Imogene Scott
“I think Damien knows you’re back in town, but he doesn’t know about Lily yet.” Elinor’s voice from yesterday keeps echoing in my head and I’m unable to concentrate on the artwork my assistant, Emmett Brown is showing me. “Imogene?” Emmett calls again. “Should I put this George W. Bush terrier painting at the center of the room?” I cock my head. I sometimes wonder how Emmett knows so much about art when he only has a degree in art history—a made-up degree for rich people. “Sure. It’s the centerpiece.” I say and he gives me a long look before walking towards the white wall of the gallery. Emmett is good at his job even though he just started yesterday. He’s twenty five, but still, it’s like God ran out of decent personality, felt bad about it, and overcompensated by giving him a gorgeous face. He’s ridiculously good looking with broad shoulders and a body that puts any male model to shame. His smugness and lack of personality is a huge turn off, but I had to hire him because his talent is so undeniable. I sighed heavily as my eyes scans the gallery. It’s alive with people moving around with purpose. The chair and tables are being arranged out front since the event will be held outside. The final touches for tonight’s grand opening are still in progress too. I’m standing in the center of it all, but my mind is elsewhere. I’ve spent all night thinking about what Elinor said to me about Damien. Damien knows I’m in town but he doesn’t know about Lily yet. It’s only a matter of time before he finally does and what happens then? My heart squeezes at the thought. He still very much hates me, what if he tries to take Lily away from me? Maybe it’s not too late to give it all up and return to West Virginia? But why should I run? I’ve done nothing wrong, I’m not the one that put a knife to his back! That familiar feeling starts creeping up my spine again. The feeling of fear and heartbreak. I’ve left this all behind me. For my happiness, for Lily. I’m not going to let it back into my life. Ever. Damien is never going to find out about Lily. The ringtone of my phone snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly reach for it. The screen flashes with Elinor’s name, and I can’t help but fake a smile as I answer. “Elinor,” I say, holding the phone close to my ear. “Hey, Imogene. Just wanted to let you know that Lily is doing great. We’re having a lot of fun,” Elinor’s voice is warm, reassuring, and it eases some of the tension in my body. “Thank you, Elinor. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I reply, my eyes scanning the gallery, noting how everything seems to be falling into place. The only thing not in place, it seems, is me. “You really should take it easy. It’s your big night, after all. Are you okay?” “I’m fine, just… busy,” I admit, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand. I glance at the clock on the wall and realize I’ve been so caught up in the preparations that I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to wear tonight. “Well, make sure you enjoy yourself. You deserve it,” Elinor says before hanging up. As the call ends, a wave of panic washes over me. I haven’t even picked out a dress for tonight. I’ve been so engrossed in making sure everything is perfect for the gallery’s opening that I’ve completely neglected myself. “Emmett!” I call out and he soon appears at my side. I tell him about my dress situation but he tells me it’s already been delivered an hour ago and waiting for me to try on in the showroom. I furrow my eyebrows, I’m not sure I heard right because it doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t ordered any dresses for tonight, not yet. Unless, Elinor ordered the dress for me? Of course, Elinor would think of that. I immediately feel grateful to Elinor, for the fifth time today. I make my way towards the showroom, which is nestled further inside the gallery. As I enter the showroom, I spot the dress hanging on a mannequin in the corner of the room. It’s breathtaking—a floor-length gown of deep emerald green, with delicate embroidery that shimmers subtly under the light. The fabric looks rich, luxurious, and I can’t help but run my fingers over it. Elinor really has eyes for the good stuff. It's exactly what I would’ve chosen for myself. I quickly undress and slip into the gown, the smooth silk gliding effortlessly over my skin. It fits perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places. The color complements my dark hair and pale complexion. There’s a knock on the door, and a makeup artist steps in. She greets me with a smile and begins her work. When she’s finished, I open my eyes and take in the final result. The dress, the makeup, everything comes together beautifully. I feel like a different person, someone confident, someone ready to take on the world. But that lingering feeling of doubt remains and I can’t seem to shake it off. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, adjusting a stray hair, before stepping out of the room and back into the gallery. The space is bustling with activity now, more people have arrived, and the air is charged. The main event will be held outside, under the stars, but the inside of the gallery is already filling up with guests. This is really happening. My heart thumps in my chest with every step I take in my shiny diamond heels. “You’re an artist, and you’ve found a way to make a living from your art.” Mrs Steele, one of my major investors, says to me halfway through the event. We’re standing outside just by the tall opening cake. The night air is cool against my skin. I’ve spent half the night talking to my investors and smiling so hard that I feel my mouth will rip soon. My face turns pink as Mrs Steele continues to praise me. “That’s pretty enterprising. Most people quit before they ever get a chance to fail. You’re impressive.” I wave the compliment away. Slow music starts playing in the background, Mrs Steele moves away towards her husband. I step backward and watch them dominate the dance floor. My heart aches for them, but in a good way. How they’re in their late seventies and still married. Suddenly, I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder. A young man is standing right in front of me with his hands stretched out. I’ve never met him before but he’s incredibly gorgeous in a black suit and crisp white shirt. His hair is dark blonde and his fave is so carefully sculpted like God took an extra day creating him. He’s beaming with smiles too. Okay, where the hell did this god fall from? "Would you let me have this dance, Miss Scott?" he asks under his breath. Everyone is now staring at us and don’t want to let down so I agree. He leads me to the dance floor and the spotlight follows us. We dance to "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran. He tries to start a conversation but I pretend not to hear him over the music. All I grab is his name—Keith Jordan. Suddenly, it feels like everyone’s attention is drawn to someone walking in. They’re all looking in the same direction. Our dance comes to a halt and I take two steps back from Keith-Charming. And then, I see him. Damien. He’s walking towards me, commanding the attention of everyone. My heart stops, my breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, the world around me fades into the background. All I can see is him stopping in front of me. His eyes rakes over my figure, taking in the dress. A slow smile spreads across his face, and it’s the kind of smile that used to make my knees weak, that made me believe in every lie he ever told. “I knew the dress would look good on you,” he says, his voice low. I freeze, my heart is thumping and it’s only a matter of time before it jumps out of my chest. Damien bought the dress? I glance down at the gown, at the fabric that felt so perfect just moments ago, and suddenly, it feels like a trap. “How…?” I begin, my voice faltering, but he cuts me off, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “It wasn’t hard to figure out your taste. You always did have impeccable style,” he murmurs, and I can hear the amusement in his voice, the way he relishes in my discomfort. I want to say something, to tell him to leave, to demand answers, but the words stick in my throat, choking me. All I can do is stand there, frozen, as the memories come rushing back, the betrayal, the pain, the years I spent trying to rebuild myself after he tore me apart. And now, here he is, back in my life, back in my world, and all I can think is: Why now?Imogene Scott My breathing is labored. My feet hurt as I turn left, heading out of the front lawn into the streets. All eyes turn to me as I flee. One part of me tells me this isn’t real, that the person I just spoke to isn’t Damien Shaw. As I head into the dimly lit streets, I hear footsteps behind me.Tears start to flow freely as I turn my head. Damien is sprinting after me. My heart races faster, but this time it has nothing to do with exertion, and everything to do with that look of determination on Damien’s face. I continue to walk fast, but rapidly, Damien is gaining on me. I walk for a few more yards, then I realize it’s no use. I don’t know what I’m running from, I don’t know why I’m running. I skid to an halt, finally bringing myself to a complete stop.A moment later, I hear Damien’s hard breath hammering the cool air. I feel him move behind me. Slowly, I spin on my heel and face him. Both hands are in his hair, gripping the strands. His blue eyes are haunted, tort
Damien Shaw. “I fucking hate you and I never wanna see you again. Please Damien, for my sake, stay away from me. Go away and never come back.” I sprint through the darkness of the streets as Imogene’s words circles around and around my mind. I’ve always thought that being away from Imogene for three years was the greatest pain I would ever have to endure. It had changed me, fundamentally changed me. But this ... this... Falling forward, crippled by the pain in my stomach, I roar into the darkness of the empty park. Imogene’s face flashes into my mind’s eye. Her perfect damn face as she stepped into the evening tonight. Her smiling face as she danced with that man I so much despise, and that smile fading from her lips when her eyes found mine. I saw the devastation flash across her face, she hates me that much. I get into my car and drive to a local bar. I just need a drink—no, several drinks—to drown out the thoughts that are eating me alive from the inside out. I head ins
Imogene Scott The next few days are hectic. The gallery opening turned out to be a huge success even after the little ruckus my ex-husband caused. Now, I have to juggle working at the gallery and interviewing the ladies that applied for the role of Lily’s nanny. None of them seem to be trustworthy until I interviewed Breonna Jenkins and she really is a responsible young lady. She just graduated college—so she told me—and is taking a gap year to figure out what she wants. Elinor also likes her so I think it’s only natural that I also like her. Elinor is never wrong. She’s starting today to and as I prepare to leave for the gallery, I hear the door bell buzzing. Perfect timing. I glance at Lily for a second. She’s sitting in her high chair, her tiny hands clutching a spoon as she attempts to scoop up some oatmeal. Her little nose scrunches in concentration, and I can’t help but smile, even as the knot in my stomach tightens. I take a deep breath, smoothing down my skirt as I walk
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 sit in the salon, my heart pounding so hard that I can feel it in my throat. The hum of the overhead lights, the soft chatter of a few people here for their own quiet escapes, all of it feels distant, like I’m listening through water. Gracie tells me to take a deep breath, that I’m safe now. I try, but the breath gets caught somewhere in my chest. My hands are still shaking.I glance around at the worn leather chairs. It should feel comforting, but instead, it’s just another layer to the storm that’s brewing inside me. I try to focus on it, on how the warmth of the place is supposed to soothe me. It doesn't. Gracie’s voice brings me back. “Business is slow today,” she says with a smile that tries to hide the concern in her eyes. It doesn’t fool me. I can feel her watching me as I try to steady myself. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Thanks for letting me in. I didn’t know where else to go.”She nods. “I’ve seen it all over the news, Imogene.” she’s careful not to make it s
Imogene Scott The first thing I notice when I wake up is the empty space beside me. The sheets are still warm, carrying the faint scent of Damien’s cologne, but he’s already gone. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The morning light filters through the curtains. The scent of something cooking drifts through the air—eggs, maybe omelets. I push the duvet off and slide my feet into my flip-flops. As I walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs, the soft sounds of laughter and clinking utensils become clearer. In the kitchen, Damien is standing by the stove, a spatula in one hand and an apron lazily tied around his waist. Lily is perched on a high chair, her small hands clapping together as she cheers him on. “Good morning, Mummy!” she says excitedly when she sees me. A tired smile pulls at my lips as I walk over. “Good morning, baby. How are you feeling?” I gently brush a strand of hair out of her face, studying her carefully. “I feel better now!” she announces proudly, her
Imogene ScottIt’s midnight, and I still can’t sleep. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling because my mind refuses to quiet down. The room is dark except for the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the curtains. The house is silent. I curl my arms around my stomach, my fingers lightly tracing the curve of my belly. Two months. That’s all the time I have before the twins arrive, and yet I don’t feel ready. I barely feel capable of handling Lily some days. How am I supposed to take care of two more babies? I exhale slowly, willing the thoughts away, but they keep creeping back in. Damien was right about one thing—I’ve been forgetful lately. Not just little things like where I left my phone or if I locked the front door, but important things. I should have cleaned up the broken glass earlier. I should have been more careful. What if it had been worse? What if Lily had gotten seriously hurt because of me? My throat tightens. I know I should see a doctor, but the very
Damien ShawI let out a slow breath, my fingers pressing against my temples as I watch Imogene walk out of the room. The door doesn’t slam, but the sound of it clicking shut is just as final. My jaw tightens. Of course, she walked away. That’s what she does when she doesn’t want to hear something, shuts down, closes herself off. I loosen my tie, feeling the frustration settle in my chest. I hadn’t meant to start an argument. But how could she act like this wasn’t serious? It’s not just about her anymore. She’s been forgetting things more and more lately, and now Lily’s gotten hurt because of it. Just a small cut, sure. But what if it had been worse? What if she had stepped on something deeper, something that couldn’t be patched up with a bandage and a sticker? I exhale through my nose, rubbing a hand down my face. Fighting with Imogene never gets me anywhere. She’s stubborn. Too stubborn. But damn it, I don’t want to wake up one day and realize something terrible has happened be
Imogene Scott I carefully press the small, pastel-colored sticker onto the bandage covering Lily’s tiny foot. A smiling cartoon bear grins back at me, as if that alone can erase my guilt. I kiss her forehead, inhaling the soft, baby-powder scent of her hair. "I'm sorry, baby," I whisper, brushing a stray curl away from her face. Lily shifts on the couch, pulling the plush blanket over her lap. "It's not Mummy’s fault," she says in her small, serious voice. "Lily wasn’t careful." My heart clenches. Even at four, she’s trying to take the blame for something that’s entirely mine. I should’ve cleaned up the glass right away. I should’ve been more careful. I lift her tiny hand to my lips and kiss it. "Do you want me to get you anything?" Lily’s eyes brighten. "Chocolates!" I shake my head, smiling despite myself. "You know you can’t have sweets past seven, baby. It’s almost eight." "Please, Mummy?" She pouts, her big brown eyes glaring at me.I sigh. "Fine," I relent,
Imogene ScottI jolt awake, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. The room is dimly lit, the heavy curtains keeping most of the daylight out. My heart is racing, my body damp with sweat. I sit up slowly, pressing a hand to my chest. The dream is already slipping away, but I know what it was about. Georgia. It’s always Georgia. My dreams are always about her. Mostly about that night she died.I exhale shakily and push a damp strand of hair from my face. My nightgown clings to my back, sticky with sweat. The dream lingers, making my skin prickle with unease. Why won’t these nightmares stop?I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand, desperate for something to soothe my dry throat, but my hand meets empty space. I blink, frowning. It’s always there. I always leave it there. And then I remember—I moved the jug before my nap. But where? I try to picture it, but my mind feels sluggish, foggy. Did I put it in the kitchen? On the dr
Damien Shaw I’m at my desk, working through a contract revision when Kia steps into my office. I don’t look up immediately, still focused on the document in front of me. “Sir, someone’s here to see you,” she says. I finally glance up, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The first thought that comes to mind is the damn principal. I hope he hasn’t shown up here to grovel in person. I already made it clear—either they fix their behavior toward Lily, or I pull every last cent I’ve donated to that school. I don’t need another pointless apology. But when the door opens wider, it’s not the principal. It’s Sheila. I frown, leaning back in my chair as I take her in. She looks… fine. Not sick. But Imogene told me Sheila was unwell and wouldn’t be coming in for a few days. So what the hell is she doing here? “Sheila,” I say, watching her carefully. “Mr. Shaw.” She nods in greeting. “What are you doing here?” My tone is sharp.She offers a small smile, shifting on her feet. “I was
Imogene ScottI take my time getting Lily ready for school the next morning. With Sheila still sick and not coming in, the task is entirely mine, and I don’t mind. I cherish these moments—though today, my mind feels sluggish. I’m bothered by Georgia’s bracelet I found yesterday and the strange sense of forgetfulness creeping into my life lately. Lily sits on the edge of my bed, swinging her little legs back and forth as I button up her white blouse. She tilts her head back to look up at me.“Mommy, what’s wrong?” she asks. I pause for a second, startled. “Nothing, baby.” I smooth down her collar, making sure it sits perfectly. “I just want to remind you that if anything happens at school, if you feel sick or if someone makes you uncomfortable, you have to tell me, okay?” Lily nods, her curls bouncing with the movement. “Yes, Mommy.” “That’s my good girl.” I kiss the top of her head and take her small hand in mine, as I lead her out of the house. The drive to school is fi
Imogene Scott Lily giggles as she picks at the last piece of her banana pancake. Her tiny fingers are sticky with syrup. I watch her as I rest my head against the back of the chair. But my mind is somewhere else. The bracelet. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, staring up at the ceiling as if the answer is hidden somewhere in the cracks. Did I put it there? Had I forgotten? That’s the only logical explanation. Lately, I’ve been forgetful—missing appointments, losing track of time, misplacing things. Maybe this is just another slip, another thing lost in the chaos of my mind. But it doesn’t feel right. I inhale deeply, my fingers curling into my lap. I need to see it again. “Lily, baby, I’ll be right back,” I say, pushing my chair back. She nods, too focused on her food to question me. I walk upstairs slowly, each step. When I reach my bedroom, I hesitate for a moment before stepping inside. The room is dim. I make my way to the dresser. The drawer creaks