Imogene Scott "I’ll be right back," I say, handing Damien the remote and forcing a smile as I head to the door.Who could it be? I can’t think of anyone else besides Elinor so my brain immediately does the maths. I weigh my options—on a scale of 1-10, how violent would she react if she saw Damien here?—I conclude she’s going to lose it. But I can’t hide this from her forever either.I muster all the courage left in me and pull open the door. It’s really Elinor. Her face is unreadable, but something in her eyes makes my skin prickle with goosebumps."We need to talk, Imogene." she says, voice low as she steps through the threshold.I glance back at the living room, where Damien is now sitting with Lily on his lap, her small hands gripping his shirt. They’re both laughing at something on the TV screen.“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Elinor curse under her breath as she turns around, walking back into the quiet hallway.I immediately follow her and shut the door behind me. “
Imogene Scott"No," I say, shaking my head, taking a step back. "That’s... that’s impossible."But Elinor’s face is painted with raw emotion, and I know she’s telling the truth.“It happened a month ago. The night of Keith’s proposal,” she says, her voice breaking. “I was drunk. Damien was drunk. We didn’t mean for it to happen. It was just one night, Imogene, but now…” She gestures toward her stomach. "Now I’m pregnant with his child."The world seems to narrow, tunneling in on this moment, and I’m hit with a tidal wave of emotions. My throat is tight, and my mind can’t even begin to process what she’s saying.No, not this. Not again.I feel my voice crack as I speak. “Why... why didn’t you tell me?”“I wanted to,” she chokes out. “But I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to ruin things between us. You and Damien—there’s so much history. I didn’t want to be the reason—”“Reason for what?” I snap, stepping away from her completely now, rage bubbling up in my chest. “For breaking my hea
Imogene Scott Damien looks away for a second, and in that moment, I know. I already knew the second Elinor told me, but seeing him now, confirming it... it’s like the final nail in the coffin.“It was a mistake,” he says, his voice low. “It was one night. I was drunk—”“Oh, so that makes it better?” I snap. “You think being drunk excuses sleeping with my best friend?”“No, of course not!” he says quickly. “It doesn’t. I messed up, okay? It was the night of Keith’s proposal... I was angry, and I drank too much, and she was there—”I throw up my hands, cutting him off. “I don’t need to hear the details, Damien! I just—God, I can’t believe this.”“Imogene, please,” he steps closer again, his voice softening. “It didn’t mean anything. I was a wreck after you took Keith’s proposal. I thought I’d lost you—”“You did lose me!” I yell, tears now streaming down my face. “And now you’ve ruined any chance of getting me back!”“You don’t understand,” he says desperately. “Elinor... she might b
Damien Shaw"Do you ever for once stop to think that maybe you were such a horrible person in your last life that you’re being deprived of joy in this life?" Breonna’s voice echoes through the quiet of my room, cutting through the dull hum of my laptop screen as she steps into my room. I don’t look up. I’ve been staring at lines of code and business reports for hours, though nothing has really stuck in my head. Work has been the only thing keeping me from spiraling, but even that feels meaningless at this point.I hear her drop something on the dresser—the tray of food she’s been bringing me for days now. She’s always playing the caretaker, even when I don’t deserve it.“You’re not going to eat again, are you?” she sighs, coming closer.I lean back in my chair and finally look at her. Her face is soft but tired, and I know part of that exhaustion is because of me. She’s been staying in my house for the past five days to, quote-unquote, take care of me.“I’m not hungry,” I mumble.“Th
Imogene Scott I rise from my work table, stretching my aching back. My muscles are stiff, protesting every movement after being hunched over for hours—finishing the last touches on my digital mural. The Tech Con is in two days, and it's all I’ve been focusing on. It’s my only distraction from the heavy, suffocating weight pressing down on my chest.The apartment is a mess. Clothes are strewn across the floor, empty takeout containers are stacked on the coffee table, and unopened mail is scattered across the kitchen counter. I haven’t left the house in days, haven’t spoken to anyone, haven’t even checked my phone.All I’ve done is work on the mural and now it’s finally done. What other work do I have to focus on that can serve as a good distraction?Chores.I start picking up the trash, throwing away remnants of meals I barely remember eating. I try to focus on the small task in front of me, but my mind keeps drifting back to him. To Damien. Why can’t I stop thinking about hi
Imogene Scott I let Elinor stay with me for the next two days. We don’t say much to each even though we’re in the same house. She’s super quiet and all and it only intensifies my guilt.Tech Con is finally here and after much convincing, Elinor decides to go with me. She’s been going through so much, and I didn’t want her to feel abandoned. After everything that happened at the hospital, I figured the least I could do was show her that she’s still a part of my life, that I’m here for her.That morning, I finally call Breonna over to come babysit Lily since we’ll be gone all day.“Good morning, Imogene.” Breonna says as she walks into my apartment. “How have you been?”I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel after everything her brother did. But then again, Damien and Breonna aren’t related by blood. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t possess Damien’s shitty ass characteristics. “Never been better.” I reiterate.I run a few things by Breonna before Elinor and I start to leave. But Breonna s
Imogene ScottThe room seems to spin around me as her words sink in. Not a real abortion? No pregnancy to begin with. I lean against the door, my breath caught in my throat. I don’t know if I heard her right—no, I must’ve misheard. My mind races, trying to make sense of it. But the words keep echoing in my head.She lied. Elinor wasn’t pregnant . The hospital, the abortion, it was all a show.I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears as I push the door open. Elinor is sitting on the small sofa, her phone in hand, mid-sentence. She looks up and her face looks startled as I stand there, staring at her.“Elinor...” My voice is barely more than a whisper.Her face hardens when she realizes what I must once overheard. Before I can say another word, I storm across the room, my hand flying through the air faster than I can control it. The sound of the slap echoes through the small room, loud and sharp, as my palm lands on her cheek. “You played me!” I yell, trying to stop my voice from
Imogene ScottI’m not sure how long it’s been but it feels like forever. My bag isn’t here, it’s by the booth so I don’t access my phone. And this room has nothing that can help.Which is why I’ve resorted to slamming my fists against the door. My hands are sour now. It’s probably been hours. How could Elinor do this? How could she lock me in here, like some prisoner? My skin feels clammy, and a cold sweat runs down my back. I lean my forehead against the door, breathing in shallow gasps. Regrets starts to bubble up in me all over again. I can’t believe it.Elinor played me. She used me, lied to me, made me doubt everything. And I believed her over Damien. Tears sting my eyes, but I force them back. This is my fault. I let her words poison my thoughts, and now... now Damien is probably gone. I pace the small room, feeling my skin prickly with goosebumps. I betrayed Damien’s trust, didn’t I? I didn’t believe him when he was honest. The look in his eyes when I confronted him about
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