Marrissa's point of view I stepped inside the room, but kept one hand on the door handle, leaving it slightly opened. Trusting her this soon would be a mistake. A grave one.Farrow stood there with that same pitiful expression plastered on her face, she folded her arms across her chest as though she was bracing for something big. "I'm listening," I said, keeping my voice low but my expression unreadable.She hesitated, her lips trembling as if she was about to cry. That same pathetic look she always put on when she wanted sympathy. I sighed, feeling exhausted."Come on, I know you and I have not really been friends, but I can not bear to see you like this," I said, softening just a little. "So please, don't cry anymore."A tear slipped down her cheek, and before I could stop myself, I reached out and wiped it away.Farrow breathed in and out, in shaky sobs . "I'm… I'm really sorry for everything," she stammered.Sorry? I almost scoffed out. Farrow Hudson, apologizing? Wow, that's ne
Marrissa's point of view The afternoon sun poured through the nursery windows, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. The walls of the nursery had been freshly painted by a professional. He used a beautiful shade of lavender, a color Morgan and I had agreed was neutral enough for either a boy or a girl. It was a small but beautiful space, waiting to be filled with laughter, tiny clothes, and the soft coos of the life we were preparing to welcome. Morgan stood in the center of the room, he had just rolled his sleeves up, and he had a screwdriver in his hand, he was about assembling the baby crib. I looked at him and smiled. His usually sleek hair was slightly tousled, and the smile of happiness on his face made my day. His concentration was intense as if he was handling some difficult business proposal, but there was this gentleness in the way he moved, a silent promise of the father he was about to become. “Are you sure you are doing that right?” I teased, my voice fil
Morgan's point of view Today was supposed to be a happy day, and the nursery was supposed to be a place of peace, a space where Marrissa and I could dream about the life we were building together. Instead, it ended up being the exact opposite.I stomped out of the room, my heart pounding harder than it should have. My head hurts and I could not control my anger. I could still hear Marrissa’s voice of pain, the sharp sound kept ringing in my ears. I really did not mean to yell at her. I made a promise to myself never to shout at her again, but goddamn it, the woman made me scared and angry all at the same time. Marrissa is stubborn, so stubborn it made me want to shake some sense into her. She did too much, always pushing herself like she was not carrying our child, like she was not risking her health with every careless step. And what for? To prove what point exactly? To show me she did not need help from anyone, or to prove that she is an independent woman? I ran a hand through
Marrissa's point of view My hand stretched out to the door handle, and for some reason I did not understand,I became apprehensive, something in me told me not to open the door."Morgan," I called softly, hesitating for a split second before pushing the door open. Before my fingers could move, the door opened wide from the inside. Every muscle in my body tensed up as my eyes met the person standing in front of me.Farrow stood there, leaning against the door like she owned the place. She wore red lingerie, and the way her body was exposed and the way she smiled told me there was more to what meets the eyes.She did not look surprised. If anything, she looked amused. "Hey, Marrissa. You are back." She said in a joyful tone,like there was something we were celebrating.I didn’t respond, I couldn't because I didn’t even know what to say. My eyes moved past her, looking toward the study. The air was thick with the scent of her perfume, the kind that lingered long after someone had
Morgan's point of viewI knew everything was wrong the moment I opened my eyes.First, I noticed I was half-naked, and I did not remember removing my clothes at any time.Second, the scent in the room felt odd. It was not mine. It was not Marrissa’s, either. No. This was a scent I recognized but never wanted near me. It was Farrow's.I sat up quickly. I didn't mind the pain in my head, what bothered me was why Farrow's scent was all over me.I knew when she came into my study.She had knocked softly, stepping inside before I even acknowledged her. I had been too lost in my thoughts. My mind was replaying the look in Marrissa’s eyes when she walked away from me earlier that day. "Is everything alright? I heard Marrissa's voice earlier and she didn't sound happy and then I saw her walk out angrily," she had said. "Is everything okay between you two? Is there something I can do to help?"I did not even look at her before yelling at her to Get out.The audacity of her to show up, acting
Morgan's point of view The dim glow of the bar did little to reduce the storm inside me even for a bit. I tilted my glass, watching the amber liquid swirl before downing it in one gulp. It burned my throat, but not enough to drown out the frustration biting me at my chest. "Ring, ring, ring."For the fifth time in ten minutes, my phone vibrated on the counter. It was Marrissa. I scoffed, shaking my head. “Oh, now she notices I’m gone. Now I’m worth talking to.” I gritted my teeth, tapping my fingers against the glass before signaling the bartender for another shot. He hesitated, eyeing me cautiously. "Are you okay, Morgan?" I sighed , not even sure how to answer that question. Before I could find the words, my phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a different number. “This must be Andre,” I whispered.I chuckle, flipping my phone over, I hold down the power button. My phone screen darkened, cutting off the ringing and switching off. “They can all go to hell for a
Marrissa's point of view “Open the damn gate,” Andre yelled to the men at the gate.“Sir….. ma… the gate is locked from the outside,” one of Morgan's men replied.“What? What the hell does that mean?” I asked in panic.“Calm down Marrissa,” Andre said, making me sit down.“I think Sir Morgan locked the gate from the outside.”“He fucking did what?” “Is there another way outside this estate?”“Only one emergency gate and only Mr Morgan knows the code to open the gate.”“Fuck fuck fuck, call your boss, everyone, call him right now, His wife needs medical attention.”I can't believe Morgan would do this, in fact, I felt ashamed my husband could be this callous.If he wasn't happy to see Andre, why didn't he say something?I had invited Andre here because I felt uneasy and I didn't want to tell Morgan, not yet and when Andre called me and said he was in the neighborhood, I begged him to come in.And truth be told, his presence had helped change my mood, but while we were talking, I sudd
Morgan's point of view I drove up to my mansion but did not get out of the car. The engine hummed softly beneath my hands, the glow of the headlights cutting through the early morning darkness. But I just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, staring at the front gates like they were some kind of prison bars. I knew I should go inside, but I could not.No, I was not scared,but I was tired. Tired of the many fights and quarrels.By now, Marrissa was definitely furious. She could be hurt too. Truth is, I don't think I could handle another fight. Not tonight. My head hurts so badly and it may explode if I stress myself any further.And God knows that if I see Andre I inside, I might actually lose it. The thought of him standing in my house, acting like he belonged there, like he had a right to Marrissa’s time and attention, made my blood boil. I sighed sharply and raked a hand through my hair. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready for her anger. For the look in her eyes th
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