Her gaze meets mine, and the intensity in them makes my heart race. “I thought…” she says. “I thought we could just enjoy this. But you’re right. It is more.”“More?”“Yeah, more. But I’m scared.”“Scared of what?” I ask, brushing my thumb over her cheekbone. “Of feeling too much? Of getting hurt?” “Of it all. I’ve been through so much.”I nod, absorbing her words. I can see the pain lurking just beneath the surface, a shadow that threatens to swallow her whole if she lets it. “Julie, I get that. But you’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We can take it slow, figure it out together.”“You really mean that?”“Absolutely,” I promise, meaning every word. “But I need you to trust me.”Her breath hitches, and I can feel the weight of the moment hanging between us. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll try.”“Good.” I lean in, brushing my lips against her forehead. “That’s all I ask.”We settle into a comfortable silence. I feel her heartbeat steadying against my chest, and it c
The elevator doors open, and we step inside. I stand rigid, watching the numbers light up as we ascend. I can almost hear the ticking of my watch—the piece of art Julie got me. Each tick is a countdown to the inevitable clash that’s about to unfold. Maybe I’m thinking too much about it. But I know, deep down, that none of this will go down without a fight.Finally, the doors slide open, and there it is—Ryan’s lair, as sleek and manicured as the man himself. It’s filled with too much leather, too much crystal, too much everything. It’s so polished it looks like no one actually works here, like it’s a movie set for what the wealthy imagine an office should look like.Lucy opens the doors and gestures for me and Jerome to step inside. “Please, go right in. They’re expecting you.”I step forward, nodding a terse goodbye to her, but she doesn’t leave. She stands just outside, giving me one last smile before she lets the door close behind me.As Jerome and I step further into the room, I fe
Even before walking into the O’Briens company, I knew our contract termination process wouldn't be smooth sailing. I’d prepared every scenario in my head, ready with a reply. What I’d say when they tried to bully me into staying. What I’d say when they mention Julie’s name, because, of course, Julie must be mentioned. She’s in my house. All the changes she’s gone through these past few weeks have been since she met me. So I knew there’s no way Ryan would let me leave this meeting without making that fact known at least once: that I stole his wife and am now punishing him by pulling the plug on our partnership deal.What I didn’t expect, however, is Adeline politely asking me to stay.When you’re so far along in a battle, any glint of peace takes you by surprise.“I beg your pardon?” I say.Adeline clears her throat. “I tried my best to raise my son to be a good and productive member of society. But sometimes, children don’t always turn out how you want them to. They don’t listen. The
“Good. Because Adeline doesn’t want you to stay. She wants to control you, and this whole thing is her attempt to wrap you around her little finger. The ‘peace offering,’ the adjusted contract… She knows exactly how to make it look like she’s giving you power while keeping you under her thumb.”I look away. He’s right; Adeline’s deal is nothing more than a leash disguised as a lifeline.Jerome lets out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms. “Listen, if you’re serious about walking away from these people, then that’s exactly what you need to do. Don’t let them manipulate you into staying. They want you here for their gain, not yours.”I nod. “But who says we can't have both?”“What do you mean?” he says.Jerome's eyes are narrowed. He's studying my face like he’s searching for cracks. I know he doesn’t trust Adeline, and he’s right not to. But this is bigger than Adeline, bigger than this boardroom, bigger than this deal.“Let me ask you something,” I say, my voice low.“What?”“Have you eve
~~Julie~~I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. Every muscle aches, my body buzzing from a combination of Beth’s brutal workout and the frustration that I still can’t seem to keep up with her level of intensity. The woman practically thrives on torturing me, but today she left at least a few bones intact. Progress, right?Luke’s driveway stretches out before me, long and winding, lined with perfectly manicured hedges and sprawling oaks. I walk slowly, taking in the fading light that bathes everything in a warm, golden glow. Each step sends a little jolt of pain up my legs, but I manage. Finally, I reach the door, rolling my shoulders and wincing as I push it open.The smell hits me first—something warm, spicy, and unmistakably delicious, filling the entire house. I inhale, surprised. Since I’ve been here, Paula only comes in the morning. So whoever’s cooking is someone else.Then I hear the voices, familiar laughter echoing from the kitchen, and I freeze. I can pick out Luke’s
Before I even realize what I’m doing, my thumb presses End call.I stare at my phone screen, the name lingering there like a stain, and then I hit Do Not Disturb.I’m having one of the best evenings in a long time, and I’ll be damned if I let a spawn of the devil ruin it for me.I look at myself in the mirror, taking in my flushed cheeks, rosy lips, and visible cleavage. I can feel a ripple of adrenaline, a little spark of excitement. Luke’s waiting for me downstairs, and from the way he looked at me earlier, I can tell it’s going to be… memorable. With one last sweep of my hair, I smooth down my dress, letting it hug my curves just right, and head out the door.The scent of Luke’s cooking fills the hall as I make my way down the stairs, warm and savory. I catch a glimpse of him and Javier already waiting at the table, and the second our eyes meet, Luke’s entire face lights up. There’s something in his gaze, an intensity, like I’m the only person in the room. My breath catches for jus
I keep my eyes on Luke, forcing myself not to let the anger boil over too soon. I see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he shifts in his chair, trying to calculate just how much of this evening he can salvage. But I’m not giving him an inch.“What’s in the article?” I ask.Luke sighs, running a hand through his hair, but his eyes refuse to meet mine. He’s doing that thing—holding back, hesitating, as if he can cushion the blow.“Julie,” he begins, “I don’t think it’s necessary to ruin a good meal with some tabloid garbage.”“I want to know what they said. No games, Luke.”Javier clears his throat, and Luke gives him a quick glance. “Maybe we should at least enjoy the food first. Just… breathe a bit, you know?” Luke says.Javier leans back, folding his arms. “Lucas, just tell her. Or would you rather I do it?” His tone is matter-of-fact, tinged with something that almost sounds like sympathy.Luke’s jaw tightens, and finally, he gives in. “Fine. But remember, it’s a blog. It’s most
When they disappear down the hall, the echo of Javier’s laughter fades, leaving a silence that feels deeper, more profound. It’s as if all the energy he brought into the room has vanished, replaced by an air thick with everything left unsaid between Luke and me.Luke reaches across the table, his hand hovering just a second before it lands on mine. “Julie,” he says. “I just want you to be okay.”For a moment, I let his touch calm me, but the anger still simmers beneath my skin. I pull my hand away, looking him straight in the eyes.“If you really wanted me to be okay, you wouldn’t make decisions for me,” I say. “I don’t need protection, Luke. I need honesty. I need you on my side.”“I am on your side, Julie. More than you realize. And as much as you keep saying I made this decision for you, it doesn't make it the truth. I told Adeline to talk to you about it. And if you agree, then I’m in. That’s why I didn’t say anything before now. I wanted her to reach out first, see if she’s serio
~~Julie~~ The pain started several hours ago. At first, it was manageable—a dull ache radiating through my lower abdomen. It felt like my body was whispering its warnings. But now, hours later, it’s no whisper. It’s a full-blown scream. Sharp, relentless waves of pain grip me, tightening like a vice around my insides. I’ve been timing the contractions, because the last time this happened, Dr. Casey Patel had sent me home with enough instructions on how to detect real labor. If this isn’t labor, then God help me, because it feels like this baby is about to crawl up my spine and burst out of my chest. I clutch the bannister with one hand and my lower abdomen with the other, pausing halfway down the stairs to catch my breath. Every step feels like a test of endurance, like I’m descending a mountain instead of my own staircase. “Paula!” I shout, hoping the cook will come running. But it isn’t Paula who appears. Instead, Javier rolls into view at the bottom of the stairs, his expressio
~~Julie~~I have to say this: Luke’s family knows how to party. It’s like everyone’s high and energetic. Even the children aren’t left out. It’s one thing to practice a dance, and it’s another to actually use those moves. I’m stumbling, but I don’t care. Because I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I can’t keep track of the number of people I’ve danced with. I’ve lost Luke for the hundredth time tonight. The last time I saw him, he was being dragged into a conga line by his mother, who seemed to have the stamina of a teenager. Somewhere between the flashing lights and the sea of bodies spinning and stomping, he’d disappeared again.I stumble slightly in my heels, though at this point they feel more like medieval torture devices. My silver dress—once sleek and elegant—is now sticking to me like a second skin, the fabric damp with sweat from almost an hour of dancing. I brush confetti out of my hair. It’s everywhere—on my shoulders, even stuck to the perspiration on my arms.A
It’s our first dance as a couple, and Julie’s arms are draped around my neck, her warmth melting into mine as we sway to the soft rhythm of the music. Her dress catches the golden glow of the chandeliers, shimmering like something out of a dream. But it’s not the dress or the lights that have me mesmerized—it’s her.Her cheeks are flushed, a shade of pink that makes my heart stutter, and her eyes, those deep, captivating pools, glisten with unshed tears. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but all I can manage is, “You’re beautiful.”Julie’s blush deepens, and she looks away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “You’ve already said that. Twice.”“Because it’s true.”Around us, everyone is watching.Julie bites her lip, a nervous gesture that only makes her more endearing. “It’s strange, isn’t it? Feeling this… shy?”I chuckle. “Like teenagers on a first date.”“Exactly. The entire room is watching, and I don’t know where to look.”“You’re doing great so far,” I say. “Jus
~~Luke~~I don’t know if it’s appropriate for the groom to cry on his wedding day, but right now, it’s taking my entire self-control not to sob. My throat feels tight, my chest is heavy, and every muscle in my face is fighting. Screw it—who made that rule anyway?Julie is walking toward me. Julie. My Julie. And it feels like the first time all over again—the day I saw her sitting on that barstool, drowning her sorrows in a glass of whiskey. I hadn’t planned to approach her. I was headed toward the fire exit, escaping someone whose face I can’t remember now. But then I saw her, and something in me shifted.Now, here she is, making her way down the aisle, radiant in a dress that looks like it was sewn from clouds and moonlight. My breath catches in my throat, and I wonder if it’s possible to actually combust from sheer awe.Her maid of honor walks beside her, clutching her arm with a steadying hand, but Julie doesn’t need it. She’s poised, her eyes locked on mine.“You’re far gone, man,
~~Julie~~People say all brides are late to their weddings. It’s practically a tradition, isn’t it? But me? I was not going to be one of those brides. I had a plan. I gave myself a generous window—ten, maybe fifteen minutes tops—because, really, what could possibly make me late?The answer, apparently, is everything. Here I am, forty minutes behind schedule, crammed in the backseat of a car with Marissa, my maid of honor, wrestling with my veil like it’s some kind of unruly octopus.“Hold still,” Marissa says, her fingers tangled in the fabric. “You keep moving, and this thing’s going to look like a bird nested in your hair.”“I wouldn’t be moving if we weren’t speeding down the road like we’re in a car chase,” I shoot back, my head jerking as the driver swerves to avoid another car.The blame? It falls squarely on last night’s rehearsal dinner. It felt like the entire world showed up. Luke’s family alone must have taken up half the venue, and their energy? Boundless. How do they eve
~~Ryan O’Brien~~ It’s fifteen minutes before the pre-trial, and Ryan’s car pulls into the courthouse. As Justin, his chauffeur and bodyguard, cuts the ignition, Ryan stares through the tinted window at the swarm of reporters and onlookers gathered outside like vultures, cameras poised for the kill. He can practically hear the click of shutters, the incessant questions ready to pounce, though he hasn’t even stepped out yet. Adeline is beside him, looking as bored as ever. Adeline taps her manicured nails against the leather armrest. She looks as though she’d rather be anywhere else, though Ryan knows better. His mother thrives on drama, especially when she’s not the one under fire. “How long is this circus going to take?” she says. “You didn’t have to come.” Ryan loosens his tie, the knot around his neck nothing compared to the one in his chest. Adeline shrugs. “I had nothing better to do. Besides, someone has to ensure you don’t embarrass the family name more than you already hav
I and Marissa, the vice president of marketing, have formed a new habit of meeting for lunch. It started as casual, a convenience thing—we both needed a break from the relentless grind at Illusionaire. Now, it’s become a ritual. I’m still unsure if this qualifies as friendship, mainly because I don’t know what friendship actually looks like. But Marissa talks a lot, and I love to listen. Her stories have this wild, messy charm, like someone spilling glitter across a chaotic art project.We’re at a cozy little café a few blocks from work, the kind of place that tries too hard to be trendy with its mismatched furniture and aggressively minimalist menu. Marissa is mid-rant about her current boyfriend and her dog, gesturing with a fork that’s dangerously close to flinging her salad across the room.“I swear, Nathan only comes over to spend time with Chubbs.”I choke on my sip of iced tea. “Chubbs?”She nods. “My French bulldog. He’s—how do I put this—larger than life. And I mean larger. T
~~Julie~~We’re at a bridal boutique, and Carolina’s excitement could power a small city. Baby Valeria is strapped to her chest, a tiny, sleeping bundle of calm amidst the chaos her mother is stirring up. Carolina jumps from one gown to the next. Her enthusiasm is contagious, even though I’m already sweating from the sheer force of it.“Isn’t Valeria heavy?” I ask, watching as the baby shifts against her chest. “Are you sure you don’t need a break?”She waves me off. “No. You get used to it. It’s like she isn’t there.”“Oh.”Before I can say anything else, Carolina turns to me. She places a hand on my stomach.“You’re already showing!” she exclaims. “Know the sex yet?”I smile. “No, I was thinking we could work a surprise reveal into the wedding.”“Ohhhh!” she squeals. Her face lights up. “That’s magnificent. The family’s going to go ballistic.”“Careful so you don’t wake her,” I say, nodding toward Valeria, who stirs at the sound of her mother’s excitement.“Don’t worry. When she’s
~~Ryan O’Brien~~The cold splash of water shocks Ryan awake. His head is throbbing, each pulse like a mallet pounding against his skull. He groans, squinting against the morning light. Everywhere is bright. Too bright. It’s like a thousand needles piercing his eyes. His mouth feels dry and cottony. He tries to swallow, but his throat is parched. As he tries to sit up, the room spins. You’d think after two months, he’d get used to this feeling. But it hurts every single time."Aww," he says, clutching his head. "What the hell—""Don’t get up too fast."The voice is sharp, familiar, and unapologetic. He blinks away the fog until his mother’s silhouette sharpens before him. She’s standing tall and imposing, dressed in a cream suit that somehow looks both effortless and intimidating. In one hand, she holds a half-emptied glass of water, the one she’d poured on his face. In the other, two white pills."Don’t tell me you’ve finally decided to kill me," Ryan says."What?”"Poison me."She sn