Imogene ScottMy stomach twists. What is wrong with these people? I glance around, suddenly hyperaware of how absurd this entire situation has become. I came here to relax, to have time alone with Damien, not to be dragged into someone else's twisted marriage.I force a smile. “I don’t think that’s necessary,”Dahlia's grin only widens.“Come on, it's all in good fun. Jace and I have a special understanding.”Yeah, I bet you do. "Thanks, but I'm really not interested," I say more firmly this time. My skin still crawls from Jace's lingering touch, and I want nothing more than to put some space between us all.“Suit yourself.” Dahlia shrugs, clearly unfazed. "But if you change your mind, you know where to find us."I give a noncommittal nod and make a hasty exit. As I reach the villa, my phone buzzes in my bag. It’s a message from Damien:[Damien: Where are you? Miss you already.]I exhale, the tension easing slightly. Damien. He's the reason I’m here, not these bizarre distractions.
Imogene Scott Damien and I sound the rest of the day resting. We lounge on the couch, the soft hum of the evening wrapping around us. I take a sip of wine, the cool liquid slipping down my throat, and lean into Damien’s side. His arm drapes lazily over my shoulder, everything feels... easy. No stress, no drama—just us. It’s moments like these that make me want to forget everything else.“I could get used to this,” I murmur, swirling the wine in my glass, watching the deep red catch the light.“Mhm, same here. We should do this more often.”I nod, closing my eyes for a moment, savoring the peace. The faint sound of crashing waves fills the silence between us, and I can almost forget about the chaotic mess this trip has already been. Almost.That is, until the doorbell rings.I sit up a little too quickly, nearly spilling my wine. The soft chime echoes through the villa. My heart skips, my mind already jumping to the worst conclusions. Who the hell could that be?Damien groans beside
Imogene Scott I push back from the couch, taking a deep breath. The night is moving slowly and it’s been almost two hours. Dahlia is laughing at something Damien just said. In fact, she laughs at literally everything he says. I can’t shake the sense that something is off, from the way Jace also keeps glancing at me when he thinks I’m not looking. I need a break.“I’m going to grab more wine,” I announce, standing. I glance at the near-empty bottle on the table. “We’re running low.”“I’ll come with you,” Jace says, his voice too quick and eager.I hesitate, my hand frozen halfway toward the door. Why does he want to come with me? But I don’t know how to say no without it seeming weird, so I just nod. “Sure.”I lead the way, the sound of my footsteps echoing lightly against the marble floor as we make our way toward the wine cellar. The villa is large and the hallway feels quieter with each step we take. The laughter from the living room slowly fades behind us.When we reach the
Damien Shaw The door clicks shut, and the silence that fills the villa after Jace and Dahlia leave is almost a relief. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, running a hand through my hair. The tension in my shoulders doesn’t ease, though, and I glance over at Imogene. She’s already started gathering empty glasses and straightening the cushions on the couch.I move to help her, picking up plates and stacking them. The whole night… It was hard to enjoy anything when I could feel Jace’s eyes on her, the way he kept glancing at Imogene like he didn’t care I was sitting right there. Every time she spoke, he seemed to hang onto her every word, and it took everything in me not to just call him out on it.But I didn’t. I held back because I wasn’t sure. What are we? What do I even have the right to feel? We’re here, together, and it feels right—she feels right—but I don’t know if I can just claim her like that. Our relationship is still unlabeled.I place the plates on t
Imogene Scott Ding!Seriously? I sigh, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. The doorbell rings again, shattering the peaceful evening Damien and I were enjoying. We’ve been at the villa for four days, and it’s been quiet—just the way I like it. We’ve managed to avoid Dahlia and Jace ever since that uncomfortable dinner, and I’m counting down the days until we can go back to LA and see Lily. Three more days, and we’ll be home.I glance at Damien, who’s lounging beside me, his legs stretched out. He raises an eyebrow at the doorbell. “Expecting anyone?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a hint of irritation behind it.“No,” I mutter, standing up. Who could it be now?I head toward the door, the cool tiles beneath my feet sending a slight shiver up my legs. Opening the door, I’m greeted by a concierge, impeccably dressed in a suit, standing with a formal invitation in his hand. “Good evening, ma’am. I’m here to deliver this for you,” he says, handing me the envelope. “The
Imogene Scott I bite my lip and gaze into his eyes. “The party can wait, we have a few minutes.”Damien’s impossibly beautiful face breaks out into a heart stopping smile. God, he just looks so... joyful. He sits on tte edge of the bed and pulls me onto his lap and into his arms. I bury my face in his neck, wrap my arms around him and hold on, inhaling his sexy scent, planting soft kisses on his cheek.I lean back and take his face in my hands, gazing deeply into his eyes. “I love you.”He smiles again. “I love that you love me.”Suddenly he’s kissing me and we’re on the move. He stands with me in his arms then stands me gently at the side of his bed. He grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head.I’m left with nothing but my thong, so I start unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes watch mine intently and I pop the buttons, one by one. I push the shirt over his shoulders and he lets it fall to the floor. Next I push my finger between the elastic of his boxers and his skin. His
Imogene Scott The dress I picked for the masquerade is pink, with spaghetti straps and a skirt that stops at mid-thigh, showing off my legs. My wig is long, wavy and pink as well. I seriously adore how the colors go together for me.I’m pretty sure no one will be able to recognize me with the pearlescent white mask I’m wearing. It has tiny feathers and cubic zirconia around the edges. As I stand by the champagne tower—which is just a statue of a champagne cup with water overflowing out of it like a fountain, I take a quick picture of it. The lights on the sandy beach are dimmed for ambiance—or maybe they’re trying to conserve electricity. Who the hell knows?Scantily dressed women and men mill around like stoned zombies. Despite the scarcity of fabric on their bodies, their outfits likely cost some ovaries and left nuts. Everyone is wearing a mask of course. One must play to the stereotype. But that doesn’t stop them from taking selfies to record this nonsense on social media.
Imogene Scott My heart pounds as the light floods the room, and I see him—Jace. The smug look on his face makes my stomach turn. He’s sprawled on the floor, one hand gripping the edge of a table to steady himself, but he’s not apologizing. In fact, he looks like he’s enjoying this. “What the hell is wrong with you?” My voice trembles as I step toward him.Jace starts to push himself up, still wearing that sickening grin. “Oh, come on, Imogene. It’s just a bit of fun. You can’t pretend you didn’t like it.”The way he says it makes my skin crawl. What the hell? What he just tried to do to me was illegal. He’s a piece of shit. Without thinking, my hand flies through the air, connecting with his face in a sharp slap that echoes through the room. The force of it leaves a sting in my palm, but it’s nothing compared to the satisfaction I feel when I see his head snap to the side.Something wet is oozing from his mouth. I think he’s moaning a little, too, but it’s hard to tell because th
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