So, I was wondering if y'all want me to dive a little into Breonna and Emmett's story. Or not?
Damien Shaw After my dinner with Imogene, the next few days have been a blur of work for her, and I’ve been trying my best to be patient. I know how important this project is for her, how much she’s poured into her gallery. But it’s hard, hard not to feel a little left behind. She’s barely been home, so Breonna has gone back to babysitting Lily again after school. Breonna and Lily mostly stays at my place because Imogene is never home on time. And anytime she is, she’s too exhausted to do much more than crash on the bed. It’s like I’m watching her slip further into this world of deadlines and meetings, while I stand on the sidelines, waiting for her to come back to me.I sit at the kitchen table, it’s almost 11pm. Lily is asleep upstairs in one of the rooms and Breonna is with her. Probably asleep too, I’m not sure. I glance at my phone, half-expecting a text from Imogene saying she’s running late again as usual. Nothing.I take a sip of my coffee—it's gone lukewarm by now—and ru
Imogene Scott If I knew this was going to be so much work, I would never had agreed to do the project with Keith. It’s exhausting and the only thing that’s keeping going is how much more successful my gallery is going to be of this project turns out to be a success.I’ve barely had time for Lily and Damien and I can’t even remember the last time I went back to my apartment. Lily’s staying at Damien and I mostly go back to his place after work. But I’m too tired to do anything else with him whenever we’re together.I basically just sleep like a log and get up too early the next day. I’m sooo drained and I think Keith can see it from the way he’s glaring at me right now. God, I feel like a puppet being held up by invisible strings.“I’m sorry, Imogene,” Keith says suddenly. “I didn’t know it’d be this intense. If I did, I wouldn’t have pulled you into this.”I glance up at him. “It’s fine, Keith. The end result is going to be worth it. I know it.”He doesn’t look convinced. Inst
Imogene ScottDamien's father.The words keep echoing in my mind, but don’t flake sense. I stare at the man sitting across from me. His hunched frame and the way his eyes dart around. His resemblance to Damien is undeniable. Though, there’s something in the shape of his face, the line of his jaw. But that still doesn’t make sense. Damien’s father? The father who abandoned him and his mother before he was even born? Damien never speaks about him. I’ve only heard parts of the story from Breonna and from Damien’s rare moments of openness. How his father was gone before he ever had a chance to meet him, leaving his mother to raise him alone. Damien despises the man. He doesn’t even say his name. And now, here he is. Sitting in front of me. Why did he come to me of all people?I swallow hard. “Why… why are you here? What do you want?”The man shifts in his seat. “I want to reconnect with my son.” His voice cracks, as if even saying those words costs him something.I give him a lo
Imogene Scott I drive home around 11pm and I’m barely able to keep my thoughts in one piece. I can’t stop thinking about Damien’s father. I already promised to talk to Damien on his behalf. But what I’m concerned about is how Damien would react. We’ve both been a little busy lately and I’ve had less time for him or myself. I’m not sure this is even the right time to bring up something like this.I pull up in Damien’s driveway and exhale sharply, steeling myself. I get out of my car and walk to the pouch. I press the doorbell, bracing myself for Damien to open the door.But it’s not Damien.Kia stands in the doorway, smiling brightly. My stomach tightens at the sight of her. What is she doing here?“Hey,” she greets me casually.“Hi,” I say. I step inside and my eyes immediately fall on the living room. A tent sits right in the middle of the space, with twinkling lights underneath it. Before I can even process what I’m seeing, Lily bursts out of the tent, running toward me
Damien ShawImogene forces a smile, and shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Really. Don’t worry about it.”I watch her closely. There’s something about the way she moves, how her fingers nervously brush her hair back as she picks up that journal. Keith gave it to her. I don’t like it. It’s not that I don’t trust her, but the idea of her being close enough to Keith to accept something like that is just ridiculous. Still, as I look at her now, I can’t ignore how worried and worn out she looks. She looks so exhausted and I hate it. I want to take that burden from her, but she keeps holding it all in.“Come here,” I say softly, stepping toward her.She hesitates for a second, but then I pull her into my arms. She feels so small against me. I stroke her hair, letting my fingers slide through the soft strands, then kiss the top of her head.“I’m always here whenever you want to talk,” I whisper.“I’m fine,” “You work so hard, Imogene,” I say, pulling back slightly to look at her. “You know
Imogene Scott My day starts a little stellar the following day and by afternoon, I’m already grabbing coffe. Probably because I didn’t sleep well enough because of the sleepover, now I have to rely on caffeine to stay awake during the day. I walk to the cafe across the gallery and grab a cup of coffe, then jot down the time I bought the coffe and how many grams it weighs. I figured I should keep track of my caffeine intake and also put to good use, the journal Keith gave me. It’s a win win.After jotting down, I put the journal Uber my arm and grab my coffe. As I turn back towards the gallery, I hear the unmistakable sound of a car pulling up beside me. I glance over. It’s Allison. Great.Don’t get me wrong. She’s so lovable. And I have nothing against her except for the fact that the last time I saw her, she wasn’t exactly friendly. In fact, she asked me to stay away from Keith because she didn’t trust me. And now here she is, stepping out of her sleek black car, looking
Damien Shaw What the actual fuck? Now I’m starting to rethink if Imogene and Keith working together was ever a good idea in the first place. I mean, they were basically in each other’s arms a few seconds ago. I give Imogene a long look, she counters with a smile but I can see the nervousness behind it. “I’ll wait in the car.” I say and step out before she can say anything else. I storm out of the gallery, my jaw clenched so tight it hurts. I know it was just a hug, but something about it makes me lose my mind. Imogene and Keith, arms wrapped around each other, looking way too comfortable for my liking. I replay the scene over and over. Her smile. His hands on her back, and suddenly, I'm questioning everything. I yank the car door open and slide inside, slamming it shut behind me. My hands grip the steering wheel. I shouldn’t feel threatened by Keith. Imogene’s with me, we’re rebuilding... Before I can spiral too far, I hear the passenger door open. Imogene slips in, the so
Imogene Scott God, things might spiral out of control at this point. I basically ignored that text from Damien’s father yesterday and now, he came looking for me at my place. What the hell? What if Damien walked in on us? I can barely comprehend how he’s going to react. He hates his father more than anything and he cannot in heaven or hell, find out I’ve met him twice without his knowledge.This is really messed up. What’s more messed up is the fact that I agreed to meet him again. I was desperate and he wouldn’t leave. He’s a dying man and I have a conscience. He wants to make amends before he dies and I can’t ruin that for him. I just have to do the little I can to help while also trying not to get involved in their drama.That sounds almost impossible but I can work through it.I walk into my apartment and go straight to my room. I grab a few of mine and Lily’s thing and place them in a tote bag. But my mind is still somehow occupied by everything. What if Damien finds out? H
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