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The meeting
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2025-06-23 20:48:43
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Betrayed love and regret More than a contract
Jane hadn’t slept much the night before. Mr. Whitmore’s words played like an endless loop in her mind, each one a reminder of the impossible choice he had set before her. She had tossed and turned, her chest tight with dread. By morning, her eyes felt heavy, and she expected another cold, distant day with Greg where she could at least keep her walls intact.But instead, she was met with the smell of fresh coffee and warm butter.“Good morning, beautiful,” Greg’s voice came, deep and smooth, as she stepped into the kitchen. He was standing by the counter, sleeves rolled up, setting down plates. “I made you breakfast.”Jane blinked, taken aback. She tried to summon her usual composure, but the gesture caught her off guard. “Thank you so much, Greg.”“Hey, don’t mention it,” he said lightly, though there was a softness in his tone she wasn’t used to. His eyes studied her face. “But… I noticed you weren’t okay last night. You looked troubled. Hope everything is fine, huh? You can tell me
Betrayed love and regret Just like we were before
Over the table at a quiet bistro, Xander ordered something light and non pretentious; June declined wine and took water, her hands steady though her heart thudded hard beneath her ribs. They spoke cautiously at first patchwork conversation about nothing and everything: Valerie’s favorite cartoons, the absurdities of hospital food, the tiny miracle of a lemon tart that could brighten the gloomiest day. Laughter came, not easy at first, but honest, and the sound felt like a small, illicit blessing.Xander watched June with a hunger that was both humble and aching. He wanted this dinner to be remembered, not as a last supper of sorts, but as proof that tenderness could exist even after betrayal. He kept the bouquet’s stems in water at his feet, the petals brushing against his shoe, a simple, living reminder of what he was fighting for.June watched him too her gaze softer than it had been in months, threaded with worry she could not mask. Sometimes she caught him staring, and in those
Betrayed love and regret The secret deal
The long, winding driveway leading to the Whitmore estate felt colder than usual that evening, though the sky remained clear. Jane’s fingers were tense on the steering wheel, her heart pulsing with questions. The message had been simple and discreet: “Come alone. Do not tell Greg. – G.W.”She had obeyed without knowing why.Now, standing in front of the towering oak doors, she felt an odd chill wash over her, as though she was about to enter something far deeper than just a conversation.The butler led her through the grand halls in silence, stopping before the study. “He’s waiting for you inside.”She pushed the door open.The room was dark, save for the faint orange glow of a fireplace flickering low in the corner. A single lamp illuminated the large desk near the window, and behind it, seated like a king on his throne, was Gregory Whitmore Sr., the patriarch of the Whitmore legacy.A glass of whiskey sat untouched beside him, and a thin line of smoke curled from the cigarette betwe
Betrayed love and regret Blurred lines
The silence in the penthouse had stretched for days. Jane moved through the luxurious space like a ghost, feeling its vastness echo the new emptiness growing between her and Greg. Since their last argument, he'd kept his distance — polite, civil, but colder than she had ever seen him. He was no longer the confident, smooth-talking man who teased her at dinner parties and watched her when he thought she wouldn’t notice. He was now... silent. Distant.And she hated it.The chill wasn’t just in the room — it was under her skin.Jane stood at the edge of the study doorway that evening, watching Greg as he leaned over a set of financial documents. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair slightly disheveled, a glass of untouched scotch sitting beside him. He hadn’t noticed her yet, too buried in whatever business emergency his grandfather had stirred up this time.She cleared her throat softly. “Greg.”He looked up. His expression shifted when he saw her, a flash of something — surprise, maybe
Betrayed love and regret Crossroad
The fireplace crackled quietly in the background as Greg paced across the living room of the penthouse, the dim golden lights casting long shadows on the polished wood floors. His mind had been at war for days, trying to convince himself it was too soon… or too absurd… or too much.But he couldn’t avoid it anymore.He had to talk to Jane.She was curled up on the oversized sofa, wearing a soft ivory robe, her legs tucked under her as she flipped absentmindedly through a fashion magazine. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulder in loose waves, and there was something about the domestic calmness of the scene that made Greg hesitate.She looked peaceful. Untouched by the chaos that brewed in his chest.But the words burned on his tongue."Jane," he said finally.She looked up, eyes curious. “Hmm?”“We need to talk.”Her body stiffened slightly, a telltale sign she’d learned not to show fear unless it was necessary. She set the magazine down and straightened. “Alright… talk.”Greg walk
Betrayed love and regret The request
The antique grandfather clock ticked heavily in the quiet of the study, its steady rhythm matching the tension thickening in the air.Greg sat stiffly across from his grandfather, the formidable Theodore Hamilton, the patriarch of the Hamilton empire. The elder man was a picture of aged nobility silver hair immaculately combed back, piercing gray eyes that didn’t miss a thing, and a cane resting beside his chair more for intimidation than support.The study was Greg’s least favorite room in the estate all mahogany shelves, dusty oil paintings, and the lingering scent of old money and judgment.Theodore set down his brandy glass with a sharp clink and looked directly at his grandson.“I want a great-grandchild, Gregory.”Greg blinked, half certain he’d misheard. “I’m sorry… what?”Theodore leaned forward slightly. “You’re married now. Publicly, legally, and very convincingly. You’ve given me a charming daughter-in-law, and the press believes you’re on the path to stability. Good. But I
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