LOGINMadelynI got home tired, it felt like my body was a bag of grain, my bones, even breathing felt like work. Ruth had already finished cooking; the smell of roasted chicken drifted through the hall as soon as I stepped inside. I dropped my bag on the console table and slipped out of my heels. The house felt quiet, too quiet.Dominic still wasn’t back.He’d left the office earlier—I’d seen his car pulling away when I was coming down the stairs, but I told myself maybe he went for a meeting somewhere. He did that sometimes, left without saying a word. Still, something about the silence tonight felt heavier.Ruth came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Welcome home, Mrs. — Madelyn,” she corrected herself quickly, smiling a little.I nodded, forcing a small smile of my own. “Hi, Ruth. Smells good in here.”“Dinner’s ready whenever you want it. Mr. Blackwell hasn’t returned yet.”“I figured.”She gave me a sympathetic look before disappearing back into the kitchen. I stood
MadelynI woke up with the familiar scent of Dominic, a faint, lingering scent on the pillow and the sheets, and somehow it had the power to make me pause mid-breath. My head was still heavy with sleep, my body warm and pressed against him, and for a second I didn’t want to move. But the clock on the nightstand was blinking, reminding me that the world outside our room didn’t stop for morning laziness.I shifted slightly, trying not to wake him, and that was when I felt his hand brushing against mine under the sheets, like he was claiming, like he expected me here. And I didn’t pull away. That had become our rhythm, hasn’t it? He expected me every night, and I had started showing up. Not that I had any complaints.“Morning,” he murmured without opening his eyes, voice low, thick with that half-asleep drawl that made me want to laugh and groan all at the same time.“Morning,” I whispered back, letting my hand linger a second longer than necessary on his arm.“Don’t think about leaving
DominicSame evening, after our little kitchen disaster, I told her to get dressed. “We’re going out,” I said, standing by the counter, watching her confusion spread across her face.“Out? Now?” she asked, wiping her hands on a towel, still smelling faintly like burnt sauce.“Yes, right now. Come on.”She blinked at me, like she was trying to figure out if I was serious. “You’re kidding, right? We just—”“No,” I cut in, “you tried to kill me with pasta. You owe me an actual dinner.”Her mouth fell open for a second, then she laughed, shaking her head. “God, I can't get used to this.”“Ten minutes,” I said, ignoring her protest and heading upstairs. I didn’t know why I suddenly wanted to take her out. Maybe it was guilt for teasing her too much. Maybe I just didn’t want the night to end like that.By the time I came back down, she was still in her room. I leaned against the wall outside, glancing at my watch. I was about to knock when the door opened, and for a second, I forgot what I
Madelyn I don’t know what came over me that evening. Maybe guilt, maybe boredom, maybe just the silence that had started to crawl under my skin since our argument. The house was too quiet, filled with people who pretended not to notice the tension between us. The maids moved carefully around me, eyes lowered, probably wondering why I, of all people, was in the kitchen. “Mrs. Blackwell, you don’t have to—” one of them started, but I waved her off. “I’m not going to burn the house down,” I said, even though I wasn’t entirely sure about that. Dominic was upstairs, in his office probably, pretending to work but I knew him enough now to guess he was still pissed about yesterday. I wanted to break that damn silence, even if it meant doing something stupid—like making dinner myself. I could cook. I wasn’t one of those women who lived off takeout and wine. But tonight, everything that could go wrong, did. The sauce was too thick, the pasta stuck together, and the kitchen smelled fain
Dominic I got home earlier than usual that evening. The house was quiet, too quiet. Normally by this time, she’d be somewhere in the living room, reading, or watching those late afternoon shows she pretended not to like. But the lights were dim, and her slippers weren’t by the door.I frowned and loosened my tie, glancing at my watch. 6:30. Not late enough for her to be gone this long. “Where’s my wife?” I asked one of the guards by the entrance.He looked hesitant. “Sir… she’s been going out every morning lately. Since last week.”I stilled. “Going out? Where exactly?”He swallowed. “We’re not sure, sir. She doesn’t take the driver. She says she’ll get a cab.”A cab. My wife. The daughter of the Montgomery family, and the woman I’d just married to solidify two empires, was taking cabs around the city like a college intern.I felt something twist in my chest in total disbelief. I didn’t know whether to laugh or throw something. “Did she say when she’ll be back?”“No, sir.”I ran a ha
MadelynA week passed already with Dominic and I avoided each other... for the best part of this whole mess? It was good. Shame and guilt still pierced my heart every evening he got back from the office.A man will be available for you if he wants to, right? I can’t believe that with two companies to run and his whole celebrity life…one I’ve decided to stay completely away from, he still manages to eat dinner at home and come back early. His parents still keep bugging us to post the wedding photos and the fake honeymoon pictures we took just to get them off our backs. It’s ridiculous how invested they are.Christopher always had too many excuses to work overtime. I used to think he was actually busy—poor me. Turns out, he was just busy banging someone else. Either his secretary or that damn sex worker.The taxi stopped in front of Texos Marketing Company, my workplace. Three weeks off and now I am back. Dominic didn’t even know I worked here, which was a blessing. I wasn’t ready to de







