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.I wanted to scream. Necessary? For whom? Darci
Stephanie‘s POVThe cold night air bites at my skin as I stand outside the venue, staring at Henry with disbelief. The crowd has dispersed, and we are finally alone—well, as alone as one can be when tension hangs as thick as fog.The crowd, especially Vince and Darci, had been dealt with—at least for now. But there was still one more important question that needed to be answered.My voice quieter now but still laced with the urgency of my confusion, "Why did you do it, Henry? In front of everyone… Why announce our engagement like that when I haven’t even said yes yet?" Did he truly have intention of giving up on that contract marriage? Was he using this opportunity to push things forward? He had previously told me I could take some time to think, but now I couldn't help but wonder—was that just a stalling tactic?Henry let out a small sigh, lifting a hand to rub his forehead, trying to ease his tense nerves. He nodded toward the car parked by the side of the road and spoke in a calm
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
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