Allison's POV. I needed a moment to regroup, to let the adrenaline of the dance subside. As I sipped my drink, the cool liquid doing little to calm my racing heart, I felt a presence behind me. I turned, and there stood Williams, his expression of curiosity and bewilderment. “Allison,” he started, his voice unsteady. “Can we talk?” I sighed, knowing this confrontation was inevitable. “What do you want, Williams?” He glanced around, clearly uncomfortable. “What’s with the sudden change? How is it possible that you’re...this? Part of an espionage group?” I raised an eyebrow, my patience already wearing thin. “You think you know me, Williams? You don’t know a thing.” He looked taken aback by the firmness in my voice but pressed on. “But I knew you before, Allison. You weren’t like this. You were...different.” “Different?” I echoed, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “You mean weaker? Less confident? Easy to push around?” “That’s not what I meant,” he stammered. “I just...I do
Williams POV. As I stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over my shoulders, I scrubbed myself vigorously, trying to wash away the tension and confusion of the night. Allison—or Seraphina, as I had known her—kept invading my thoughts. How many times had we crossed paths since she reappeared in my life? Too many to be mere coincidence. I had been invited to Harrington's masked party, not expecting anything out of the ordinary. And then, there she was, moving through the crowd with an air of confidence that left me stunned. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her dress hugging curves I hadn't known she possessed. Every time I saw her, a pang of regret hit me hard. It was like some cosmic payback for all the things I had done to her. I couldn't get the image of her dancing with another man out of my mind. The way she moved, so skilled and graceful, it nearly drove me nuts. How could she have changed so much in just a year? The Allison I knew was a loving wife, always support
Williams' POV Allison laughed, the sound sharp and almost amused. “It’s funny to hear you say that, considering how you thought the exact opposite of me a year ago.” I swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in my throat. Her eyes, those piercing, unforgiving eyes, bore into mine. She folded her arms across her chest, the action drawing my attention to the confident posture she held. “Tell me, Williams,” she said, her tone icy. “Why did you marry me in the first place if you thought so lowly of me?” “I did love you, Allison,” I said, my voice almost a whisper. “I was an insensitive bastard. I know that now. I treated you terribly, but I did love you.” “It changes nothing,” she replied, her voice unwavering. “Your actions… they cost me our child.” My world tilted on its axis. “What?” I managed to croak out. “You were… pregnant?” She scoffed bitterly. “Yes, I was. Three months along. I wanted to announce it on our third anniversary. But then you lied about having an important b
Jessica's POV. I sat alone in my penthouse, the air thick with smoke and the bitter scent of whiskey. I took another long drag from my cigarette, the embers glowing like the fury in my chest. I poured myself another drink, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim as my hands trembled. Fat, pathetic Seraphina. The name echoed in my mind like a mocking refrain. How could it be her? How could the same weak, submissive woman turn into this... Allison? She was the one at the elite boutique, the one who had beaten up my bodyguards and slapped me around like I was nothing. She had this perfect body now, confident and powerful, while I was left behind, burning with jealousy. I screamed, throwing the empty glass across the room. It shattered against the wall, mirroring the pieces of my crumbling sanity. Williams had seen her. He had looked at her with regret, with longing. No wonder he wasn’t close to me anymore. He was still in love with her. The bitch. I grabbed the bottle and took a s
Williams' POV. Allison’s words replayed in my mind, each one a blow to my face. "I was pregnant, Williams. Three months gone. Wanted to announce it on our third anniversary." I had lost not just my wife, but also a child I never knew about. The sheer weight of it all was suffocating. I found myself at the bar, nursing my fourth—or was it fifth?—scotch of the night. The amber liquid burned my throat, but it was a welcome distraction from the torrent of guilt and self-loathing swirling within me. I looked into the glass, seeing my reflection distorted by the alcohol. “You bastard,” I muttered to myself, my voice slurring slightly. “You selfish, insensitive bastard.” I couldn't shake the image of Allison's face as she spoke, the cold, emotionless exterior barely concealing the pain and hurt. The fact that she had carried my child, our child, and lost it because of my actions was a dagger to my heart. “I could’ve been a father,” I said, louder this time, catching the attention o
Williams POV. The pounding in my head was non-stop, a reminder of the previous night.. As I slowly opened my eyes, the unfamiliar surroundings made my heart sink. I was in a cell. I could barely believe it. I rubbed my temples, trying to piece together the occurrence of last night. “Allison…” I muttered, the name slipping from my lips swiftly. Memories of me stumbling through the streets, shouting her name, and being restrained by the police flooded back. I groaned and sat up, wincing at the dull ache in my muscles. The concrete bench beneath me was hard, and the cold steel bars surrounding me felt like an insult to my status. Me, Williams, a billionaire, in a cell. It was beyond humiliating. “What the hell am I doing here?” I demanded, my voice sounding through the empty holding area. “Let me out!” An officer approached me, his expression firm. “Calm down, sir. You were brought in for disturbing the peace.” “Do you know who I am?” I snapped, rising to my feet unsteadily.
Allison's POV. I stood in front of the mirror, adding a touch of lip gloss to my lips. The soft sheen highlighted the natural curve of my mouth, giving me a final polished look. Just as I finished, the doorbell rang, its chime echoing through the quiet house. I took a deep breath, adjusting the strap of my dress, ensuring everything was in place before heading out. Opening the door, I saw Edward waiting for me outside his car. He looked utterly good—his tailored suit fitting him perfectly, his hair neatly styled. His eyes raked over my body, and I saw him blink, momentarily caught off guard. Edward was a powerful man, respected and feared by many in our world of Espionage. But for me, he seemed almost like a little boy trying to impress me. He approached me with a confident stride, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Allison, you look beautiful," he said, his voice sincere. I managed to smile, feeling a mix of flattery and discomfort. "Thanks, Edward." We stood there for
Allison's POV. Formulating the plan was the easy part. I had always been good at strategy, but this one was personal. Williams had hurt me in ways that were still difficult to fully comprehend, and now, I was going to hit him where it hurt the most: his pocket. Disguising myself as a middle-aged woman was crucial to the plan. I spent hours perfecting the look. A wig of graying hair, a set of false teeth to alter my smile, heavy makeup to add wrinkles and age spots. By the time I was done, even I barely recognized myself. I slipped into character, adjusting my posture to that of an older woman, slightly hunched and slower in my movements. The final touch was a pair of thick glasses that magnified my eyes and completed the transformation. I looked every bit the part of an unsuspecting older investor. With the disguise in place, I headed to Williams' company. The receptionist barely gave me a second glance as I introduced myself as Mrs. Eleanor Fairfax, a wealthy widow looking to