I step into Damon’s house with the twins, the sound of their excited chatter filling the air as they clutch their new action figures. The living room is cozy, with soft beige walls and plush brown couches that have clearly survived many battles with sticky hands and juice spills. Toys lie scattered on the carpet like tiny landmines.The twins' babysitter, a young high schooler named Sandra, looks up from the couch where she’s scrolling on her phone. Her face brightens when she sees me. She’s slim with a bubbly smile and braces that sparkle when she speaks. Her curly hair is tied up in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a sunflower-printed dress that matches her sunny energy.“Hi, Ms. Vanya,” she greets, standing up quickly. “The boys have been great, as usual. No trouble at all.”I smile at her, pulling out some cash from my purse. “Thanks for looking after them, Sandra. I really appreciate it.”Her eyes widen slightly when I hand her the money. “Wow, this is more than usual. Thank you so
The cab hums softly as it glides through the evening streets, the city lights casting flickering patterns on the windows. My heart is full as I think about Christian and Tristan. Their goodbye is fresh in my mind, like a scene etched in gold.“Mummy, don’t go!” Christian had wailed, his tiny arms wrapped tightly around my waist. His little face pressed against me as if he could glue us together forever.Tristan had stood nearby, his big brown eyes solemn but understanding beyond his years. “It’s okay, Christian,” he’d said softly. “Mum has to go, but she’ll come back soon. She always does.”I had knelt down and pulled both of them into my arms. “You’re so brave, Tristan,” I had whispered, my voice cracking.He’d reached out with his small hand and wiped away the tear that escaped my eye. “Don’t cry, Mum. You're our superhero.”I smile at the memory, even as a lump forms in my throat. They are my world—my reason for breathing. I would do anything to keep them safe, even if that means k
I walk back to my room, my heels echoing softly against the marble floor. Victor's words replay in my mind, slicing through my thoughts with the precision of a blade: "Don’t think I’ve forgotten my promise from five years ago. I’m still capable of dealing with her."My chest tightens, but I force myself to breathe. I can't confront Rex now. Not when I don't fully understand what's at stake. Moreover, he won’t give me answers. He never does.The Patterson men have me in a chokehold. I'm starting to wonder if it's too late to escape.As I approach my room, a petite woman, probably in her fifties, comes into view. She’s walking toward me with a warm smile on her face, her hands folded neatly in front of her.“Hola, señora,” she says, her Spanish accent thick but sweet. “You don’t know me, sí?”I blink at her, confused. “Uh, no. I don’t. Who are you?”“My name is Rosa Hernández,” she replies, beaming. “Señor Patterson, he employ me yesterday. I am new cook—for you.” She tilts her head sli
Claire’s laughter rings out as she throws her arms around Rex. The crowd seems to pause, murmuring as they watch her press herself against him. I freeze, the sight sparking a bitter heat in my chest. Her dark hair gleams under the crystal chandelier, her slim frame almost melting into his.But Rex doesn’t linger in her embrace. He gently pulls her away, his hand sliding into mine. The warmth of his touch steadies me, but my heart still pounds.“This is my wife, Nora,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “I believe you’ve met her.”Claire’s sharp gaze flicks over to me, a smirk curling her lips. “Oh, yes. Your wife.” She scoffs, the condescension dripping from her voice like venom, then turns on her heel and walks off without another word.Rex exhales, his shoulders slightly tense. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, his tone softer now. He looks… embarrassed? Vulnerable? “Claire can be—”“It’s all right,” I interrupt, my voice light. I force a smile, but inside, I’m seething. “Let’s just h
My eyes are still glued to the phone in my hand as I scroll through the endless articles on my "whirlwind romance" with Rex Patterson. The images capture every fake smile, every accidental touch, and every heated gaze.A soft knock pulls me from the spiral of headlines and glossy pictures."Come in," I say, sitting up straighter on the bed, my phone still clutched in my hand.The door creaks open, and Rex steps inside. He looks hesitant, something I don’t see often. His usual confidence seems to falter, and for a moment, he looks… unsure."You’ve seen it," he says, nodding toward the phone in my hand. "Of course," I reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. "The journalists didn’t waste any time, did they? It’s barely been an hour since we left the lunch party.”Rex nods, chuckling dryly. "They live for moments like that.”“They never waste time, especially when it comes to anything remotely scandalous or dramatic,” he adds, stepping closer until he perches on the edge of my
“Vanya, the investors have filed a lawsuit against me.”Damon's words hit me like a brick wall, and for a moment, it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. I grip my phone tighter, my mind whirling as if it’s trying to outrun the suddenness of the news. My breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps. How can this be happening? How can I possibly ask Rex for the money now, when his ten-billion-dollar deal is still hanging in the balance?“Hello? Vanya, are you there?” Damon’s voice filters through the fog of my thoughts, his worry clear in the way he says my name again.“Yes,” I whisper finally, my voice barely audible. “I’m here. I just… It’s too sudden.”He sighs heavily, the sound filled with weariness. “Yeah, it is.”Even through the phone, I can picture him running his hand through his curly hair like he always does when he’s anxious. It’s such a vivid image that it almost makes me smile—almost.“When’s the deadline for a response?” I ask, forcing myself to focus.“I got th
The scent of vanilla candles filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the chocolate cake Vanya Moon had baked herself. The dining table in her small apartment was decorated with gold balloons and streamers. A carefully wrapped box sat in the center, containing the custom watch she’d spent months saving for. Tonight, she had everything planned. It wasn’t just Rex Patterson’s birthday—it was the night she was going to tell him their lives were about to change forever. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror one last time, smoothing down her navy-blue dress. A tiny flutter of nerves tickled her stomach, but she brushed it aside. Rex loved her. She was certain of it. Her phone buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. “Are you on your way?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement. There was a pause. “I’ll see you soon,” Rex said, his tone oddly curt. Before she could ask what was wrong, the line went dead. ********* THREE HOURS LATER The candles had burned halfway down, t
“You can’t be serious.” I blink, unsure if I heard him correctly.“I’m deadly serious.” Rex leans back again, folding his arms over his chest. “A marriage contract. Nothing personal. You’ll get what you need, and I’ll get what I want. It's a win-win”Five years. It’s been five long years since he walked away from me, from everything we stood for. Yet here I am, sitting across from Rex Patterson, the man who once owned my heart, and now owns half of my soul’s misery. My palms sweat, my heart races—this is the last place I ever wanted to be. I can’t believe I’m here. Yet, the thing about life is that it has a way of forcing you to face what you thought you’d escaped forever.“Vanya Moon.” His voice rumbles like thunder across the luxurious boardroom, and I fight the instinct to flinch. “This contract is the only way I can give you what you want. You give me what I want. I give you what you want. Quid pro quo.”I don’t respond, though every part of me wants to. Instead, I focus on the co
“Vanya, the investors have filed a lawsuit against me.”Damon's words hit me like a brick wall, and for a moment, it feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. I grip my phone tighter, my mind whirling as if it’s trying to outrun the suddenness of the news. My breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps. How can this be happening? How can I possibly ask Rex for the money now, when his ten-billion-dollar deal is still hanging in the balance?“Hello? Vanya, are you there?” Damon’s voice filters through the fog of my thoughts, his worry clear in the way he says my name again.“Yes,” I whisper finally, my voice barely audible. “I’m here. I just… It’s too sudden.”He sighs heavily, the sound filled with weariness. “Yeah, it is.”Even through the phone, I can picture him running his hand through his curly hair like he always does when he’s anxious. It’s such a vivid image that it almost makes me smile—almost.“When’s the deadline for a response?” I ask, forcing myself to focus.“I got th
My eyes are still glued to the phone in my hand as I scroll through the endless articles on my "whirlwind romance" with Rex Patterson. The images capture every fake smile, every accidental touch, and every heated gaze.A soft knock pulls me from the spiral of headlines and glossy pictures."Come in," I say, sitting up straighter on the bed, my phone still clutched in my hand.The door creaks open, and Rex steps inside. He looks hesitant, something I don’t see often. His usual confidence seems to falter, and for a moment, he looks… unsure."You’ve seen it," he says, nodding toward the phone in my hand. "Of course," I reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. "The journalists didn’t waste any time, did they? It’s barely been an hour since we left the lunch party.”Rex nods, chuckling dryly. "They live for moments like that.”“They never waste time, especially when it comes to anything remotely scandalous or dramatic,” he adds, stepping closer until he perches on the edge of my
Claire’s laughter rings out as she throws her arms around Rex. The crowd seems to pause, murmuring as they watch her press herself against him. I freeze, the sight sparking a bitter heat in my chest. Her dark hair gleams under the crystal chandelier, her slim frame almost melting into his.But Rex doesn’t linger in her embrace. He gently pulls her away, his hand sliding into mine. The warmth of his touch steadies me, but my heart still pounds.“This is my wife, Nora,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “I believe you’ve met her.”Claire’s sharp gaze flicks over to me, a smirk curling her lips. “Oh, yes. Your wife.” She scoffs, the condescension dripping from her voice like venom, then turns on her heel and walks off without another word.Rex exhales, his shoulders slightly tense. “I’m sorry about that,” he says, his tone softer now. He looks… embarrassed? Vulnerable? “Claire can be—”“It’s all right,” I interrupt, my voice light. I force a smile, but inside, I’m seething. “Let’s just h
I walk back to my room, my heels echoing softly against the marble floor. Victor's words replay in my mind, slicing through my thoughts with the precision of a blade: "Don’t think I’ve forgotten my promise from five years ago. I’m still capable of dealing with her."My chest tightens, but I force myself to breathe. I can't confront Rex now. Not when I don't fully understand what's at stake. Moreover, he won’t give me answers. He never does.The Patterson men have me in a chokehold. I'm starting to wonder if it's too late to escape.As I approach my room, a petite woman, probably in her fifties, comes into view. She’s walking toward me with a warm smile on her face, her hands folded neatly in front of her.“Hola, señora,” she says, her Spanish accent thick but sweet. “You don’t know me, sí?”I blink at her, confused. “Uh, no. I don’t. Who are you?”“My name is Rosa Hernández,” she replies, beaming. “Señor Patterson, he employ me yesterday. I am new cook—for you.” She tilts her head sli
The cab hums softly as it glides through the evening streets, the city lights casting flickering patterns on the windows. My heart is full as I think about Christian and Tristan. Their goodbye is fresh in my mind, like a scene etched in gold.“Mummy, don’t go!” Christian had wailed, his tiny arms wrapped tightly around my waist. His little face pressed against me as if he could glue us together forever.Tristan had stood nearby, his big brown eyes solemn but understanding beyond his years. “It’s okay, Christian,” he’d said softly. “Mum has to go, but she’ll come back soon. She always does.”I had knelt down and pulled both of them into my arms. “You’re so brave, Tristan,” I had whispered, my voice cracking.He’d reached out with his small hand and wiped away the tear that escaped my eye. “Don’t cry, Mum. You're our superhero.”I smile at the memory, even as a lump forms in my throat. They are my world—my reason for breathing. I would do anything to keep them safe, even if that means k
I step into Damon’s house with the twins, the sound of their excited chatter filling the air as they clutch their new action figures. The living room is cozy, with soft beige walls and plush brown couches that have clearly survived many battles with sticky hands and juice spills. Toys lie scattered on the carpet like tiny landmines.The twins' babysitter, a young high schooler named Sandra, looks up from the couch where she’s scrolling on her phone. Her face brightens when she sees me. She’s slim with a bubbly smile and braces that sparkle when she speaks. Her curly hair is tied up in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a sunflower-printed dress that matches her sunny energy.“Hi, Ms. Vanya,” she greets, standing up quickly. “The boys have been great, as usual. No trouble at all.”I smile at her, pulling out some cash from my purse. “Thanks for looking after them, Sandra. I really appreciate it.”Her eyes widen slightly when I hand her the money. “Wow, this is more than usual. Thank you so
The sound of a car engine starting drifts into my room, pulling me from sleep. I sit up, rubbing my eyes. A glance at the clock tells me it’s not even seven. I shuffle to the window, pulling the curtain aside just in time to see Rex’s car disappear down the driveway.He left without saying a word.I shouldn’t care, but irritation flares in my chest. After last night’s drama, I expected at least an apology. Claire’s smug voice still echoes in my mind, her words cutting deeper than I’d like to admit."A contract marriage? Really, Rex? You don’t need this... farce when we could have the real thing."I shake my head, banishing the memory. Claire doesn’t get to ruin another moment of my life.“No,” I mutter, my voice firm. “Not today.”Determined, I start my morning routine. After making my bed and tidying up the room, I sit at my desk and open my journal."Note to self: Don’t let petty people steal your peace. Breathe, smile, and focus on what matters."I underline the words twice, close
I stand rooted in the middle of the living room, Claire’s words echoing in my ears. Rex’s fiancée.No. This has to be a joke.My arms cross over my chest as I narrow my eyes at the tall, perfectly styled woman in front of me. Just as I’m about to demand an explanation, I hear a deep, familiar voice behind me.“Who is this, Vanya?”I look towards the door, and there he is. Rex Patterson. His sharp suit hangs over his arm, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, the faint scent of his cologne drifting toward me. His brows are drawn together in confusion as his piercing gaze flicks between me and Claire.I didn’t hear his car drive in. I didn’t even hear the door open.Claire’s lips curve into a saccharine smile as she turns toward him. “Welcome, Rex.” Her voice is warm, sweet as honey, and it grates on my nerves.Rex’s eyes narrow. His voice is sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “What are you doing here, Claire?”The warmth in her smile falters, but only for a second. She rega
Weeks have passed since Victor Patterson’s icy words cut me down like shards of glass, but their echoes linger. Rex and I live in the same house, yet it feels like we’re oceans apart. The air between us is stiff with silence, and every greeting is half-hearted at best. I’ve mastered the art of sneaking around the house to keep from bumping into him.This morning, though, my plan fails.I shuffle into the kitchen in my oversized sweatshirt, bleary-eyed and craving caffeine. The coffee machine hums softly, filling the space with the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee. I pour myself a cup and lean against the counter, relishing the warmth of the mug against my palms.Then, the sound of footsteps catches my attention.I glance up and nearly drop the cup.He’s freshly showered, droplets of water glistening on his toned chest and well-defined, hard, sculpted abs. His wet hair clings to his forehead, and a single drop slides from his temple, tracing a maddening path down his neck, pas