Imogene’s pov I watch as Damien storms out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that rattles the walls. My hands tremble at my sides, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew he would be upset—I expected anger, frustration—but not this kind of fury. Not the kind that makes his voice shake with disappointment, that makes his eyes burn with something dangerously close to resentment.I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My mind races. How did he find out? Who told him? And why, after everything, does it still hurt that he’s so mad at me? He’s the only person left standing beside me in this storm, and now I feel like I’m losing him too.Subconsciously, I place my hands over my belly. The twins stir inside me, and I close my eyes. I’m due in two months. Two months until my life changes again. Two months until I’m holding them in my arms. But will I even be here for them? Or will I be behind bars, labeled “
Imogene Scott The morning air is crisp as I step out of the house, wrapping my coat a little tighter around myself. A light breeze brushes against my skin as I feel the chill settle in my lungs.I climb into my car, my hands gripping the cold steering wheel as I exhale. My mind is full of thoughts, but the one at the forefront is Damien. He didn’t come home last night. I’d stayed up, waiting, hoping the sound of his footsteps would echo through the hallway. But all I got was silence.When I finally called his office, an employee answered and confirmed what I’d already suspected. He had spent the night there, drowning himself in work just to avoid me. That’s how furious he was. My chest tightens as I pull out of the driveway, gripping the steering wheel a little harder.I plan on stopping by his office later, but first, my doctor’s appointment. Then Lily’s school.The hospital is a fifteen-minute drive, but it feels longer. My mind keeps circling back to Damien’s face last night,
Damien Shaw I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening around the pen in my hand as I stare at Imogene. The way she’s looking at me—hurt, disappointed—makes something sharp twist in my chest, but I refuse to let it show. I remind myself why I stayed at the office last night, why I drowned myself in work instead of coming home. Because she needs to understand. Because she’s reckless. Because she keeps putting herself in situations that put our family in danger, and she doesn’t seem to grasp that her actions have consequences.But then there’s the guilt too, gnawing at the back of my mind. I didn’t just stay here to punish her—I stayed because I didn’t trust myself not to say something I’d regret. And now, looking at her standing in front of me, holding that ultrasound picture, my resolve wavers.God, I want to take it from her. I want to reach for it, to see them, to feel something other than this exhaustion and frustration. But if I give in too quickly, she’ll think she can get
Imogene Scott I pull back from Damien’s embrace. He exhales heavily, brushing his fingers over my cheek before saying, "I need to get back to work. I’ll see you at home tonight."I frown. "You don’t think you should go home first? Shower, change?"He smirks, rubbing his jaw. "It’s already midday, I’ll do everything later tonight."I shake my head, wrapping my arms around him again despite the sweat and stress clinging to his skin. "I want to hug you all day even though you smell so bad.""No, I don’t," he scoffs, tightening his hold on me. "You’re just being mean."I smile against his chest, inhaling deeply before stepping back. "Where are you headed now?" he asks, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear."Lily’s school."His expression shifts. "Something wrong?"I open my mouth to say no—because I don’t want to worry him, because I know how he gets—but then I remember: no more secrets. That’s what we promised each other.I press my lips together and nod. "One of Lily’s clas
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
Imogene Scott I pull back from Damien’s embrace. He exhales heavily, brushing his fingers over my cheek before saying, "I need to get back to work. I’ll see you at home tonight."I frown. "You don’t think you should go home first? Shower, change?"He smirks, rubbing his jaw. "It’s already midday, I’ll do everything later tonight."I shake my head, wrapping my arms around him again despite the sweat and stress clinging to his skin. "I want to hug you all day even though you smell so bad.""No, I don’t," he scoffs, tightening his hold on me. "You’re just being mean."I smile against his chest, inhaling deeply before stepping back. "Where are you headed now?" he asks, brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear."Lily’s school."His expression shifts. "Something wrong?"I open my mouth to say no—because I don’t want to worry him, because I know how he gets—but then I remember: no more secrets. That’s what we promised each other.I press my lips together and nod. "One of Lily’s clas
Damien Shaw I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening around the pen in my hand as I stare at Imogene. The way she’s looking at me—hurt, disappointed—makes something sharp twist in my chest, but I refuse to let it show. I remind myself why I stayed at the office last night, why I drowned myself in work instead of coming home. Because she needs to understand. Because she’s reckless. Because she keeps putting herself in situations that put our family in danger, and she doesn’t seem to grasp that her actions have consequences.But then there’s the guilt too, gnawing at the back of my mind. I didn’t just stay here to punish her—I stayed because I didn’t trust myself not to say something I’d regret. And now, looking at her standing in front of me, holding that ultrasound picture, my resolve wavers.God, I want to take it from her. I want to reach for it, to see them, to feel something other than this exhaustion and frustration. But if I give in too quickly, she’ll think she can get
Imogene Scott The morning air is crisp as I step out of the house, wrapping my coat a little tighter around myself. A light breeze brushes against my skin as I feel the chill settle in my lungs.I climb into my car, my hands gripping the cold steering wheel as I exhale. My mind is full of thoughts, but the one at the forefront is Damien. He didn’t come home last night. I’d stayed up, waiting, hoping the sound of his footsteps would echo through the hallway. But all I got was silence.When I finally called his office, an employee answered and confirmed what I’d already suspected. He had spent the night there, drowning himself in work just to avoid me. That’s how furious he was. My chest tightens as I pull out of the driveway, gripping the steering wheel a little harder.I plan on stopping by his office later, but first, my doctor’s appointment. Then Lily’s school.The hospital is a fifteen-minute drive, but it feels longer. My mind keeps circling back to Damien’s face last night,
Imogene’s pov I watch as Damien storms out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that rattles the walls. My hands tremble at my sides, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew he would be upset—I expected anger, frustration—but not this kind of fury. Not the kind that makes his voice shake with disappointment, that makes his eyes burn with something dangerously close to resentment.I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My mind races. How did he find out? Who told him? And why, after everything, does it still hurt that he’s so mad at me? He’s the only person left standing beside me in this storm, and now I feel like I’m losing him too.Subconsciously, I place my hands over my belly. The twins stir inside me, and I close my eyes. I’m due in two months. Two months until my life changes again. Two months until I’m holding them in my arms. But will I even be here for them? Or will I be behind bars, labeled “
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 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
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?”
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 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