The room feels thick with heat and tension. Luke is lying beside me, his arm still draped across my waist, and I can feel his heart pounding against my shoulder. I almost hate how steady it is compared to the wild pace of my own.For a moment, he’s silent, and I feel the urge to fill that silence, to somehow make him understand why this separation is necessary.“I can’t keep staying here,” I say, staring up at the ceiling, willing myself to sound as composed as I can. “Pretending things are fine when they’re not.”His hand tightens around me. “No.”The word is small, quiet, but it hits me with a force that makes my chest ache. “Luke…” I sigh, shifting to look at him, trying to gather my words into something that will break through his stubbornness. “I know you mean well, but it’s time I take this seriously. Every day, it’s something else—a new scandal, a new rumor—and I can’t keep dragging you down with me.”He shakes his head. “Who says you can’t be serious about it from here?”“Be
I can’t explain how Luke’s words make me feel. The only thing I can do is laugh and say, “What are you going to drive, then?”He shrugs, coming closer. “Have you seen my driveway? I have a good number of options. I just prefer the Aston Martin because it’s small and fast.”“Thank you for trusting me with it. I’ll try not to wreck it.”“Please don’t,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. “And send your location as soon as you get wherever you decide to go.”As he leans down and kisses my forehead, a pang of sadness hits me, unexpected and sharp. He starts to walk away, but just before reaching the door, he pauses, turning back. He crosses the room in a couple of strides, capturing my face in his hands and kissing me hard.When he finally pulls back, his voice is rough. “That should keep me in your memory.”As he steps back, a smile plays at the corner of his mouth, but I see something deeper in his eyes—something raw and unguarded that
I’m at Ryan's gate. I lean on the horn, letting the sound echo off the high walls. A place that used to be home. Used to be familiar. Used to be… safe. And now? Just a twisted reminder of everything I’d rather forget. I’m still sitting there, waiting, when it hits me: the gate doesn’t automatically open. It’s the first time I’ve ever sat here without the smooth, silent glide of that gate making way for me, like it did every other time I’d pull up. Every time… before I left Ryan. Before I left all of this. Of course, the electric tag needed for the gate to open is glued to my Bentley, the one I left with Ryan on my way out of his life. And the gate’s sensor doesn’t recognize Luke’s car. I honk again. A crackle fills the silence, and a muffled voice cuts through. “Hello? Could you… um, could you pull down the window, ma’am? Look into the camera?” I tug the window down with a deliberate slowness, staring straight into the tiny, blinking camera above the intercom, daring it to den
I reach into the nightstand for the taser I’d brought up earlier. I click it on, letting the blue light crackle in my hand for a second before switching it off and holding it at my side. It’s not like I’ll need it—probably. But I love knowing I have it.As I descend the staircase, I hear their laughter, faint but grating, echoing through the front door. I take my time, each step deliberate, almost regal, like I’m finally walking into a role I was always meant to play. The queen of this godforsaken castle, here to set things straight.I swing open the door, and for a moment, there’s a stunned silence. Ryan and Emily are standing there, both frozen as they take me in. Ryan’s gaze travels slowly over me, lingering far too long, while Emily just gawks, blinking, her jaw slack.“Well, well,” Ryan says, recovering. “You’re back.”I smile, a slow, icy grin. “Of course, I’m back. Kindly take my presence in front of you as an eviction notice. The both of you are no longer allowed in this house
“You did what?” Luke’s voice is sharp, barely containing his surprise. I can almost picture his brows raised in that signature half-amused, half-incredulous look.I clear my throat, enjoying the moment far too much. “Moved back into my house, kicked Ryan and Emily out.”There’s a beat of silence, and then Luke laughs. The sound is deep and rich, echoing through the phone. “If anyone had asked me to guess what you were up to yesterday, that wouldn’t have made the top hundred. Details please. I’m curious how all this happened.” He sounds almost gleeful.“Where to begin?” I let out a long sigh. “Well, first, I was locked outside the gate. Because, you know, the gate’s sensor doesn't recognize your car.”“And?”“And then there was Grant—the gate security. He made me look into the camera and state my name like I was some kind of intruder.” I chuckle, remembering it. “But once he saw it was me, he looked like he’d just seen a ghost. Apologized a thousand times before he finally opened the g
I’m finding it difficult to process what Grant just said.I stare at him, unsure if I heard him right. “She… she took the hard drives?”He nods, scratching his chin. “Took them out, said she needed them for ‘safe-keeping,’ and then told me to shut off the cameras in the house whenever anyone’s at home. Until further notice, she said. So I did. You weren’t around. So I figured she was the lady of the house.”I scoff, more to myself than to Grant. “She thinks she’s queen of everything she lays eyes on, yes. But she’s not the lady of the house, Grant. Not anymore.” My mind races, the implications of this news unfolding.“Well,” Grant says, “either way, she took them. All the hard drives.”“Did she say where she was taking them?”“Nope.” I let out a humorless laugh, unable to believe her audacity. Of course she took them—she’s always a few steps ahead, making sure there’s no proof of whatever stunt she’s planning to pull next. That woman is like a specter, lurking, quietly positioning he
It takes me about five seconds to regain my senses, and another five to decide what to do next.One hand reaches for my phone, and I press the record button, feeling a strange calm settle over me. They’re so wrapped up in each other, so engrossed in their own world, they don’t even notice me. It’s almost laughable. For all her talk about image, appearances, about doing things “right,” here she is—splayed out on an office desk with someone who is very much not Ryan.I guess the man’s name is James because she cries out the name in a high, breathless gasp. “James! Oh, god. I’m cumming.”Her body begins to convulse. James growls and thrusts inside her one final time, pouring all his energy into the moment.They collapse together, spent and completely unaware. I stop recording, switch to voice memo, and slip the phone into my bag. I’ve got all the proof I need now.And then I clap. Slow and steady, announcing my presence.Emily’s head jerks up, and the color drains from her face as she sp
Her eyes narrow, and I can see her mind working, trying to calculate, to reason her way out. The thought almost amuses me. “You think I’m just going to hand you over some video or photo of me and Ryan? Just like that?”“Oh, I don’t think it. I know it. Unless, of course, you’re alright with the alternative. I could always release this little masterpiece to the press. ‘CEO’s Mistress Caught Red-Handed.’ Imagine the headlines.”Emily’s face twists with fury. “You’re insane.”“Maybe,” I say. “But I’m not the one who’s spent weeks playing house in the CEO’s bedroom. A married man’s bedroom.”She clenches her jaw, glancing sideways at James, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. His gaze shifts between us, and I don’t miss the flare of anger in his eyes. This wasn’t part of his plan either, clearly.Emily forces a smile, her eyes pleading as she speaks in a syrupy tone that would be convincing if I didn’t know her so well. “Julie, come on. This is all getting out of hand. Isn’t ther
~~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