Henrietta’s POV
*"I don't love you."*
Those four words shattered everything I thought I knew about love, about loyalty—about Jason.
I could still see it, the way his lips curled as he said it. The way he didn’t even look guilty as I stood there, frozen, watching him tangle himself around another woman like I never existed. My heart had pounded so hard that night I thought it would explode. But nothing hurt more than the way he dismissed me, like I was just another inconvenience in his life.
*"I don’t love you."*
Even now, standing behind the bar, pouring drinks for men who probably didn’t love the women waiting for them at home, those words clung to my skin like a bad omen.
I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be spending my nights in a dimly lit bar, serving overpriced liquor to men who looked at me like I was something to consume. I wasn’t supposed to be exhausted every night, smelling like whiskey and smoke, my feet aching from hours of standing.
But life didn’t care about what was supposed to be.
Liam needed surgery. That was the only thing that mattered.
I adjusted the loose sleeves of my worn-out uniform, feeling the fabric slide against my tired skin. The bar was packed tonight, as it always was. Laughter mixed with the low hum of music, the clinking of glasses echoing through the air. Some men leaned against the counter, flashing charming smiles, hoping to get something more than just a drink. Others sat in dark corners, drowning themselves in liquor, lost in their own regrets.
“Whiskey. Straight,” a deep voice said.
I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.
He was a regular. The type of man who never said much but tipped well. He always came in with his bodyguards, always ordered the same thing, and always left before the night got too wild.
But tonight was different.
Instead of waiting for his drink at the bar, one of his bodyguards stepped forward. “My boss would like his drink delivered to his room,” he said.
I hesitated.
I had never been inside the VIP rooms. They were off-limits to bartenders, and for good reason. Women went in and rarely came out looking the same. Some left giggling, fixing their skirts. Others left looking like they’d lost something they’d never get back.
“I—”
“He’s willing to tip extra,” the bodyguard added, cutting off whatever excuse I was about to make.
Tip.
That one word sealed my fate.
I needed the money. Liam’s surgery wasn’t going to pay for itself.
Swallowing hard, I grabbed a tray and poured the whiskey, my fingers gripping the glass tighter than necessary. My heart pounded as I stepped out from behind the counter and made my way toward the private suites. The farther I walked, the quieter it got. The music faded into a low hum, the voices turning into distant murmurs.
Each step felt heavier than the last. The corridor stretched endlessly before me, dimly lit by golden sconces casting eerie shadows on the walls. My throat tightened, a prickle of unease creeping up my spine.
I stopped in front of Room 306. My fingers curled into the tray as I stared at the number on the door.
Something about this felt wrong.
I swallowed hard, raising my fist to knock.
Before I could, the door creaked open slightly.
A shiver ran down my spine.
"Hello?" I called softly, peering into the darkness beyond.
Silence.
The air inside the room felt thick, suffocating. I couldn't see much past the doorway—only the faint outline of furniture in the dim lighting. My pulse hammered against my ribs as I shifted the tray to one hand and stepped forward.
That was when it happened.
A strong arm wrapped around my waist, yanking me backward.
A sharp gasp tore from my lips, but before I could scream, something was pressed against my face.
A cloth.
A sickly-sweet scent flooded my nose, thick and overpowering.
No. No. No.
I struggled, kicking wildly, my tray slipping from my grasp. It crashed to the ground, the sound of shattering glass splitting the silence like a gunshot. My nails dug into the arm holding me, but my strength was fading, my movements growing sluggish.
The hallway blurred, the walls stretching and shifting like a dream I couldn't escape. My head felt too heavy for my body, my limbs weak and unresponsive.
I fought to stay awake.
I fought to breathe.
The last thing I heard was my own heartbeat, pounding frantically against my ribs.
Then—nothing.
---
Pain.
It was the first thing I felt when I woke up. A dull, throbbing pain in my head, like someone had cracked it open and left it to bleed.
I groaned, my fingers digging into soft fabric. My body felt heavy, my thoughts sluggish. I tried to sit up, but the room spun, making my stomach churn.
Where am I?
The air smelled different—rich, expensive. Not like the bar, where the scent of alcohol and cigarettes clung to everything.
I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dim light filtering through thick curtains. The room was unfamiliar. Large. Luxurious. Satin sheets covered the bed I was lying on, and the air was thick with the scent of musk and something else—something I didn’t recognize.
Panic gripped my chest.
I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t in my apartment.
Memories flooded back in pieces—the bodyguard, the drink, the hallway, the arm around my waist.
I sucked in a shaky breath and turned my head. That was when I saw him.
A man.
Lying beside me.
Shirtless.
I froze, my pulse skyrocketing. His dark hair was messy from sleep, his breathing deep and steady. The sheets were tangled around his waist, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath.
Oh, God.
My fingers trembled as I pulled the sheets closer to me, my stomach twisting painfully. The soreness in my body, the strange heat lingering on my skin—it all pointed to the same horrifying truth.
I slept with him.
A stranger.
My breathing turned shallow, panic setting in like a wildfire spreading through my veins. I wanted to scream, to run, to erase whatever had happened between us. But my body refused to move.
What had I done?
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying that when I opened them, this would all be some twisted nightmare.
But when I opened them, nothi
ng had changed.
The weight of reality crashed down on me, suffocating and unrelenting.
*"Christ. I just slept with a stranger!"*
Raphael’s POVI woke up with a headache and an unfamiliar scent clinging to my sheets. Something was wrong. My body felt sluggish, my mind foggy from the alcohol I had drowned myself in last night. I groaned, running a hand over my face before turning toward the warmth beside me. The woman from last night. I had been impatient to see what I was paying for, but the moment I finally got a look at her face, my stomach twisted. This wasn’t her. My eyes snapped open fully as I sat up, my movements startling the woman awake. Her head jerked toward me, sleep still clouding her wide hazel eyes. “What the—?” she started, looking around in confusion. My jaw clenched. I scanned her features again. She looked exactly like the woman I had hired last night, but something was missing. My gaze dropped to her wrist. No tattoo. My blood ran cold. *"Who are you?"* Her breath hitched at my question, but then her expression twisted in anger. "Who am I? Who the hell are you?" I
"The operation needs to commence now." The doctor’s words echoed in my head like a relentless drum, pounding over and over again as I stepped out of his office. My body moved on autopilot, my hands clutching the strap of my worn-out bag as if it were the only thing anchoring me to reality. I walked through the hospital corridor, the scent of antiseptic burning my nose. Doctors and nurses passed me, their faces neutral, their steps quick and purposeful. No one spared me a glance. No one saw the storm raging inside me. But my world was falling apart. I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling. My brother had fallen again—another accident that proved how fragile his condition was. And now, the damage was worse. The doctors said he needed immediate surgery. But the cost… I had been saving for years, taking extra shifts at the bar, cutting back on everything I could. Yet, even after all the sacrifices, all the sleepless nights, it still wasn’t enough.
"If I had been told three months ago that I'd find myself falling for Raphael, I'd never believe it."Three months ago, I never would have imagined this. Back then, I had been desperate, willing to do anything to save my brother. And now, he was safe, studying in another city, walking on his own two feet again. That was all that mattered… or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. But the truth was, something else had changed—I had changed. I didn’t know when or how it had happened, but somewhere along the line, I had started falling for my husband. It was foolish, I knew that. This marriage wasn’t real. It was a business deal, a transaction that benefited us both. I had agreed to it knowing that Raphael Gold didn’t believe in love. That he was only doing this because of the ultimatum his father had given him. And yet, I had convinced myself that maybe—just maybe—things could be different. Raphael wasn’t a terrible husband, at least not in front of his father. He pl
“Why are you with my phone?”I didn’t know what irritated me more—the fact that Henrietta was holding my phone or the way she quickly tried to mask her guilt. My eyes narrowed as I stepped forward, crossing the space between us in long, measured strides. “Why are you with my phone?” My voice was sharp, leaving no room for excuses. Henrietta’s fingers twitched before she quickly placed the phone back on the nightstand. She turned to face me, her lips parting slightly before she spoke. “I was just… checking the time,” she said, a little too fast. “I needed to know how much time I had left to arrange your clothes and then rush down to serve your dinner.” I raised a brow, unconvinced. She avoided my eyes, instead reaching for one of the suits I had draped over the chair. “Next time, use the clock,” I said flatly, picking up my phone. My screen was still on, the notification banner glowing softly. My grip tightened the second I saw the sender’s name. Kristine. For a moment, I
Raphael's POV.“Well, are you going to speak or not?” Kristine's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat as a result of the news.“Kristine…I don't know…I understand your reason for coming back but I don't think you're welcome in my life at the moment.” The truth was bitter but I had to say it anyway.I couldn't give her the hope that there was still a space in my life for her after abandoning me for so long. But now..she wasn't the only one. We had a child together.Would it be fair that I let the child grow without a father?“Really? Yes, I left you but you're seriously not going to make a compromise? Not even for your child? I'm sorry but I won't leave until you take me back!” Kristine's sharp voice made my heart tremble.I clenched my fists but I soon released them as I stared at her, she stood rooted to the ground with firm arms that rounded her chest.Christ. What was this? How possible was it to manage two women in my life? What sort o
Raphael’s POVAs I walked back into the mansion, my eyes landed on a feminine figure standing in the center of the room with crossed arms.“Why are you standing there and looking at me like that?” I interrogated Henrietta as I approached her.“Who's she?” Henrietta replied back, ignoring my question.I fixed my hands into my pockets, “Why should I tell you that?”Henrietta breathed a laughter, one that came from the surprise of my words.“Oh you don't think I deserve to know? Why am I here acting like a fake wife if you already got someone else in your life?” Henrietta questioned, her hands gesturing towards the door.I shook my head from ear to ear, “There was someone else in my life but then, one day there wasn't anymore and that's why I got into a contract marriage with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to be up in my room.” Following this, I walked past her but Henrietta pulled me back with a force that I never knew could come from her arms.“What's wrong with you?” I questio
Raphael’s POVAs I walked back into the mansion, my eyes landed on a feminine figure standing in the center of the room with crossed arms.“Why are you standing there and looking at me like that?” I interrogated Henrietta as I approached her.“Who's she?” Henrietta replied back, ignoring my question.I fixed my hands into my pockets, “Why should I tell you that?”Henrietta breathed a laughter, one that came from the surprise of my words.“Oh you don't think I deserve to know? Why am I here acting like a fake wife if you already got someone else in your life?” Henrietta questioned, her hands gesturing towards the door.I shook my head from ear to ear, “There was someone else in my life but then, one day there wasn't anymore and that's why I got into a contract marriage with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to be up in my room.” Following this, I walked past her but Henrietta pulled me back with a force that I never knew could come from her arms.“What's wrong with you?” I questio
Raphael's POV.“Well, are you going to speak or not?” Kristine's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat as a result of the news.“Kristine…I don't know…I understand your reason for coming back but I don't think you're welcome in my life at the moment.” The truth was bitter but I had to say it anyway.I couldn't give her the hope that there was still a space in my life for her after abandoning me for so long. But now..she wasn't the only one. We had a child together.Would it be fair that I let the child grow without a father?“Really? Yes, I left you but you're seriously not going to make a compromise? Not even for your child? I'm sorry but I won't leave until you take me back!” Kristine's sharp voice made my heart tremble.I clenched my fists but I soon released them as I stared at her, she stood rooted to the ground with firm arms that rounded her chest.Christ. What was this? How possible was it to manage two women in my life? What sort o
“Why are you with my phone?”I didn’t know what irritated me more—the fact that Henrietta was holding my phone or the way she quickly tried to mask her guilt. My eyes narrowed as I stepped forward, crossing the space between us in long, measured strides. “Why are you with my phone?” My voice was sharp, leaving no room for excuses. Henrietta’s fingers twitched before she quickly placed the phone back on the nightstand. She turned to face me, her lips parting slightly before she spoke. “I was just… checking the time,” she said, a little too fast. “I needed to know how much time I had left to arrange your clothes and then rush down to serve your dinner.” I raised a brow, unconvinced. She avoided my eyes, instead reaching for one of the suits I had draped over the chair. “Next time, use the clock,” I said flatly, picking up my phone. My screen was still on, the notification banner glowing softly. My grip tightened the second I saw the sender’s name. Kristine. For a moment, I
"If I had been told three months ago that I'd find myself falling for Raphael, I'd never believe it."Three months ago, I never would have imagined this. Back then, I had been desperate, willing to do anything to save my brother. And now, he was safe, studying in another city, walking on his own two feet again. That was all that mattered… or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself. But the truth was, something else had changed—I had changed. I didn’t know when or how it had happened, but somewhere along the line, I had started falling for my husband. It was foolish, I knew that. This marriage wasn’t real. It was a business deal, a transaction that benefited us both. I had agreed to it knowing that Raphael Gold didn’t believe in love. That he was only doing this because of the ultimatum his father had given him. And yet, I had convinced myself that maybe—just maybe—things could be different. Raphael wasn’t a terrible husband, at least not in front of his father. He pl
"The operation needs to commence now." The doctor’s words echoed in my head like a relentless drum, pounding over and over again as I stepped out of his office. My body moved on autopilot, my hands clutching the strap of my worn-out bag as if it were the only thing anchoring me to reality. I walked through the hospital corridor, the scent of antiseptic burning my nose. Doctors and nurses passed me, their faces neutral, their steps quick and purposeful. No one spared me a glance. No one saw the storm raging inside me. But my world was falling apart. I swallowed hard, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from spilling. My brother had fallen again—another accident that proved how fragile his condition was. And now, the damage was worse. The doctors said he needed immediate surgery. But the cost… I had been saving for years, taking extra shifts at the bar, cutting back on everything I could. Yet, even after all the sacrifices, all the sleepless nights, it still wasn’t enough.
Raphael’s POVI woke up with a headache and an unfamiliar scent clinging to my sheets. Something was wrong. My body felt sluggish, my mind foggy from the alcohol I had drowned myself in last night. I groaned, running a hand over my face before turning toward the warmth beside me. The woman from last night. I had been impatient to see what I was paying for, but the moment I finally got a look at her face, my stomach twisted. This wasn’t her. My eyes snapped open fully as I sat up, my movements startling the woman awake. Her head jerked toward me, sleep still clouding her wide hazel eyes. “What the—?” she started, looking around in confusion. My jaw clenched. I scanned her features again. She looked exactly like the woman I had hired last night, but something was missing. My gaze dropped to her wrist. No tattoo. My blood ran cold. *"Who are you?"* Her breath hitched at my question, but then her expression twisted in anger. "Who am I? Who the hell are you?" I
Henrietta’s POV*"I don't love you."* Those four words shattered everything I thought I knew about love, about loyalty—about Jason. I could still see it, the way his lips curled as he said it. The way he didn’t even look guilty as I stood there, frozen, watching him tangle himself around another woman like I never existed. My heart had pounded so hard that night I thought it would explode. But nothing hurt more than the way he dismissed me, like I was just another inconvenience in his life. *"I don’t love you."* Even now, standing behind the bar, pouring drinks for men who probably didn’t love the women waiting for them at home, those words clung to my skin like a bad omen. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be spending my nights in a dimly lit bar, serving overpriced liquor to men who looked at me like I was something to consume. I wasn’t supposed to be exhausted every night, smelling like whiskey and smoke, my feet aching from hours of standing. But life