Stephanie‘s POV
“She’s back. Sign the divorce papers.” His voice is flat, detached, like this is just another line item on his to-do list, not the disintegration of our life together.
The air is sucked from the room. My heart pounds so loudly in my ears that for a moment, I can’t process what he’s just said. Then the words sink in, heavy and sharp, hollowing me out until I feel like a shell of myself.
Four years ago, we got drunk and slept together for the first time. It was amazing, and I thought I had won him over. Back then, I was just a designer at his company, secretly in love with my boss.
Not long after that, I found out I was pregnant and accepted Vince’s proposal. So what if Vince had feelings for someone else? His ex-girlfriend Darci was already engaged, and I was certain I could win his heart eventually.
But everything that happened today proved just how wrong I was.
My gaze drops to the papers on the table. The bold, official font feels obscene, mocking me with its finality.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice coming out small and trembling, a shadow of the woman I used to be. “We’ve been married for four years, Vince. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
His stare is cold enough to freeze my blood. “It was never supposed to mean anything, Stephanie,” he says, his words like a slap to the face. “You always knew that. You knew I loved Darci. You were just… convenient.”
Convenient. The word echoes in my mind, sharp and cruel, cutting into the fragile remnants of my hope. I feel my chest tighten, a knot forming that makes it hard to breathe.
Darci.
Her name has haunted me since the beginning, like a ghost that refused to leave, no matter how much I tried to exorcise it.
“She’s married,” I remind him, my voice faltering as I grasp for something, anything, to hold on to. “She moved on years ago. Why can’t you?”
Vince lets out a bitter laugh, leaning back in his chair like he finds me ridiculous. “She didn’t move on. She was forced into that engagement. Now that she’s back, she’s free—free to be with me.”
His words hit like a punch to the gut, stealing what little breath I have left. My vision blurs for a moment, and I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. “We’re married,” I say, hating the desperation in my tone. “We’ve been building a life together. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
“Building a life?” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “The only thing you’ve been building is a lie. You trapped me, Stephanie. You used drugs to manipulate me into this marriage. It was never real.”
His accusations blindside me, the venom in his voice leaving me reeling. “What are you talking about?” I whisper, my words barely audible. “I didn’t manipulate you—”
“Don’t play innocent,” he snaps, his voice rising. “You knew exactly what you were doing. The pregnancy—it was all part of your plan, wasn’t it? You made sure I had no choice but to marry you.”
The room spins as his words settle in, and I feel like the ground beneath me is crumbling. “That’s not true,” I protest, shaking my head. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Vince’s voice cuts through my denial, sharp and unforgiving. “You disgust me. You latched onto me with a child that didn’t even survive. And now you expect me to feel sorry for you?”
My breath catches in my throat, the mention of our baby slicing through me like a knife. Instinctively, my hand moves to my stomach, to the place where I once carried a life.
The pain of that loss crashes over me, fresh and raw, mingling with the bitterness of his words.
“Don’t,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Don’t talk about the baby like that.”
“Why not?” he spits, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “I didn’t want it then, and even if it had survived, I wouldn’t want it now.”
His words are cruel, calculated to wound, and they succeed.
“How can you say that?” I demand, my voice trembling with fury. “How can you be so heartless?”
“Heartless?” Vince’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “You’re the one who started this, Stephanie. Now it’s over. Sign the papers, and I’ll pay you enough to walk away and never look back.”
His detachment is the final straw. The years of sacrifice, of trying to love him through his indifference, flash before my eyes.
Four years of building a life together, only for him to reduce it to a transaction. My hands tremble as I reach for the pen, the weight of his betrayal pressing down on me.
“I don’t want your damn money.”
“Fine, Stephanie.” His voice is cold, commanding. “Sign it.”
Tears blur my vision as I lower the pen to the page. My hand shakes so violently that I have to steady it with my other one. Memories flood my mind—the quiet nights when I thought we were happy, the fleeting moments when I thought I saw a spark of something real in his eyes. All of it, an illusion.
I look down at the paper again. At Vince’s signature. The space where mine will go.
“You know what?” I say, straightening my spine. “You don’t get to decide my worth anymore. I’m done letting you. You want this divorce so badly? Fine. I’ll give you what you want.”
I deserve better than this. Don’t I?
The silence answers me louder than words ever could. I pick up the pen again, my grip tightening as if it’s the only thing keeping me steady.
My tears fall freely now, streaking down my cheeks, but I don’t bother wiping them away.
I sign with a trembling hand.
Stephanie‘s POVThe sunlight filters through my window, weak and indifferent, as if it knows nothing can lift the weight crushing my chest.I smooth down my blouse, take a deep breath, and tell myself it doesn’t matter. Work is the one thing I have left, the one place I can prove my worth. I won’t let this ruin that, too. My name is top of the list for a supervisor promotion. I’ve worked my ass off for this, and I deserve it. And today is the big day.When I step into the office, the air feels strange. People glance at me, then quickly look away, whispering behind their hands.“Stephanie?” I hear someone mutter as I pass. Their tone is laced with disdain, and it makes my heart picks up speed, my stomach twisting.I shake it off. Maybe it’s just paranoia. Maybe I’m imagining it. Then I see it. “Hey!” I shout, my voice sharp enough to make heads turn.Two coworkers are standing at my desk, carelessly tossing my belongings into a cardboard box.My breath catches in my throat as I sto
Stephanie‘s POVThe sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air, sharp and overwhelming, as my eyes flutter open. The harsh fluorescent lights above blur in and out of focus, and for a moment, I can’t place where I am.What happened? How did I get here?“Don’t move,” a familiar voice cuts through the haze. It’s low, steady, and completely unexpected. “You’re hurt. Just lie still.”I turn my head slowly, wincing at the dull ache spreading through me. My gaze lands on him, and my breath catches. Henry.He hasn’t changed. Thick, dark hair that frames a chiselled face. Bright grey-green eyes. He’s smiling, face gentle, but his bulk fills the small plastic chair. He’s even more muscular than I remember.He's a character I used to know, now a stranger—or more precisely, an enemy—due to his betrayal of Vince's company.But now Henry’s sitting by my bedside like it’s the most natural thing in the world.Why the hell is he here? The last we spoke, he’d left Vince’s company. It was bad, too. Bad
Stephanie‘s POVThe taxi ride is a blur, the soft hum of the engine barely cutting through the storm in my head. My fingers slide restlessly across my phone, refreshing my emails, scrolling through apps, anything to distract myself.The thought of facing my parents fills me with bother. They’ve never cared about my life—only about what I could provide. Since marrying Vince, their demands for money have been relentless, their concern for my well-being nonexistent.My jaw tightens as I think about telling them about the divorce. How will they react? Will they rage about the lost financial pipeline, or will they simply dismiss me, as they always have?The taxi pulls up to the house I once called home. I steel myself before stepping out. My mother is seated in the living room, her lips pressed into a thin line. When she looks up at me, there’s no warmth, only the cold judgment I’ve known all my life.My father and brother didn't show up, a situation all too familiar to me. It usually mean
Stephanie‘s POVThe luxurious parlor is beautiful, like something out of an old-timey movie. I sit stiffly on the edge of a velvet armchair, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, facing the two strangers who claim to be my biological parents.Their words reverberate in my mind. I had never suspected, nor had I ever dared to imagine, that I was not biologically related to my parents, the Sullivans.It all suddenly makes sense, why I always felt that my parents were cold towards me since I was a child, why I always felt like an outsider in the family who only had a use for me.They were never my flesh and blood to begin with.A fragile hope stirs within me, tentative and trembling. Could they be the parents I've always longed for—the ones who might finally offer me the love and warmth I've been denied?Their faces soften, and my mother - my real mother - reaches out to take my hand. “Stephanie,” she says softly. “It’s been far too long. I’m sorry we couldn’t find you sooner.”"Why now?" I
Stephanie‘s POVThe room feels emptier now that my father and his entourage have retreated, leaving me alone with Henry. His presence dominates the space."It's good to see you again so soon. I hope you're feeling better.""So, you already knew about the engagement the day you were in the hospital?’“My grandfather is in poor health and hopes to see me married in his lifetime,” Henry says, his deep voice reverberating through the room. “So I must honour the union as soon as possible.”He didn’t answer directly—such a cunning man. He can’t be serious? A guy like him, succumbing to family pressure..? I don’t know why he’s going along with this stupid ordeal.I meet his gaze, keeping my voice steady. “Why me?” I ask, the words sharper than I intended.Henry doesn’t flinch. Instead, he regards me with a measured calm, like he’s been expecting the question.“I need a wife. And since you owe me a favor, I hope you'll marry me.” His tone was casual, as if the matter were of no significance.
Stephanie‘s POVThe car Henry arranged for me arrives precisely on time, a sleek, glossy black vehicle that looks like it’s stepped right out of a luxury magazine.Henry’s arrangements left me with a strange sense of discomfort. With Vince, attending events had always been a far more spontaneous affair—never such meticulous planning, even the dress was hastily chosen by myself. It made me wonder, as I stared at his every move, if he still hadn’t given up on the idea of an engagement.The gala venue comes into view, a grand building lit up like something out of a dream. Inside, the ballroom is breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the polished marble floors, and the scent of roses mingles with the faint aroma of champagne.Waiters in crisp white uniforms glide through the crowd, offering trays of delicate hors d'oeuvres and flutes of sparkling wine.A group of young women sipped champagne, engaging in lively conversation, their laughter ringing clear and light. But
Stephanie‘s POVAs Henry guided me across the dance floor, I couldn’t help but notice the hushed murmurs and the eyes that followed our every step. It came as no surprise that arriving with an exceptionally handsome companion turned heads, yet I hadn’t anticipated just how skilled a dancer he would be. His movements were fluid, effortless, as if the music itself bent to his will. I love dancing. I always have. But I can’t recall the last time I stepped onto a dance floor. Vince never liked me in such settings; he always said it was unbecoming, too frivolous. As we moved in sync, I became acutely aware of Henry’s hand on the small of my back. His grip tightened subtly, pulling me closer with each spin. Our bodies were no longer just near each other—they were pressed together, his chest grazing mine with every shift. His warmth enveloped me, the scent of him—subtle, clean, undeniably masculine—making it hard to focus.It felt… intimate. Too intimate. My pulse quickened, not entirely f
Stephanie‘s POVThe atmosphere in the grand hall grows tense, the air thick with the weight of Henry’s declaration.“Stephanie is my fiancée now,” Henry repeats, his voice calm yet firm, cutting through the murmurs of the gathered guests like a blade. “From now on, I will regard any attack on her as an attack on me.”The room erupts. Whispers ripple like a wave, guests craning their necks to steal glances at me and Henry, their expressions a mix of curiosity and shock. My stomach churns as every gaze feels like a spotlight burning into my skin.This wasn’t part of the plan.I glance up at Henry, my pulse pounding in my ears. “What are you doing?” I hiss under my breath, keeping my voice low enough not to draw more attention. My anger simmers, barely held in check. “I didn’t agree to this!”His grey-green eyes meet mine, calm yet unyielding. “It was necessary,” he says simply, as if that explanation could erase the mess he’s just made.Darci clutches Vince’s arm, her knuckles white ag
Stephanie‘s POVThe next morning, I find Henry in his study. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, catching on the dark wood of his desk and the stacks of papers he’s sorting through. He’s pacing slowly, pen in hand, occasionally pausing to jot something down in a leather notebook. His focus is so intense that he doesn’t notice me until the floor creaks beneath my step.When he looks up, his expression shifts slightly. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe curiosity.“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone measured, even.I take a breath, steadying myself as I step into the room. “I wanted to ask you something.” My voice comes out firmer than I expect.Henry sets the pen down with a quiet clink, leaning one hand against the desk. “What is it?”“Echoview Media.” The words feel heavier spoken aloud, but I force myself to meet his gaze. “That report back then—was it you who arranged it?”For a moment, his face is unreadable. Then there’s the faintest flicker of hesitati
Stephanie‘s POVThe kitchen is warm and filled with the faint, mouthwatering scent of garlic and rosemary. I stand at the counter, trying to slice a baguette without mangling it. Across from me, Henry is stirring something in a heavy pan, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. His focus is intense, like he’s orchestrating some culinary masterpiece instead of making dinner.“Careful,” he says without looking up. “You’re holding the knife wrong.”I frown at the uneven slices I’ve already made. “I’ve been holding knives my whole life, thank you very much.”He glances at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not like that, you haven’t. Here—” He wipes his hands on a dishtowel and steps around the counter, standing just close enough that I catch a whiff of his cologne. Warm and woodsy, with an edge of something clean and sharp.Before I can protest, he reaches for my hand, adjusting my grip on the knife. His fingers are warm against mine, his touch firm but careful.“Li
Stephanie‘s POVThe name Echoview glows on my laptop screen, taunting me with its familiarity. Once upon a time, that company had been a beacon of hope in my fledgling career. I sit back, the memory unspooling like an old reel of film.***It was a rainy afternoon when Vince walked into my cubicle. Back then, he wasn’t just my boss; he was practically a god in the firm—charismatic, sharp, always one step ahead of everyone else. He leaned against the edge of my desk, his tailored suit pristine despite the downpour outside.“Stephanie,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “I just read your initial design for the Calloway project.”I swallowed, setting down my pen. “And?”A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, the kind that could disarm anyone. “It’s exceptional. Bold, but not arrogant. The kind of work we need more of around here.”The compliment hit me like a burst of sunlight after weeks of self-doubt. “Thank you,” I managed, my voice trembling with a mix of relief and di
Stephanie‘s POVMy chest tightens, a cocktail of confusion and fear swirling in my stomach. What is she talking about? I type a quick response.Run from what?Before I can even set the phone down, her next message comes through.You still remember that you had passed the interview at a few companies you tried before, but then somehow failed. Someone specifically asked them not to hire you.I don’t bother texting back. Instead, I tap her number and press the phone to my ear. It rings twice before she picks up.“Steph?” Her voice is breathless, as if she’s been waiting for my call.“Who was it?” I blurt, skipping any greeting. My words come out sharper than I intend, but I don’t care.There’s a pause on the other end, just long enough to make my pulse thrum harder.“Vince,” she says finally.Of course. That greasy, conniving bastard. It’s exactly the kind of underhanded move he’d pull.Anna and I had long suspected that Vince was involved in the scheme, so it didn’t seem like something
Stephanie‘s POVThe hallway feels like it stretches endlessly, my thoughts churning as I replay Henry’s words about Vince. How could Vince, the man I married, have betrayed someone who had once been his ally? If Henry’s claims are true, then Vince’s deceit is more than personal—it’s systemic. For years, I worked beside Vince, shared a life, a marriage, a bond I thought unshakable. Never once did I imagine he could be capable of this. My thoughts drifted back to that fateful night, the night that changed everything. It was supposed to be just another company party, nothing out of the ordinary. I remember the soft glow of the chandeliers, the tinkling of champagne glasses, and the low hum of conversation that filled the air.And then there was Vince, standing alone in a corner, looking lost and vulnerable in a sea of smiling faces. His business partner Henry betrayed him. His girlfriend at the time, Darci, had just gotten engaged to someone else. I had spent months admiring him from
Henry‘s POVThe slight look of disappointment on Stephanie’s face lingers in my mind longer than it should. It doesn’t suit her. Neither does grief or despair. She’s too strong for that, even if she doesn’t fully realize it yet. I want to tell her the truth—about Vince, about the betrayal that changed everything—but it’s not the right time. Not yet.My phone vibrates in my pocket, breaking the moment. A quick glance at the screen reveals a message from one of my subordinates, marked urgent. I suppress a sigh, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “That’s a shame,” I say lightly, forcing a calm expression. “I thought we could talk for a while longer.”Stephanie nods, as perceptive as ever. She’s always been quick to pick up on unspoken signals. “Of course,” she says, her tone polite but reserved. She steps out of the study without another word, leaving me to handle the business I hadn’t wanted to interrupt us.The door closes behind her, and I gesture for my subordinate Charlie to
Stephanie‘s POVBusiness concluded, Henry leans back in his chair, his expression easing into something almost casual. “You look a little surprised?” he asks, his voice calm but curious, as if he’s dissecting my reaction.Caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone, I nod. “Indeed, it was an accident.” I gesture vaguely to my surroundings before narrowing my eyes slightly. “You seem… to know my preferences very well.”He shrugs, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “We need to convince everyone that our marriage is real, so it’s only natural we understand each other. Your tastes are reflected clearly in your work. I simply paid attention. I hope I’m not wrong.”His words catch me off guard. For a moment, my skepticism wavers, replaced by a flicker of something warmer. My work has always been an extension of myself, and having it noticed—truly noticed—is a rare and exhilarating experience.“You’re absolutely right about my taste,” I admit, a bit of excitement slipping int
Stephanie‘s POVThe move to Henry’s house feels surreal, like none of it is really real.His home is an elegant masterpiece, understated yet undeniably luxurious, with polished wood floors that gleam under soft, golden lighting. The walls are adorned with tasteful art pieces, and every detail screams sophistication.I’m greeted by his staff with warm smiles and deference, introduced as “Mr. Rush’s future fiancée.” Hearing the words makes my stomach tighten in a way I can’t quite explain. There’s something unnerving about the title, about the weight it carries. They are kind, too kind, and their familiarity with me feels odd, like they've been expecting me for a long time.The housekeeper's voice was warm and full of enthusiasm. "Stephanie, I'm so glad to finally meet you.""Finally?" I asked, but before I could catch her response, she leads me upstairs, showing me to my room. When she opens the door, I stop short. The room is stunning. It’s decorated in a way that feels… personal. T
Stephanie‘s POVThe thought of turning to Henry lingers for days. It’s not ideal - far from it - and I have other options. Unfortunately, it’s still the best option. "If this engagement happens, it will be on my terms, not because you or anyone else decided it’s what’s best for me."The truth is glaringly obvious—Henry is the only person who can help me sever the chains Vince still has on me. My career, my autonomy, my revenge… all of it depends on making the right move, even if that move feels like a compromise.Besides, we both want revenge on Vince, don’t we? It just makes sense.Standing outside Henry’s office, I smooth the front of my blazer, trying to steel myself. Taking a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside.Henry glances up from his desk, his sharp features softening ever so slightly when he sees me. “Stephanie,” he says, his voice calm and measured. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”I walk in with purpose, taking the seat across from him. My heart is poundin