her through-the lies, the betrayal, the public humiliation-this is the moment she's been waiting for. He's about to get what's coming, and it's been a long time coming.Moments later, Clara arrives, all in white, oblivious to the ticking time bomb that's about to explode in her perfect world. Her dress trails behind her like some long, dramatic symbol of the life she thinks she's about to have. I glance toward the church doors, expecting the police to burst in any second. But nothing. No sign of them. Not yet. My pulse quickens.The ceremony pushes forward, inching closer to the exchange of vows. The knot in my chest tightens with every second that ticks by. The cops are taking too long. I lean toward Samantha, lowering my voice. "We need to stall. They should've been here by now."Her b
JackAs I stood there, trying to gather my thoughts and figure out my next move, Louis’s mother’s voice sliced through the tension like a knife.“I can’t believe that shameless woman had the nerve to show her face at this wedding. She probably came here for the food—I doubt she’s had anything decent to eat since my son dumped her ass.”Her words dripped with disdain, and I turned to see her glaring in the direction Samantha had been led. My jaw clenched, my fists tightening at my sides, the familiar surge of anger threatening to break through. I wanted to tell her off right there, but the time wasn’t right. Not yet.Clara, still slumped in a pew with her tear-streaked face buried in her hands, slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but at the mention of Samantha, confusion flickered across her face. “Mother-in-law, you know that woman?” Clara’s voice was hoarse. “She’s Louis’s ex. It’s all starting to make sense now.” Before Louis’s mother could reply, Clara
JackClark’s words lingered in the air, heavy and suffocating like the oppressive silence that enveloped the room. A presidential pardon? It was a power play that stretched far beyond anything I had ever pulled off. I had connections—hell, more than most people could dream of—but asking for a pardon? That was a different league altogether.“How do we even begin to secure a pardon from the president?” I asked, my voice quieter now, trying to grasp the full weight of the situation. “This isn’t something that can be done overnight. The political red tape alone…”“There are no guarantees, Jack,” Clark replied, his tone gentler but no less severe. “The charges she’s facing are serious—accomplice to a high-profile crime. Even if you managed to get the president’s attention, there’s no telling how long it would take, or if he’d even grant it. But without that pardon, she’s looking at years—maybe decades—in prison.”Decades. The word hit me like a freight train, sending a wave of nausea cours
Jack's POVThe room seemed to freeze.Everyone's gaze shifted toward my father, as though his next words were the only thing that could break the suffocating silence. The tension was unbearable, a heavy, invisible weight pressing down on every single person in the room. One person.The president had laid out the terms like a devil's bargain-only one would be saved. The stark realization hit me like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from my lungs.Louis or Samantha.My father's fingers tapped the armrest of his chair rhythmically, the only sound in the stifling room. His voice, when he spoke, was calm, too calm for the storm swirling in front of him. "You're telling me I have to choose?""That's correct, Mr. Smith," the president's voice crackled from the speaker, distant yet commanding. "This is the best I can do under the circumstances. The case has already attracted too much media attention. A full pardon for both would be political suicide."I felt the room shift. Clara, who had be
JackI stood there, excitement coursing through me as I waited for my father to finally call the president back with his decision. But in the space of a heartbeat, something shifted. The expression on his face changed, like he'd just seen a ghost. His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. Confusion knotted in my stomach.And then, a voice echoed from behind me."Marry her? Wow, finally, the Smith family has begun to act like men. I never thought I'd live to see this day."The voice was cold and commanding, sending an involuntary chill down my spine. I turned slowly, catching sight of everyone around me wearing the same expression-shock, disbelief, maybe even a hint of fear.Madame Elena Gambino stood there, her smirk sharp as a blade, flanked by members of the infamous Gambino family-the most notorious mafia clan in the city. They strode into the church like they owned the place, each step oozing with the kind of confidence that came from years of wielding power."Sorry we're late," she cont
The silence in the room was heavy as Jack held the autopsy report in his hands. His eyes skimmed over the details, lingering on the revelation that brought a wave of relief and frustration all at once: Anastasia was never pregnant.“She lied to everyone,” he said, his voice sharp with disbelief.Samantha sat across from him, her expression unreadable. “Her lies almost destroyed us,” she said quietly. “But it’s over now, Jack. She can’t hurt us anymore.”Jack exhaled, his grip on the report tightening. “I let her manipulate me. I should’ve seen through it.”Samantha reached across the table, placing her hand over his. “None of us are perfect,” she said softly. “But we’re still here. Together.”Jack looked at her, her calm resolve steadying him. He nodded. “You’re right. It’s time to move forward.”The room was packed with reporters and cameras as Kelvin Smith sat at the head of the table, his wheelchair positioned at the center of the stage. Despite his physical limitations, his presen
The cold steel of the gun glinted under the dim light of the warehouse as Anastasia’s trembling hand kept the barrel pointed at Samantha. Her face was a twisted mask of rage, desperation shining in her wide, unblinking eyes.Jack stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “Anastasia, put the gun down. You don’t want this to end badly.”“Don’t tell me what I want!” Anastasia snapped, her voice shrill and cracking. “Do you think you can just take everything from me? My family, my future, my life? No, Jack. You don’t get to decide how this ends!”“Anastasia,” Jack tried again, his arms spread wide to show he wasn’t reaching for a weapon. “You’re surrounded. The police are outside. This isn’t going to go your way.”Anastasia’s lip curled, her gaze darting between Jack and Samantha. “You think you’re so clever,” she spat at Samantha. “You think you’ve won, but you’ve ruined everything. My family is in shambles because of you!”---The police stationed at the perimeter called into the wareho
The cold concrete scraped against Samantha’s skin as she pressed her back against the storage room wall, her breathing shallow and fast. The gun in her trembling hands felt heavier with every second that passed. She couldn’t afford to let her nerves betray her now.Her escape replayed in her mind. After hours of working the ropes binding her wrists, she had finally managed to free herself. When the scarred kidnapper stormed into the room, she had acted on instinct, lunging at him and managing to wrestle his gun away during the struggle. Her heart pounded as she recalled firing the weapon, the sharp crack of the shot deafening in the confined space. The bullet had grazed his shoulder, giving her just enough time to run.Now, locked in the storage room, she tried to gather her thoughts. The sound of muffled voices and distant footsteps outside told her that the others were looking for her. She spotted a phone lying forgotten on a crate near the door—likely dropped during the scuffle. Wi
The first thing Samantha noticed as she regained consciousness was the cold. The floor beneath her was rough concrete, its chill seeping through her skin. Her wrists and ankles were bound tightly with coarse rope, leaving her hands numb from the lack of circulation. Her head throbbed, and the acrid smell of gasoline mixed with mildew filled the air, making her stomach churn.Panic surged through her as the events of the night came rushing back. The ambush. The masked men. The struggle. They had dragged her from her car and covered her mouth with a cloth that reeked of chemicals. Now she was here, wherever here was, and completely alone.She opened her eyes cautiously, blinking against the dim, flickering light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The room was small, cluttered with crates and rusted tools, the kind of place no one would look twice at. A faint rumbling sound echoed through the walls. A train line? Samantha thought, her mind racing. If she could figure out her loca
Samantha’s POVThe tension in the police station was palpable as I sat beside Sisco, waiting for the detectives to finish reviewing the files we had provided. The evidence against Clara was damning: records of secret sales of Smith family properties, wire transfers to offshore accounts, and a network of shell companies designed to hide her fraudulent activities.Clara’s lawyer, a sharp-dressed man with an air of arrogance, leaned back in his chair. “This proves nothing,” he said dismissively. “My client denies all allegations and insists she is the victim of a smear campaign.”I stood, my voice firm. “Smear campaign? These are her accounts. Her signatures. Her schemes. If you want to argue that in court, go ahead. But we both know she’s guilty.”The lead detective nodded. “The evidence is conclusive. We’ll be filing additional charges of embezzlement and fraud. Ms. Smith’s leverage just disappeared.”Clara, sitting across the room, smirked despite the growing case against her. “Enjoy
Jack’s POVThe sterile white walls of the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) blurred around me as the doctor’s words sank in. Liam needed a bone marrow transplant. Without it, his chances of survival were slim.Samantha sat beside me, clutching my hand tightly, her face pale and drawn. She had been strong through so much, but this news shattered the last of her composure.“How soon can we start?” I asked, my voice tight.“We’ll run compatibility tests on both of you,” the doctor said calmly. “If one of you is a match, we can move forward immediately.”Samantha nodded, her voice trembling as she asked, “And if neither of us is a match?”The doctor hesitated. “We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it, but we need to act quickly. Time is critical.”---The hours stretched painfully as we waited for the test results. Samantha paced the small waiting room, her arms crossed tightly as if she could shield herself from the weight of the situation. I sat motionless, staring at the floor, my m
Samantha's POVThe morning was unusually quiet, the kind of calm that made you uneasy when you knew trouble always loomed around the corner. I was nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee when the world flipped on its head once again.The news alert flashed across my phone screen: "BREAKING: Billionaire Kelvin Smith Awakens from Coma."My breath caught as I stared at the words. The man whose influence had orchestrated so much of my life, directly or indirectly, was awake. The man who was now confirmed to be my biological father.---Within an hour, the hospital was buzzing like a disturbed hive. Reporters swarmed the entrance, microphones and cameras pointed toward the building as security struggled to keep them at bay. Jack and I arrived separately, but our paths crossed as we entered the hospital's lobby."Did you know?" he asked, his tone clipped. His eyes were hard, guarded."No," I said, shaking my head. "I found out the same way you did."He studied me for a moment, his jaw tightening b
Samantha’s POVThe quiet of my apartment was a stark contrast to the chaos that had consumed my life over the past year. Liam was nestled in my arms, his tiny fingers wrapped around one of mine as he slept soundly. His soft breaths were a balm to my frayed nerves, a reminder that despite everything, this little life was my greatest triumph.I gently rocked him, letting the faint hum of the city outside lull me into a rare moment of peace. But just as I began to relax, a sharp knock on the door shattered the stillness.My heart jumped. It was late, too late for visitors. Sisco usually called before stopping by, and I hadn’t ordered anything.Another knock followed, louder this time. Liam stirred in my arms, his little face scrunching before he settled again. I stood, carefully placing him in his bassinet before making my way to the door.Peering through the peephole, my breath caught in my throat.Jack.I opened the door slowly, my heart pounding as I took in the sight of him. He stood
Jack’s POVThe message haunted me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t push it out of my mind. I sat in the dim light of the apartment, the glow of the phone screen casting eerie shadows on the walls."Samantha Blake has just delivered a healthy baby boy."The words felt heavier each time I read them. A boy. Samantha had a son.And for the first time in months, I let myself ask the question I had buried deep: Was he mine?I gripped the phone tighter, my knuckles whitening. She had named Louis as the father, made it clear in front of the entire world. But what if that wasn’t the truth? What if the boy was mine, and she had lied to protect herself—or me?The idea twisted in my gut, a bitter mix of anger and something deeper, something more vulnerable.---Morning sunlight crept through the curtains, doing little to brighten my mood. I barely noticed Anastasia returning, her movements sharp and deliberate as she slammed the door behind her.“So, you’ve been up all night,” she said, cr