Marrissa's point of view My alarm rang loudly, blaring through the silence of my room. I groaned, reaching out blindly to silence it, but I knew I could not afford even a minute of extra sleep. I had three days—just three days—to put together a solid project for the WBA and submit it before the deadline. Dragging myself out of bed, I moved on autopilot, showering and dressing as quickly as possible. Even though I was very tired,I pushed myself through it. I had no choice. By the time I went downstairs, Mr. Thornhill was already seated at the dining table, he was holding a newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other hand. He looked up as I walked in, and he was surprised to see me downstairs so early. "You are up early," he said, setting the newspaper down. "Are you going to the office this early?" "Yes, sir," I replied, grabbing my bag. "I have a lot to do." His sharp gaze lingered on me for a moment, like he wanted to say something, but then he just nodded. "Go
Morgan's point of view I was angry at Marrissa, imagine her submitting a project for the WBA, as what exactly?After eating with my rival, she is trying to take a seat with me? How funny.She has been with my father for almost a week now and even though the house felt empty without her, I still did want her close to me. I can't see myself forgiving her, at least not yet.The sudden, piercing scream outside my office sent a chill through me bringing me out of my thoughts. I froze, as my pen slipped out from my fingers. What is going on? Is the building collapsing? Or there is a fire, or worse a terrorist attack?So many questions ran through my mind as I got up and walked to the door.Before I got to the door, it burst open. One of my employees stumbled inside, her face pale with panic. She gasped for breath, gripping the edge of the door frame as if it was the only thing keeping her from fainting."Sir! Sir!" Her voice was trembling and her wide eyes filled with tears. I stif
Morgan's point of view By the time I finished adding some adjustments to Marrissa’s project and submitted it, I was already ten minutes past the deadline.I leaned back in my chair, and rubbed my temples in frustration and sadness.I felt it was too late. Too late for everything. This was all my fault. If I had just listened to her that day she came to my office with her project, if I had put aside my anger for just a moment, we could have worked on it together. We would have had plenty of time to finish it properly and submit it on time. But I had not listened. I had let my pride get in the way, and now we were paying for it.I sighed and closed my eyes, even now all I could see was her lying on the floor, unconscious.My chest tightened at the picture. That image had been burned into my mind since I came out of the hospital. She had almost lost her child. My child.The weight of that truth sat heavy on my shoulders making me feel guilty.I sat for almost an hour, trying to concentr
Marrissa's point of view I woke up to the sound of heavy breathing and the faint scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. My eyelids were heavy and my body sore, but the warmth around my hand was the first thing I noticed. I turned my head slightly and saw Morgan. He rested his head on the edge of my hospital bed, his dark hair slightly disheveled..What surprised me the most is his large hands wrapped around my own, holding me like he was afraid I would disappear if he let go. For a few seconds, I just stared at our hands. Morgan Thornhill does not act like this. He didn’t hold hands. He didn’t stay by bedsides.Especially not at this time when he sees me as his enemy. I tried to pull my hand away from his hand without waking him, but it didn't work out the way I had planned. My slight movement made him stir, but his hand didn't let go of my hand, instead he tightened his grip on me before his eyes opened wide. He blinked a couple of times before turning to look at me. “He
Farrow's point of view My dad’s death has shattered me in ways I can not explain. It was not just the grief that came with his passing that hurt me, it was the financial imbalance that followed. That was what truly broke me. The next day after dad was buried, everything began to crumble. His businesses, his assets, his properties, everything was frozen by the police. They shut it all down in the name of an investigation, locking me out of the life I had always known. Some of Dad’s so-called friends had given me money, but it was nothing compared to having control of everything at your disposal. I was not the one pulling the strings anymore. I was not the daughter of a powerful man—I was just an ordinary girl with no wealth, no influence, and soon, no option than to work just to survive. I shook my head, rejecting the very thought. I can never work just to survive, besides I have no skill whatsoever so who would employ someone like me.And do you know my maids left even before da
Farrow's point of view I sat across from my accomplice, keeping my expression serious, I folded my hands on the table standing between us. If someone had come in and saw that scene, the person would have thought we were about to agree or even engage in a fight."I'm pregnant," I said, making sure my voice sounded serious. The reaction was instant. My accomplice’s face changed color immediately. Everything changed, facial expression, the air in the room, everything except for me."And I’m keeping this baby," I continued before any words were said. "No matter what you say, Morgan. This child is the result of our night together at the Governor’s party, and I—I do not know what to do aside from keeping the baby and taking responsibility." I saw my accomplice's lips parted, but no words came out. I smiled, liking the reaction.My accomplice stared at me, stunned, frozen in place. I allowed the tension to hang between us for some seconds. Then, I slowly laughed out loud, smiling lik
Farrow's point of view I came back home from school and heard my mom screaming. My dad was shouting right back, their voices was high and clashing in a way that had become all too familiar to me and everyone who lived here with us. Mom was crying—again. Sounds embarrassing right? Well that was the kind of environment I grew up in. I couldn't even invite my friends to the house for fear that mom and dad might end up fighting and embarrassing everyone. The annoying part was they never gave a sign. We could all be eating happily on the dining table and the next thing, either mom or dad might make a comment that would flare the other party up and before you could say JACK ROBINSON, the two would start shouting on top of their voices and soon shattering of items begin.Sometimes, I wonder if they don't get tired, or ashamed or if they even think about their health with all the shouting or if they know what their constant bickering does to my mental health.Well that day, I didn’t even
Farrow's point of view I did not just hate my mother, I despised her. But if I was to be truly honest, I hated my father even more. And I placed all my anger, my resentment, my frustration on him. It was the only way I knew to make him feel the same pain I carried every single day. I became his nightmare, the thorn that refused to be plucked from his side. If he said right, I went left. If he said up, I dived down. Every rule, every expectation, every command he made, I went against them headstrong just to see the vein in his forehead bulge with frustration. Skipping classes became a hobby, a personal rebellion against my father. My teachers stopped bothering to report me because they knew nothing would change. The name Hudson carried weight, and as long as that name was on the school’s donation list, I was untouchable. And drugs became my best buddy. They made me feel nothing from the expectations that suffocated me. The clubs became my sanctuary, the one place I could breat
Marrissa's point of view The silence in the room stretched down a long time, and my mind would not stop racing. The tension between us was indescribable. I stared at the amber liquid inside the bottle, swirling it slowly. I knew he was shocked to hear me talk about bullies. Anyone who knows me now without hearing my story would think I have always been this outspoken and bold Hell, there were times I didn't want morning to come because I was too scared to go to school.“I was bullied in school,” I said, not really intending to—but the words had already started. “I was that fat girl. The one people whispered about in hallways and laughed at during gym class. Boys used to pretend to flirt with me as a joke.”Morgan's brows drew together, his lips parted slightly. But I continued before he could say anything.“I hated myself. Every inch of my body was annoying to me. So one day I stopped eating. I went on some insane diet I found online. I nearly collapsed at school twice. I passed ou
Morgan's point of view I walked around the room, hating the silence between me and Marrissa, hating myself more for ruining what would have been a perfect union.Marrissa stood on the far end of the room, her arms crossed tight over her chest, refusing to look at me. And really, could I blame her? I had messed up again. She had every right to be furious, but something about the weight of her silence, the way she did not even want to fight anymore, made my chest ache in a way I didn’t know how to stop.I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated and feeling helpless. As I walked further into the room, my eyes caught a cabinet in the corner. I walked over and opened it. Inside it was a full bottle of whiskey standing tall like some forgotten souvenir from a better time.“Perfect,” I whispered. “At least this would lighten the mood.”I grabbed it and twisted the cap off with more force than necessary, and slowly walked over to Marrissa. I sat down near her, not close enough to invade her s
Marrissa's point of view I held the doorknob, needing to get out of that room, away from Morgan, away from the mess of emotions churning inside me. I twisted it hard to the left. Nothing happened. I turned it to the right. Still nothing.I frowned and tried again, this time with more force. The knob did not budge.“What the hell?” I muttered under my breath, refusing to believe it. I twisted and pulled, shook the door, hit the panel with the side of my hand. It did not move. “What the fuck!” I yelled, my voice bouncing off the quiet room. I smacked the door with both hands, as the frustration in me increased.Morgan was standing behind me, watching with an irritating calm. “You may have locked it from the outside,” he said.I turned sharply to face him, fuming. “Are you serious right now?” My arms were crossed tightly across my chest. I was seriously holding back the urge to scream. “Did you do this?”He shrugged, and that annoyed me more than anything. His nonchalant attitude made m
Marrissa's point of view Mr Thornhill gave a wonderful speech after the first dance. Morgan looked at me and smiled, then, without a word, he took my hand.The moment he took my hand and led me away from the glowing ballroom, I did not resist. Not because I was still not mad. Oh no, I was furious, but something in his touch made it hard to pull away.His fingers were warm, as if he knew exactly what he was doing.We walked in silence through the quiet hallway, away from the music and laughter. I did not ask where we were going. I didn’t really care. I needed a moment to breathe, to escape all the people congratulating him, calling him “Son of a governor,” like he was royalty. And me—just standing there, smiling politely while he introduced me to everyone as his wife.Wife.I pinched him the first time he said it, hoping it was a mistake. A slip of the tongue, maybe. But he kept doing it. Over and over. “This is my wife, Marrissa.” Like it was the most natural thing in the world.We s
Marrissa's point of view I took my time preparing for the event. Not only because I wanted to impress Morgan and everyone else at Mr Thornhill celebratory, but also because tonight, more than anything, I wanted to feel confident. I wanted to be in control.The deep emerald gown I chose clung to my body in all the right places. It was off-shoulder, with a tasteful slit and a cascading train that followed like a whisper behind me. My hair was styled into a sleek low bun, a few curled strands framing my face. I kept my jewelry simple—just a pair of diamond studs and a thin bracelet that caught the light when I moved.After one last glance in the mirror, I drew in a deep breath. I told myself I was beautifully ready.But nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greeted me the moment I stepped downstairs.Morgan stood at the bottom of the staircase, dressed in a black velvet tuxedo that looked as if it had been tailored just for him. His hair was slicked back neatly, and the glin
Morgan's point of view It was two days to the celebratory party and the mansion felt more alive than usual. Florists walked in and out with different arrangements of flowers. Catering staff bustled in the kitchen, and the faint sound of jazz floated through the hallway from the audio team doing a sound check. Preparations for the celebratory party were in full swing, and somehow, I found myself stuck with Marrissa.Not that I was complaining, far from it. But working this closely with her almost madee insane with want for her.She moved around with quiet control, clipboard in her hand, her brows slightly furrowed in focus as she coordinated the team setting up the ballroom. Her voice was soft, yet firm commanded attention without effort. There was something magnetic about watching her work. It reminded me why she had impressed my father, why she had once captivated me, and why—despite everything—I can not to stay away from her.“Are you going to help or just stand there pretending
Morgan's point of view After our meeting with the event planner, Marrissa started to avoid me. Again.I had spent the last thirty minutes searching for her in my father’s mansion, only to be met with empty rooms and dead silence. It was driving me insane.I wasn’t used to this—chasing.I wasn’t used to needing something and not getting it.And yet, here I was, pacing the hallways like a damn lunatic, my heart pounding harder with every empty space I found.Finally, I found her in the garden.She was sitting on a stone bench, with her arms wrapped around herself. She was staring at the fountain like it held the answers to the universe. The late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over her skin, making her look almost beautiful.She didn’t hear my footsteps as I got closer to her, or maybe she just pretended not to. Either way, I took the moment to study her. The way her shoulders were tense. The way her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress, like she was trying to hold herself fr
Marrissa's point of view As I watched Morgan walk away, I let out a slow, frustrated sigh, pressing my fingers against my temples. “I was supposed to be gone by now,” I whispered to myself.After my ice-cream date with Molly, I took time to think about what Molly said, and I concluded she was right. I couldn't stay here, I shouldn't. I had spent the remainder of the day planning my escape—carefully going over every detail to make sure no one, especially Morgan, would find me. I was ready. So sure that by this time the next day, I would be far away from Paris, far away from Morgan and everything about him, far away from my past.But now? Now I was stuck.I flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. How did I let this happen?I wasn’t stupid—I knew staying, even for a few days, was dangerous. Not just because of Morgan’s unpredictable nature but because of my own heart.I sighed again, rolling onto my stomach, hugging a pillow to my chest. I just need to get throu
Morgan's point of view I barely remember the drive back to my father’s mansion. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary and my foot pressed harder on the gas pedal than was safe. My mind was a mess, tangled between fear and hop Marrissa had to be there. “It's possible she went back to Dad's mansion to rest. She could have gotten tired of the serene at the hotel and wanted a change of environment.” That thought was the only thing that kept me sane.As soon as I pulled up, I didn’t even bother parking properly. I flung the car door open and ran into the house. My heart pounded against my ribs as I took the stairs two at a time, my only thought being, “please let her be here.” I reached her door and pushed it open without knocking. And the emptiness inside her room hit me hard.The sight of the neatly made bed and untouched belongings sent a sharp wave of panic through me. I called her again, pressing the phone to my ear, my pulse hammering. Still no reply. I