All Chapters of Don't Leave Me: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

After her talk with Harry's mom, Anastasia had resolved to look deeper into her relationship with Matthew. When Paris had told her how she had found out from a friend that her best friend had drugged her fiancé and made it look like they had sex. Anastasia had also hoped that she would find out that truly the video was fabricated. When Natasha suggested employing the services of the private investigator she had used to investigate her husband, Anastasia reluctantly agreed, hoping Matthew would be vindicated. She clung to the belief that the video showing him with another woman was fabricated, as Matthew had insisted. While she waited with Natasha for the PI, Anastasia found herself replaying every beautiful moment she had shared with Matthew. She remembered how he had proposed, his eyes filled with love, and how he whispered, "I can't wait to marry you." His eagerness had been so contagious that they had rushed into a short engagement. Could the man who once seemed so perfec

When Anastasia had gotten home, she got into the sitting room and sank into a chair. She was pleased that Harry wasn't there; she couldn't face him, not with her tear-streaked face. Anyone with eyes could easily tell that Anastasia had been crying. Her eyes were red and swollen. She rang for a maid, and one appeared. Anastasia asked for a bottle of wine. Shortly after, the maid came back with a tray. On it was a very expensive wine And a glass. Anastasia poured herself some and gulped it down. On the second glass, the alcohol had started kicking. She took two more glasses, and soon after, she started feeling numb to all the pain she had been feeling. By the time Anastasia got to her feet, she was tipsy. In the twilight of the evening, Anastasia walked into the bedroom, her eyes meeting Harry's in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. "What are you doing here?" she asked. Harry rose to his feet, his eyes reflecting a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. "I really needed to

Anastasia paced the length of her living room, her fingers gripping her phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and her heart pounded in her chest as the moment Harry had walked out replayed in her head. She had rushed up to him the second she heard his bedroom door open, desperate to speak to him, to explain, to beg—but he had walked past her as if she didn’t exist. No glance, no words, not even the flicker of an emotion in his eyes. She had watched from the window as he got into his car and drove away, leaving her standing there, crushed, shattered, and abandoned. Tears blurred her vision as she dialled Natasha's number. The call barely rang twice before Natasha picked up. “Anastasia?” Natasha’s voice came through the speaker, filled with concern. Anastasia couldn’t even respond—only a choked sob escaped her lips. “Stasia, talk to me. What’s wrong?” More sobs. “Anastasia! What is going on?” Natasha’s voice was sha

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft flicker of candlelight casting golden hues across Camille’s face as she sipped her wine, her gaze locked onto Harry. The tension between them was thick, like a velvet rope pulling them together. Harry, slightly tipsy, leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He was fully aware of Camille’s game—she had always been a master of flirtation, using her beauty and charm like a finely honed weapon. “You’ve done a good job staying out of my reach,” Camille murmured, setting her glass down as she leaned in, her voice was as soft as silk. “Even when you know how much I’ve been dying to have you.” Harry smirked, shaking his head. “Camille, we’ve never seemed to be single at the same time.” Camille let out a soft, sultry laugh, her eyes gleaming as they travelled over him with deliberate slowness. “Oh, Harry…” she purred, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “You’re being coy. That’s not the real reason.” Harry arched

Anastasia sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she scrolled through her phone. The images of Harry and Camille were everywhere. Pictures of them coming out of a restaurant. Anastasia could not help but see how Harry held the beautiful actress. Anastasia felt sick to her stomach. Her heart pounded against her ribs. The pain was physical, a sharp stab that made it hard to breathe. " No, this can’t be real," Anastasia kept muttering to herself as she struggled to breathe. She had spoken to Harry just last night. He had told her he was busy and had an early meeting. And yet, here he was, on the front page of every gossip blog, wrapped up in another woman. Tears blurred her vision, and her body got weaker. The phone slipped from her fingers, crashing onto the marble floor. A wave of dizziness hit her like a storm, and before she could even cry out, the darkness consumed her. Miriam, one of the domestic staff, knocked lightly on Anastasia’s bedroom door. "Madam, y