The grand ballroom of the Davenport estate glittered under the soft glow of the golden chandeliers, filled with the chatter of New York’s elite, swirling champagne glasses, and the lingering scent of expensive cologne and designer perfumes. Michelle Davenport stood at the far end of the hall, her delicate fingers tightening around the stem of her untouched champagne flute as she observed the extravagant event unfold before her.It was yet another social gathering thrown by her parents, an evening where deals were disguised as pleasantries, alliances were built over expensive wine, and where she, as always, was nothing more than a decorative afterthought. The perfect, obedient daughter, unseen yet expected to exist only when needed. She was only needed whenever it was beneficial to them.Her gaze flickered across the room, scanning all the guests in the room until her eyes landed on the golden child of the Davenport family—her twin sister, Millie. Dressed in a shimmering red gown that
Michelle barely slept that night.Even after the party had ended and she had locked herself in her room, Raymond's words echoed in her head over and over again like an unsolvable riddle, she thought hard about what he said."You need a way out. And I need a wife."She tossed and turned, the weight of her predicament pressing hard against her chest. Marrying a stranger—no, worse, marrying Raymond Hawthorne, a man feared by many—was sheer madness. And yet, the alternative was just as terrifying. She wasn't ready for the kind of trouble and fame that came with marrying him but then, she didn't want to be trapped and be at the mercy of her parents unpredictable actions . She wanted to be free. Her father would not let her reject the arranged marriage he had planned. And even if she tried to resist, he’d either guilt-trip her or threaten to cut her off completely, as if she weren’t already the family’s disposable afterthought.By morning, Michelle’s decision still hadn’t solidified, but
Michelle sat across from Raymond in his private office, her hands folded tightly in her lap as he slid a contract toward her. The thick document looked intimidating, the pages crisp and filled with legal jargon she barely understood. “This outlines everything,” Raymond said smoothly, his fingers tapping the desk. “Terms, expectations, some rules , financial arrangements, go through it and sign.” Michelle swallowed, staring at the contract as if it might jump up and bite her, she was fidgeting with the pen in her hand. This is insane. She was about to sign a marriage contract with a man she barely knew, a rich and powerful man feared by half of New York. A man every woman in the city wanted. She hesitated. “You really had this drawn up already?” Raymond’s lips curved slightly. “I had a feeling you’d come around.” She exhaled sharply, gripping the pen he handed her. “Arrogant much?” “Confident.” Michelle shot him a glare, but he only smirked, clearly unbothered. She flipped thr
The car finally rolled to a stop in front of the Davenport estate, a sprawling architectural masterpiece, a modern design that practically screamed, "We have money, and we love reminding people about it." The mansion's white walls, towering glass windows, and perfect garden gave off an air of cold, detached luxury—much like the people inside it. Michelle barely had time to brace herself before Raymond stepped out, he opened the car door for her like the gentleman that he was, exuding his usual air of effortless authority. She stepped out of the car while sighing and closed the car door, then she followed Raymond as he walked towards the mansion, adjusting her emerald green dress—one of the many he had insisted she get earlier. If she had to face her family, at least she’d look like she belonged in their world, even though they treated her like she never truly did. As soon as they stepped onto the marble pathway, the front door swung open, revealing Mr. Andrew, the Davenport family
The next morning, Raymond left for work as usual, immersing himself in meetings, collaborations, and company affairs. Michelle, on the other hand, had a far less structured day ahead—one that quickly turned into a battlefield of words when Millie asked her to meet at a nearby coffee shop not far from their estate. Michelle arrived there, already bracing herself for whatever storm Millie had cooked up again. And, as expected, the moment she sat down, Millie wasted no time in launching her attack verbally and not caring about her image. “How the hell did this happen?” Millie demanded while gritting her teeth in anger, her perfectly manicured nails tapping furiously against the ceramic cup in front of her. “How are you engaged to Raymond Hawthorne? You, of all people?” How could you do this without discussing it with us, your family? Oh, now I'm their family? These people are so shameless …she thought to herself. Michelle sighed, stirring her coffee absentmindedly. “Good morning to
The morning sun filtered through the wide windows of Raymond’s penthouse, casting a warm glow over the sleek, luxury modern interior. But the brightness did little to chase away the lingering tension from the previous night's engagement dinner. Michelle sat at the kitchen island, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, her mind replaying Eleanor’s condescending remarks and Millie’s smug expression. Raymond had already left for work, a brief, almost curt farewell muttered as he straightened his cufflinks. The silence in the penthouse was deafening, amplifying her thoughts until she couldn’t sit still any longer. She needed air, a distraction—anything to escape the feeling of inadequacy that clung to her after facing Eleanor and her own family’s disdain. She quickly changed into a simple gown and slipped on her flats, deciding to take a walk around the neighborhood to clear her mind, and also get some fresh air. The streets were bustling with morning activity—people rushing to
You don’t belong here. Leave while you can.” The threat was clear. And Michelle knew, without a doubt, that the storm was just beginning. The days following the engagement dinner were anything but peaceful. Eleanor's disapproval hung over Michelle like a storm cloud, and Millie’s determination to ruin her was obvious. Despite Raymond's subtle reassurances, Michelle couldn't ignore the unease twisting in her gut. She had seen the way Eleanor’s eyes had narrowed, her smile tight and cold. It was clear that the woman wasn’t planning to stand idly by. In the Hawthorne estate, Eleanor’s office was a blend of sophistication and power, much like the woman herself. She sipped her tea gracefully, her gaze fixed on the man standing before her—Daniel Reid, a private investigator known for his discretion and efficiency. "I need you to find everything there is on Michelle Davenport," Eleanor commanded, her tone leaving no room for questions. "Family, past relationships, school, past jobs, where
The atmosphere at Hawthorne Enterprises was heavy. Michelle felt it the moment she stepped into the office—eyes tracking her every move, whispers, conversations halting abruptly when she passed by. Her fingers tightened around the blueprint tube in her hand, but she forced herself to keep walking, head held high. She couldn't ignore the tightness and uneasy feeling in her chest, though. Not after the phone call with Alex. His words had lingered, wrapping around her like barbed wire. Worse was the realization that Eleanor had already found him, that the warning Raymond had given her was no empty threat. “It’s only a matter of time before she finds something—anything—to use against you.” The words echoed cruelly in her mind. Now it has come true. A soft chime from her phone broke her out of her thoughts .She glanced down at the screen and froze. A message notification—no sender ID, no name , just a single image attachment. With a mix of dread and morbid curiosity, she tapped it open.
The next morning, Michelle woke up to chaos. Not the usual one, but a full-blown, media-frenzy, trending-on-every-social-platform type of chaos. The entire world had lost its collective mind over Raymond’s declaration the previous day. Her phone had exploded with so many messages. Some from Chloe, who had sent no fewer than thirty texts in a go. Some from Hailey, a friend of hers, who had sent, OMG and bombarded her with questions. And a handful from people she hadn’t spoken to in years, suddenly acting like they had always been best friends. The top headline? RAYMOND HAWTHORNE CLAIMS MICHELLE AS HIS EVERYTHING—IS THIS THE LOVE STORY OF THE CENTURY?Michelle groaned and buried her face in her pillow. What even is my life right now?She barely had time to process before the door swung open. “Good morning, wifey,” Raymond said like it was the most natural thing to do, his voice dripping with amusement. Michelle peeked out from under the blanket to find him standing there,
The moment the journalist’s question hit the air, Michelle’s blood turned to ice. "Is it true that your marriage to Raymond Hawthorne is nothing more than a temporary contract?" The words hung between them like a guillotine, poised to slice through everything. Cameras flashed, microphones thrust towards their faces, the reporters voices overlapping in a chaotic frenzy. Michelle opened her mouth, but no words came out. Raymond, however, didn’t hesitate. He stepped in front of her, his entire demeanor shifting into something dangerous. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as he turned his piercing gaze on the journalist. “Where did you hear that?” He asked, his voice was quiet, but there was something lethal beneath it. David Carter—the smug reporter who had asked the question—grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “I have sources, Mr. Hawthorne. Reliable ones.” But I can't disclose that. He said.Raymond’s jaw ticked. “Reliable?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Your ‘sourc
Michelle’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared at Richard. His presence alone was shocking enough, but the words that had just left his mouth sent a chill through her. He was against Eleanor? The thought seemed impossible. And yet, here he was, offering his help. Raymond’s expression remained unreadable as he studied Richard, his stance tense, calculating. “What exactly are you proposing?” Richard stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind him. He glanced at Vivian, who looked just as stunned as Michelle, before turning his attention back to Raymond. “I have something you need. The original documents proving that the will was always meant for Michelle.” Michelle inhaled sharply. “You have them?” Richard smirked, folding his arms. “I’ve had copies in my possession for a long time. I kept them as insurance, in case Eleanor ever tried to double-cross me. Seems that time has finally come.” Raymond’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re just willing to hand them over?”
Michelle’s heart pounded as she and Raymond left the Hawthorne estate. The weight of the forged will still burned in her mind, she could stop thinking about it, but Raymond’s words echoed louder—Do you trust me to fix this? She had given him her answer, but trust alone wasn’t enough. She needed to act.The car ride was silent, tension thick in the air. Michelle’s fingers curled against the leather seat, her jaw clenched. Eleanor was powerful, cunning, and willing to manipulate the truth to get what she wanted. And what she wanted was to erase Michelle from the equation entirely.Raymond finally broke the silence. “We need to fight back immediately. If we let this sit, Eleanor will use every connection she has to cement that forged will as legitimate.”Michelle nodded. “But how? If she’s already had it signed and witnessed, it won’t be easy to prove it’s fake.”Raymond’s lips pressed into a firm line. “There’s always a way.”His confidence should have reassured her, but all she could t
Michelle barely spoke a word as they left the hospital, her mind still spinning from what Vivian had said. It was always meant for her? The weight of those words pressed heavily on her chest. Her entire life, she had been cast aside, treated as insignificant while Millie received all of their parents’ love and attention. And yet, all along, the inheritance—the very thing her parents had once claimed was Millie’s by right—had been hers. They had planned to transfer what was hers to Millie, leaving her with nothing, it hurt her more than she cared to admit.She clenched her fists in anger, her nails biting into her palms. Why had her mother kept this from her? Why had she allowed her to believe she was worth nothing while she schemed to hand over everything to Millie? The betrayal hurt her deeply, even if she had stopped expecting anything different from her mother long ago.Raymond watched her closely as they walked toward the car. “You’re too quiet, what are you thinking?” he asked, h
Michelle and Raymond rushed into the hospital, the sterile scent filling her lungs as they approached the reception desk. Michelle’s fingers clenched into fists, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. She wasn’t sure if it was anxiety over Vivian’s condition or the lingering bitterness she still carried toward her mother. The nurse at the desk recognized her immediately. “Ms. Davenport, your mother is in Room 312. She collapsed suddenly, but she’s stable for now.” Michelle barely nodded before heading in the direction the nurse indicated, Raymond following closely. The past few hours had already been overwhelming—Richard’s schemes, Eleanor’s manipulation, and now this. Her mother’s health had never been something she concerned herself with too much, mainly because Vivian had never truly been a mother to her. She had always favoured Millie. Reaching the hospital room, she hesitated at the door. It was strange standing here, knowing that if the situation were reversed, Vivian wouldn’t
The tension in the office was palpable as Michelle processed Charles’s words. Her inheritance was being contested, and Richard wasn’t the only one involved. But who else was pulling the strings? Was he working with Eleanor? Do they even know each other? She couldn't find answers to the question. Raymond remained beside her, his presence steady and unwavering. "We need to find out exactly how deep this goes," he said, his voice firm. "If Richard thinks he can take this from you, he’s severely underestimated who he’s dealing with." Michelle nodded, determination settling in. "I want to know everything. If someone is backing him, I need to know who." Felix, always prepared, stepped forward with his tablet. "I did some digging into Eleanor’s sudden involvement. And you’re not going to like what I found." Michelle's stomach twisted. "What is it?" Felix swiped across the screen, pulling up a series of old legal documents and confidential files. "Eleanor has known about your inheritance
Michelle’s fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the legal document, her mind struggling to process Damian’s words. "I don’t understand," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "How is this possible? I don’t recall any distant relatives who would leave me such a massive inheritance for me." Damian leaned against Raymond’s desk, his expression thoughtful. "That’s because this relative wasn’t directly in your life. But legally, they had ties to your family. The inheritance was sealed under a confidential clause. It was only unlocked now because of Richard’s recent moves. Raymond’s grip on Michelle’s hand tightened as he exchanged a glance with Damian. "Meaning someone wanted this hidden. And now that it’s surfaced, Richard is desperate to get his hands on it." Michelle exhaled sharply, forcing herself to stay composed. She had been manipulated before, but she refused to be a pawn again. "Who was this relative? And why was I chosen as the heir?" Felix handed her another
The night at the gala had barely ended, yet its repercussions were already unraveling. Raymond sat in his office the next morning, his fingers drumming rhythmically against his desk, his gaze cold as he waited. Felix stood nearby, his expression grim. “He’s here,” Felix announced. Raymond’s jaw tightened. “Send him in.” The door swung open, and Richard Smith strode inside with the same arrogant confidence he had displayed the previous night. He took a seat opposite Raymond without permission, stretching his arms and legs like he owned the place, his smirk firmly in place. “You certainly don’t waste time,” Richard mused, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit. “I admire that.” Raymond’s eyes remained hard. “Cut to the chase.” Richard chuckled, leaning forward. “Fine. I’ll be direct. Michelle owns something I want—an estate that’s far more valuable than she realizes. If she signs it over to me, I’ll stop my... interference in Hawthorne Enterprises.”Richard wasn't actually i