After her talk with Harry's mom, Anastasia had resolved to look deeper into her relationship with Matthew. When Paris had told her how she had found out from a friend that her best friend had drugged her fiancé and made it look like they had sex. Anastasia had also hoped that she would find out that truly the video was fabricated. When Natasha suggested employing the services of the private investigator she had used to investigate her husband, Anastasia reluctantly agreed, hoping Matthew would be vindicated. She clung to the belief that the video showing him with another woman was fabricated, as Matthew had insisted. While she waited with Natasha for the PI, Anastasia found herself replaying every beautiful moment she had shared with Matthew. She remembered how he had proposed, his eyes filled with love, and how he whispered, "I can't wait to marry you." His eagerness had been so contagious that they had rushed into a short engagement. Could the man who once seemed so perfec
ANASTASIA My makeup artist had just finished my makeup, and very soon, I would be walking down the aisle. It all seemed like a dream, Matthew Smith would be my husband. I couldn't believe I would be marrying the most eligible bachelor. I just couldn't contain my joy as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. My engagement to Matthew had been on gossip blogs and magazines. It was a very romantic engagement. We had attended the Super Bowl together, and just as the halftime started, the camera landed on us, and I turned to Matthew, and there he was with a beautiful diamond ring. I accepted it with a continuous "yes." I had come into my hotel room to speak with Matthew. "In an hour, you'll be mine," Matthew had said, and I just couldn't wait. After talking to Matthew on the phone, I sprawled out on the bed and fantasised about our honeymoon. Images of us making love on the beach sent shivers down my spine, I was going to make sweet love to Matthew, and I just couldn't wait for the w
MATTHEW After more than twelve years away, my uncle Harry Smith was finally coming back home, and my grandfather was throwing a ball to honour his return. I didn't really care because very soon, I would have a bigger celebration of my own. Dressed in a black velvet suit and trousers, my white shirt spoke volumes, and it made my rich maroon velvet bow tie stand out. I looked in the mirror, and I saw a man ready to command attention at the ball, I was a vision of sophistication. Entering the beautifully decorated arena a few minutes later, I observed men coming in, dressed in tuxedos, each accompanied by a woman in their arms. The ladies wore elegant evening gowns, their makeup meticulously applied, and their hair impeccably styled. Surprisingly, I was remarkably calm. A year ago, this situation would have sent me into a panic. My grandfather had declared that ninety percent of his shares in all his companies would be transferred to my uncle if he was able to get married bef
ANASTASIA After three long years, Matthew hadn't changed a bit. He was still very handsome. Those once captivating blue eyes, which I used to get lost in now, looked at me with so much surprise. As I stood before him, uncertainty gripped me. I hadn't known how I would feel seeing him again after I ran just hours before our wedding. Yet seeing him made all my feelings for him to return. The scent of him brought back a lot of memories, I remembered the times I ran my fingers through his beautiful hair. For years, the only way I kept tabs on him was by reading about him from gossip columns in magazines, social media, and financial magazines. Standing just a few feet away, the truth hit me – I was still in love with him. He had this sophistication and sexiness that made me giddy and wet. Dressed in a navy blue tuxedo, he exuded timeless elegance, a sight that made my heart ache. "Anastasia," he whispered as he stared into my eyes. "What is she doing here?"Matthew asked as he sp
ANASTASIA "Anastasia," I heard my name again. I opened my eyes and found Harry in my room. "I am sorry," he mumbled and quickly walked out. I sat up and wiped the beads of sweat that had dripped all over my body. "It was a dream," I whispered to myself. Feeling aroused and a little bit ashamed, I descended from the bed and made my way to the bathroom. Glancing at the wall clock, I realized I had overslept; it was already eight o'clock. I ran a warm bath, adding my rose-scented shower gel and a few drops of my favourite essential oils. I removed my nightwear and slipped into the bathtub. An hour later, I was dressed and seated at the dining table, ready for breakfast. The maid, Maria, who had introduced herself earlier, informed me that Harry was in a virtual meeting and would be joining me soon. I wasn't looking forward to seeing him, not after what had just happened that morning in my bedroom. "Why did he even come into my bedroom without my permission?" I mumbled to myself.
ANASTASIA The man in the grey suit sat and listened attentively throughout my interview. A subtle smile was on his lips. After the interview, as I left the building, my mind replayed the entire encounter, the questions, my answers, and most prominently, the mysterious Mr. Grey Suit. Reaching home, I found Mia laying down on the couch with a tub of popcorn balanced on her lap. "So, how was it?" Mia asked. "How did the interview go? Did you wow them with your HR expertise?" I sat down on the opposite end of the couch, i sighed and looked up at Mia. "I think I might have… stuck my foot in my mouth," I confessed, I narrated my entire interaction with the handsome stranger. Mia's eyes widened in surprise. "You told him to go home and change because he looked too rich?" She asked and started laughing She laughed so hard tears started flowing from her eyes. "Oh, Anastasia! What were you thinking?" I buried my face in a throw pillow, mortified. "I don't know", I exclaime
HARRY The second Matthew said, "What is she doing here?", I knew there was some serious baggage between him and Anastasia. My parents looked at each other and I could see that there was a lot I didn't know. After Matthew walked out, I became even more confused. "Why did it have to be her?", My Dad muttered, "I don't understand," I said. Mom, ever the voice of reason, dropped a bombshell. "Son," she said gently, " didn't you know that Anastasia was engaged to Matthew? Your nephew." My jaw hit the floor. I whipped my head around to look at Anastasia, expecting some kind of explanation. But she wouldn't meet my gaze. The revelation hung heavy in the air, adding another layer to the already suffocating silence. The air grew thick with tension, and the car ride back home stretched into an eternity. I kept stealing glances at Anastasia, hoping she'd finally break the silence and explain everything. But she didn’t, I finally spoke up, "why didn't you tell me that you were
Anastasia As I descended the stairs, nothing prepared me for Matthew. He looked as handsome as ever, Matthew could always feel out a suit beautifully. "Hello Matthew," I said casually, trying not to sound bothered or flustered by his presence. I could see that Harry was as surprised to see him as I was. "Hello, Ana," Matthew replied with a coy smile. The door swung open, and Harry's parents entered. "Welcome Mom, Welcome Dad", Harry said as he walked over to his parents. He kissed his mom on both cheeks and shook hands with his dad. "Sorry your nephew had to tag along," Herbert said, and Harry waved it off, "it's ok, Dad, Matthew is family." It was not okay by me, I could feel his eyes all over me, and whenever I raised my head, I would find him looking at me. I lowered my eyes and tried avoiding his gaze, 'I just have to get through this evening', I reminded myself. 'How hard can that be?', I asked myself. "You look fantastic, dear," Harry's mom said as she wal
After her talk with Harry's mom, Anastasia had resolved to look deeper into her relationship with Matthew. When Paris had told her how she had found out from a friend that her best friend had drugged her fiancé and made it look like they had sex. Anastasia had also hoped that she would find out that truly the video was fabricated. When Natasha suggested employing the services of the private investigator she had used to investigate her husband, Anastasia reluctantly agreed, hoping Matthew would be vindicated. She clung to the belief that the video showing him with another woman was fabricated, as Matthew had insisted. While she waited with Natasha for the PI, Anastasia found herself replaying every beautiful moment she had shared with Matthew. She remembered how he had proposed, his eyes filled with love, and how he whispered, "I can't wait to marry you." His eagerness had been so contagious that they had rushed into a short engagement. Could the man who once seemed so perfec
When Anastasia got to the car, the chauffeur stepped out and swiftly opened the back passenger door for her. She hesitated for a moment, clutching her bag tightly, before sliding into the seat. The soft click of the door closing was almost deafening in the silence that followed. Inside, Harry sat with his eyes closed, his head tilted back against the headrest. His posture was stiff, his jaw clenched as though trying to contain an eruption of emotions. “Harry…” Anastasia began, her voice soft, almost pleading. “Not here. Not now,” Harry interrupted his tone firm but devoid of the warmth she once knew. Anastasia felt a lump rise in her throat. The distance between them in the car felt vast, as though they were strangers rather. She turned her gaze to the window, watching the city lights blur as the car started moving. The silence was heavy, each passing second amplifying her dread. Back at the office, Matthew was fuming with anger. He paced back and forth, stopping at interv
Anastasia was about to speak when the door creaked open. In strode Stephen Smith, Stephen’s eldest son and Matthew’s father, his presence commanding immediate attention. His sharp suit and the frown on his face gave him the air of someone who had walked into a battlefield uninvited but ready to fight. Stephen turned slowly to look at his first son, his disapproval was evident on his face. “Well, it’s nice of you to join us, Herbert,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I trust you’re here to fix the mess your son has created.” Herbert’s gaze landed on Matthew, whose smugness had momentarily been replaced by unease, and then on Anastasia, who stood stiffly, her fists clenched at her sides. "What mess?" Herbert asked coolly, though his expression suggested he already had an idea. Before anyone could respond, Anastasia stepped forward. Her voice was clear but the nervousness she was feeling could be felt in the tremble of her voice. "Nothing happened between Matthew and me
Stephen's booming voice sliced through the tension. "Matthew, have you lost your mind? Can someone explain what is going on here?" Herbert said as he gestured to the projector screen, where an incriminating photo of Anastasia and Matthew was frozen mid-display. He stared at everyone in the room before fixing his gaze on Matthew, who stood at the head of the table. "You see, Grandpa," Matthew began, his voice dripping with mock civility, "my dear uncle here has a very unstable home. His wife is clearly—" "Matthew, take my wife’s name out of your mouth," Harry growled, his voice low and menacing. The tension in the room reached a boiling point. Board members shifted uncomfortably in their seats. "This is outrageous!", Mr. Carter, the oldest member of the board, said. He pushed his glasses up his nose, glaring at Matthew. "Do you think this is a circus? This is unacceptable and very shameful for the Smith family.", Mr Carter added. Across the table, Mrs. Green leaned forward
The boardroom was bathed in natural light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp contrasts on the polished oak table and leather chairs. A large projector screen at one end of the room remained dormant, one of the assistants came in and turned it on and connected it to a computer, prepping incase it was to be used for a presentation. Anastasia sat stiffly beside Harry, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her notepad. Across from her, Matthew reclined in his chair, an air of smugness clinging to him like a second skin. The room buzzed with murmurs as board members shuffled papers and exchanged polite nods. Paris, Harry's mother, sat at the far end of the table, her hawk-like gaze scanning the room. She was impeccably dressed, her navy blue suit perfectly tailored, her hair was pinned back in an elegant chignon. She radiated authority, her presence commanding silent respect from everyone in the room. Anastasia avoided Matthew’s gaze, but she could feel
Paris sat frozen in Blake’s car, her tears drying against her cheeks. Blake’s words hung heavy in the air. "Herbert never betrayed you," Blake said softly, her hands trembling on the steering wheel. Paris blinked, her mind struggling to process the words. “What do you mean?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I saw them… together. I saw it with my own eyes.” Blake exhaled sharply and turned to face Paris. Her expression was a mixture of guilt and determination, as though she’d been carrying this truth for far too long. “Paris, listen to me,” Blake began, her voice shaking. “What you saw wasn’t what you think it was. Herbert didn’t betray you. Megan… she planned everything. She drugged him.” Paris recoiled as though she’d been slapped. “What?” Her voice rose, disbelief lacing her tone. “You’re saying Megan—my best friend—did this intentionally? That she… drugged Herbert?” Blake nodded, her eyes brimming with regret. “Yes. Megan was jealous of you, Paris. She envied e
The two days before the board meeting had come and gone. The meeting with the private investigator had been emotional and nerve-wracking for Anastasia. As Anastasia applied her makeup, before the time set for the board meeting, the mirror seemed to blur, not from the mascara she meticulously brushed onto her lashes but from the weight of her thoughts. Her hands slowed as she remembered the day Harry's mother had caught her kissing Matthew. The memory was vivid, as though it had happened only yesterday. The whole incident replayed in her mind, transporting her to that day. She had followed Harry's mother into the sitting room, and they had begun to talk. "I don't know if Harry has told you what transpired between Matthew's grandmother Megan and me," " she had started, "Megan was my best friend. We were like two peas in a pod until Herbert came along. He was just a handsome bookworm with very big dreams, but slowly, he began to capture my attention. My friend Megan discourag
As Natasha settled into the driver’s seat, her hands trembled slightly as they gripped the steering wheel. She stared blankly at the quiet street, but her mind replayed Bernice’s words like a haunting melody: “Life on the streets was hard. Men... everywhere.” Her throat tightened, and she instinctively placed a protective hand over her belly. Her baby wasn’t even born, yet the thought of her child enduring such horrors was unbearable. A surge of nausea twisted her stomach, followed by a wave of guilt. How could any parent abandon their child like that? she thought bitterly. Her father’s face flashed in her mind—his stern but warm expression as he taught her to ride a bike, his strong arms lifting her onto his shoulders during family outings. Her chest ached with the realization of how much she had taken for granted. “Damien and Bernice deserved better,” Natasha murmured, her voice trembling. Her vision blurred as tears gathered in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.
Bernice’s words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating Natasha as she waited for what would come next. The room felt smaller now, as though the walls were closing in. Bernice took a deep breath, her icy demeanour softening slightly, though her eyes never lost their sharp edge. “I stayed out of Damien’s life,” she began, “because I became something... something he couldn’t protect anymore. I became his weakness.” “His weakness? What do you mean?”, Natasha asked. Bernice leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped on the table. “When Damien joined the Mafia, he made enemies. Powerful ones. Men who don’t forget a grudge.” Natasha’s heart pounded. “What happened?” “For a while, we were untouchable. Damien was meticulous. But then they found out about me.” Bernice’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Natasha had to strain to hear her. “They came after me to get to him. I was kidnapped and held for weeks. Tortured. And Damien... he lost control.” Natasha gasped, her hand c