Samantha’s POVThe aftermath of the press conference left me feeling like I was walking a tightrope, every step more precarious than the last. The reporters had gotten what they wanted—an answer—but I was left with nothing but a growing pit in my stomach. Naming Louis as the father of my child had been the only way to quell the storm, but the lie hung over me like a guillotine. And worse, I didn’t know how Jack would handle it.Jack had barely spoken to me since the press conference. His quiet retreat hurt more than I cared to admit. He wasn’t angry—not outwardly—but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes lingered on me as if searching for the person he thought he knew. I’d tried explaining it to him, tried to make him understand that I’d done it for us. For the baby. But he had simply nodded and walked away.I sat in my office at FinCorp, staring blankly at the glowing screen of my laptop. Reports, emails, stock updates—they were all meaningless right now. My thou
Jack’s POVThe night of Samantha’s press conference replayed over and over in my mind like a bad movie I couldn’t shut off. I sat alone in my penthouse, the city lights stretching out below me, but I barely noticed them. All I could see was her face, the way her voice wavered when she said his name: Louis Martinez is the father of my child.It wasn’t true—I knew it wasn’t. Samantha and I had been together, and there was no one else. So why the hell had she said it? She claimed it was to protect us, to protect the baby. But something about the way she’d looked at me afterward, the way she’d avoided my questions, made me wonder if there was more she wasn’t telling me.I picked up the glass of whiskey on the table and took a slow sip, letting the burn settle in my chest. Since the press conference, there had been a distance between us, one I wasn’t sure how to close. Every time I tried to talk to her, she either deflected or shut down completely. I’d started avoiding her too, not because
Jack’s POVThe whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, but the sting barely registered. I stood at the window of my penthouse, staring out at the glowing city below. Everything felt wrong. Samantha’s press conference, her lie about Louis, the way she dodged my questions—it was all unraveling. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.I wanted to trust her, to believe that she’d done it to protect us, but the lie sat heavy between us. Every time I looked at her, I saw the flicker of guilt in her eyes, the hesitation in her voice. It didn’t feel like us anymore.And then there was Clara. Louis’s sudden release reeked of her influence. She’d been too quiet lately, but I knew better than to think she was standing idly by. The chaos at Samantha’s press conference was too well-timed to be a coincidence.Another sip of whiskey. Another few seconds of staring at nothing. The knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts, sharp and insistent. I set the glass down and strode to the door, alread
Louis’s POVI sat in the dimly lit hotel room, swirling the wine in my glass as I waited for the perfect moment to call her. Samantha Blake. The name alone made my blood boil. She had the world at her feet now, while I had nothing. But tonight wasn’t just about revenge—it was about playing my cards right, making her think she had a choice, making her believe that I wanted something reasonable.I’d crafted the plan carefully. The idea of “making peace” was just the bait to lure her here. Samantha liked to think she was in control, that she could manage any situation. But she’d always underestimated me.I placed the wine glass down and picked up my phone, dialing her number.She answered on the second ring, her tone sharp. “What do you want, Louis?”I leaned back, letting a calmness settle into my voice. “Relax, Samantha. I’m not here to fight.”“Could’ve fooled me,” she snapped. “What is it now?”“I’ve been thinking,” I said, keeping my tone measured. “About everything that’s happened.
Jack's POVThe gala was a blur of meaningless chatter, sparkling wine, and hollow laughter. I wandered through the crowd, barely listening to the names and pleasantries thrown my way. My mind was a thousand miles away, stuck in a loop of questions I couldn't answer.What was Samantha hiding? Why had she named Louis as the baby's father when we both knew it wasn't true? And why did I feel like every time I tried to get closer, she pushed me further away?"You seem distracted," Anastasia said, her voice low and smooth as she slid into step beside me.I glanced at her, not bothering to hide my irritation. "What do you want, Anastasia?""Only to help," she said, offering a small smile. "You've been pacing like a man waiting for bad news."Her words hit closer to home than I liked, but I didn't respond. Instead, I grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and downed half of it in one go.Anastasia tilted her head, her expression soft. "You know, it's okay to admit when you're stru
Samantha’s POVThe first thing I felt when I woke up was the pounding in my head. It wasn’t just a normal headache—it was a sharp, relentless pressure, as though a hammer was striking against the inside of my skull. My eyes fluttered open, and the dim light in the room made my stomach churn.Where was I?I tried to sit up, but my body felt sluggish, my movements heavy and uncoordinated. Panic prickled at the edges of my mind as I looked around the unfamiliar room. The faint scent of stale wine lingered in the air, and the cheap decor told me I wasn’t in a place I would normally choose to be.And then it hit me.Louis. The hotel.I sat up abruptly, my pulse racing. The sudden movement made my head spin, and I clutched the side of the bed for support. My dress was wrinkled and slightly askew, the neckline pulled down further than I remembered. A cold sense of dread settled over me as I adjusted it, trying to piece together what had happened.I’d come here to talk to Louis. He’d insisted
Jack’s POVI woke up with the sharp sting of regret curling around my chest like a vise. The sunlight streaming through the wide windows of Anastasia’s suite did nothing to dull the ache in my head or the fire in my gut. I blinked against the harsh light, my eyes landing on her slender figure draped in silk sheets beside me. Her hair spilled across the pillow, her breathing soft and even.Reality hit me like a freight train.What the hell had I done?Last night’s events came back in vivid flashes: the gala, the photos from Louis, the rage that consumed me, and Anastasia’s warm, comforting presence. I hadn’t been thinking clearly—no, I hadn’t been thinking at all. I let my anger lead me to a decision I couldn’t take back.I scrubbed a hand over my face, groaning softly as I swung my legs off the bed. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t look at her.“Jack?” Anastasia’s groggy voice pulled me back.I glanced over my shoulder, meeting her half-lidded gaze. “I need to go,” I muttered, reachin
Samantha's POVThe world outside my window seemed oblivious to the chaos consuming my life. The hum of traffic, the chirp of distant birds-it was all maddeningly normal. Meanwhile, my world was collapsing. I sat on the couch, staring blankly at my phone as it buzzed with relentless notifications. Every message, every news alert chipped away at what little strength I had left.The photos of Louis and me-photos I had no memory of being taken-were everywhere. Every news outlet, every gossip site had them splashed across their front pages. The headlines were as cruel as the betrayal they documented: "Smith Heiress Caught in Scandal with Ex-Fiancé" and "Samantha Blake: The Fall of a Golden Girl."My chest felt tight as I scrolled through the comments online, each one harsher than the last. Some questioned my character. Others questioned my ability to lead FinCorp. And then there were those who reveled in my misery, gleefully tearing apart the image I'd worked so hard to build.I threw the
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