Imogene Scott I sit in the living room, wringing my hands together as I stare at the clock. The agency said they’d send the fourth candidate soon, but if she’s anything like the last three, I’m not sure I’ll survive the day. The first woman looked like she’d send me into an early grave with how tightly wound she was, and the second… I don’t even want to think about her. I could practically see her zoning out halfway through our conversation. The third one made me tilt my head in disbelief—a heavy coat, in this heat? On a blazing sunny day? What was she hiding under there? I shake my head, exasperated. A long sigh slips from my lips, and I sink further into the couch, staring at the sun-drenched curtains. Why is this so hard? I just want someone competent. Someone who can help me manage this house without driving me insane. The sharp ring of the doorbell jolts me upright. I spring to my feet, brushing invisible creases from my dress. Fourth time’s the charm, right? I don’t
Imogene Scott People do crazy crazy things for love. But what most people don’t do, is let their husband get with other women just because they think he’ll someday realize they’re the only one for him.As I say this, I feel totally stupid. I’m sitting in the lounge of Haven’s hotels and Suites and I can’t help but feel uneasy. I’m waiting for my husband to walk out with one of his many flings or at least get his room number.I’ve always known about Damien’s affairs for the past five years. Our marriage has been like that. He married me because I was pregnant with his child but after losing the baby, he completely changed. Then the multiple affairs began and we both made a deal not to meddle in each other’s lives. I was hurt, but one part of me has always reassured me that one day, he’s going to get tired of the affairs and love me properly. That one day, he’ll realize he’s never going to find a woman like me in any of those occasionally flings. Unfortunately, I think he just
Imogene ScottThere comes a moment in your life when you feel nothing is okay and nothing will ever be okay. For me, that moment is now.My world is tilting and I’m unable to do anything about it. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stare at my step sister, Fiona who I’ve always felt overshadowed by, my whole life.She along with her mother, infiltrated my life when my mother died and completely replaced us in my father’s life. She’s doing it again. Stealing my family wasn’t enough, she’s trying to steal my husband too.No, she’s already stolen him.“Imogene…” Damien’s voice breaks the silence, but I can barely hear him. My gaze is locked on my stepsister, and my lips part, but the words don’t come. They’re too tangled in the agony that claws at my chest, too drowned in the tears I refuse to let fall. “Why?” It’s the only word I can manage, my voice breaking as I finally speak. I’m not even sure who I’m asking—Damien, Fiona, or myself?Damien’s eyes is filled with
Imogene ScottFor the next few days, I stay in a hotel. I have nowhere to go. My own father had cut ties with me long ago when I went against him and chose to marry Damien.He has even forbidden any of his family members—my stepmother and Fiona—from contacting me. But I don’t even consider them family to begin with. Not after what Fiona did to me.My mother is no more; she died of cancer ten years ago, and my father married his deceased driver’s wife, Sasha Nice, a few years later. Talk about being shallow.It’s as if my life is at a standstill. I’ve stayed in bed for the past few days and haven’t stepped out of the hotel room. My gallery opening is on hold, and I just want to be alone. I just need time alone to think, but I’ve been doing nothing but sleeping my problems away.Because I can’t summon the resolve to do anything else. As long as I can sleep, I feel numb, and numb is good; numb doesn’t hurt. To top it off, I’ve been down with a slight fever followed by constant naus
THREE YEARS LATER…. Imogene Scott “Your gallery’s grand opening is tomorrow night and you’re telling me you fired Lily’s nanny?” Elinor’s voice is sharp on the other end of the line. I grunt and place my phone on speaker, then put it on the kitchen’s counter. Shit! Shit! Shit! I wouldn’t have fired Mei Mei if she hadn’t been so careless with Lily. How could she leave a two years old toddler alone in a tub while on call with her boyfriend? “Mei Mei was bad news.” I curse under my breath as I walk across the room. Then I pick Lily up from the only couch in the empty living room and place her into her scroller. The couch is the only thing I will be leaving behind in my high rent two-bedroom apartment in West Virginia. I’m moving back to LA for the grand opening of my second art gallery. “Plus, I was going to fire Mei Mei anyways. I can’t have her move back to LA with me, can I? She has her life here.” I add. By ‘her life’, I mean her boyfriend. How I wish she knows how unreliable
Damien Shaw “I don’t think staring at your wedding photo continuously will bring her back to you.” Breonna says as she walks into my office. Breonna is my adopted sister who doesn’t knock. She never has. And I should’ve known she isn’t going to this time either. Her steps are hurried, and she has a knack for speaking as she enters the room. What I didn’t know, was how she predicted that I was staring at my wedding photo. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I don’t meet her judgy gaze. “Joke’s on you, I was focused on a spreadsheet of products and how much is selling.” I say, my gaze still on the stack of papers in front of me. She smirks, then walks to my desk and lifts the papers up to reveal a photo of Imogene and me buried under the stack of papers. “You were saying?” she asks, making her way across the table to sit in the chair opposite me. I exhale sharply. It’s the only picture of Imogene I have and it’s the only picture I’ve been staring at for three years. The paper compa
Imogene Scott “I think Damien knows you’re back in town, but he doesn’t know about Lily yet.” Elinor’s voice from yesterday keeps echoing in my head and I’m unable to concentrate on the artwork my assistant, Emmett Brown is showing me.“Imogene?” Emmett calls again. “Should I put this George W. Bush terrier painting at the center of the room?”I cock my head. I sometimes wonder how Emmett knows so much about art when he only has a degree in art history—a made-up degree for rich people.“Sure. It’s the centerpiece.” I say and he gives me a long look before walking towards the white wall of the gallery.Emmett is good at his job even though he just started yesterday. He’s twenty five, but still, it’s like God ran out of decent personality, felt bad about it, and overcompensated by giving him a gorgeous face. He’s ridiculously good looking with broad shoulders and a body that puts any male model to shame.His smugness and lack of personality is a huge turn off, but I had to hire hi
Imogene Scott My breathing is labored. My feet hurt as I turn left, heading out of the front lawn into the streets. All eyes turn to me as I flee. One part of me tells me this isn’t real, that the person I just spoke to isn’t Damien Shaw. As I head into the dimly lit streets, I hear footsteps behind me.Tears start to flow freely as I turn my head. Damien is sprinting after me. My heart races faster, but this time it has nothing to do with exertion, and everything to do with that look of determination on Damien’s face. I continue to walk fast, but rapidly, Damien is gaining on me. I walk for a few more yards, then I realize it’s no use. I don’t know what I’m running from, I don’t know why I’m running. I skid to an halt, finally bringing myself to a complete stop.A moment later, I hear Damien’s hard breath hammering the cool air. I feel him move behind me. Slowly, I spin on my heel and face him. Both hands are in his hair, gripping the strands. His blue eyes are haunted, tort
Imogene Scott I sit in the living room, wringing my hands together as I stare at the clock. The agency said they’d send the fourth candidate soon, but if she’s anything like the last three, I’m not sure I’ll survive the day. The first woman looked like she’d send me into an early grave with how tightly wound she was, and the second… I don’t even want to think about her. I could practically see her zoning out halfway through our conversation. The third one made me tilt my head in disbelief—a heavy coat, in this heat? On a blazing sunny day? What was she hiding under there? I shake my head, exasperated. A long sigh slips from my lips, and I sink further into the couch, staring at the sun-drenched curtains. Why is this so hard? I just want someone competent. Someone who can help me manage this house without driving me insane. The sharp ring of the doorbell jolts me upright. I spring to my feet, brushing invisible creases from my dress. Fourth time’s the charm, right? I don’t
Damien Shaw "I don’t even know who to trust anymore." The words are frustrating as they leave my mouth. I press my hands flat against the edge of my desk, gripping it harder. Gerald stands across from me, his expression carefully neutral, but I can see the tension in his jaw. “Weaknesses in our security?” I continue. “And now we’re sure someone on the inside helped with the leak?”Gerald nods. “Yes. The evidence points to internal involvement. Possibly more than one person.” The idea sinks into my chest like a stone. More than one person. It’s almost unthinkable. My team, the people I’ve trusted, built this company with—could they really be working against me? My throat tightens at the thought. “We need a full background check on every employee,” I say. “No exceptions. I don’t care how long they’ve been with the company, whether they’re at the executive level or just interns. Go through them all.”Gerald hesitates, just for a second. “That’ll take time,” he says carefull
Imogene Scott My mind is spinning as I step out of Lila’s office. Divorce papers. My father’s name on them. Lila’s isn’t. A billion-dollar check. For her? My heels echo sharply against the marble floor as I walk. In the lobby, I see the receptionist who texted me earlier and make my way toward her. She looks around nervously, then waves me over to a quieter corner. “You’re Mr. Scott’s daughter, right?” her voice low.“Yes,” I say. “Why?”She glances over her shoulder, then leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “Your father was here the day before he was... you know. Killed. He and Lila had a huge fight in her office. I couldn’t hear what they were arguing about, but it was bad.”My stomach drops. “Do you remember anything else? Anything at all?” She shakes her head apologetically. “No, but... there’s something not right about her. She’s hiding something about this company. I’ve been here a long time, and I know when something’s off.”I blink, trying to process her word
Imogene Scott A week later… I sit in the stiff leather chair, my hands resting over my stomach. The waiting room is quiet and the door finally swings open. The doctor steps in, holding a folder. My breath hitches. This is routine, I remind myself. Routine. I’m here for my usual checkup. Alone this time. I had told Damien he didn’t have to accompany me since he’s been missing a lot work a lot lately because of me.“Mrs. Shaw,” The doctor says with a polite nod, gesturing for me to join him in his office. I follow, my heels clicking against the tile floor. His office smells faintly of antiseptic and lavender, maybe. I sit across from his desk, the folder now open in front of him. He doesn’t look alarmed, but there’s a wrinkle in his brow. “Imogene, I’m glad you came in today.” “Is everything alright?” He nods but steeples his fingers, leaning forward slightly. “The babies are fine, but your stress levels are higher than we’d like. It’s starting to show in your vitals
Imogene Scott The bedroom feels too big when Damien walks out. I sit up in bed, clutching the edge of the blanket. I let out a shaky breath, staring at the door he just closed. He’s going to ask me about therapy. I know he will. I don’t even know how to explain it. How do I tell him that sitting in that room felt like unpacking a suitcase only to realize you’ve brought nothing but broken things? That therapy didn’t feel like healing—it felt like dragging wounds out into the open and watching them bleed. I shake my head. I can’t stay in bed waiting for him to corner me. The quiet will drive me insane. I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My head spins as I stand, but I grip the bedpost and steady myself. I shuffle to the door, trailing my hand along the wall as I make my way downstairs. The faint hum of the stovetop reaches my ears, along with the rhythmic sound of Damien chopping something. I stop at the edge of the kitchen and watch him.
Damien Shaw “Please, keep the investigation discreet for now,” I say firmly, meeting Gerald’s gaze. My voice is steady, but my insides churn. Gerald nods and gathers his notes before leaving my office. The door clicks shut and I sink into my seat, pinching the bridge of my nose as my temples throb. Five meetings, all back-to-back in one morning. Each one is a battlefield of strategy, damage control, and trying to piece together what the hell is happening with this damn leak. My head feels like it’s about to split open, and the office suddenly seems unbearably warm. I loosen my tie and lean back, closing my eyes for a brief moment. I need just a second—one second to breathe— My phone vibrates against the desk, shattering the silence. I grab it immediately, hoping it’s Gerald with an update, but instead, I see Imogene’s name. It’s a text: Imogene: "I don’t think therapy is good for me."My stomach twists. Therapy. The session. What happened? My thumb hovers over her nam
“Yes,” I say with a little more heat on it than I would’ve liked. “Because he believed in me. He believed I could do it.”“Okay.”“He believed in me.”“I understand.”Beat.“Can you tell me what happened after you helped him save the company?” Annie pauses to find the right words. This one I don’t want to answer but I feel like if I wiggle around it Annie will just come right back for the jugular with her follow up. I tread with caution.“Well… he got married again.”“And you?”“Yes, what about me?”“Were you in touch with him?”“Well, he had his new life. We barely kept touch.”Annie holds another of her trademark unreadable stares at me. Even though I can’t gauge the specics, I can tell there’s a lot of speculation going on. I feel theneed to add more.“Plus, we started keeping in touch again recently.” I give a little nod to punctuate my statement. I’m hoping that moved the dialon Annie’s judgment, but after a few seconds I can tell it didn’t.Annie purses her lips. “Who reached
Imogene Scott I sit down in the tufted chair opposite Dr Annie Eddie and let out a sigh. This is my first therapy session with her and I’m a little nervous. I’m only here because of Damien. Because I want to be better for him, for Lily and the twins. I tell her a few things about my life I’m comfortable telling anyone and she tells me in order to get to what’s underneath those emotions, what’s driving it, we need to unpack my life in a more comprehensive way.“Okay…” I’m hesitant. What will this entail? I hate the uncertainty.“And please, address me as Annie.” I nod. “Sure.”“Now, I want to understand more about Little Imogene,” she says tenderly. “I understand your mother died of cancer when you were just ten.”Always with the childhood, these therapists. I’ve seen enough movies and TV shows to know that this is the classic therapeutic scapegoat. Some shit happenedin your childhood, it messed you up, that’s why you are the way you are.But not me. I didn’t have an alcoholic d
Damien Shaw The kitchen smells like butter and eggs as I stand by the stove, flipping the omelette in the pan. The sizzle fills the air, and I catch the faintest scent of parsley—Lily insists she hates green things, but I sneak them in for her anyway. I glance at the clock above the sink. It’s later than I thought. Imogene is still upstairs with the doctor. I hope that goes smoothly, but something tells me it won’t. “Mummy says eggs make you strong like Superman!” Lily’s voice cuts through my thoughts as she rushes into the kitchen.“Is it ready, Daddy?” she asks.She’s peering up at me with those wide, curious eyes that make me feel like I’m doing something right in this whole parenting thing. “Just in time,” I say.I slide the omelette onto a small plate, cut it into smaller pieces, then hand it to her. “Thank you!” she chirps before scampering into the living room. I follow her with my eyes as she climbs onto the couch, settling in with her plate. A faint movement ca