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 before his thirty-fourth birthday. Despite the anticipation and rumours, no news of Harry's engagement or marriage had surfaced, so I knew I would soon succeed my grandfather. I would soon be in charge of a multi-million business empire. I didn't know much about Harry Smith, and since he was no longer standing between my grandfather's wealth and me, I was open to seeing him. I took my seat at the closest table, and not long after, I heard the voice of Jim Moore, my grandfather's trusted Personal Assistant. He announced the presence of my grandfather and his wife, and a round of applause followed. The pair walked over to their reserved seat, and my uncle was announced. "....Put your hands together as we welcome Harry Smith," Jim said. A tall, slim man walked in and shook hands with Jim. He was a remarkably handsome man. Harry Smith combined the features of my grandfather and his former supermodel mother beautifully. He smiled and waved and took his seat beside his father. The rest of the celebration went on smoothly. The following morning, I woke up to an email calling for a board meeting. As I prepared for the meeting, I had a feeling I would be named the director of the 'Smith and Smith group of companies. While the rest of the board waited for the arrival of my grandfather. My nonchalant father was not present. He was probably somewhere in a yacht or a luxury hotel in the company of a supermodel or social media influencer. My father was the typical example of an entitled person. He spent money recklessly and couldn't be bothered to work for it. His father was a billionaire, and that was enough for him. My grandfather finally arrived in the company of his PA and Harry, my uncle. I have been the one working and toiling for the company, so I waited with a smile, my celebratory champagne already cooling off in a refrigerator in my office. "I have some important information I need to pass to the board," my grandfather said. I nod smiling, 'this was my moment ', I thought to myself. Stephen's voice, though firm, carried a tremor of emotion. "I am so happy to have worked with all of you. And I hope you will give the next director the same support you have given me all these years. Effective immediately I will be stepping down from the helm of this company, a legacy I built with every one of you. it's time for a new chapter." Stephen paused. Everyone listened intensely. He gestured towards Harry, who sat beside him, I could see the genuine pride on my grandfather's face, "With immense faith, I introduce your new Director – Harry Smith." "I hope the same support you have given me will now be extended to the new Director of this company," Stephen said. Thunderous applause erupted, echoing in the boardroom. All eyes turned to Harry, who rose, a shy smile gracing his lips. As he addressed the board, I looked at his lips moving, but I wasn't listening anymore. I was angry. Frozen in shock, I felt the weight of the announcement hanging heavily in the air. I couldn't believe it. My grandfather had picked his son over me. Surrounded by an atmosphere charged with suppressed rage, I realized every calculated move I had made, every dedication to the company, was tailored for this very moment – to inherit the legacy my grandfather had painstakingly built. Now, my dreams lay shattered, replaced by the foundation of another. My blood pounded relentlessly, drowning out the congratulatory messages and backslaps Harry received. A bitter taste lingered in my mouth as our eyes met, and at that moment, a battle line was drawn. The air hung heavy in the boardroom. I got up abruptly, "Grandpa, this is unacceptable," I blurted out, rising abruptly from my seat. My voice, usually composed and measured, trembled with suppressed anger. "How can this be?" I continued, ignoring the surprised stares of the board members. "I thought Uncle Harry's 'grace period' ended last year. You promised..." My grandpa, looking disappointed and frustrated, raised his hand, telling me to stop before I could say more. "Matthew," he said, sounding firm but tired, "let's talk about this at home. It's not good to share our family problems in front of others." Then, he turned and gave me a serious look before taking Uncle Harry out of the room. The door closed behind them, and I was left alone in the quiet room. The celebratory atmosphere had vanished. I felt robbed. I needed an explanation as to why my uncle was announced as the person taking over Grandfather's companies instead of me. The wait for dinner felt like an eternity. I paced my room, each hour stretching into an agonizing minute. Every tick of the clock mocked my shattered dreams and shattered trust. To numb the sting, I poured myself a glass of wine, then another, the warmth doing little to soothe the turmoil within. When I got to the house, they were already seated. My grandfather's wife was seated beside him while he was at his position at the head of the table. I was surprised to see my father at the table. My mother was probably somewhere in a luxurious hotel nursing a champagne flute enjoying the wealth she gold dug herself into by giving birth to me. I noticed my uncle was not in attendance, 'it's best', I thought to myself. I needed to air my grievances to my grandfather, and it was best that my uncle was not around to hear it. After the desert was finished, I knew it was time to speak, "Grandpa, you gave Harry up to the end of last year to get himself a wife or forfeit the company. You gave him two years to do so, and he failed to do that. I have been here slaving for you while everyone else enjoys the wealth, "I stated. My grandfather was quiet, so I continued, "I thought you were a man of your word. Is it because I am a product of your bastard's son's fling with the maid? "I asked. He cleared his throat and looked up at me, Stephen Smith was a handsome man even for his age. At seventy-three, he looked like a man in his late fifties. " I keep telling you to observe more than you talk," Stephen said and sank back into the chair. My father got up and walked out, I wasn't surprised that he walked out. He had never cared or ever stood up for me. Paris Smith, my grandfather's wife, practically raised me alongside my uncle, her son, until things took a different turn for her. "Your uncle is married," my grandfather said. "What did you say?"I asked. "They will both be with us shortly. They were supposed to be part of this dinner, "he said calmly. I couldn't believe my ears. A thousand questions ran through my mind. When did he get married? Who did he get married to? How long have they been married? How long did my grandfather know? I heard footsteps, and I turned to see my uncle walk in. "Good evening Dad, Good evening Mom," he greeted. "Hello Matthew", He said to me as he took a seat beside his mother. "Where is this beautiful wife of yours, we are all eager to see her," my grandfather said, I could hear the eagerness in his voice. "She was taking a call, she will be with us shortly," Uncle Harry said. A few seconds after, footsteps approached, "Here she is," Harry said. I looked up and in walked Anastasia.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
It was really Harry. Anastasia looked at him, and she couldn't speak. He just turned and walked out. Anastasia was confused, she was unsure whether to go after him or go back inside. A decision had to be made fast and just as she was still contemplating, she heard Matthew call, " Sweetheart,". "Who is at the door?" Matthew asked from inside. Anastasia quickly made a decision. "A lady," she answered and came back inside, shutting the door behind her. "Why didn't she come in?" Matthew asked. Anastasia continued her lie, "She just saw me and left." "That is strange," Matthew said. This was her chance to confront him. "Is it really strange that you're a cheat? That you cheated on me throughout our relationship? Or is it more strange that I'm here with you after how badly you treated me?" she said, pouring out her feelings. "Anastasia, I swear on my life, I never cheated on you. I love you dearly. You hurt me when you left without a word, no explanation, no closure," Matthew
"Before you say anything", Harry said. "It's important I let you know what is at stake. If you decide to walk away from our little arrangement", Harry said. Anastasia knew she had beaten much more than she could chew. "After I tell you my family history you may understand my plight", Harry said before he started his story. " My grandmother, Paris and Matthew's grandmother were best of friends. It's as though they were joined at the hip. So it came as a shock to Megan when Paris told her that she now had a boyfriend", Harry said. Anastasia listened intently as Harry kept narrating his family history, Anastasia was drawn into as she imagined everything Matthew said. ****** "I now have a boyfriend ", Paris had said to her friend with a dreamy look in her eyes. "You're kidding right?", Megan asked and Paris shook her head, "It's Stephen Smith", Paris said. "When did this happen ", Megan questioned her friend, completely baffled. "We met during summer camp and I just
"Yes, I am," Anastasia answered, and Harry's face fell. "I thought he cheated on me," Anastasia began to explain. She told Harry everything that happened, from the video she received showing Matthew sleeping with another woman to the discussion she had with Matthew at his house. "That day you saw me at his house. I only went there because he begged me to come over so that he could explain things to me. "Anastasia rambled on, but Harry kept silent. "I never set out to hurt you. I didn't know I was still in love with Matthew until I set my eyes on him. I regret running off and not talking to him after I received that video on the morning of our wedding. Now that I know that he was not the person in the video, I can't hold myself back from being with him, "Anastasia said. Harry sat really still, and Anastasia became worried, "Please say something," Anastasia begged. She went closer to him and took his hand in hers, "I never meant to hurt you..." "Cut the crap and say some
Anastasia sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she scrolled through her phone. The images of Harry and Camille were everywhere. Pictures of them coming out of a restaurant. Anastasia could not help but see how Harry held the beautiful actress. Anastasia felt sick to her stomach. Her heart pounded against her ribs. The pain was physical, a sharp stab that made it hard to breathe. " No, this can’t be real," Anastasia kept muttering to herself as she struggled to breathe. She had spoken to Harry just last night. He had told her he was busy and had an early meeting. And yet, here he was, on the front page of every gossip blog, wrapped up in another woman. Tears blurred her vision, and her body got weaker. The phone slipped from her fingers, crashing onto the marble floor. A wave of dizziness hit her like a storm, and before she could even cry out, the darkness consumed her. Miriam, one of the domestic staff, knocked lightly on Anastasia’s bedroom door. "Madam, y
Anastasia stretched lazily under the soft sheets, her body still heavy from exhaustion. The previous night had been a blur of discussions, strategy, and whispered theories with Natasha. They had spent hours poring over security footage, trying to make sense of who could have betrayed her. She had hoped to speak to Harry—to hear his voice, to feel some semblance of reassurance. But he hadn’t come home. She had waited. And waited. At some point, her eyes had grown heavy, and sleep had claimed her before she could hear the sound of his footsteps in the hallway. With a sigh, Anastasia pushed herself up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She stripped off her lilac-coloured nightwear and stood before the full-length mirror. The reflection staring back at her was different. Her waist was still trim, but her breasts—fuller than before—hinted at the new life growing inside her. A slow smile curled her lips. She was going to be a mother. Excitement coursed through her veins, but it w
The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft flicker of candlelight casting golden hues across Camille’s face as she sipped her wine, her gaze locked onto Harry. The tension between them was thick, like a velvet rope pulling them together. Harry, slightly tipsy, leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He was fully aware of Camille’s game—she had always been a master of flirtation, using her beauty and charm like a finely honed weapon. “You’ve done a good job staying out of my reach,” Camille murmured, setting her glass down as she leaned in, her voice was as soft as silk. “Even when you know how much I’ve been dying to have you.” Harry smirked, shaking his head. “Camille, we’ve never seemed to be single at the same time.” Camille let out a soft, sultry laugh, her eyes gleaming as they travelled over him with deliberate slowness. “Oh, Harry…” she purred, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You’re being coy. That’s not the real reason.” Harry arched
Anastasia sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she absently scrolled through her phone. She wasn’t reading anything—her mind was too clouded to focus. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the screen, the only sound in the vast, quiet living room. The clock on the wall ticked away, marking each second that passed as she waited for her sister, Natasha, to arrive. Anastasia had called her the moment Harry stormed off, demanding answers she didn’t have. How had Matthew heard about the divorce? The only two people she had confided in were Natasha and Britney, and she trusted them both with her life. Her chest tightened as she replayed Harry’s furious words in her mind. "Why did you tell your lover that we were getting a divorce?" Matthew. The man who had used her over and over again. There is no way she would have betrayed Harry like that. But somehow, he knew and that was what Anastasia was confused about. How did he know? A car door slammed outside, pulling her
Anastasia paced the length of her living room, her fingers gripping her phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and her heart pounded in her chest as the moment Harry had walked out replayed in her head. She had rushed up to him the second she heard his bedroom door open, desperate to speak to him, to explain, to beg—but he had walked past her as if she didn’t exist. No glance, no words, not even the flicker of an emotion in his eyes. She had watched from the window as he got into his car and drove away, leaving her standing there, crushed, shattered, and abandoned. Tears blurred her vision as she dialled Natasha's number. The call barely rang twice before Natasha picked up. “Anastasia?” Natasha’s voice came through the speaker, filled with concern. Anastasia couldn’t even respond—only a choked sob escaped her lips. “Stasia, talk to me. What’s wrong?” More sobs. “Anastasia! What is going on?” Natasha’s voice was sha
Anastasia lay still, her body wrapped in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath, but she didn’t say a word. Harry shifted uncomfortably, his arm draped loosely over her waist as he studied her face. She stared at him, her lips slightly parted as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. “Anastasia,” he began, his voice trembling, “I need you to know… I love you.” Her expression didn’t change, and her gaze was still fixed on him. Harry’s heart ached at her lack of response. He shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “I know i have already professed my love for you,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I promised to wait. But my heart yearns for you, " he paused, swallowing hard—"I thought tonight meant something. But if it doesn’t, I understand.” Anastasia turned her head away
When Anastasia had gotten home, she got into the sitting room and sank into a chair. She was pleased that Harry wasn't there; she couldn't face him, not with her tear-streaked face. Anyone with eyes could easily tell that Anastasia had been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen. She rang for a maid, and one appeared. Anastasia asked for a bottle of wine. Shortly after, the maid came back with a tray. On it was a very expensive wine And a glass. Anastasia poured herself some and gulped it down. On the second glass, the alcohol had started kicking. She took two more glasses, and soon after, she started feeling numb to all the pain she had been feeling. By the time Anastasia got to her feet, she was tipsy. In the twilight of the evening, Anastasia walked into the bedroom, her eyes meeting Harry's in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. "What are you doing here?" she asked. Harry rose to his feet, his eyes reflecting a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. "I really needed to
"Matthew is a woman's man. Women love him, and he loves women. The lady in the video with him just happens to be one of his many flings, "Caroline said. Hearing the words spoken to her about a man she worshipped and adored felt like a knife was continually being plunged into her heart. Anastasia held her sister's hand a little tighter; Natasha, sensing her sister's pain, turned to her, "Would you like her to stop? You don't have to listen to this if you don't want to, "Natasha whispered to her sister. No,” Anastasia said, her voice steady despite the storm raging within. “Continue.” "Okay," Caroline said and continued, "Like I said earlier, another woman had walked into the two of them and made quite a scene. Coral is the name of the lady in the video. I was able to find her, and she was very open about her relationship with Matthew. " The two sisters listened intently, and Caroline divulged more of the information she was able to get from Coral. "She assured me that s
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