(Helena’s POV)
Daniel always said Adrian Cavendish never did anything without calculating the cost. A favor from that man came with strings so thick I bet they could strangle you. "Whatever his real reasons, they aren’t charity," Eleanor warned over the phone after I told her of my encounter with Adrian, her voice clipped with irritation. “He wants something.” And that was the problem. It seems he wants something, but I can't figure out what. The same thought had been circling like a vulture in my mind since last night. Marry me. The words refused to leave my mind, clinging to my skin like a bad perfume, suffocating and impossible to scrub off. Marry him? I would rather set myself on fire. And yet—pride didn’t pay my debts. Nor did it erase the final eviction notice nailed to my door. I had spent two years fighting, scraping together what little I could, desperately trying to outrun the wreckage Daniel left behind. But last night, I had finally hit the wall, and Adrian Cavendish had been waiting on the other side. By mid-afternoon, pride and desperation waged a full-scale war inside me. The bank was the last battlefield, A meeting with the branch manager resulted in exactly what Eleanor had predicted: a polite but firm rejection. The bank manager in the crisp navy suit folded his hands and sighed through his nose. “Mrs. Whitmore, your husband’s business debts……” “Late husband,” I corrected, fingers tightening around the strap of my bag. “Right. Late husband. As I was saying, the debts accumulated under Mr. Whitmore’s name—” “My name,” I snapped. “My name was on everything., I was his wife. His partner.” That earned a pitying glance from him. “That may be, but the accounts are overdrawn. There’s nothing left to negotiate.” Two weeks. That’s all they gave me, fourteen days before my house was gone. A lifetime spent among New York’s elite, and not a single person willing to help me with some money, Eleanor has been a great help but there was only so much she could do. And the only help ame with a diamond ring attached to it. A sheet of paper fluttered to the floor as i reached my house The sight of a thick red stamp blaring FINAL NOTICE nearly knocked the air from my lungs, right there, nailed to the door, like a public execution. A bitter laugh bubbled up before I could stop it. Well. That was that, then, I guess the universe is looking to frustrate me. With slow, measured movements, I peeled the notice from the wood, fingers smoothing over the crisp edges as if handling something fragile. As if pretending this wasn’t the end, but sadly it was. No more fighting and no more pretending that anything could be salvaged from the wreckage of Daniel Whitmore’s spectacular fall from grace. With my fingertips hovering over the lock, the weight of a single decision pressed down on me. Call him, Or don’t. Two options, both terrible in different ways. Adrian’s voice echoed in the back of my mind, low and steady. You have no other options, Helena. Nails dug into my palm, and i gave in. The number was dialed before I could talk myself out of it. The phone barely rang once before his voice filled my ear. The bastard was expecting this. “Helena.”He called out, his voice smooth and amused, like this was all part of his perfect little plan. The words lodged in my throat burned, but there was no turning back now. “I’ll do it,” I said. “But I want my own terms.” There was a long pause, then, the unmistakable sound of a smirk in his voice. “Of course you do. I’ll call my driver to pick you up tomorrow so we can finalize the details.” The next evening, a car arrived outside my house. A sleek black car, i bet would cost an arm and a leg. Of course, Adrian Cavendish wouldn’t be caught dead in something less. A tall blond man stepped out introducing himself as Lucas, Adrian’s ever-efficient right-hand man, opened the door. "Mr. Cavendish is expecting you." An exaggerated sigh passed my lips. “Oh, I’m sure he is.” The leather seat felt far too luxurious, like sinking into something designed to trap you in comfort. The city lights blurred past the window as we moved, mirroring the chaos inside my chest. Marrying Adrian Cavendish, my dead husband’s best friend was a ridiculous, impossible thought. And yet—here I was. With a sigh, my fingers tapped restlessly against the seat, forcing down the nerves rising up like a tide. By the time the car rolled to a stop in front of his mansion, my resolve had settled. If Adrian thought he would be calling all the shots, he was about to be sorely disappointed. The penthouse looked the same as it had the other night. Sleek, immaculate yet empty in a way that money could never fix. Adrian stood by the window, back to me as I entered his home, gazing over the glittering skyline like a king surveying his empire. A dry laugh escaped before I could stop it. "Do you ever actually sit down?" He turned, smirking as if amused by the fact that I still had a mouth on me, even while begging. One hand lifted lazily. “Only when it matters.” My fingers twitched with the overwhelming urge to throw something at him. Instead, I crossed my arms, matching his casual indifference. "Let's get this over with." With a slow nod, he gestured to the table, where a crisp marriage contract sat waiting. The sight of it sent an unexpected wave of nausea crashing over me. Adrian moved to pour himself a drink. “I assume you have conditions.” “You assume correctly.”I replied with a deep breath. Instead, I crossed my arms, matching his effortless indifference. “Let’s just get this over with.” Adrian didn’t blink. Didn’t react. Just gave a slow, measured nod before gesturing toward the table—where a crisp marriage contract lay waiting. The sight of it sent a wave of nausea rolling through me. My name. His name. Bound together in ink. Adrian turned away, moving to the bar with an unhurried ease that made my skin prickle. He poured himself a drink, the clink of glass against crystal breaking the silence. Too calm. Too in control. "I assume you have conditions," he said smoothly. "You assume correctly," I replied, inhaling sharply, forcing my voice to steady. He glanced at me over the rim of his glass, waiting. I lifted my chin. I wouldn’t sign my life away for nothing. "I want my husband’s business back," I said, my words deliberate. "The debts erased. The company rebuilt. I won’t walk away from everything Daniel left behind with nothing." Adrian exhaled slowly, setting his drink down with a quiet thud. Studying me. Calculating. "You want me to fix what he ruined," he said. I met his gaze, unflinching. "I want what’s mine." A long pause. A flicker of something in his eyes—approval, amusement, something darker. Then, finally, he said, "Done." “I keep my name.” There was a pause, that wasn’t something he’d expected. But one long sip of whiskey later and a lazy shrug, he replied “Fine.” My next demand came without hesitation. “And I get my own bedroom.” Something flickered in his sharp blue eyes, a challenge, I was challenging him and he seemed to enjoy it. “Worried about falling for me, Helena?” He laughed with the smirk that followed should have been illegal. Heat climbed up my neck, but my expression remained firm. “That’s a very direct way of telling you I don’t trust you..” His smirk widened. "Smart girl." But before I could dwell on it, I pushed forward. “And after two years, when my business stabilizes, we divorce.” Adrian cocked a brow, looking far too amused. “Planning your escape already?” “I’m making sure we both get what we want,” I shot back. “Two years?” He repeated “Two years.” I repeated my voice firm. “Agreed.” He let the words settle before finally answering. I exhaled in relief, when he gave me an answer .The pen felt heavier than it should have as fingers curled around the metal. For the briefest moment memories of Daniel and I flashed through my mind, our first kiss, the day he proposed and promised to love me but now i’m faced with a decision to become another man’s wife, the ink remained untouched, the line of my name waiting to be signed. Taking a deep breath, I signed my name and in one stroke, Helena Whitmore became Helena Cavendish. I slid the contract across the table, my heart thudding painfully in my chest as Adrian picked it up, his expression impossible to read. After a long silence and a soft, satisfied hum, he looked at me holding out his hand and smiling. "Welcome to your new life, darling." My stomach turned. Two years, I reminded myself. Just two years. But as I slipped my hand into his, a terrible thought gripped me. A lot can happen in two years.(Adrian’s POV) There should have been flowers, music, laughter or perhaps a lace-trimmed handkerchief delicately dabbing at a joyful tear. Weddings were meant to be grand affairs, filled with promises and scandalous dances under glittering chandeliers. But this wedding wasn't it. Instead it was a dimly lit conference room at the Celeste Regent Hotel with a disinterested officiant shuffling papers like this was a tax audit rather than the binding of two lives together. It was Helena, the bride in black, standing rigidly before me, looking as if she were walking to the gallows instead of the altar. Helena does not wear white, of course, she won't, she was never going to make this easy for me. She is definition of rebellion wrapped in silk, a reminder that this is not love. Yet, here we are. She doesn’t look at me, her eyes drift past my shoulder, toward the door, like she’s thinking about running. But I know she won’t, not because she wants this, but because she has no other cho
(Helena’s POV)"This is a mistake."Eleanor didn’t look up as she neatly folded another dress into my suitcase. "That’s an understatement."I sighed, watching her move around my room like she was preparing evidence for a trial. Which, knowing Eleanor, wasn’t far from how she saw this situation."This isn’t forever,it’s just two years." I muttered, more to myself than to her.She let out a sharp laugh, shoving a pair of heels into the suitcase with unnecessary force. "No? You married Adrian Cavendish, Helena. If he has his way, this will be forever."A chill crept over my skin, unwelcome and lingering. No. He wouldn’t keep me, this was temporary.Nothing more.I pulled my sweater tighter around me, my gaze drifting to the half-packed suitcase on the bed. One suitcase was all I had left.My home—had been stripped bare piece by piece. The designer gowns, the jewelry, the art Daniel had collected over the years, all sold to cover his debts. Now, all my life fit into a bag.Eleanor zipped
(Helena’s POV) There are three universal truths about high society that you should know. One, No one ever truly cares about charity galas. It’s just an excuse for powerful men to stroke their egos and for their wives to wear gowns they’ve been dying to show off. Two, The second you show weakness, they will eat you alive, and they do it with a smile and a glass of champagne, and three, I am the main course tonight. The car slowed as we neared the Grand Bellemont Hotel, where cameras flashed like a firing squad waiting for the kill. I exhaled, fingers clenching around my clutch. "This is a mistake." Adrian didn’t look up, still adjusting his cufflinks with calm, deliberate movements. Like he wasn’t about to walk us into a lion’s den. "It’s only a mistake if you make it one," he said smoothly. I turned to him, irritation curling in my stomach. "And what exactly does that mean?" "It means," he bellowed, "that whatever they say, however they look at you, it only matters if you let it
(Helena’s POV ) The café smelled like fresh coffee and bad decisions. It was quiet, the kind of place where people whispered over lattes and pretended to read books they’d never finish and it was exactly what I needed. I needed a break. Ever since news of my marriage got out, the press had been relentless. Headlines, paparazzi, cameras flashing every time I stepped outside it was exhausting. So, I did what any desperate person would do. I threw on the most ridiculous disguise imaginable and snuck out. But I know better than to get comfortable. Peace never lasts. "Hello? Earth to Helena." Eleanor said as she waved a sugar packet in front of my face before ripping it open. "Jeez, you’ve been zoning out a lot lately. Should I be concerned?" I blinked, dragging myself back to the present. "Just thinking." She snorted. "That’s never a good sign." I sighed, stirring my coffee. "Maybe because my life has turned into a circus?" Eleanor leaned forward, resting her chin on
(Adrian’s POV) The silence in the car was suffocating, not because neither of us are speaking to each other. But because I’m still seeing red. I grip the steering wheel, knuckles tight, veins flexing, trying to steady the anger still clawing inside me. Briefly I glanced at her, she didn't even know. Didn't know how fucking close I was to wrecking that entire café. To putting my fist through a reporter’s face and taking her out of there before they could take another piece of her. My teeth grinding together and jaw tightening. I could still see them, the way they circled her. Like she was weak. Like she wasn’t mine. Helena shifts beside me, I could tell she's pissed. Good. Because so am I, and the fire between us is only getting hotter. A few minutes later, the mansion comes into view. My grip tightens on the wheel as I pull into the driveway, the sharp turn making the tires screech against the pavement. The second the car stops, Helena shoves the door open and storm
(Helena’s POV) "Wait. Hold up. You mean he kissed you?" Eleanor practically shrieks, nearly knocking over her coffee. I groan, sinking deeper into the plush couch of her apartment, covering my face. "Ellie, please. You promised not to make this a big deal." "This isn't a big deal," she says, eyes wide. "This is a freaking soap opera playing out in real life." She leans forward, grabbing another donut from the box between us. I glance around her cozy living room—messy as always, with half-read books and empty coffee cups scattered across the table. Normally, it’s comforting. Tonight, it just makes me more restless. I sigh, stirring my tea even though I’ve lost my appetite. "It happened so fast. One second, we were fighting, and the next… he was just there. And then—" "He grabbed you and kissed you like he couldn’t help himself?" Eleanor sighs dreamily. "Damn. I’m getting all hot just thinking about it. Adrian is still an ass, but damn." I shoot her a look. "Not helping."
Helena’s POV I woke up to the sound of the wind rattling against the window, a slow, eerie creak that sent a shiver down my spine. The room was dim, the early morning light barely creeping past the heavy curtains. For a second, I just laid there, staring at the ceiling, my body tensed up. Then, it hit me. Today was the anniversary of Daniel’s death, a cold, hollow feeling settled in my chest. Pushing back the blankets and sitting up, I rubbed my eyes. The clock on the nightstand blinked at me—6:42 AM. I swallowed, forcing the lump in my throat down. I wasn’t going to cry, Daniel wouldn't want me to do that. There were some things you don’t let go of, no matter how much time passes. A soft knock on the door broke through interrupting me from my thoughts. “Come in.” i said in a hazy voice. I turned, expecting the housekeepers but it was Adrian. Standing in the doorway, tie undone, hair slightly tousled like he’d been up for hours. His gaze swept over me, lingeri
Helena's POV The scent of roses and lilacs filled the air as I sat under the canopy, Pride and Prejudice open in my lap. Sunlight streamed through the leaves, casting warm, golden patches across the garden. It was peaceful here—my favorite place in the entire house. A place to think. To breathe. To forget. Because what else was I supposed to do? Adrian had made it clear that I wouldn’t be working not yet, he said. Not until Daniel’s company was ready for me to take over. So, for now, I had nothing but time. And time, I was quickly learning, was a terrible thing to have. I turned a page, though I wasn’t really reading. The words blurred together, my mind restless. It had been days since Adrian left for his so-called business trip, and the house felt emptier than ever. Not that I wanted him around or cared to know where he was. I sighed, shutting the book and letting my head fall back against the chair. The quiet was supposed to be soothing. Instead, it only made my thoughts
Helena's POVThe auction had already begun when Adrian led me inside, his hand gently resting on the small of my back.A mix of anxiety and curiosity churned in my stomach. Why was Adrian acting so kind, yet so distant at the same time?"Umm... thank you for what you did earlier," I said quickly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.Adrian glanced at me, his eyes sharp but warm, and let out a soft chuckle."There's no way I’d let anyone disrespect you," he said simply."Yeah, but still... I just wanted to say thank you," I replied, lowering my gaze.He didn’t say anything else. Just gave a small nod and pointed toward a row of empty seats.We sat down, and I looked around at the other guests as they took their places.“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” The auctioneer announced as he stepped onto the stage.“Tonight, we have some of the finest and most beautiful items up for bidding.”Then a line of women stepped onto the stage, each holding an item that was going to be auc
Helena's POV The soft clink of chinaware was the only sound filling the dining room. Adrian sits across from me, absentmindedly looking through his phone. He was always busy. Though he had been coming home more often, and we had dinner together most nights but he stayed distan and always quiet. “So, how's work?” I ask, trying to make talk. Great job, Helena. You’re really a natural at this, I think to myself, dripping with sarcasm. Adrian looks up from his phone, clearly surprised by my question. “Good,” he says simply before looking back down at the screen. Wow. He really knows how to keep a talk going. “"Could you at least put your phone down so you can eat?" I mumbled, setting my fork down. Adrian grinned, finally looking up from his screen. "You want attention, don’t you?" he joked, putting his phone on the table. I laughed, caught off guard by his question. "No," I said quickly,
Adrians POV“And you have a meeting with the Marcus brothers at 3 p.m. on Tuesday,” Lucas my secretary says, flipping through his tablet. “Also, Tragus Bank wants to set up a meeting.”I barely hear him. My focus drifts, my thoughts in a haze.“Sir?” Lucas’s voice cuts through, pulling me back. “Everything alright?”I blink, shaking off the distraction. “Yes, Lucas. That’ll be all.”He studies me for a second, like he wants to say more, but instead, he gives a curt nod and steps out, leaving me alone with the thoughts I can’t seem to silence.As soon as the door clicks shut, I exhale sharply, leaning back in my chair. My fingers press against my temples, but the dull ache in my skull doesn’t fade.I really need to get a grip. Just as I was about to start working, my mother walked in.“Well, well… seems you’re still alive since you’ve been ignoring my calls,” she scoffs, tossing her coat onto the sofa by the door.I sigh, already feeling a headache coming on. “What do you want, Gisell
Helena's POV "Okay, spill. What’s going on with you?" Eleanor asks, narrowing her eyes over the rim of her coffee cup. I frown. "Nothing. Why?" She scoffs. "Oh, please. You look like you haven’t slept in days, you called me saying you needed someone to talk to and you’ve been fidgeting with that napkin since you sat down. I know you girl, I bet you've been thinking about Adrian." I nearly knocked over my coffee. "Ellie!" She grins, unfazed. "Am I wrong?" I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because yes, I have been thinking about Adrian. Too much and in ways I shouldn’t. Eleanor’s eyes widen in disbelief. "Oh my God. Something happened." I groan, dropping my head into my hands. "Nothing happened." "Bullshit." I sigh, knowing there’s no escaping this. I glance around the café, making sure no one is eavesdropping, then lean in slightly. "I… I touched myself." The words come out in a whisper, like saying them any louder might summon the devil himself.
(Adrian’s POV) Helena is going to ruin me, and the worst part? She has no idea. I’ve been walking a tightrope, barely keeping myself in check. During our trip, I was a breath away from losing control, wanting to pull the car over and fuck her right then and there. At the photoshoot, her shyness was infuriatingly sweet, making me want to tease her just to see her blush. Then there was the interview, where she slipped her hand over mine like it belonged there, like this wasn’t all for show. But the beach? Damn, the beach almost broke me. For a few reckless minutes, it was just the two of us outside the crashing waves. She laughed, teasing me, soaking wet and radiant, and I let myself forget, let myself play along. Then she was under me. Soft, breathless, and wide-eyed. Her lips parted, her body trembling, and not from the cold. I could feel it, her hesitation, her want. She would have let me kiss her. Would have let me ruin her right there in the sand. And fuck, I wanted to. But
Helena POV The ocean shimmered under the moonlight, waves kissing the shore as Adrian and I walked side by side, our footsteps sinking into the cool, damp sand. The salty breeze curled around us, but the silence between us was warmer than it had ever been. I stole a glance at him. He was staring straight ahead, hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, his expression unreadable. “You know,” I said, breaking the quiet, “I honestly thought your entire wardrobe was just suits and dress shirts. Seeing you in a T-shirt is… unexpected.” Adrian let out a low laugh. Something about it caught me off guard. I had never seen him like this. Relaxed. Almost… human. He glanced at me, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Let me guess, you also thought I was a complete asshole?” I smirked. “Oh, no. That’s not a thought. That’s a fact.” Adrian’s gaze softened, a rare warmth flickering in his eyes. He had to know what he was doing to me, the way my breath hitched, the way my body be
(Helena’s POV) The interview is set up in the grand living room of the estate, soft lighting making everything look warm and romantic. But the atmosphere between Adrian and me? Ice-cold. The reporter, a polished woman in her mid-40s, smiles at us as the cameras roll. “Mr. and Mrs. Cavendish, thank you for taking the time to do this. Everyone is fascinated by your whirlwind romance.” I barely keep from scoffing. Whirlwind romance? More like a controlled PR stunt. But Adrian, the devil himself, leans back against the couch, arm draped casually behind me like it belongs there. “Of course,” he says smoothly, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Helena and I are happy to share our story.” I shoot him a look. Happy to share? Since when? The reporter smiles. “So, let’s start from the beginning. How did you two fall in love?” Before I can even open my mouth, Adrian is already answering. “It was unexpected,” he says, glancing at me with what looks like adoration. “One moment, she
Helena’s POV "Let me know if you need anything else, ma’am," Ethan said as he stepped aside, allowing me to enter the room. "Please… Helena will do," I corrected, offering a small smile. He nodded. "Helena, then." As I stepped further inside, I took in the space. It was warm, inviting—not at all what I expected from Adrian’s vacation home. The king-sized bed was covered in crisp white sheets, the scent of fresh linen lingering in the air. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the ocean, sunlight spilling into the room in golden streaks. "Everything has been prepared to your liking," Ethan added, his tone professional. "Under the strict instructions of Mr. Cavendish." I snorted, trailing my fingers over the edge of the bed. "I bet you do this often. Must be exhausting, setting up for all the women he brings here." Ethan hesitated, then shook his head. "On the contrary, madam. You’re the first woman he’s ever brought here." I froze. Heat crept up my neck, my fingers twitc
Helena's POV I frowned at Adrian, arms crossed. “What do you mean, we’re going on a trip?” He exhaled, already looking impatient. “Pack your things. We leave in an hour.” I narrowed my eyes. “To where?” Adrian crossed his arms, smirking like he enjoyed pushing my buttons. “Why don’t you ever just do what you’re told?” “Oh, I’m sorry, mister control freak,” I shot back, mirroring his stance. “Either you tell me where we’re going, or I’m not going anywhere.” His smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it deepened. “Fine. We’re going to my private island.” I blinked. “I’m sorry, what?” “Private island. It’s in the Hamptons.” I stared at him, waiting for an actual explanation. He sighed, rubbing his temple like I was exhausting him. “After the little stunt you pulled with Giselle and the media’s relentless scrutiny of our marriage, I hired a PR team to fix things. They came up with the idea of a romantic getaway.” I scoffed, crossing my arms tighter. “First of all, the inci