The Good Wife.

~Eve. “Happy anniversary, darling.” The small box in my hand was one of the many gifts arranged in one corner of the living room the living room. White, blue, yellow, and green gift wrappers sparkled from the corner of the room where they've been arranged, waiting for Sinclair. He would open them up later, but I wanted him to have the box first; it was my favorite among them all. It was our anniversary, and although I single-handedly picked out all other gifts, I specially got the box custom-made for Sinclair, my husband, and the love of my life. It was a small, beautiful box made from Mahogany and rosewood with intricate carvings of flowers all over its body. It was an antique box, just like Sinclair liked his things. Sinclair hurried into the living room, picked up his daily cup of coffee from the center table, and turned to the mirror without sparing me a glance. “What's with the gifts? What's the occasion?” Did he forget? Again? For five years in a row, I've remembered eve

~ Sinclair It's been almost a week since the rumor about me and Clara Evans was published and though there were still a few crazy journalists camped at my gate, the rumor was beginning to die off. Since the rumor started, I developed a habit of sneaking out the back gate in the early hours of the morning and having my secretary get my daily coffee from a nearby café. Work has been more hectic, trying to convince the board and investors that I was clear of all allegations. These days, I stayed at the office far into the night and sneaking back home in the morning. My suitcase felt light as I descended the stairs and upon taking a closer look, I figured it wasn't the suitcase I needed for the day. A sigh escaped my lips as I stopped midway and went back up to my room. The sound of the shower running had me narrowing my brows. The water turned off then turned on immediately, straightening, I walked to the bathroom. “Mmh,” a moan escaped her lips. The bathroom door was wide open.

~Eve. Sinclair has been around the house more often, a strange adjustment which I was still trying to get used to. It isn't that I don't want him in the house, because I do, but his presence everyday reminds me of all we couldn't have and the time spent apart. If we had done something five years ago, we would have had little Eve and Sinclair running around the house. Something to remind me that I wasn't really all alone. I pressed my pillow flush against my body and snuggled under the blanket, my eyes fixed steadily on Sinclair. My husband was handsome, that was an undebatable fact but he has lost his touch since Clara visited our home. “The tea has gone cold.” He placed the cup back on the table and turned to me, bags under his eyes. “I can make you another one if you like.” He sighed and shook his head, “No, it's fine. I don't need anymore.” He picked his phone and I knew immediately he was obsessing again. “Clara does not have the nerves to say anything to the media.”

Eve I wasn't planning on making any enemies today, I in fact, wanted quite the opposite. After four years of careful calculation and planning, I was finally where I wanted to be and I wasn't going let myself fail even before trying. I was doing well. I could tell from the smile on Sinclair's face, I have always wanted to make an impression on this day and I guess I've made it. “My apologies, Mrs. Duncan, it wasn't my intention to be rude, but I suppose neither of us would sit back and watch anybody disrespect us. I would like us to be friends given that only our friendship will make this company grow. I say we try this first impression thing again, shall we?” I knew that by now all eyes were on me but I knew specifically that Richard Reynolds eyes were fixed on me. I turned my eyes to him and saw him staring at me, upon noticing my eyes on him, he swallowed thickly and looked away. “Uhm,” he cleared his throat as he rubbed his palms down his tie and potbelly, “I don't think

Sinclair. The tension throughout our ride home was so high it could be cut through with a knife. I didn't know when those words slipped through my lips during dinner but once they started, I couldn't get them to stop. I was fucking glad they didn't. Eve punished me so hard and it was only fair I did too. Eve stared out the window during the ride home and quickly made her way up the stairs as we got to the house. “Where are you headed?” I unintentionally banged the door close to my surprise. I guess that was how much energy was charging through me. “To my room. I have to wash up before going to bed.” “There are many things we'd be doing in bed tonight, Mon chéri, and that does not involve sleeping.” I cocked a finger and motioned her to come off the stairs. I took her purse from her and dropped it on the table when she did, took a comfortable position on the couch, spread my legs wide apart and draped my hands on the arms. “Strip.” Her eyes flung open. “What?” “Yo