Damien ShawThe second Lily hops into the back seat, she’s already talking. “Are we going to see Mummy now?"I glance at her through the rearview mirror, one brow raised. Not even a hello? I grip the steering wheel, shifting the car into drive. Sheila is out running some chores so I have to be the one to pick up Lily. "You haven’t even said hello to Daddy yet," I point out. Lily huffs, as if greetings are a waste of time. "Sorry." I shake my head. "It’s fine, sweetie, but we’re not seeing Mummy for another two hours." Lily’s face scrunches up in disappointment. She slouches her shoulders dramatically then glances up at me again. "Why?" she finally asks. "Visiting hours." "What about Sheila?" she asks. "Busy. You’re stuck with Daddy for now." I say with a smirk.She slouches dramatically in her booster seat again. "Daddy is no fun." I scoff. "Hey, I can be fun too." She gives me a skeptical look. "Really?" "Really," I confirm. Lily thinks f
Imogene Scott The room is back to being quiet as I watch as Damien and Lily disappear through the door. Lily suddenly wants ice cream and Damien has no choice but to take her. God, I just need this moment alone. I turn to the nurse. “I’m sorry you had to lie.” She doesn’t look at me, just continues checking the IV line. “I didn’t do anything.” A sigh escapes my lips. I know she covered for me when Damien questioned my bruises. I had gotten them from running through the woods when I was trying to escape from the retreat a few hours ago. I’m lucky I made it back on time, if I didn’t, Damien would’ve suspected something. I know the nurse saw through my weak excuse. But she also knows better than to ask questions. As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I reach under the pillow and pull out the small USB drive and the stack of documents Mia shoved into my hands before I ran. I run my fingers over the cool metal, my pulse drumming in my ears. I feel unsafe with this in
Damien Shaw Since the ice cream truck across the hospital is closed, Lily and I decided to go for smoothies instead. Somewhere in the middle of the smoothie-maker blending the strawberry-banana smoothie, I rake it’s almost 8pm. “A little extra lemon juice, if you can,” Lily says standing on her toes so she can be able to see whatever the smoothie maker is doing. I can notice her eyeing the lemon in the smoothie-maker’s hand.“Eeeeeven more lemon,” Lily reiterates.After getting us smoothies, we return back to the hospital. Imogene is no where in sight but the nurse reassures me she probably went on a walk. “This is so good,” Lily says, taking a large spoonful of the smoothie into her mouth. We’re now sitted on a couch in Imogene’s hospital room. “Can you turn on the tv daddy?” Lily asks, pointing at the tv on the wall.I sigh, grabbing the remote and pressing the power button. The screen comes to life, and immediately, the headline slaps me across the face like a hammer. “TH
Imogene Scott5 days later… “Why were you in the parking lot with Miss Georgia Aiko?” The detective’s voice is sharp, slicing through the thick air of the interrogation room. I don’t respond right away. Not because I don’t want to—but because I’ve already answered this question a dozen times. “I told you,” I say. “I was there to meet someone.” His gaze is unreadable, his fingers tapping impatiently against the file in front of him. The walls are bare except for a clock ticking agonizingly slow. I feel like I’ve been in here for hours. “We checked,” the detective says, leaning forward. “There was no meeting scheduled with any reporter named Simon. We called the number you provided. No answer. So why don’t you start telling us the truth?” “I am telling you the truth,” I say, frustration bubbling under my skin. “Georgia and I were supposed to meet a reporter. He never showed up. Someone hit me on the head, and the next thing I knew, she was—” My voice catches. I take a de
Damien Shaw I curse under my breath for what feels like the hundredth time today, gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. My patience is running thin, and I swear I’m two seconds away from throwing my damn phone out the window. It had started early this morning—my private number, the one only family and close friends should have access to, had been blown up by reporters. I have no idea how they got it, but every few minutes, another call comes in, another message, another desperate attempt to dig their claws deeper into the mess surrounding Imogene. I lean back against the headrest and take a deep breath, but it does nothing to ease the tension sitting in my chest. Outside, the estate is quiet now, but hours ago, it had been a different story. Protesters had crowded outside the gates, chanting about justice for Georgia Aiko, waving their signs like they had already convicted Imogene in their heads. I had my men clear them out, but I know it’s not over
Imogene scott The next morning I wake up early to make breakfast for Damien as a thank you for the ice cream yesterday. It’s not like I was able to sleep anyway. I slip into my flip flops and walk out of the room. Damien is still sleeping because it’s still 6:30pm. The scent of scrambled eggs hits me the moment I step off the last stair. I pause. That’s strange. It’s Saturday. Sheila shouldn’t be here this early. I pull my robe tighter around my body, shivering even though the house is warm. I walk into the kitchen to see Sheila standing at the stove, humming softly as she stirs a pan of eggs. There’s already a plate of bacon resting on the counter, and the coffee machine is also gurgling.“Sheila?” I say.She looks over her shoulder, startled. “Oh! Morning, Imogene.” I frown. “What are you doing here so early?” Sheila blinks at me, then lets out a small chuckle like I just told a joke she doesn’t quite get. “You asked me to come early today.” My stomach dips. “I did?”
Imogene Scott I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles whitening as I pull into the parking lot of the police station. My heart is hammering against my ribcage, so loud it nearly drowns out the hum of the engine. A part of me screams to turn back, to go home, to pretend I never got that text. But another part—the logical, rational part—knows that avoiding this will only make me look guilty.I take a deep breath, steadying myself before stepping out of the car. I pull my coat tighter around my body, trying to suppress the shiver crawling up my spine. The station’s glass doors slide open, and I walk in, my heels clicking against the tiled floor. The fluorescent lights overhead are too bright, making my skin prickle.A female officer greets me. “Mrs. Shaw, this way.”My stomach clenches. My voice feels lodged in my throat as I follow her down the hall. She leads me into an interrogation room, and I hesitate before stepping inside. The walls are bare, painted a dull gray, and the sing
Damien Shaw I step into my office, and the shift in the atmosphere is immediate. The air feels charged, thick with something. Eyes flicker toward me, then dart away, as if my presence is suddenly a weight they can’t bear to acknowledge. It’s been like this for days—whispers in the corridors, hushed conversations that stop the moment I step too close.They see me as a man protecting a murderer.I clench my jaw, ignoring the way my employees’ gazes follow me as I make my way to my office. The door clicks shut behind me, and I exhale slowly, my fingers pressing against my temples. The scandal is bleeding into IMU, seeping into the cracks, poisoning the foundation I spent years building. It isn’t just the company’s reputation at stake—investors are losing faith, deals are slipping through the cracks.And worst of all, there’s no solid proof that Imogene is innocent.I sit down, leaning back in my chair, the leather creaking beneath my weight. I need a plan. Something to turn this arou
Imogene Scott The first thing I notice when I wake up is the empty space beside me. The sheets are still warm, carrying the faint scent of Damien’s cologne, but he’s already gone. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The morning light filters through the curtains. The scent of something cooking drifts through the air—eggs, maybe omelets. I push the duvet off and slide my feet into my flip-flops. As I walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs, the soft sounds of laughter and clinking utensils become clearer. In the kitchen, Damien is standing by the stove, a spatula in one hand and an apron lazily tied around his waist. Lily is perched on a high chair, her small hands clapping together as she cheers him on. “Good morning, Mummy!” she says excitedly when she sees me. A tired smile pulls at my lips as I walk over. “Good morning, baby. How are you feeling?” I gently brush a strand of hair out of her face, studying her carefully. “I feel better now!” she announces proudly, her
Imogene ScottIt’s midnight, and I still can’t sleep. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling because my mind refuses to quiet down. The room is dark except for the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains. The house is silent. I curl my arms around my stomach, my fingers lightly tracing the curve of my belly. Two months. That’s all the time I have before the twins arrive, and yet I don’t feel ready. I barely feel capable of handling Lily some days. How am I supposed to take care of two more babies? I exhale slowly, willing the thoughts away, but they keep creeping back in. Damien was right about one thing—I’ve been forgetful lately. Not just little things like where I left my phone or if I locked the front door, but important things. I should have cleaned up the broken glass earlier. I should have been more careful. What if it had been worse? What if Lily had gotten seriously hurt because of me? My throat tightens. I know I should see a doctor, but the very
Damien ShawI let out a slow breath, my fingers pressing against my temples as I watch Imogene walk out of the room. The door doesn’t slam, but the sound of it clicking shut is just as final. My jaw tightens. Of course, she walked away. That’s what she does when she doesn’t want to hear something, shuts down, closes herself off. I loosen my tie, feeling the frustration settle in my chest. I hadn’t meant to start an argument. But how could she act like this wasn’t serious? It’s not just about her anymore. She’s been forgetting things more and more lately, and now Lily’s gotten hurt because of it. Just a small cut, sure. But what if it had been worse? What if she had stepped on something deeper, something that couldn’t be patched up with a bandage and a sticker? I exhale through my nose, rubbing a hand down my face. Fighting with Imogene never gets me anywhere. She’s stubborn. Too stubborn. But damn it, I don’t want to wake up one day and realize something terrible has happened be
Imogene Scott I carefully press the small, pastel-colored sticker onto the bandage covering Lily’s tiny foot. A smiling cartoon bear grins back at me, as if that alone can erase my guilt. I kiss her forehead, inhaling the soft, baby-powder scent of her hair. "I'm sorry, baby," I whisper, brushing a stray curl away from her face. Lily shifts on the couch, pulling the plush blanket over her lap. "It's not Mummy’s fault," she says in her small, serious voice. "Lily wasn’t careful." My heart clenches. Even at four, she’s trying to take the blame for something that’s entirely mine. I should’ve cleaned up the glass right away. I should’ve been more careful. I lift her tiny hand to my lips and kiss it. "Do you want me to get you anything?" Lily’s eyes brighten. "Chocolates!" I shake my head, smiling despite myself. "You know you can’t have sweets past seven, baby. It’s almost eight." "Please, Mummy?" She pouts, her big brown eyes glaring at me.I sigh. "Fine," I relent,
Imogene ScottI jolt awake, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. The room is dimly lit, the heavy curtains keeping most of the daylight out. My heart is racing, my body damp with sweat. I sit up slowly, pressing a hand to my chest. The dream is already slipping away, but I know what it was about. Georgia. It’s always Georgia. My dreams are always about her. Mostly about that night she died.I exhale shakily and push a damp strand of hair from my face. My nightgown clings to my back, sticky with sweat. The dream lingers, making my skin prickle with unease. Why won’t these nightmares stop?I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, desperate for something to soothe my dry throat, but my hand meets empty space. I blink, frowning. It’s always there. I always leave it there. And then I remember—I moved the jug before my nap. But where? I try to picture it, but my mind feels sluggish, foggy. Did I put it in the kitchen? On the dr
Damien Shaw I’m at my desk, working through a contract revision when Kia steps into my office. I don’t look up immediately, still focused on the document in front of me. “Sir, someone’s here to see you,” she says. I finally glance up, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The first thought that comes to mind is the damn principal. I hope he hasn’t shown up here to grovel in person. I already made it clear—either they fix their behavior toward Lily, or I pull every last cent I’ve donated to that school. I don’t need another pointless apology. But when the door opens wider, it’s not the principal. It’s Sheila. I frown, leaning back in my chair as I take her in. She looks… fine. Not sick. But Imogene told me Sheila was unwell and wouldn’t be coming in for a few days. So what the hell is she doing here? “Sheila,” I say, watching her carefully. “Mr. Shaw.” She nods in greeting. “What are you doing here?” My tone is sharp.She offers a small smile, shifting on her feet. “I was
Imogene ScottI take my time getting Lily ready for school the next morning. With Sheila still sick and not coming in, the task is entirely mine, and I don’t mind. I cherish these moments—though today, my mind feels sluggish. I’m bothered by Georgia’s bracelet I found yesterday and the strange sense of forgetfulness creeping into my life lately. Lily sits on the edge of my bed, swinging her little legs back and forth as I button up her white blouse. She tilts her head back to look up at me.“Mommy, what’s wrong?” she asks. I pause for a second, startled. “Nothing, baby.” I smooth down her collar, making sure it sits perfectly. “I just want to remind you that if anything happens at school, if you feel sick or if someone makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me, okay?” Lily nods, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Yes, Mommy.” “That’s my good girl.” I kiss the top of her head and take her small hand in mine, as I lead her out of the house. The drive to school is fi
Imogene Scott Lily giggles as she picks at the last piece of her banana pancake. Her tiny fingers are sticky with syrup. I watch her as I rest my head against the back of the chair. But my mind is somewhere else. The bracelet. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the cracks. Did I put it there? Had I forgotten? That’s the only logical explanation. Lately, I’ve been forgetful—missing appointments, losing track of time, misplacing things. Maybe this is just another slip, another thing lost in the chaos of my mind. But it doesn’t feel right. I inhale deeply, my fingers curling into my lap. I need to see it again. “Lily, baby, I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing my chair back. She nods, too focused on her food to question me. I walk upstairs slowly, each step. When I reach my bedroom, I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. The room is dim. I make my way to the dresser. The drawer creaks
Imogene Scott Lily swings her legs under the table, her tiny feet barely brushing the ground as she happily digs into her mint chocolate ice cream. A small smear of green is at the corner of her mouth. She hums quietly as she eats, completely lost in her own little world. I should be able to enjoy this moment. Watching her be this happy should bring me peace, but it doesn’t. My stomach twists as I stare at her even though my own ice cream is melting in the cup. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let things get this far. I shouldn’t have let my past mistakes bleed into Lily’s life. She’s just a child, my child, and she deserves to grow up without the weight of my sins pressing down on her. She looks up suddenly, “Mommy, are you okay?” I force a smile, even though my face feels stiff. “Of course, baby.” Lily nods, satisfied with my answer, and goes back to her ice cream. “Very good, Mommy,” she says in her soft, sweet voice before taking another spoonful. I w