Imogene Scott I can’t believe I’m married. Married. Again. To Damien. The words don’t fit inside my mind. They slip and slide away, refusing to stick. I feel like I’m still dreaming, or maybe playing dress-up in a life that isn’t really mine. Damien’s hand in mine feels real, though. His fingers are warm as he leads me toward the hotel room. I’m still trying to make sense of what just happened—the vows, the kiss, the ring on my finger—but none of it feels real yet. None of it is registering:I don’t even notice we’ve stepped inside the room until Damien taps my shoulder. I blink, looking around. I have so many questions and I don’t know where to start."How long have you been in Hong Kong?" I finally ask. My voice is small."Two days," he says, his gaze never leaving mine.My heart squeezes painfully. Two days. He’s been here for two days. "Why didn’t you reach out?" I ask.He hesitates, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I wanted to be prepared before I did."Pr
Imogene Scott Next morning…I toss and turn, slipping in and out of sleep until my eyes blink open. My mind is a little hazy and I blink a few times. That’s when I see Damien, lying on his side, his head propped up on his hand, just watching me.I feel a smile pull at my lips as I meet his gaze. “How long have you been doing that?”“Good morning, beautiful.”A blush warms my cheeks. "Good morning."We sit up slowly and Damien stretches, before turning to me. “What do you say we grab a quick shower and head to the diner across the street for breakfast? Breonna and Lily are already there, probably having waffles and making a mess.”I stifle a yawn and nod. "Okay, but you go first."He leans over and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. Without another word, he heads to the bathroom, and I watch him disappear behind the door.I sink back into the bed, closing my eyes as a I feel my chest tighten. What if this doesn’t last? What if our second marriage becomes a sham too? I try to push i
Imogene Scott Breonna glances down, playing with the edge of her napkin. “I don’t know yet. They haven’t posted me to a specific location, but… I can only hope it’s close to home.”There’s a silence at the table, and I’m not sure if they can hear how fast my heart is beating. Or how sweaty my palms are. Breonna gives me a long, she can tell that I’m a little blow off. What I’m sure she can’t see, is how my mind is already conjuring images of how miserable it’d be without her.She’s everything, which is even an understatement. I’m not sure I’ll be able to cope with not having her around.Damien reaches across, giving Breonna’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, while I try to keep my own feelings in check. I'm happy for her, truly, but the thought of the possibility of her moving far away is harder to swallow than I anticipated. I smile, swallowing down the sadness.“Well, here’s hoping it’s close,” I manage, giving her a reassuring smile. Breonna beams back, and the rest of dinne
Imogene ScottI feel so stupid for asking that question. For asking Emmett if he was really in love with Breonna after they had both affirmed that their relationship was solely sexual.Maybe one part of me wanted it to be more. That way, Breonna wouldn’t have to move away if she gets posted far away for the job. She would stay for Emmett.But knowing the kind of person Breonna has always been, I don’t think she would tie herself down for any man even if she were in love with him.I sink deeper into my seat and sigh for the sixth or seventh time, I’m not sure. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get any job done today. My thoughts are too loud in my head. Maybe I can do something else with that time; like go to the doctor’s appointment Damien arranged.He wants to be sure our baby is healthy and I understand he wants what’s best for us. I grab my phone and draft a text. [Me: Let’s visit the doctor today?]I really need to get things off my chest. I close my eyes and count seconds as I wai
Imogene Scott My brain quits. It takes at least a second for me to speak. “Nine weeks? How did I not know?”“It happens to a lot of mothers, Imogene.” Dr Walsh reaffirms.I’d been under work stress, Damien stress, for weeks now that I hadn’t even noticed the changes in my own body.Dr Walsh’s face lights up as he turns the screen toward us. “Well, Imogene… looks like you’re having twins.”“Oh my God.” I cover my mouth with a shaking hand.I can’t process it. Twins? My heart skips. I glance up at Damien, and he’s staring at the screen with wide eyes. His hand is gripping mine even tighter now. His eyes falls on me and he leans down, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. “Twins,” he murmurs. “Two more kids.”The doctor clears his throat, smiling. “Would you like to hear their heartbeats?”I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yes! Yes, please.”A new sound fills the room, a steady, rhythmic thumping. My eyes well up, and I blink quickly. Those tiny heartbeats are… they’re real
Damien Shaw Two more kids. The words are still sinking in. I watch Imogene get off the examination bed. She meets my gaze, and I feel like I'm really seeing her again for the first time. I thank the doctor, then reach for Lily’s hand and guide both of them out of the hospital.As we drive home, I can’t help but keep glancing at her. She’s turned toward the window, and I steal every moment I can to study her profile. Her hand rests on her stomach now in a protective way, like she’s already taking care of our two babies.“Stop staring,” she says, glancing at me.I smile, shaking my head. “How can I? I feel like the luckiest person on earth right now.”“I can’t believe it either, Damien. Two more kids…” I reach over and take her hand, squeezing it. “You’re going to have to take extra care of yourself now, Imogene. No excuses. You’re listening to me on this.”She raises an eyebrow. “I’m not a child, Damien.”“Right now, you are. And we’re already taking care of everything with the
Imogene Scott I’m standing here realizing I can no longer avoid my greatest fear—Breonna leaving—because this time, she’s not just moving a few blocks away or traveling for a weekend; she’s actually going far away to New York City. My chest feels tight, like someone’s twisted a rope around my ribs and is pulling it, tighter and tighter with every passing second.“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Damien says, sensing the tension.He walks down the corridors and disappears into the bedroom, shutting the door loudly behind me. He’s probably trying to let us know he’s not eavesdropping and cannot hear us.“New York, huh?” I say slowly, glancing down at my palms. They’re clammy and shaky. I’m struggling to keep myself steady. But there’s this creeping unease crawling up my spine, the same feeling I had when I thought Damien was never coming back. It’s bad, this feeling, it feels like something is breaking, even though I can’t quite see what.“Yes. I also wasn’t expecting it,” Breonna says,
Imogene Scott Two weeks later…Damien’s voice is calm as he repeats himself. “You do know you don’t have to work, right?” I pretend not to hear him as I pull the zipper of my dress up, looking at my reflection in the bedroom mirror. I adjust the hem and smooth my hands down the fabric, avoiding his eyes. But I can feel his gaze burning into my back. He’s been like this for two weeks now.“Imogene,” he says again.I take a deep breath, letting my hands fall to my sides. Turning around, I meet his eyes. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed. I knew this would be hard, hell, it’s been hard for me, too. But Damien’s worry has only made it harder. The doctors told us to be extra careful with my health, with the babies’ health, and it’s rattled him in a way I’ve never seen before. He hasn’t even been to the office since we got back from Hong Kong. He’s been working remotely, controlling everything. But I can tell it’s eating at him. We can’t both sit around, holding our breaths and wa
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