Sarah’s POVMy business was finally starting to gain some real traction in Madrid. The contacts I made at the mixer, with Wesley’s help, were proving to be incredibly valuable. Every day, it seemed like new opportunities were popping up. I was getting invitations to more events, my ideas were being well-received, and I was even beginning to see some early signs of success. It felt like everything was falling into place.One afternoon, I was busy working in my office when Wesley walked in. He had that confident smile of his and a file tucked under his arm.“Hey, Sarah,” he said, dropping the file on my desk. “I have something exciting for you.”I looked up, curious. “What’s this?”“It’s an opportunity,” he said, leaning against my desk. “I’ve been talking to some folks, and they’re interested in a potential collaboration with your company.”I raised my eyebrows. “Really? That sounds promising. What kind of collaboration?”Wesley’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “It’s a chance to exp
Sarah’s POV.I barely made it home before the tears started falling. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I slid down to the floor, burying my face in my hands. The image of Richard and Susan, smiling and happy, flashed through my mind. My heart ached, the pain sharp and deep. The man I had loved, the one who never loved me back, had left me for his mistress. He had walked away from our marriage like it was nothing. And now, he was happy, ready to start a new life with her.“Why wasn't I enough?” I whispered to the empty room. I felt small and unwanted, like all those years meant nothing. I had given so much of myself to Richard, hoping he would one day love me back. But he never did. Instead, he moved on, leaving me behind to pick up the pieces.I cried for what felt like hours, letting out all the hurt and anger I had kept inside. After a while, I was just numb. I dragged myself to the couch, curling up into a ball, and staring blankly at the wall and I didn't know when I do
Richard’s POV.It had been two weeks since I got engaged to Susan, and she was on top of the world. Everywhere we went, she flashed the ring, her smile wide and bright. At home, she took charge of everything. “We need new curtains,” she said one day. The next, it was, “Let's change the dining table. It’s too old-fashioned.”She wanted to make the house feel ‘new,’ like a fresh start.I didn’t care much. She could change whatever she wanted. It was her home too now. But as the days passed, doubts started creeping in, like shadows I couldn't quite shake off. I remembered what Martins had said. He had looked me in the eyes and asked, ‘Are you sure you're happy?’At the time, I brushed it off. What did he know? I knew what I wanted. I wanted Susan. I wanted the thrill and the spark, not the dullness I had with…I paused, trying not to let my mind finish the thought. But it was there. Sarah. For all the things I didn’t feel for her, she put effort into our marriage. She planned ever
Sarah’s POV.I threw myself into my work. Every day, from morning until late at night, I buried myself in meetings, planning, and strategy sessions. It was easier to focus on the business than to think about Richard and Susan. The more I kept my mind occupied, the less time I had to dwell on them.Wesley was always there. He always seemed to have some new idea or opportunity that could push my company forward. We were a great team, and together, we made things happen. “Sarah,” Wesley said one afternoon, sitting across from me in my office, a stack of papers in his hands. “I've been looking into some new ventures. There's a lot of potential here for us to expand.”I glanced up from my laptop. “Expand how?”“Think of partnerships,” he explained, laying out the documents in front of me. “We can collaborate with some big names. It would open up new markets and give us a real edge.”I scanned the papers. It all sounded promising. “This looks... ambitious.”Wesley smiled. “That's the poi
Richard POV.I sat in my office, staring at the market reports on my desk. Sales were steady, but something felt off. There was this new company, ‘Vitalé Wellness,’ that had come out of nowhere, eating into our market share. It was small at first, just a blip, but now... it was getting hard to ignore.“Who the hell are these people?” I muttered to myself, flipping through the pages. Vitalé was different. They weren't just another supplement brand; they were doing something new, something that was catching people’s attention.My phone buzzed. It was Clara. She was the marketing director and was supposed to have more information about this new player. “Got a minute?” I asked, already feeling the irritation creeping in.“Sure, Sir?” Clara’s voice came through the line, calm and collected as always.“Have you seen the latest market reports?” I asked. “There's a company called Vitalé Wellness. They're becoming a real problem.”“Yeah, I’ve seen them,” Clara replied. “They've been making
Sarah’s POVOver the next few days, things started changing quickly. Wesley wasn’t just talking—he was making things happen. Suddenly, Vitalé Wellness had more exposure than I’d ever imagined. New clients, partnerships, and even investors were coming out of the woodwork, all wanting a piece of what we were building.And Wesley... he was there every step of the way. Helping. Supporting. In ways I’d only ever wished someone would.I couldn’t help but think back to Richard. When I was with him, I had always wanted this kind of partnership.Someone who believed in my vision, and who saw the potential in my business the way I did. But Richard was never really there. He was always focused on himself, on his own company. He didn't even look at me twice, he had treated me like I was some kind of shit.Wesley wasn’t like that. We were sitting in a meeting one afternoon, going over a new marketing campaign he had helped put together. As we talked, I realized how easily he saw the same pot
Sarah’s POV.The next day arrived quicker than I had expected, and it was time for the press conference. I stood in front of the mirror in my office, smoothing my blazer and adjusting my hair for what felt like the hundredth time. My hands were a little shaky, and my stomach was in knots. I kept checking myself out, trying to steady my nerves.I can do this. I have to do this. I took a deep breath, but the nerves kept creeping back in. The media was out there waiting, and the thought of standing in front of all those cameras made my heart race even more.Just then, the door creaked open, and Wesley stepped inside. “The press is ready,” he said, his eyes immediately noticing my nervousness.I turned to him, trying to keep my composure, but he could see right through me.“You’re nervous,” Wesley said, walking closer, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s okay, Sarah. Everyone gets nervous before these things.”I bit my lip, nodding. “I know, but... what if I mess up? This is huge. Eve
Richard’s POV.I sat at my desk, my head pounding as I stared at the same damn numbers. Sales were down, Vitalé Wellness was eating into our market share, and nothing I did seemed to make a difference. Vitalé Wellness was eating away at my business faster than I could react. Nothing I did seemed to work. Every move we made, they were ten steps ahead.The stress was piling up, and I was starting to feel like I was drowning.I massaged my temples, the familiar pulse of a headache building behind my eyes. I’d been here before—staring at the same problem, night after night. Only this time, it felt like everything was falling apart. My company, my sanity…even my engagement.I heard the door to my office creak open but didn’t bother looking up.“Still buried in work, huh?” Martin's voice cut through the silence. He walked in, hands in his pockets, studying me with that look he always gave when he knew I was in too deep.I let out a sigh, rubbing my temples. “What does it look like?”“You’
Richard pov.The weeks that followed were like a dream, the kind of dream I never wanted to wake up from. Sarah’s recovery was nothing short of miraculous. She was her old self again—strong, radiant, and filled with the kind of joy that seemed to light up any room she entered. And our daughter? She was growing so fast, already wrapping us—and everyone else—in her tiny fingers. But the best part of it all? We were finally preparing for our wedding. Sarah wanted something small and intimate, just us and our closest family and friends. She’d always talked about having a garden wedding, surrounded by nature, with the sun setting in the background. And that’s exactly what we were going to do. The morning was a flurry of activity. Zoe was in charge of decorations, barking orders at Martins, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Martins, the flowers go on the left,” Zoe said, hands on her hips. “They look fine where they are,” Martins shot back, holding up a bouquet of
Richard pov.Weeks passed. Life felt like a blur of hospital visits, endless updates from doctors, and quiet moments spent in Sarah’s room. I was there every day, holding her hand, speaking softly to her, willing her to wake up. Zoe and Martins tried their best to keep things light whenever they visited, cracking jokes or telling stories, but even they couldn’t hide their worry. The NICU had become another constant in my life. Our daughter was thriving despite her premature birth, a tiny fighter who seemed determined to make it through. I’d visit her every evening after sitting with Sarah, watching her tiny chest rise and fall under the glow of the incubator’s lights. She was the only glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark time. “Hey, little one,” I whispered one night, my hand resting on the incubator. “Your mom’s going to wake up soon. She has to. She wouldn’t leave us like this.” It was a quiet morning when the miracle happened. I was sitting in Sarah’s room, flipping through
Richard pov.The morning of the trial felt heavy. I left the hospital earlier than usual, making sure Zoe would stay with Sarah. Despite the overwhelming dread, there was a part of me that felt strangely numb, as if my emotions had run dry after weeks of worry and anger. Martins met me outside the courthouse, impeccably dressed in his usual sharp suit. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his touch grounding. “Today’s a big step forward,” he said. “Remember, this trial is about getting justice, not reopening wounds. You’re here to see Susan held accountable, not to punish yourself for her actions.”I nodded, though his words didn’t settle the unease churning in my gut. The courtroom was cold, and even though I’d prepared myself for this moment, seeing Susan seated across the room made my stomach twist. She didn’t look like someone riddled with guilt; she looked indifferent, like this was just another ordinary day. The prosecution opened with a detailed timeline of events, recou
Richard pov.The call from the police came just after dawn, jarring me awake in the cold, uncomfortable chair next to Sarah’s hospital bed. I fumbled with my phone, heart pounding as I stepped into the hallway to answer.“We’ve located Susan,” the officer said. “She’s in custody. We’d like you to come down to the station.”My grip tightened around the phone. The relief I felt was fleeting, quickly replaced by anger. “I’ll be there,” I said, my voice low.Zoe appeared beside me as I hung up. She had been sitting with Sarah through the night, taking turns with Martins to ensure I wasn’t alone. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but her concern for Sarah mirrored my own.“Was that about Susan?” she asked.I nodded. “They’ve got her. I’m heading to the station.”“I’m coming with you,” she said firmly.“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Stay here. I need someone I trust to be with Sarah.”She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But keep me updated.”When I arrived at the police station, Martin
Richard pov.The cold, sterile environment of the police station did nothing to settle the unease that had been gnawing at me since Sarah’s fall. Sitting across from Isabelle in the small interrogation room only amplified it. She looked different—disheveled, almost feral—but her eyes still held that same unhinged intensity I remembered from before. Martins sat beside me, arms crossed, his body language radiating skepticism and disgust. The officer standing by the door had warned us to keep the conversation civil, but I wasn’t here to trade pleasantries. “Why, Isabelle?” My voice was steady, but my hands clenched into fists under the table. “Why did you hurt Sarah?” She tilted her head, a slow, deliberate movement that made my skin crawl. Then, she smiled—a twisted, almost childlike grin. “She wanted to take you from me,” she said, her tone eerily calm. I blinked, the sheer absurdity of her words momentarily robbing me of speech. “Take me from you? Isabelle, how many times
Richard pov.Morning came soon. The soft hum of the machines in Sarah’s room provided a false sense of calm, but every beep reminded me she was hanging on by a thread. My chest felt heavy with every passing second, waiting for her to open her eyes, to tell me everything would be okay. Zoe and Martins stayed close, their presence quiet but steady. Zoe would occasionally bring coffee or attempt to distract me with updates on the baby, but my focus stayed on Sarah.Martins had taken over the logistics—coordinating with hospital staff, keeping everyone updated, and ensuring the security team outside wasn’t slacking. It was just after 7 a.m. when my phone buzzed in my pocket, the vibration snapping me out of my daze. I saw the caller ID and immediately stepped out of the room to take the call. “This better be good,” I snapped, my voice low but sharp. “Mr. Wright,” a familiar voice responded—it was Derek, head of my security team. “We’ve apprehended Isabelle.” The words didn’t re
Richard povThe living room buzzed with life—laughter, the clinking of glasses, and warm chatter filled the air. Guests had arrived, carrying brightly wrapped gifts and wide smiles. It should have been a joyful day, a celebration of new life. But all I could feel was unease twisting in my gut like a knot that wouldn’t come undone. Martins nudged me as I stood by the window, eyes darting to the security guards stationed discreetly outside. “Hey, CIA,” he joked, his tone light. “You might wanna dial it down before Sarah figures out you’ve turned the baby shower into a covert operation.” I managed a thin smile. “Just being cautious.” Martins chuckled. “Yeah, cautious is your middle name. You’re so tense, you might scare the baby into coming early.” His humor didn’t land. I couldn’t shake the image of Sarah falling down those stairs from my mind—a thought that had no basis but still felt like an omen. Isabelle was out there. I didn’t know where, and that made her a threat.
Sarah pov.I woke up feeling like I was floating on air. Memories of last night flooded back—the soft glow of fairy lights, Richard’s face as he knelt before me, the ring that sparkled on my finger. I glanced at my hand, letting the sunlight catch the diamond, and smiled. It still felt surreal. The baby stirred, a gentle nudge reminding me she was there. “Good morning, little one,” I murmured, rubbing my belly. She responded with another kick, and my heart swelled. Today was going to be beautiful, filled with friends and laughter at the baby shower. But as I climbed out of bed and pulled on a robe, a faint unease settled in the back of my mind. Something I couldn’t quite place. When I reached the kitchen, the smell of coffee and the sound of laughter greeted me. Zoe was sitting at the counter, holding a steaming mug, while Martins leaned back in his chair, mid-joke. “Ah, our glowing bride-to-be!” Martins said with exaggerated flair, waving his hands like a magician. I roll
Richard pov.It had been a month since our trip to the nearby town. Sarah was now in her eighth month, and every day, I marveled at how gracefully she handled the ups and downs of pregnancy. But today was about more than just her strength—it was about giving her a moment to remember forever. I had planned a re-engagement surprise for her, one that would let her know how much she meant to me, now and always.“Martins, hurry up with the banner!” I called out as my best friend tried to figure out which end of the ribbon went where. He muttered something about not being a decorator, but I ignored him.The house was chaotic, but the good kind. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I rushed from one end of the living room to the other, adjusting balloons and making sure the decorations didn’t look like a Pinterest project gone wrong. I wanted everything to be perfect for Sarah. After everything we’d been through, she deserved that—and more.“Richard, mate, you need to chill,” Ma