Stephanie‘s POVThe day is overcast, the sky a heavy blanket of grey as I step out of yet another sleek office building, clutching my portfolio like it’s my last lifeline. The wind bites at my cheeks, matching the sting of yet another rejection. My chest feels tight, my breaths shallow. How many interviews has it been now? Five, ten? I’ve lost count, but the crushing weight of failure has become a constant companion.I walk briskly down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the pavement. The noise feels too loud, an echo of my rising frustration. This shouldn’t be happening, I think, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. I’m qualified, talented, even recognized in the industry. Yet, door after door slams shut in my face.By the time I make it to Anna’s house, my best friend and temporary haven, my legs feel like lead. I push open the door, and the scent of lavender and vanilla wafts toward me. It’s warm, inviting, everything my day hasn’t been.“Rough day?” Anna asks, her voic
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
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 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
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 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
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 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 POVThe ceremony is perfect. Almost too perfect.The grand hall is bathed in soft, golden light, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed guests. Delicate floral arrangements line the aisle, their fragrant scent filling the air. Everything is pristine, polished—just as it should be for a wedding of this scale.Yet, as I stand at the altar, my hands clutching the bouquet so tightly my knuckles turn white, I can’t seem to shake the weight pressing against my chest.This was supposed to be a contract marriage. A business arrangement. A performance.Somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like an act.I glance up at Henry, my soon-to-be husband. He stands tall, his tailored suit fitting him perfectly, his expression composed yet unreadable. Only his eyes—intense, unwavering—give anything away.He looks at me as if I’m the only person in the world.I swallow hard, my heart hammering.The officiant begins, his voice steady and formal as he speaks of love, of com
Stephanie’s POVI sit at the dining table, staring at the open planner in front of me, tapping my pen against the pages. Across from me, Henry flips through a thick binder filled with wedding venue options, his expression unreadable.“If I have to look at one more gold-accented ballroom, I might lose my mind,” I mutter, rubbing my temple.Henry chuckles, setting the binder down. “Agreed. Maybe something simpler would suit us better.”I glance up at him, surprised. “You’d actually go for that?”His lips curve into a small smirk. “I’m not as predictable as you think, Stephanie.”I roll my eyes, but my heart does a strange little flip at the way he says my name. Lately, the line between our arrangement and something more has been blurring, and it’s becoming harder to ignore.“So,” I say, shifting focus, “what do we still need to finalize?”Henry leans back in his chair, thoughtful. “Venue, catering, final guest list. And we need to schedule the wedding photoshoot soon.”I groan. “The pho
Stephanie’s POVThe café hums with the quiet buzz of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed espresso hanging in the air as I stir my coffee absentmindedly. Across from me, Anna watches me with a knowing expression, her hands wrapped around her cup as she leans forward slightly.“You’re overthinking again,” she says, her tone light but pointed.I blink, snapping out of my thoughts. “I am not.”Anna raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring into your coffee like it holds the meaning of life for the past five minutes. Spill it.”I sigh, setting my spoon down and meeting her gaze. “Do you think… marrying Henry is a bad idea?”Her eyes widen slightly before she recovers, tilting her head in thought. “I mean, it depends. Are you asking if he’s a serial killer? Probably not. Are you asking if he’s a good guy? That’s something only you can answer.”I groan. “Anna.”She smirks before turning more serious. “Alright, let’s break this down. Do you even like him?”I hesitate, my fingers tapping
Stephanie’s POVThe soft glow of candlelight flickers over the elegantly set table, casting warm golden hues across the room. A delicate aroma of freshly prepared dishes fills the air, and I can't help but smile as I take in the effort Henry has put into this evening. The table is arranged with precision—white linen napkins, delicate china, a bouquet of roses at the center. Everything about this is intentional, carefully crafted, and undeniably romantic."You really went all out," I murmur, trailing my fingers along the stem of my wine glass before glancing up at him.Henry leans back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "I thought you deserved something nice after everything you've been dealing with."A warmth spreads through my chest at his words, but I push it down. This is Henry—he’s composed, strategic, and always one step ahead. I can’t let myself read into things that aren’t there.Still, I can’t deny that the effort means something to me. Vince never care
Stephanie’s POVI arrive home, exhaustion settling into my bones after everything that happened with my adoptive mother. My mind is a tangled mess of emotions—anger, betrayal, confusion. I still can’t believe it. She stole me. My whole life, my identity, everything I believed about myself, had been built on a lie. Yet, she begged me for forgiveness, for help.I step inside, sighing heavily, only to be met with an unexpected sight—Henry, standing casually in the living room, watching me with those sharp, knowing eyes. He doesn’t say anything at first, just observes, but I can tell he’s already read my mood before I’ve even opened my mouth.“You’re upset,” he states simply.I sigh, rubbing my temples. “Is it that obvious?”Henry doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps forward, his hands slipping into his pockets, his gaze steady. “What happened?” His voice is gentler than usual, lacking its usual teasing edge.For a moment, I debate telling him. This is my business, my mess. The c
Stephanie’s POVThe words hang in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. "I... I stole you, Stephanie."I stare at the woman in front of me, my so-called mother—no, my kidnapper—and for the first time in my life, I don’t recognize her. The lines on her face, the familiar curve of her shoulders, even the pleading look in her eyes—it all seems foreign now, like I’m looking at a stranger wearing my mother’s skin.My chest tightens as nausea grips my stomach. My fingers dig into the fabric of my dress, my knuckles going white. “You what?” My voice trembles, but the shock doesn’t dull the sharp edge of anger bleeding into my words.She flinches as if I’ve struck her, tears pooling in her tired eyes. “Please, Stephanie. Let me explain.”“Explain?” A bitter laugh escapes me, unbidden. I shake my head, stepping back as if putting physical distance between us will make this make sense. “How do you explain something like this? How do you justify stealing a child?”Tears spill down her ch
Stephanie’s POVThe ride back to the villa is silent. Henry’s hand remains on my back, a comforting weight, but my mind is a whirlwind. Darci’s theatrics, Vince’s blind acceptance, the sheer audacity of their deception – it all boils inside me. I stare out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks of color, mirroring the chaos in my thoughts.I didn't succeed in suing Darci, ultimately.Because Vince reminded me that the most crucial evidence has been destroyed, and that if I sue Darci at this point, there is a high probability that I won't get the result I want. Apparently he was trying to protect her.I know in my gut that he's right, I'm just not reconciled.“Are you alright?” Henry’s voice breaks through my reverie.I turn to him, forcing a small smile. “I will be. I’m just… disappointed.”He nods, understanding. “They underestimated you, Stephanie. And that’s their mistake.”A heavy sigh escapes my lips. “It’s not just about the project, Henry. It’s about the principle. T
Stephanie’s POVThe tension in the boardroom is suffocating. I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears as Vince and Darci stand across from me, their expressions unreadable. I grip the edge of the table, forcing myself to stay calm even as frustration burns beneath my skin.Darci’s smug smile lingers, and I know she thinks she’s already won. She believes she’s backed me into a corner, that I’ll be forced to relinquish the project and accept their fabricated allegations.Then the boardroom doors burst open.The room collectively turns toward the interruption, and my breath catches in my throat as Henry strides in, his presence commanding and unyielding. He moves with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on me.He’s holding a thick folder in his hand, and I recognize that look in his gaze—the one that says he’s here to end this charade.“I believe we have some unfinished business,” Henry says smoothly, stepping forward and dropping the folder onto the conference table.
Stephanie’s POVThe room is heavy with tension, the weight of accusation thick in the air. I finish speaking, and for a moment, Vince and Darci are speechless. But Darci quickly recovers, her voice laced with disbelief. "Stephanie, darling," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "while we appreciate your efforts on this project, let's be honest. You're a talented designer, no doubt, but you're hardly a name that commands the attention of the Rush family. Surely you don't think you're on their level?"Vince smirks, adding, "Indeed. You're well-known in certain circles, but compared to the Rush empire, you're practically invisible. I'm quite curious, actually. How do you manage to convince them to even consider this collaboration? Do you perhaps... offer them a little something extra to persuade them?"Darci stands in the center, her perfectly manicured fingers curled around a stack of papers—evidence, she claims, of my betrayal. Her lips curl into a smirk as she slowly, deliberate