BerniceI found myself face to face with a strange woman. She probably saw my confusion, immediately adding, "I'm Emma Anderson."In my previous life, I never met Emma. So in my mind, Fed's assistant Emma had always had a bombshell figure and a sharp mind. And she was always by Fed's side as he conducted his illegal business and indulged in his extramarital affairs. I had convinced myself that she was his willing accomplice, gleefully partaking in his misdeeds.But the woman before me now was a far cry from the Emma of my imagination. She was small and unassuming, her shoulders hunched as if trying to make herself invisible. Her face was obscured by large, black glasses, and she wore a faded grey jacket that had seen better days.Emma gave a faint smile, "Thanks, Mrs. Miller." Her voice was soft and timid, lacking any trace of the confidence and bravado I had expected.I quickly regained my composure, offering her a smile. "No worries at all. I'm Bernice, Bernice Miller. I heard your
BerniceAs I walked into the HR department during my lunch break, I spotted Emma sitting alone at her desk, nibbling on a simple egg sandwich. The sight gave me pause - as Fed's former assistant, surely she would have had a decent salary. Yet, her frugal meal and modest attire suggested a life of careful budgeting.Putting on my warmest smile, I approached her desk. "Emma, hi! How have you been? I hope I'm not interrupting your lunch."Emma's head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise before she quickly schooled her features into a polite expression. "Bernice, what a pleasant surprise! No, no, you're not interrupting at all. Please, have a seat." She gestured to the empty chair beside her desk, her movements a bit stiff and formal."I'm glad I caught you. I actually have a little something for you." I sat down and reached into my bag. I pulled out a carefully wrapped package of homemade cookies, tied with a delicate ribbon. "I heard you had a sweet tooth, so I thought I'd bring yo
BerniceAs I sat in the nondescript car beside Christian, my mind raced with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty. I couldn't believe I had agreed to his unconventional plan to investigate Emma, but the confident look in his eyes had been impossible to resist."So, why did you change the car, Christian?" I asked, eyeing the interior of the unfamiliar car. "I thought you preferred your sports car."He flashed me a mysterious smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You'll see soon enough, Bernice. Trust me, it's all part of the plan."Christian maneuvered the car into the open-air parking lot of Miller Corporation. As he put the car in park, I turned to him, my curiosity piqued."Alright, Christian, what's this all about?""See that white Ford ahead?" He said, pointing to a vehicle a few rows away. "That's Emma's car. I've learned that she's been leaving the company quickly every day after work, as if she has some urgent matter to attend to. We're going to closely monitor her movemen
BerniceI sat across from Emma in the quiet corner of the coffee shop in hospital, my heart aching as I listened to her story unfold.I never thought Emma and Penny had endured so much. Penny was mix born with two types of congenital disorders. She might die at any moment.Emma's hands trembled as she wrapped them around her steaming mug, her voice barely above a whisper. "Penny's entire life has been a battle," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "From the moment she was born, she's been fighting just to survive. The sterile environment, the const
BerniceThe soft glow of the computer screen illuminated my face as I clicked on the email from Emma. Several email attachments.My heart raced as the attachments loaded. Fed has done those things more effectively than I'd have thought possible.I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples as I tried to process what I was seeing. Fed's dirty little secrets, laid bare before me. Illegal investment projects, money laundering schemes, a tangled web of corruption that made my stomach turn.A dozen shell corporations Fed owns. Checking relevant items off the Excel spreadsheet, I found that Fed prepared much more than I thought. A sneer escaped my mind.Fed had decided from long ago that I wouldn't get a dime.I started typing a reply to Emma, my fingers flying across the keyboard. Emma has helped me a lot in these two weeks."Emma, I can't even begin to express how grateful I am for your trust and bravery. What you've done means a lot to me. I'll use this information to make sure Fed pays.
BerniceChristian was a total go-getter. He soon managed to get an invitation. But instead of using his own name, he posed as a wealthy French businessman named Gasly. I was to play the role of his wife, a prospect that sent a flutter of butterflies through my stomach.As we entered the gallery, Christian's demeanor shifted. He stood taller, his shoulders broad and his chin held high."Bonjour, Monsieur," he greeted the manager, his French accent flawless and his tone dripping with sophistication. "I am Gasly, and this," he said, turning to me with a look of adoration that made my heart skip a beat. He took my hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "is my beautiful wife, Madame Gasly. My wife and I have heard great things about your gallery, and we simply had to see it for ourselves."I couldn't help but blush as Christian referred to me as his wife, even though I knew it was all part of the act."Welcome, Monsieur and Madame Gasly," the manager said, her eyes sparkling with
BerniceShock coursed through my veins like a bolt of lightning. I knew that Christian's mother had passed away years ago, so the idea that her paintings were hanging in Fed's gallery seemed impossible. Questions raced through my mind, but before I could voice them, Christian turned to the manager, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity."Where did you get these paintings?" he demanded, his voice low and controlled, but I could hear the undercurrent of anger and pain beneath the surface.The manager, sensing the shift in Christian's demeanor, took a step back. "We acquired them through a private collector," she explained, her voice carefully measured. "But I'm afraid I don't have much information about the artist herself."I could see the gears turning in the manager's head as she sensed an opportunity. She moved closer, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "If you're truly interested in the works, I'm sure we could come to some sort of arrangement."For a moment, I feared
ChristianTen Years AgoThe day of my mother's funeral was a blur, a haze of grief and disbelief that settled over me like a suffocating fog. The sky was overcast. I stood by the gravesite, my eyes fixed on the polished mahogany casket that held my mother's lifeless body. The scent of freshly turned earth and the delicate aroma of the surrounding flower arrangements filled my nostrils, but I barely registered them.Beside me, my father, Aaron, stood with his arm wrapped around the waist of his new wife, Elina. The sight of them together, so soon after my mother's passing, made my stomach churn with disgust. Elina, with her perfectly coiffed hair and designer black dress, looked more like she was attending a social event than a funeral.I couldn't bring myself to look at them, to acknowledge their presence. The pain of my mother's death was still too raw, too fresh, and seeing my father move on so quickly with the woman he had been unfaithful with.As the casket was lowered to the grou
BerniceThe gentle sea breeze ruffled my hair as I stood on the balcony of our Hamptons beach house, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Ten years had passed since that first charity gala, a decade filled with more love, laughter, and fulfillment than I could have ever imagined."Penny for your thoughts?" Christian's voice came from behind me, as familiar and comforting as ever.I turned, smiling as he handed me a glass of wine. "Just reflecting. It's hard to believe it's been ten years."Christian nodded, leaning against the railing beside me. "Ten amazing years. And you know what? I have a feeling the best is still to come."As if on cue, the sound of children's laughter floated up from the beach below. I looked down to see Hope, now fourteen, chasing her younger siblings, seven-year-old Ethan and five-year-old Olivia, through the surf. Melissa and Alex's twins, eight-year-old Sophie and Lucas, were building an elaborate sandcastle nearby."Should we call them in for dinner?" I
BerniceThe grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel buzzed with excitement as New York's elite mingled, their designer gowns and tuxedos glittering under the chandeliers. I smoothed down the front of my own gown - a midnight blue creation that Cathy had insisted I wear - and scanned the room, making sure everything was in place for our charity gala."Relax, Bernie," Christian murmured in my ear, his hand warm on the small of my back. "Everything looks perfect."I turned to him, drinking in the sight of him in his tuxedo. Even after all these years, he still took my breath away. "I know, I know. I just want tonight to be perfect. We've worked so hard on this."Christian smiled, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. "It will be perfect. The Edward Hamilton Foundation's first major fundraiser - how could it be anything but?"I nodded, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. We had spent months planning this gala, bringing together all our friends and family to support the foundation's mission of
BerniceThe soft spring breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers through Central Park as I watched Melissa and Alex stroll hand in hand ahead of me. Christian walked beside me, pushing Hope's stroller as our daughter babbled happily, pointing at the colorful tulips lining the path."They look happy," I murmured to Christian, nodding towards Melissa and Alex.Christian smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "They do. It's nice to see Melissa like this, isn't it? So carefree and content."I nodded, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. After everything Melissa had been through, seeing her find happiness with Alex felt like a small miracle.As we approached the Bethesda Fountain, I noticed Alex becoming increasingly fidgety. He kept reaching into his pocket, his face a mix of nervousness and excitement. I nudged Christian, raising an eyebrow in silent question. He nodded, a knowing smile playing on his lips."You knew, didn't you?" I whispered accusingly.Christian shrugged,
BerniceThe shrill ring of my phone pierced through the peaceful silence of our bedroom at an ungodly hour. I fumbled for it, nearly knocking over the lamp in my sleep-addled state."Hello?" I mumbled, squinting at the too-bright screen."BERNICE!" Cathy's voice exploded through the speaker, causing me to jerk the phone away from my ear. "I need you! It's an emergency! "I sat up, instantly alert. "Cathy? What's wrong? Is Lily okay?""Lily? Oh, she's fine. Sleeping like an angel, the little traitor," Cathy huffed. "No, it's much worse. I'm filing for divorce!"I blinked, trying to process this information. "Divorce?! Cathy, what are you talking about?""I'm leaving Taylor!" she wailed dramatically. "I can't take it anymore, Bernie. He's driving me insane! Do you know what he did?""What did he do?" I asked cautiously, already suspecting this was going to be something ridiculous."He left his socks on the floor. AGAIN!" Cathy's voice rose to a pitch that I'm sure only dogs could hear.
BerniceThe familiar New York skyline greeted us as our car wound its way through the city streets. After the rugged beauty of Scotland, the urban landscape felt both jarring and comforting. Hope was fast asleep in her car seat, her new stuffed highland cow clutched tightly to her chest."Home sweet home," Christian murmured, his hand finding mine in the space between us.As we pulled up to our building, I saw the doorman, George, step forward to help with our luggage. His familiar face broke into a warm smile as he saw us."Welcome back, Mr. and Mrs. Miller," he said, opening the car door. "How was your trip?""Wonderful, George, thank you," Christian replied, carefully lifting the still-sleeping Hope from her car seat. "But it's good to be home."I followed them into the building, my mind already racing with all the things we needed to do. Unpack, sort through mail, check in with work... The list seemed endless.As we entered our apartment, the silence enveloped us. After the bustle
BerniceThe early morning sun streamed through the windows of our Paris apartment, casting a golden glow over the scattered suitcases and travel documents strewn across the bed. I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my blouse and taking a deep breath. Today was the day we'd been planning for weeks - our family trip to Scotland, to Christian's ancestral home."Mama! Mama!" Hope's excited voice preceded her as she toddled into the room, her little arms outstretched. I scooped her up, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek."Are you ready for our big adventure, sweetheart?" I asked, smoothing down her unruly curls.Hope nodded enthusiastically. "See sheep!" she declared, her face lighting up with joy.I laughed, remembering the picture books of Scotland we'd been reading to her. "That's right, we're going to see lots of sheep. And castles, and lochs, and maybe even a highland cow or two."Christian appeared in the doorway, looking handsome in a casual sweater and jeans. The pendant I'd
BerniceThe soft glow of my desk lamp cast shadows across the scattered sketches and gemstones before me. It was well past midnight, but sleep eluded me. I was searching for a way to help Christian through his mourning.I picked up a rough sapphire, turning it over in my palm. Its deep blue reminded me of Edward's eyes, always twinkling with mischief and kindness. An idea began to form in my mind, a way to capture a piece of Edward's spirit in something tangible that Christian could carry with him.With renewed energy, I began to sketch. The design took shape under my pencil - a simple yet elegant pendant. A teardrop-shaped sapphire, surrounded by a delicate filigree of white gold, designed to look like the intertwining branches of a family tree. At the base of the pendant, almost hidden within the metalwork, I planned to engrave Edward's initials and the coordinates of his favorite spot in Paris - a bench in the Jardin des Tuileries where he used to take Christian as a boy.As the fi
BerniceIt was a moment of pure magic, tinged with the bittersweet knowledge that it might be one of Edward's last.The night stretched on, marked by Edward's labored breathing and occasional coughs. His skin had taken on a grayish pallor, and his cheeks seemed more sunken than ever. Every so often, his eyes would flutter open, unfocused and glassy, before closing again.Dr. Fournier entered the room for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He checked Edward's vitals with practiced efficiency, his brow furrowing as he noted the dropping blood pressure and weakening pulse. "We've increased his morphine dosage," he murmured to Christian. "He shouldn't be in any pain now."Edward's fingers twitched sporadically against the bedsheet, and his breathing became more irregular - sometimes rapid and shallow, then pausing for long, terrifying moments before resuming. The oxygen mask fogged rhythmically with each exhale, a visual reminder of his continuing fight.As dawn approached, Edw
BerniceChristian rushed in, followed closely by Dr. Fournier. For the next few minutes, the room was a flurry of activity as the doctor checked Edward's vitals and responses.Slowly, miraculously, Edward's eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused at first, but then they found Christian's face."Chris... Christian," he rasped, his voice barely audible around the breathing tube.Christian's face broke into a smile, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I'm here, Grandfather. I'm right here."Dr. Fournier quickly removed the breathing tube, replacing it with an oxygen mask. "Mr. Hamilton," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Try not to speak too much. You've been through quite an ordeal."Edward nodded weakly, his eyes never leaving Christian's face. He lifted a shaky hand, which Christian immediately grasped."I'm sorry," Edward whispered. "I'm so sorry."Christian frowned, confused. "Sorry? Grandfather, you have nothing to be sorry for. You're going to be okay. You're going to get better