When I got inside I tried sleeping but Matthew and Harry had robbed me of sleep. The following day, I went to the hospital and I was surprised to see him already sitting. He smiled when he saw me, his mom was there with him. "You're here", she said acknowledging my presence, "I hope you slept well", she said. "I did. Thank you", I said. "How is he?", I asked Harry's mom, "Why don't you ask him", she said with a smile, she bent down and planted a kiss on her son's head. "Let me give both of you some space ", she said and walked out. "Thank you for saving my life", Harry said. "You don't need to thank me", I whispered. He looked so weak and pale and that made my heart break, "what happened", I asked him. "I don't want to talk about it ", Harry said, "not yet", he added. "I brought you breakfast. Your mom told me your favourite and I had the chef make it just the way she said you like it ", I said, he smiled and his eyes lit up. I could see he was still ver
HARRY Shortly after, my driver left to bring Clarise to the venue he called and informed me that Clarise was not at her house. I started to panic, and while I was trying to reach Clarise on the phone, Peter called. "She said yes," Peter screamed into the phone. He had just proposed to his girlfriend, and she had accepted the proposal. Peter went ahead to apologise for not waiting till he got to the venue like we had all planned. Even from the phone, I could hear how excited Peter was. He asked me if I had proposed to my woman. I told him she was still on her way, I lied because I didn't want to dampen his celebratory mood. I went to Clarise's house myself but she wasn't there. I couldn't reach her on the phone either. Her friends whose contact I had didn't know her whereabouts. My mother was equally worried. The following day, I told Peter what really happened. He felt so bad for me. He invited me over to have dinner with his fiancè and I obliged. On my way to Peter's hous
"I didn't give her a chance to talk.", Harry said expressing his frustration. "She had ignored me for months, and all of a sudden, she just waltzed in after all the hurt she had caused me. I just didn't want her to reject me again." Anastasia felt Harry's pain, she understood why Harry had resorted to a contract marriage. Harry had fallen in love and had gotten burnt. "There is something I wanted to discuss with you that night", Harry said, "I found out that I have to remain married for six months otherwise my inheritance will be handed over to my nephew. " Anastasia exhaled, she was in a fix. Matthew had threatened to get involved if she didn't end her marriage with Harry. If Matthew told the board that he and Anastasia were sexually involved with each other, Harry would inevitably lose the company. Anastasia didn't know what to do, she had to help Harry keep his inheritance. She opened her mouth to tell Harry of his nephews's threat but she couldn't bring herself
NATASHA It was raining cats and dogs that day. I had a photoshoot I had to get to, and my father had insisted he take me there himself. The rain lashed against the windshield, blurring the city lights. Inside my father's car, the chauffeur was trying hard to navigate through the heavy rain and thunderstorms. I sat beside my father browsing through hot gossip on social media. I was trying to distract myself from the storm. Thunderstorms always scared me it had been that way for as long as I could remember. I tapped impatiently on my phone."Daddy, I told you, I can drive myself," I protested for the umpteenth time. Dad sighed, a fond smile playing on his lips. "I know, sweetheart, but I worry." I rolled my eyes, but truthfully I loved it when my father showered me with his attention and affection. Despite his stern exterior, my father was a softie at heart. The car suddenly swerved to avoid a particularly aggressive puddle, and I clutched the armrest, my heart started pound
NATASHA Anastasia's jaw dropped. "He pulled a gun on Dad?", Anastasia asked, her voice trembling as she spoke. Her face was drained of all colour, Anastasia was as terrified as I had been. "There's more," I said, the memory of that night was a festering wound, it was still very fresh. Even recounting to Anastasia still sent chills down my spine. A huge metal door opened and two of Damien's men emerged, dragging a struggling figure between them. My heart hammered against my ribs. I didn't recognise the man and I couldn't have because his face and body was covered in blood. He had been severely beaten. This man, whoever he was, wore a cheap suit, his face a mask of terror. "He says he'll get you the money tomorrow," one of Damien's men grunted, shoving the man towards his boss. Damien, tall and imposing, didn't even blink. He gave a curt nod, and the next thing I heard drew air out of my lungs and almost deafened me. A gunshot was fired into the man's skull and l saw him fall
NATASHA Damien tilted his head to the side and looked at me from head to toe, "So, you reported me to the cops. That was really brave of you."Damien muttered with a scary smile on his face. My heart started beating really fast. I have never been more terrified in my life. I wanted to run, but my legs were stuck to the ground. I wanted to scream, but I knew that dad and I would be dead even before the cop sitted in the car would get to us. "I have a soft spot for you, and I don't even know why," he continued, "but you... you've got me wrapped around your finger somehow." His words sent shivers down my spine. A "soft spot"? This man had threatened my father's life, and now he claimed some bizarre affection? It felt like a twisted game, and I was the terrified pawn. I became afraid, and so i started begging, "Please," I pleaded, and he smiled that bone chiling smile. "Don't hurt us." He started laughing, Damien's laugh filled the room, a cold, mocking sound that echoed in the
"I'm pregnant," she whispered, the words so slowly and quietly they almost dissolved into the air. Anastasia's eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth, and for a moment, the room held its breath. "Oh, Natasha," she finally gasped, a mix of shock and concern etched on her face. Tears welled up in Natasha's eyes as she spoke. "It breaks every rule we agreed to. Damien can't find out. If he does..." The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air. They both knew the consequences. Anastasia squeezed her sister's hand, her touch a silent promise of support. "We'll figure it out together," she said fiercely. "You're not alone in this, Natasha. We'll face it one step at a time." "When I hired the Private Investigator, I was hoping it was another woman. But the PI found nothing. It seems Damien is just tired of me."Natasha said. Anastasia held her sister, she had never seen this soft side of Natasha. "I am keeping my baby", Natasha said, "I am here for you, whenever you need me
Anastasia's thoughts drifted to Matthew, and suddenly, she felt guilty. She quickly pulled away, breaking the kiss. Stepping away from Harry. Anastasia struggled to catch her breath as her mind replayed the beautiful sensation she had just experienced. "I can't," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I can't do this, Harry. I feel like I'm betraying Matthew." . "Anastasia, I'm sorry," Harry said, "I didn't mean to kiss you, I can't seem to keep my hands away from you." Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. "It's not just you. It's me. I care about you, but I can't shake this feeling of disloyalty. I need to figure this out on my own." Harry nodded slowly, understanding the depth of her struggle. "I understand, Anastasia. Take all the time you need. I'll be here, waiting for you." But Harry knew he didn't want her taking too long. He really wanted Anastasia and couldn't bear to lose her. They
Herbert’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, re
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
"No, he didn't kill any of them. I took care of them, "Bernice said. Natasha gasped, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach. “ So you killed them?” Bernice tilted her head, studying her. “I prefer to say I protected my brother. You understand that, don’t you? You’d do anything to keep Anastasia safe, wouldn't you ?.” At the mention of her sister's name, Natasha froze. She could feel Bernice’s gaze boring into her, as though daring her to object. Natasha’s chest tightened as Bernice’s words sank in. Her fingers trembled under the table, and she clenched them into fists, trying to steady herself. It became clear that Bernice could be more dangerous than her brother. She was even too afraid to ask how she knew about her sister. “I know what you’re thinking,” Bernice said, her voice calm, almost soothing. “You judged me by my looks —soft-spoken, well-dressed—and you assume I’m harmless. They thought the same thing.” She leaned forward, her icy blue eyes piercing. “But when
Natasha sat at the corner table, her eyes darting to every person who walked into the cosy restaurant. The low hum of people talking and the clinking of cutlery only added to her anxiety. She placed a trembling hand on her stomach, her baby bump was not yet visible but it felt comforting. Though Natasha tried to calm herself, her heart raced, as she kept glancing at the entrance. Her thoughts swirled in a storm of doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if this "Bernice" wasn’t who she claimed to be? Once again Natasha remembered her unborn child, and she knew what was at stake. The door opened, and a tall, stunning blonde walked in, instantly drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. She was dressed in a fitted blue gown that matched her strikingly icy blue eyes. Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as she strode with confidence, scanning the room until her gaze landed on Natasha. Natasha stiffened. The woman approached her table and, without hesitation,
Natasha watched the phone ring but couldn't bring herself to pick up the call. Her imagination ran wild. What if it wasn't really Bernice, then she was putting herself in so much trouble. The phone stopped ringing and Natasha exhaled with relief. When they had hatched the plan of her getting Bernice’s number from Damien's phone. They had not envisaged this whole drama. The phone began to ring once more and it was still the number that was calling. Natasha summed up her courage and picked up the call. "Hello", Natasha said into the phone and waited. "Hello", a female voice answered, "this is Bernice ", the voice said. Natasha froze, her heart hammering in her chest. She tightened her grip on the phone, unsure of what to say. “This is Bernice,” the voice repeated, calm but firm. “No, that’s not possible,” Natasha stammered. “Bernice is... she’s gone. That’s what I’ve been told.” A soft chuckle came from the other end. “Clearly, I’m not gone if I’m speaking to you now.”