Bernice Christian looked different from the version from that night, more...intimidating. With the black suit and dark gray shirt he's wearing today, he exudes an aura of taller, darker danger. But none of that matters. What's important is that what happened at the strip club last week should fade into the memories of everyone involved. Not become some kind of lurking threat. He glanced toward me. I immediately held my breath, and then he gave a faint smile. Not one of those polite, distant smiles. He acted as if we knew each other. Hell, no. He recognized me. And he acted like an asshole. What did he mean? Elina suddenly came up next to me, "Come with me." Her face was somber. And I quickly figured out why. Fed was pouring himself glass after glass of brandy. He looked like his self-esteem had been damaged by his father. "Son, your father wouldn't like you sitting at the dinner table drunk." Elina snatched the glass out of Fed's hand. Fed stood up unhappily, "He wo
Bernice I almost jumped. "You look scared of me," Christian Miller's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the lean strength of his forearms. His lips, so beautifully shaped, had curled into a smile that didn't reach his steel-gray eyes, which seemed to see right through me. "No," I'd replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my heart, "of course not. I'm just preoccupied with disposing of this... medical waste." His smile had widened, a cat to my mouse, as he'd closed the distance between us. "I'm quite certain the maid is more than capable of handling such tasks," he'd murmured, his breath warm against my cheek. A shiver of unease had run down my spine. I'd forced a laugh as I'd taken a step back, desperately trying to put some distance between us. "You're right. How could I have overlooked that? I should return to the dinner table." As I'd tried to get past him, Christian's hand had taken mine, his grip tight and unyielding. He'd pulled me toward him, our
Christian As I entered Aaron's study, the rich scent of leather and aged wood enveloped me, a familiar yet unsettling aroma that transported me back to countless childhood moments spent in this very room. Aaron sat behind his sprawling mahogany desk, his expression an inscrutable mask as he motioned for me to take a seat across from him. I settled into the plush leather chair, my posture straight and unyielding, a silent declaration of my resolve. The air between us crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken agendas and long-buried resentments hanging heavy in the space. "Christian, my son," Aaron began, his tone deliberate and measured, each word carefully chosen for maximum impact. "Your return as CEO of Miller Corporation is a momentous occasion. But to secure the company's future, I need you to liquidate all your assets and invest the proceeds into the business." I met his gaze head-on, my own eyes unwavering. "I agreed to lead the company, but I won't compromise my fi
Bernice Lying in bed, I pondered my plans. Becoming the Executive Assistant to the CEO of the Miller Organization meant that I would have direct access or involvement in the company's high-level decisions and sensitive information. However, Christian Miller is an enigmatic man; although he proposed a so-called "collaboration," I couldn't be sure how much authority he would grant me or if he truly trusted me. Not to mention I still had to deal with Fed, who was orchestrating everything behind the scenes. I jumped out of bed and turned on my computer. I typed Christian's name in the search bar. Not much information came up, showing that he was very protective of his personal information. However, I did get one lead; Christian Miller at an honorary lecture at Harvard Business School. I clicked on the link and couldn't help but laugh; the iconic Christian Miller. He was dressed in a gray-blue designer suit, a crisp white shirt-obviously both masterfully tailored-and more dazzling
Bernice I suppress the disgust in my heart, Melissa is a professional at slandering others. Thanks to her, I have seen it many times in my past life. I said coldly, "He's just a friend from my college days. Melissa grinned triumphantly, "Sister, my friends and I are here to celebrate my promotion. What about you? Don't you have to go back and make dinner?" The girls with her laughed mockingly after she spoke. I stood up, "The maid will take care of everything at home. Melissa, Eorna is by invitation only, I didn't know you were a member here." I saw a crack in Melissa's facade and I was sure she was taking advantage of the Fed's privileges. "What's the matter? Can't you answer your sister's question?" Cathy appeared from behind, "Melissa, you didn't accept an invitation from a married man, did you?" Melissa's face turned ugly, "Crazy bitch! Miller Corporation has officially hired me as Fed's new assistant. I don't need anyone's permission to be here." Cathy snorted and I he
Bernice As I stepped through the polished revolving doors of Miller Corporation, the clack of my heels echoed off the marble floors. The nerves were there, a silent hum under my calm exterior, but I felt ready. I studied Miller Corporation's public financial reports over the past few years. I also read the textbook on financial management again, picking up memories of those complex economic terms. I even read all the public business information I could find about Christian Miller. If the gossip is correct, our new CEO starts work at 7 a.m. every day. A workaholic to the core. The reception area was bustling. Miller Corporation appears to have no shortage of customers and investors. I was smoothing down the front of my suit when a familiar voice, dripping with condescension, cut through the noise. "Bernice? What a surprise! I didn't know they let housewives interview for positions here." I rolled my eyes and I turned. There she stood. Melissa. She'll never get tired of this ac
Bernice Christian stood there, an imposing figure that commanded the room. His height, the sharp cut of his suit that hugged his toned frame, and his piercing steel-gray eyes scanned every inch of the space with a calculated intensity. "I apologize for the interruption, but it seems necessary at this point." Christian's voice was deep and resonant, slicing through the tension like a hot knife. Rachel, visibly flustered, started to speak with a placating yet condescending tone. "Mr. Miller, our interview with this woman has been concluded. She has absolutely no qualifications to be your assistant. She is just a housewife with no real work experience!" She gestured dismissively in my direction. A heavy silence hung in the air as Christian didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on me for a lingering moment, a spark of something flickering in those molten depths, before he turned to address the other interviewers. "Susan, George, let's hear your thoughts. What's your take
Melissa I stormed into Rachel's office, slamming the door behind me with a resounding bang. "You better have a damn good explanation for this, Rachel," I seethed, my eyes narrowing into slits. Rachel looked up from her computer, her eyes wide with surprise. "Melissa? What's going on?" "Bernice," I spat, my voice dripping with venom. "I heard she passed the interview. How could you let this happen?" Rachel swallowed nervously, her gaze darting away from mine. "I tried to stop it, Mel. But it's out of my hands. The interviewers were impressed with her qualifications and experience." A harsh laugh escaped my lips. "Impressed? That useless trophy wife couldn't impress a goldfish." I leaned in closer, my eyes narrowing. "I thought I made myself clear, Rachel. I want her gone. Out of this company and out of my way." Rachel fidgeted in her seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Melissa, I understand, but it's not that simple. Fed... he recommended her for the position." My
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