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
Jack POV I chuckled, shaking my head as I kept my eyes on Madame Elena. The amusement I felt was thin, barely masking the edge of tension beneath. "What happens next?" I mocked, my voice low but sharp. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"Madame Elena’s lips curved into a slow, venomous smile. Her eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as she studied me. "You're clever enough to figure it out, Jack. Surely, I don’t need to spell it out for you." Her words were a taunt, but I could hear the simmering warning underneath.Before I could respond, my father’s voice sliced through the thick air like a knife. "The Smith family doesn’t take kindly to threats, Elena." His tone was cold, sharp as ice. He spoke with a casual indifference that only deepened the tension. "I'd suggest you think twice before you run your mouth when addressing my son."He didn’t even look at her as he spoke, but the weight of his words struck like a punch to the gut. Elena’s eyes flashed dangerously, but my father didn’t
Samantha’s POVI was dragged out of the church, the cold metal of the handcuffs biting into my skin. Every step felt like a public execution. The crowd parted, their wide eyes filled with a mixture of shock, judgment, and something far worse—pity. I hated that the most. Pity was for people who were broken, and I refused to be seen as one of them. Whispers followed me, rippling through the sea of faces, but I kept my gaze forward, head held high. I didn’t need their words to remind me of my fall from grace.The van loomed ahead like a dark omen. Its tinted windows reflected a version of me I barely recognized—disheveled, eyes hollow with exhaustion. The back doors swung open, and without hesitation, I was shoved inside. I stumbled, catching myself against the cold, hard metal of the van's walls. Louis was already sitting there, slumped in the corner like a broken puppet. His tear-streaked face looked pale and haunted, so far removed from the arrogant man who once thought the world rev
Samantha The sunlight hit my skin with a warmth I hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. The fresh air filled my lungs, and for the first time in weeks, I felt alive. I was free. Free from that nightmare, from the suffocating darkness Louis had forced on me. It felt surreal, like I was standing in someone else’s shoes, as if at any moment I’d wake up back in that cold cell. But no, this was real. I was free.I squinted against the brightness as I stepped outside, trying to make sense of it all, and then I saw him.Jack stood beside a sleek black SUV, his posture casual but alert, as though he’d been waiting for me all his life. The moment his eyes met mine, his expression softened, and he began walking toward me with that familiar smile tugging at his lips.I didn’t think—my feet moved on their own, and before I knew it, I was running.The second I reached him, I threw myself into his arms, holding him tightly, burying my face into the warmth of his chest. Relief washed over me in
Samantha Just then, a few guards rushed in to help Clara to her feet. One of them, a tall, burly man with a baton gripped tightly in his fist, glared at me with unbridled fury.“How dare you lay your filthy hands on our boss! You must have a death wish,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. Without warning, he lunged at me, his baton raised high, the gleam in his eyes promising violence.Before I could even process what was happening, Sisco was already in motion. His body moved like a blur, swift and precise. In a heartbeat, his fist collided with the guard’s jaw, delivering a devastating blow. The sound of the impact echoed in the room, sharp and brutal. The guard crumpled to the floor, unconscious before he even hit the ground.I stared, frozen in place, my heart thundering in my chest. Sisco hadn’t even broken a sweat, hadn’t flinched. It was as if knocking out a grown man twice his size was just another routine for him. And maybe it was.For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The
Jack's POVThe moment Samantha collapsed into my arms, the rest of the world ceased to exist. Her body trembled against mine, her soft hair brushing against my fingers as I gently caressed her head. Every instinct in me urged me to protect her, to shelter her from the cruelty she had just faced. But my gaze never left the trembling figure standing before us—the fool who had dared to insult her.Mr. Hughes. Pathetic. The man was quaking in his boots, pale as a ghost. I knew his name, yet he meant nothing to me now. He had crossed a line."I just asked you a question," I growled, my voice low and cold, cutting through the thick tension in the air. "Or are you deaf?"The manager’s eyes widened in panic. He fumbled with his words, his hands shaking as he stammered, “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Chairman. I didn’t know—these people—I had no idea they were your guests.”His fear disgusted me. This was a man who thought he had the power to belittle someone like Samantha. He was lucky I didn’t fire him o
Samantha My heart raced, pounding in my chest like it was trying to break free. I could barely catch my breath as I stared down at Jack, still on one knee, holding the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. The room, the lights, the flowers—it was like something out of a dream. A dream I never thought could be mine.He wanted me. Jack Smith, the most decorated bachelor in the city, the one every woman wanted, was asking me to marry him. My mind reeled, trying to process the impossible. The proposal, the ring, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the universe—it was all too much. Overwhelming.I stood frozen, my hands trembling, unsure if this was really happening or if I was imagining it all. How could this be real? How could someone like Jack want someone like me? After everything, after Louis, after all the pain... how could I deserve this?Lola's voice snapped me out of my daze, cutting through the whirlwind in my mind. “Oh my God, Samantha! What are you waiting for
Jack’s POVThe moment Samantha stormed out, my world tilted on its axis. The pain in her eyes, the disbelief on her face—it all crushed me in ways I couldn’t explain. She didn’t believe me. And how could she? With Anastasia sprawled across the bed like some venomous snake, waiting to sink her fangs into the remains of my relationship with Samantha, it seemed like I had already lost.I stood there, frozen for a second too long, replaying the look on Samantha's face. She thought I betrayed her. The one thing I swore I’d never do. Anastasia’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Oh, don’t worry about her,” she purred, bending down slowly to pick up the ring Samantha had thrown in a fit of rage. She held it up to the light, her fingers caressing the diamond, as if it belonged to her. "It looks better on me anyway, don’t you think?"She slipped it onto her finger like it was a crown she was destined to wear. Then she turned toward me, taking a few slow, deliberate steps. Her lips curved
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