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
Signing the contract with Rex Patterson was supposed to be a way to get what I wanted—to survive. But as the ink dries on the page, I realize I’ve signed my soul away, and the consequences might be more than I can handle. I’m about to learn just how far Rex will go to make me his—again.*********I wake up in a bed that doesn’t feel like mine. The sheets are too soft, the scent of expensive perfume lingering in the air, and for a moment, I forget where I am. Then it all rushes back. The contract. The marriage. The deal with Rex Patterson.I sit up quickly, panic rising in my chest, only to be greeted by a sharp ache in my head. I must’ve slept through the night, but I have no idea how. Last night feels like a blur, a haze of emotions and decisions made in the heat of the moment. I signed the contract. I agreed to marry him.What the hell was I thinking?My eyes dart around the lavish bedroom. The walls are lined with dark wood, the furniture sleek and modern, a far cry from the small
A marriage of convenience may be the contract, but the attraction between us is anything but ordinary. The world sees what we want them to see, but beneath the surface, the tension is undeniable. Tonight, we’re a power couple on display. But can we keep the act up?*********I can feel eyes on us—on Rex, mostly. His presence is magnetic, and even I, his wife, can’t help but be swept into it.But despite all the attention, Rex stays focused on me, guiding me through the crowd with the same calm, composed confidence he’s always had.“We’ll be surrounded by people all night,” he murmurs as we make our way toward the drinks table. “Just keep smiling and nodding. We’re here for a reason.”I laugh softly, the sound light but genuine. “And what’s that reason again?”“To show everyone that we’re the perfect power couple,” he replies, the glint of humor in his eyes. “Nothing more, nothing less.”He’s always had a knack for easing the tension, making light of things when they’re getting too se
I can’t sleep.I roll over and glance at the empty space beside me. It’s been three days since I moved in with Rex. Three days since I signed the marriage contract, agreeing to become his wife in name only, yet so much more in every other way.I hate this. I hate that I’m here, that I let him talk me into this, that I still feel drawn to him. But more than that, I hate that I can’t seem to stop myself from wanting him.The door creaks open with a faint sound, and I freeze. There’s no mistaking who it is. Rex Patterson.He steps into the room without a word, his presence immediately filling the space, commanding it. He’s still in his suit, the crisp black fabric stretching over his broad shoulders, his jaw sharp with determination. But there’s something about the way he moves that makes me feel small, vulnerable, like I’m caught in the pull of his gravity.“I couldn’t sleep,” he says, his voice low, almost lazy. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”I sit up, pushing myself against the h
I look at Rex across the room, my heart a tangled mess of confusion, desire, and regret. I want to be angry with him, to tell him that I’ve been hurt, that I’ve been betrayed. But I can’t.Because the truth is, a part of me still wants him. Desperately.I swallow hard, trying to steady my breath, but my pulse betrays me. It quickens every time I feel his gaze on me.“Why do you look at me like that?” I finally ask, my voice shaky, though I try to sound composed.He raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “Like what, Vanya?”“You know exactly what I mean,” I snap, not giving him the satisfaction of knowing that my words are laced with more vulnerability than I intend. “You think you can just waltz back into my life after everything that’s happened and… what? Pick up where we left off?”His expression softens, but there’s something else in his eyes—something darker, more pained. “I don’t expect you to forget what happened, or to forgive me easily, but I won’t sit here
It’s the middle of the week when Rex decides, with that serious glint in his eyes, that we’re going to see his father.I don’t know what possessed him to suggest it. Maybe he thinks this will somehow fix things, or maybe he’s tired of hiding behind the walls of their house, but either way, my stomach twists at the thought. Rex Patterson, his father, and me? In the same space? It's a terrible mix, like fire and gasoline, waiting to explode.I grab my jacket and glance at Rex, his expression unreadable as usual. He’s already waiting by the door, his posture tense but controlled. “You okay?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—concern? Or is it just the usual pressure from dealing with his father?“Just don’t expect me to fit in,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. The thought of being in Victor Patterson’s presence again, of feeling that cold weight of judgment on me, sends shivers down my spine.Rex says nothing as he opens the door
REX'S POV The gun feels heavy in my hand, a cold extension of my anger. My heart pounds as I steady my breath, the weight of everything pressing on me. I raise the pistol, aim at the target a few feet ahead, and pull the trigger. The shot rings out, sharp and piercing, cutting through the silence around me. The bullet hits the edge of the bullseye. Close, but not perfect. Story of my life. I reset my stance, gripping the gun tighter. Each shot should calm me, but it doesn’t. I fire again, harder this time, and the bullet tears through the center of the target. Better. My jaw tightens as memories flood my mind, memories I wish I could bury alongside the countless targets I’ve destroyed in this very range. The investment deal is slipping through my fingers. If the investors choose the Shaw Dynasty, my company could take a hit so big it would take years to recover. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the clock is ticking. I adjust my stance, lift the gun again, and fire. This time
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
REX'S POV I leave the shooting range, the smell of gunpowder clinging faintly to my clothes. My fists are tight as I slide into the sleek leather seat of my jet-black Aston Martin. The engine growls to life, a satisfying hum under my control. As I drive through the busy streets of Manhattan, my thoughts race faster than the car. The investment deal, the weight of my father’s threats, Vanya’s unreadable expression when I handed her the contract—it all churns in my mind like a storm. When I pull up in front of Patterson Empire, the towering glass building reflects the sunlight like a diamond. It’s a bold statement of power and success. My legacy. The lobby is pristine, a vast expanse of marble floors and chandeliers. Employees in sharp suits buzz around, each step purposeful. “Good morning, Mr. Patterson,” a few of them greet as I walk through. Their eyes hold a mixture of respect and fear. I nod briefly, my mind already on the tasks ahead. I stop by the marketing team’s cluster.
REX'S POV The gun feels heavy in my hand, a cold extension of my anger. My heart pounds as I steady my breath, the weight of everything pressing on me. I raise the pistol, aim at the target a few feet ahead, and pull the trigger. The shot rings out, sharp and piercing, cutting through the silence around me. The bullet hits the edge of the bullseye. Close, but not perfect. Story of my life. I reset my stance, gripping the gun tighter. Each shot should calm me, but it doesn’t. I fire again, harder this time, and the bullet tears through the center of the target. Better. My jaw tightens as memories flood my mind, memories I wish I could bury alongside the countless targets I’ve destroyed in this very range. The investment deal is slipping through my fingers. If the investors choose the Shaw Dynasty, my company could take a hit so big it would take years to recover. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the clock is ticking. I adjust my stance, lift the gun again, and fire. This time