SusanI stared at the untouched coffee in front of me, my fingers tracing circles around the rim of the mug. The café was bustling, the clinking of cups and soft hum of conversations blending into the background, but all I could hear was the echo of my own thoughts.Meera slid into the seat across from me, her eyes immediately narrowing. “Okay, you’re giving off serious ‘I did something bad’ vibes,” she said, tossing her bag onto the chair beside her. “What now?”I sighed, finally looking up to meet her gaze. She already knew the basics...I’d told her about Mrs. Prescott offering me money to leave Elliot, and yeah, she knew I’d taken it. But the weight of it felt heavier today, like it was suffocating me.“She texted me,” I said quietly.Meera raised an eyebrow. “Who?”“Mrs. Prescott. She wanted to know why I haven’t broken up with Elliot yet.”Meera’s eyes darkened. “That woman’s got some nerve.”I gave a bitter laugh. “I told her it would take time, that I couldn’t just end things o
Susan I adjusted the hem of my pencil skirt, trying to shake off the nerves bubbling under my skin. It wasn’t like me to get jittery over a meeting, but this wasn’t just any meeting. Manuel Fernandez...an artist whose name echoed through the industry like a storm...was coming to our office. People waited months, even years, for the chance to work with him. But somehow, with just one email, he agreed. And now, I had to figure out why. The sleek conference room was unusually quiet, the air thick with anticipation. My colleagues sat with forced nonchalance, pretending not to be eager. Elliot hadn’t arrived yet, but I knew he would. He always showed up when it mattered, and with Manuel Fernandez in the building, this mattered. When the door finally opened, time seemed to pause. Manuel Fernandez walked in like he owned the air we breathed. His presence was magnetic...dark, tousled hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, sharp cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seemed to look rig
Elliot I watched Susan from across the office, her laughter floating through the open space like a melody designed to drive me insane. She was with Manuel Fernandez, again. His hand hovered just a little too close to her lower back as he pointed something out on her laptop screen, his eyes glued to her like she was the only thing worth seeing in the entire goddamn building. It was infuriating. I’d dealt with rivals before...competitors, business sharks, even the occasional ex-boyfriend who thought he still had a chance. But this? This was different. Manuel wasn’t just some random threat. He was an enigma, a man with a history tied to Susan that I didn’t fully understand. And that unknown… it gnawed at me like a splinter under my skin. I clenched my jaw, trying to focus on the spreadsheet in front of me, but the numbers blurred into meaningless lines. Every fiber of my being was tuned to her...her movements, her laughter, the way she tilted her head when Manuel whispered something
Susan I thought the heat of Elliot’s touch would linger longer than the tension in my chest, but as I sat across from Manuel Fernandez in the sleek glass conference room, the memory of Elliot’s possessive kiss was already fading beneath the weight of unspoken words. Manuel wasn’t just an artist. He was a man with shadows in his eyes, the kind that hinted at stories left untold. Stories that, somehow, were tied to me. He leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, his dark eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place. Amusement? Nostalgia? I couldn’t tell. “You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked, his voice smooth, almost teasing. I swallowed, my mind racing. There was something familiar about him...the sharp angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips when he smiled. But the memory was hazy, like trying to grasp smoke. “I’m sorry,” I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. “Should I?” His smile didn’t fade, but it changed, softening into someth
Elliot The moment I stepped out of that conference room, my blood was boiling hotter than it had in years. I couldn’t get the image of Manuel’s smug face out of my head, nor the way his eyes lingered on Susan like she was some kind of unfinished masterpiece he couldn’t wait to touch up. I stormed into my office, slamming the door harder than necessary. My chest tightened with every breath, and for the first time in a long time, I felt completely out of control. Susan...my Susan...had history with this guy. And not just any history, but the kind that left marks, invisible yet undeniable. I didn’t give a damn about business deals or brand endorsements anymore. Manuel Fernandez had crossed a line, and I wasn’t about to sit back and watch him worm his way into Susan’s life. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my messages until I found Adrian’s name. If anyone could talk some sense into me...or at least help me plot revenge...it was him. Need a drink. Now. His response was immed
Susan I should’ve known Elliot wouldn’t let it go. His jealousy simmered just beneath the surface, peeking through every time Manuel’s name came up. But what could I say? I couldn’t exactly blame him. If the roles were reversed, I might’ve felt the same. But the thing is, Manuel wasn’t just some artist. He was a man with a past...a past that intertwined with mine in a way I hadn’t fully processed until now. The next morning, I walked into the office, balancing a coffee in one hand and my laptop in the other. The moment I stepped into the meeting room, Manuel was already there, his dark eyes tracking my every movement. “Good morning, Susan,” he greeted, his lips curling into that same enigmatic smile he always wore. “Morning, Mr. Fernandez,” I replied, keeping my tone professional, even though my mind flashed back to the rooftop. To that day. It was years ago, but the memory was sharp...like the first cut of glass against skin. I’d been on my way home from class, cutting through
Elliot I wasn’t proud of it, but jealousy had a way of sinking its claws deep into me. It wasn’t just about Susan working with Manuel Fernandez—it was the way the guy looked at her, like she was some kind of muse he’d been searching for his whole life. And I knew that look. I’d worn it the first time I realized Susan Hart wasn’t just another woman. She was the woman. I stared at the reports on my desk, but none of the numbers made sense. Hell, I couldn’t even focus. All I could think about was the way Manuel leaned in a little too close during meetings, his dark eyes lingering on Susan like he had every right to. The office door creaked open, and Adrian sauntered in, a cocky grin plastered on his face. “You look like hell,” he announced, plopping into the chair opposite me. “What’s eating you now?” I didn’t answer right away, just poured us both a drink from the decanter on my desk. The burn of the whiskey wasn’t enough to chase away the frustration gnawing at my insides. Adr
Susan The air in the office had become suffocating, thick with tension I couldn’t shake off. Every time I glanced up from my desk, I felt Elliot’s eyes on me, watching, scrutinizing, like he was waiting for me to slip up. It was like walking a tightrope, trying to balance my work with Manuel while keeping Elliot from spiraling into another jealous fit. But the worst part? I understood where Elliot was coming from. Because even I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on with Manuel Fernandez. We had our first one-on-one session scheduled for the afternoon. I tried to convince myself it was just business—nothing more, nothing less. But the moment Manuel walked into the room, I felt that familiar pull, the nagging memory I’d tried to bury. “Susan,” he greeted me with that smooth, accented voice, his dark eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t quite place. “It’s good to see you again.” I forced a polite smile. “You too, Mr. Fernandez.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Still formal,
SusanThe warmth of Elliot’s body anchored me in place, his arm draped over my waist like he had no intention of letting me go. His breathing was slow and steady, his chest rising and falling beneath my cheek.I blinked against the soft golden light streaming through the curtains, my body still aching in the best way possible from the night before.I should get up.But for once, I didn’t want to move.Not when Elliot’s fingers were lazily tracing patterns along my spine. Not when the scent of him...warm, musky, familiar...wrapped around me like a cocoon.I shifted slightly, but the moment I did, his grip tightened, pulling me back against him.“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was thick with sleep, rasping against my ear.I smiled, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. His dark hair was a tousled mess, his jaw dusted with stubble, and his eyes...still heavy with sleep...watched me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.“I need to get up,” I murmured.“No, yo
ElliotI used to believe I was a patient man. That no matter how chaotic life became, I could handle it with control and precision.But Susan was testing me in ways I never imagined.I sat at the dining table, fingers tapping rhythmically against the wooden surface. The clock on the wall mocked me—11:47 PM.She was late, again.Dinner had gone cold an hour ago, and the bottle of whiskey I’d sworn I wouldn’t touch was now half-empty.The moment I heard the front door click open, I tensed. Her footsteps slow. Then, the sight of her...exhausted, her hair slightly messy, dressed in a sleek business suit that reminded me just how deep she had buried herself in that damn foundation.She barely glanced my way as she set her purse down, stretching her neck. “You’re still up?”I let out a slow exhale. “No, Susan. I’m sleepwalking.”Her lips pressed together, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. But I didn’t care.“I had a long day, Elliot.” She rubbed her temples, sighing. “Please don’t start.”I pushe
Susan I barely had time to think before Elliot’s lips crashed into mine.It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t patient.It was raw.Like a man who had been starving for too long. Like someone at their breaking point.I gasped against his mouth, but he didn’t let me pull away. His hands gripped my waist, fingers digging in as if to remind me exactly who I belonged to.I had pushed him away for weeks.Tonight, he wasn’t letting me run.His lips traveled down my jaw, hot and demanding, his breath ragged against my skin. My knees threatened to buckle when his teeth scraped the sensitive spot just beneath my ear."Tell me you missed me," he growled.I shuddered, clutching his shoulders. "Elliot..."His grip tightened. "Say it."I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering. "I missed you."A low curse left his lips before he lifted me effortlessly, carrying me toward the bedroom. My arms wrapped around his neck, and my body molded against his as he kicked the door shut behind us.I barely had time to process
Elliot I woke up alone again.The other side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool to the touch. I ran a hand through my hair, irritation already simmering beneath my skin. This had become a pattern...Susan leaving at dawn before I even got the chance to hold her, to talk to her, to feel like we were still us.I sat up and reached for my phone.No messages. No missed calls. Nothing.With a sigh, I tossed the device onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling.She had promised this wouldn't happen. That her new position at the foundation wouldn’t consume her, that she wouldn’t lose herself in proving a point to my mother.Yet, here I was. Alone. Again.My patience was wearing thin.I climbed out of bed, threw on some sweatpants, and headed to the kitchen, where I found Gerald waiting for me. He was standing by the counter, sipping coffee, his expression unreadable."You look like hell," he noted dryly."Good morning to you too, Gerald," I muttered, grabbing a mug and pouring myself
ElliotThe first time Susan missed dinner, I let it slide.She texted me last minute, saying she was caught up at work, something about an urgent report she needed to finalize before the morning. I replied with a simple Okay, don’t stay too late.But then it happened again. And again.At first, I told myself she was just adjusting to the new job. She wanted to prove herself, show that she was more than just the CEO’s girlfriend playing charity director. And I admired that about her.But admiration turned into irritation real quick.By the fourth night in a row of her coming home past eleven, barely speaking two words before collapsing in bed, I was done being understanding.Tonight, I didn’t bother preparing dinner. What was the point? I sat in the dimly lit living room, glass of whiskey in my hand, staring at the front door like a damn abandoned husband waiting for his wife to return from war.The sound of the key turning in the lock made my jaw clench. The door creaked open, and the
Susan I took a deep breath as I stepped into the headquarters of the Prescott Foundation. The towering glass doors reflected the morning sun, casting a golden glow over the entrance. This was my new beginning, but not in the way Mrs. Prescott had envisioned.The receptionist, a woman in her late thirties with sharp eyes behind black-rimmed glasses, looked up at me and stiffened slightly. "Good morning, Ms. Hart," she said, her voice polite but laced with curiosity.It was clear...everyone here knew who I was. Not as Susan Hart, the new employee. But as her. The woman Elliot Prescott was involved with. The one who had seemingly walked into this job with privilege wrapped around her like a designer coat.I straightened my shoulders, let them think what they wanted. I would prove them wrong."I'm here for my first day," I said with a calm smile.Her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly, but she nodded and picked up her phone. "Mr. Castillo will be with you shortly."I knew of Mr. Castillo..
Susan The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow across Meera’s apartment. I blinked awake, the events of last night crashing down like a tidal wave. My head throbbed, not from the wine but from the weight of my choices.I had betrayed Elliot’s trust.And worse...I had done it knowing exactly how much it would hurt him.I turned on my side, expecting Meera to still be asleep, but she was already sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through her phone.“Morning, traitor.” She didn’t even look up as she spoke, but the sarcasm was thick in her tone.I groaned, burying my face into the pillow. “I don’t need the judgment this early.”“Well, too bad,” she snapped, tossing her phone onto the bed. “Elliot called me twice.”That got my attention. I shot up, my heart beating rapidly. “What?”“And texted,” she added, handing me her phone.I hesitated before reading.Elliot Prescott: Where is she?Elliot Prescott: She’s not at the penthouse. If she’s with you, tell
Susan I walked out of Elliot’s office without looking back.I could still hear his voice...sharp, cutting, and desperate...“Don’t do this, Susan.” But I had to.Because in the end, love wasn’t enough.Not when his mother still saw me as an outsider. Not when the world still whispered about how I wasn’t good enough for Elliot Prescott. Not when, no matter how much I tried to prove myself, I still felt like I was fighting a battle I was destined to lose.And if signing my name on a damn contract was the price for being accepted into his family, for securing a future where his mother wouldn’t look at me like I was nothing, then so be it.I ignored the sting in my chest and walked down the halls of Prescott Enterprises with quiet determination. My heels clicked against the marble floors, my heart pounding with every step toward the woman who had made me feel small for so long.Mrs. Prescott was waiting for me.She sat behind a grand mahogany desk, poised and elegant, a picture of unshaka
Susan The message stared back at me like a challenge. Eleanor Prescott requests your presence for lunch. One o’clock. Prescott Tower, 45th floor. I didn’t need to think twice. This wasn’t an invitation...it was a summons. Elliot’s mother had spent years pretending I didn’t exist, treating me like a temporary inconvenience that would eventually disappear. But now, after everything that had happened...the scandal, Elliot’s return, the press conference that rocked the business world...she was suddenly willing to sit down with me? I stepped out of the cab and took a deep breath before walking through the grand entrance of Prescott Tower. The lobby was pristine, with marble floors and golden accents, exuding the kind of wealth that was meant to intimidate people like me. But I wouldn’t be intimidated. The elevator ride to the 45th floor felt both too long and too short. When the doors slid open, I was met with an airy, sunlit dining area. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the city