All Chapters of Don't Leave Me: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Natasha sat at the corner table, her eyes darting to every person who walked into the cosy restaurant. The low hum of people talking and the clinking of cutlery only added to her anxiety. She placed a trembling hand on her stomach, her baby bump was not yet visible but it felt comforting. Though Natasha tried to calm herself, her heart raced, as she kept glancing at the entrance. Her thoughts swirled in a storm of doubt. What if this was a mistake? What if this "Bernice" wasn’t who she claimed to be? Once again Natasha remembered her unborn child, and she knew what was at stake. The door opened, and a tall, stunning blonde walked in, instantly drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room. She was dressed in a fitted blue gown that matched her strikingly icy blue eyes. Her heels clicked softly against the tiled floor as she strode with confidence, scanning the room until her gaze landed on Natasha. Natasha stiffened. The woman approached her table and, without hesitation,

Bernice’s words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating Natasha as she waited for what would come next. The room felt smaller now, as though the walls were closing in. Bernice took a deep breath, her icy demeanour softening slightly, though her eyes never lost their sharp edge. “I stayed out of Damien’s life,” she began, “because I became something... something he couldn’t protect anymore. I became his weakness.” “His weakness? What do you mean?”, Natasha asked. Bernice leaned back in her chair, her hands clasped on the table. “When Damien joined the Mafia, he made enemies. Powerful ones. Men who don’t forget a grudge.” Natasha’s heart pounded. “What happened?” “For a while, we were untouchable. Damien was meticulous. But then they found out about me.” Bernice’s voice dropped to a whisper, and Natasha had to strain to hear her. “They came after me to get to him. I was kidnapped and held for weeks. Tortured. And Damien... he lost control.” Natasha gasped, her hand c

The two days before the board meeting had come and gone. The meeting with the private investigator had been emotional and nerve-wracking for Anastasia. As Anastasia applied her makeup, before the time set for the board meeting, the mirror seemed to blur, not from the mascara she meticulously brushed onto her lashes but from the weight of her thoughts. Her hands slowed as she remembered the day Harry's mother had caught her kissing Matthew. The memory was vivid, as though it had happened only yesterday. The whole incident replayed in her mind, transporting her to that day. She had followed Harry's mother into the sitting room, and they had begun to talk. "I don't know if Harry has told you what transpired between Matthew's grandmother Megan and me," " she had started, "Megan was my best friend. We were like two peas in a pod until Herbert came along. He was just a handsome bookworm with very big dreams, but slowly, he began to capture my attention. My friend Megan discourag

The boardroom was bathed in natural light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp contrasts on the polished oak table and leather chairs. A large projector screen at one end of the room remained dormant, one of the assistants came in and turned it on and connected it to a computer, prepping incase it was to be used for a presentation. Anastasia sat stiffly beside Harry, her fingers curled tightly around the edge of her notepad. Across from her, Matthew reclined in his chair, an air of smugness clinging to him like a second skin. The room buzzed with murmurs as board members shuffled papers and exchanged polite nods. Paris, Harry's mother, sat at the far end of the table, her hawk-like gaze scanning the room. She was impeccably dressed, her navy blue suit perfectly tailored, her hair was pinned back in an elegant chignon. She radiated authority, her presence commanding silent respect from everyone in the room. Anastasia avoided Matthew’s gaze, but she could feel

Anastasia was about to speak when the door creaked open. In strode Stephen Smith, Stephen’s eldest son and Matthew’s father, his presence commanding immediate attention. His sharp suit and the frown on his face gave him the air of someone who had walked into a battlefield uninvited but ready to fight. Stephen turned slowly to look at his first son, his disapproval was evident on his face. “Well, it’s nice of you to join us, Herbert,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “I trust you’re here to fix the mess your son has created.” Herbert’s gaze landed on Matthew, whose smugness had momentarily been replaced by unease, and then on Anastasia, who stood stiffly, her fists clenched at her sides. "What mess?" Herbert asked coolly, though his expression suggested he already had an idea. Before anyone could respond, Anastasia stepped forward. Her voice was clear but the nervousness she was feeling could be felt in the tremble of her voice. "Nothing happened between Matthew and me