Imogene Scott “Hi.” I say casually, then turn back around. “I expected more than a ‘hi’.” I don’t respond because I don’t want to. I’m late for work and I don’t think I want to strike up a conversation with this man. Except he thinks this is a reunion and he continues to try to talk to me. “I tried to find you after our dance. But you just disappeared.” I throw him a quick glance, then glance at the elevator’s monitor. The elevator will get to the ground floor in a few seconds. If I can manage to play dumb all through, I might be able to escape this person who’s obviously trying to flirt with me. “I stay in the penthouse by the way.” he says again. I cock my head. Oh, shit. The penthouse is on the highest floor of the building and they say the building owner stays on that floor. Does he perhaps, own the building? I continue not to say a word even though I know this man standing next to me has the power to make me vacate my apartment. “You know, it’s really rude when someone
Imogene Scott My car pulls up in the parking lot. I rush across the lobby, my heart hammering in my chest. All I want to do is see Lily and Breonna isn’t answering her phone either. I can only think of the worst. What if she planned all this with Damien to kidnap Lily? Should I be calling the police? Ding! I arrive on the sixth floor and rush to my door, repeatedly pressing the door bell. After a few seconds which felt like eternity, the door opens and I waltz in. All is normal. Breonna seems a little rattled, Lily is asleep on the couch and I look like a mad woman searching for her lost daughter. My blood runs cold, I need to talk to Breonna. Without saying a word, I gently lift Lily off the couch, then go into my room and place her on the bed. The second I get back into the living room, I start questioning Breonna. “Is your name even Breonna? What more are you lying about?” I try to keep my voice low. She feigns innocence. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mrs Scott.” “I know
Damien Shaw My face pales for a moment. A restraining order against me? Is she listening to herself right now? I try my best not to explode: nothing good ever comes from being angry. “Imogene, you don’t have to do this. We can work this out. We can be a family—” “Just leave, please Damien.” Imogene says under her breath. I exchange a quick glance with Breonna. Imogene is clearly out of depth and now isn’t the right time to argue with her. It’s not going to look good for someone like me who’s trying to win her back. “Fine. I’ll leave.” I say and I turn towards the door. When I get to the threshold, I give her one last look before stepping out into the hallway. I can hear Breonna muttering an apology again as she follows me. “Well, that was a disaster.” Breonna says as we both step into the elevator. “I can’t believe we thought it was gonna work. Now, Imogene hates me even more.” I can’t help but think about how she could’ve figured this out. The only person that comes to mind i
Imogene Scott After Damien leaves, I drop a text for Emmett that I won’t be returning to the gallery for the rest of the day. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to get a new nanny for Lily on short notice. Getting someone like Breonna took me days. Shit! I didn’t know Damien could ever pull such a stunt on me. I hear the doorbell ring. I go and answer it and I can see from the door monitor screen that on one is there. Either way, I open the door and step out. The hallway is empty and there’s a basket of roses at my doorstep with a note in it. Curiosity overrides everything as I bend down to grab the note. It reads: I was wondering if you wanna grab dinner tomorrow night. From your admirer, Keith. His business card is also attached to it. I immediately shrug and drop the note back into the basket. Then I step back inside, leaving the basket of roses outside. I already know it’s the elevator guy, my landlord, which makes it even more weird. Who sends flowers to someone they barely know
Imogene Scott The following night is a Friday night and I’m in my room, getting dressed for something that’s more like a date. I haven’t gone on one since Damien and I got divorced so Elinor is seated at the edge of my bed, judging me with those penetrating eyes of hers. I’m meeting Keith Jordan tonight. More for Elinor’s sake than mine because she kept on insisting after she figured out who Keith is. I’m impressed, although I don’t intend to rely on any man to pay my bills. I had texted Keith earlier this evening and told him to wait in his car in the parking lot for me. I don’t want people from the building to see us together since that’s where the gossip starts. Most of all, this is just a one time thing. Either it goes well or not, I’ll tell Elinor it didn’t and he never wants to see me again and that chapter becomes officially closed. “So, how do I look?” I say, as I turn to face Elinor. I’m standing in front of a mirror in a sleeveless black corset mini dress that stop
Imogene Scott I take a long breath before I flick the lock on the door. Before I can step out, Damien steps in, causing me to stumble backwards. His eyes darken as he flicks the lock on the door. Next thing I know, his familiar clean, woody scent fills my senses. I stiffen, my eyes locking with Damien’s as he steps closer to me. His gaze is intense, jaw clenched. Every inch of him oozes intensity. “Did you come here with your landlord?” “How...never mind.” Of course he knows Keith is my landlord. He probably knows everything about Keith Jordan since Elinor told me KJ Tech and IMU are rival companies. “Whether I’m here with him or not is none of your business. We’re divorced. I can go on a date with whoever I want.” “So that’s what this is?” The tiniest flicker passes through his eyes. “A date?” “Yes.” A platonic one, and I don't intend to meet Keith again. But Damien doesn’t need to know that. I lift my chin, challenging him to step back. “He’s not your type.” “I’m trying ne
Imogene Scott I give Elinor a blow by blow of how the date went. And how I might’ve just gotten the greatest opportunity of my life. She’s happy for me and does a show of hands in an I-told-you-so way, just to let me know that I couldn’t have done it without her.The following day, I take Lily along with me to the gallery. I haven’t found a nanny for her yet and Elinor has to work. Keith sends a little contract for the art convention project and I have Emmett read through it and sign them. The rest of the day passes in a blur and I’m exhausted from juggling through looking after Lily and attending to clients. When I get home, I put Lily to sleep and take a long shower. Then go to bed without having dinner.I’m too tired to eat.Around 9pm, I get a text from Breonna. I frown as I bring the phone closer to my face for reading. [Breonna: Hi, Imogene. It’s me, Breonna. I’m so sorry about whatever you think happened. It’s on me. I really enjoyed the little time I spent with Lily and
Imogene ScottMy fists clenched beside me as I take a deep breath. I wait for the team members to exit the conference room and as soon as they’re all gone, I start talking.“Why the fuck did you not tell me Damien is involved in this project?” I say as evenly as I can, although my face is growing hot with anger. “Because I know you.” Keith replies, relaxing in his seat.His expression is neutral and it angers me more that I don't know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Or why he’s barely giving me a reaction. “You don’t know me, Keith.” I say under my breath. “Because we went on one fucking date doesn’t mean you know shit about me.”He sighs heavily as he rises to his feet. He takes a step closer to me and places a hand on my shoulder. I want to shake his hand off like it’s a snake, but I hold back. Who the fuck does he think he is to be making decisions on my behalf?“I’m so sorry. I just thought you would turn down the offer if you knew Damien was involved.”“Hell yes, I would.
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