Imogene Scott The bedroom feels too big when Damien walks out. I sit up in bed, clutching the edge of the blanket. I let out a shaky breath, staring at the door he just closed. He’s going to ask me about therapy. I know he will. I don’t even know how to explain it. How do I tell him that sitting in that room felt like unpacking a suitcase only to realize you’ve brought nothing but broken things? That therapy didn’t feel like healing—it felt like dragging wounds out into the open and watching them bleed. I shake my head. I can’t stay in bed waiting for him to corner me. The quiet will drive me insane. I throw back the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed. My head spins as I stand, but I grip the bedpost and steady myself. I shuffle to the door, trailing my hand along the wall as I make my way downstairs. The faint hum of the stovetop reaches my ears, along with the rhythmic sound of Damien chopping something. I stop at the edge of the kitchen and watch him.
Imogene Scott A week later… I sit in the stiff leather chair, my hands resting over my stomach. The waiting room is quiet and the door finally swings open. The doctor steps in, holding a folder. My breath hitches. This is routine, I remind myself. Routine. I’m here for my usual checkup. Alone this time. I had told Damien he didn’t have to accompany me since he’s been missing a lot work a lot lately because of me.“Mrs. Shaw,” The doctor says with a polite nod, gesturing for me to join him in his office. I follow, my heels clicking against the tile floor. His office smells faintly of antiseptic and lavender, maybe. I sit across from his desk, the folder now open in front of him. He doesn’t look alarmed, but there’s a wrinkle in his brow. “Imogene, I’m glad you came in today.” “Is everything alright?” He nods but steeples his fingers, leaning forward slightly. “The babies are fine, but your stress levels are higher than we’d like. It’s starting to show in your vitals
Imogene Scott My mind is spinning as I step out of Lila’s office. Divorce papers. My father’s name on them. Lila’s isn’t. A billion-dollar check. For her? My heels echo sharply against the marble floor as I walk. In the lobby, I see the receptionist who texted me earlier and make my way toward her. She looks around nervously, then waves me over to a quieter corner. “You’re Mr. Scott’s daughter, right?” her voice low.“Yes,” I say. “Why?”She glances over her shoulder, then leans in, her voice barely above a whisper. “Your father was here the day before he was... you know. Killed. He and Lila had a huge fight in her office. I couldn’t hear what they were arguing about, but it was bad.”My stomach drops. “Do you remember anything else? Anything at all?” She shakes her head apologetically. “No, but... there’s something not right about her. She’s hiding something about this company. I’ve been here a long time, and I know when something’s off.”I blink, trying to process her word
Damien Shaw "I don’t even know who to trust anymore." The words are frustrating as they leave my mouth. I press my hands flat against the edge of my desk, gripping it harder. Gerald stands across from me, his expression carefully neutral, but I can see the tension in his jaw. “Weaknesses in our security?” I continue. “And now we’re sure someone on the inside helped with the leak?”Gerald nods. “Yes. The evidence points to internal involvement. Possibly more than one person.” The idea sinks into my chest like a stone. More than one person. It’s almost unthinkable. My team, the people I’ve trusted, built this company with—could they really be working against me? My throat tightens at the thought. “We need a full background check on every employee,” I say. “No exceptions. I don’t care how long they’ve been with the company, whether they’re at the executive level or just interns. Go through them all.”Gerald hesitates, just for a second. “That’ll take time,” he says carefull
Imogene Scott I sit in the living room, wringing my hands together as I stare at the clock. The agency said they’d send the fourth candidate soon, but if she’s anything like the last three, I’m not sure I’ll survive the day. The first woman looked like she’d send me into an early grave with how tightly wound she was, and the second… I don’t even want to think about her. I could practically see her zoning out halfway through our conversation. The third one made me tilt my head in disbelief—a heavy coat, in this heat? On a blazing sunny day? What was she hiding under there? I shake my head, exasperated. A long sigh slips from my lips, and I sink further into the couch, staring at the sun-drenched curtains. Why is this so hard? I just want someone competent. Someone who can help me manage this house without driving me insane. The sharp ring of the doorbell jolts me upright. I spring to my feet, brushing invisible creases from my dress. Fourth time’s the charm, right? I don’t
Imogene Scott The man at the counter is already turning away, dismissing me, when he suddenly stops. "Wait a second," he says, scratching his chin. "There was this guy—Terry. Used to work here a few years back. He’d forge our company’s mark and make his own stuff to sell on the side. Got caught eventually, but we didn’t press charges. Just fired him." I freeze mid-step. "You didn’t sue him?" He shakes his head. "Nope. Boss said it wasn’t worth the trouble. But Terry packed up and left after that. Haven’t heard from him since." Something about this doesn’t sit right. "How long ago was this?" "Two years, give or take," he replies. I do the math in my head. Two years ago, my father was alive and very much involved in his business dealings. Could this Terry have something to do with the key? The timeline feels too coincidental. "Do you know where I can find him?" I press. The man shrugs. "We’ve got his old address in our records. No idea if he still lives there, though."
Damien Shaw I stretch in my chair, feeling the stiffness in my shoulders pull and then release. The clock on the wall reads 9:07 p.m. Another late night. Another day closer to the conference, and still no answers. I rub a hand down my face, willing the tension in my temples to ease. It doesn’t. My desk is a mess of reports, files, and sticky notes.Just as I reach for my bag, the office door swings open. Gerald steps in, looking as worn as I feel. “I’ve gone through background checks on half of the employees,” he starts without preamble, clutching a tablet to his chest. “Still nothing. But I’m digging deeper. I’ll—” “Not good enough,” I cut him off.Gerald falters. “I’m trying my best, sir.” “Try harder,” I snap, shoving my laptop into my bag. “We’re running out of time. If we don’t find out who helped the traitor before the conference, I’ll be walking into that room with a target on my back.” He lowers his head slightly. “I understand.” “Do you?” I retort, slinging my
Imogene ScottThe following day, I drop Lily off at school first. I watch as she skips toward the school building. She turns at the door, grinning from ear to ear, and waves at me. I wave back. “Bye, Mommy!” she calls.“Bye, sweetheart! Have fun!” I call back, forcing a smile. She disappears into the building, and as soon as she’s out of sight, my smile falters. My stomach twists. I shouldn’t be doing this today—not with Mother-Daughter Day this afternoon. But I can’t ignore this lead either. Sliding into the car, I take a deep breath and grip the steering wheel. “It’s for the best,” I murmur to myself. I glance at the clock on the dashboard. It’s 8:15 a.m. If I time it perfectly, I’ll be back before 4 p.m. Plenty of time. The drive out of town is uneventful at first. My mind keeps drifting. What am I even expecting to find? Proof? Closure? Answers? All I know is that I need to figure out what Terry’s connection to my father really was—and why the key matters so much. An hou
Damien Shaw “What else do you need me to grab? Your handbag?” I ask, watching her in the mirror as she pulls her hair up into one of those quick, messy buns that somehow still looks perfect on her.We’ve been in this house for a few days now. No noise. No schedules. Just the two of us. It’s been good but I figured she might want to stretch her wings a little. When I found out there was a small art center just half an hour from here, I booked us a private session. No people. No distractions. Just space and light and canvas.“I can grab my bag,” she says, walking to the bed where it’s tossed beside the sundress she picked earlier. It’s light yellow that ends just mid-thigh. Her bare legs steal my attention for a second longer than I mean them to.But I’m faster. I reach for the bag before she can.“You’re not allowed to carry anything,” I say, grabbing it and slinging it over my shoulder. It’s half the size of her and somehow still weighs a damn ton.She frowns at me like I’ve ju
Imogene Scott The sun is starting to go down when I wake up. The blanket is still tucked around me, and I stretch, feeling the tightness in my muscles from the nap Damien insisted I take after lunch. My body is still warm. I glance over to the clock, surprised by how much time has passed.As I sit up, Damien appears in the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes are bright, and there’s a glint of mischief in them. He’s holding something behind his back, though I can’t tell what.“Feeling better?” he asks, his voice low, smooth. I nod slowly, still trying to shake off the drowsiness.“You wouldn’t let me sleep through the afternoon, would you?” I tease, stretching again as my arms reach above my head, my back arching. He chuckles softly, shaking his head.“I had a plan for you,” he says, stepping into the room. His smile widens. “So, I prepared a little something special for you while you were asleep.”I raise an eyebrow. “Oh really?” “Yes, really,” he says, an
Damien Shaw It’s surprising how bright the morning sun is after the heavy rain last night. I shift under the sheets and my hand reaches out instinctively, searching for Imogene, but the space beside me is empty.I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The house is quiet. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, the cool floor sending a slight shiver up my spine.As I step into the hallway, the aroma of fresh apples wafts through the air. I follow the scent to the dining area and find Imogene seated at the table, meticulously slicing apples into thin wedges.“Why are you doing this so early in the morning?” I ask, approaching her.She looks up, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I just crave apples.”I chuckle, “You should’ve woken me up to cut them for you.”“It’s fine,” she replies, focusing back on her task.Suddenly, her phone beeps. She sets down the knife and picks up the device, answering the incoming video call. Kia's face appears on the screen, and beside her is
Damien Shaw We go back inside after the rain. I lead Imogene to the bathroom where I prepare her a hot bath. Steam curls up from the tub as I swirl my hand through the water, checking the temperature. Not too hot. Just warm enough to soothe her bones. She stands there quietly beside me. Her lashes are still damp from the rain, and I help her out of the oversized hoodie with gentle hands. My fingers graze her shoulders, and I swear, even soaked to the skin, she glows. There’s a peace in her eyes I haven’t seen in weeks.She steps into the bath with a small sigh, like her whole body is unraveling, and I wait for a second—just watching her exhale. Then I step out, give her space. She needs this.While she soaks, I clear the chaos we left behind. Plates. Crumpled napkins. Half a pint of chocolate ice cream melting on the coffee table. The rain’s still coming down in sheets outside, thick drops racing down the windowpanes.I grab a towel, ruffle it through my hair, then toss it o
Imogene Scott I slept through the night for the first time in weeks. No jolting awake. No sweat-slicked skin. No dreams of drowning in shadows. Just silence. Stillness. Peace.My eyes open slowly, blinking into the quiet morning light spilling through the gauzy white curtains. The ocean breeze flows in from the slightly open window. My head doesn’t feel like it’s been split in two.I pull the blanket down and sit up, cradling my growing belly with both hands. The twins will be here in a few weeks. Two heartbeats fluttering beneath my skin. Two tiny souls I haven't even met, but already love with an intensity that’s terrifying and beautiful all at once.My fingers press gently into the bump. “You two are going to be okay,” I whisper. “We’re all going to be okay.”A soft smile pulls at my lips. It’s real this time. Not the kind I force at dinner tables or mirror reflections. No, this one is real.“What are you smiling about?”Damien’s voice startles me. I look up as he steps into
Damien Shaw The sun spills through the curtains as my eyes flutter open. I groan, registering the soreness in my bones. I rub at my face, letting my hand fall onto the bed beside me…It’s empty.My heart kicks up, a sudden thrum against my ribs.Imogene is not here.The sheets are still warm, faintly scented with her shampoo and her pillow’s half-squashed. She couldn’t have gone far. But still… my throat tightens as I sit up fast, pushing the blanket off. My bare feet hit the cool wood floor and I stand, eyes scanning the quiet bedroom.I don’t call out. Not yet. My gut twists like it always does when she disappears from my line of sight. I step into the hallway, and I’m immediately hit with a warm, sweet and smoky smell.Pancakes?I follow the scent into the kitchen, tension loosening slightly with each step. And then I see her.She’s standing by the stove, her back to me, swaying ever so slightly to some melody in her head. She’s barefoot, in nothing but my oversized black T-shir
Imogene Scott“Mummy, how long are you going to be gone?” Lily’s small voice floats toward me.I pause, my hand hovering over the zipper of my suitcase. The last dress is folded neatly inside and I press it down before turning to face her. She’s standing by the edge of the bed.“Mummy will be back in a few days,” I say gently, kneeling in front of her and smoothing her curls with my palm. She looks at me like she’s studying me, trying to see if I’m telling the truth or just saying what I think she wants to hear.“Will Mummy be better by then?” she asks.My breath catches.Better.I nod, brushing my thumb across her cheek.“Yes, baby. Mummy will be fine.”Lily thinks about that for a second, then smiles. “Yes, then Mummy can go. Anty Kia will take good care of me.”A soft knock sounds on the door just as I press a kiss to Lily’s forehead. Sheila steps in. “Is there anything else you want to take to the water park, Lily?” she says.Before Lily can answer, Kia walks in right behind
Imogene Scott When I open my eyes, it’s dark outside.The ceiling fan spins slowly above me. My body feels warm as I place my palm on my forehead and try to register what time it is on the wall clock across the room. But my vision’s a little blurry and I can’t make out the numbers, so I sit up instead, blinking away the sleep.I swing my legs off the bed and the cold wooden floor kisses my bare feet. I tug Damien’s hoodie tighter around me before padding to the door. I didn’t mean to sleep that long. I was just going to close my eyes for a few minutes.The hallway is dim. I make my way down slowly, hand on the banister. My joints still feel a little stiff from laying in one position for too long.When I reach the last step, I spot him.Damien’s seated at the dining table, one elbow propped up, his head resting in his palm. His hair’s tousled like he’s run his hand through it a hundred times tonight.“Hey there,” I say, softly.His head snaps up.“You’re awake?” His voice is low.
Damien Shaw I help Imogene off the examination table slowly, my hands gripping her waist. She's light and it unsettles me more than I let on. She sits up and swings her legs over the edge, her fingers resting on my forearm to steady herself."I'm okay," she says softly.She’s not. But I nod anyway. We walk out of the room together and back into the office, where Dr. Rogers is typing something into her computer. The click of the keys fills the silence.She looks up and smiles, though there's a trace of something behind her eyes. Concern, maybe. Caution."Everything looks good so far," she says. "But we’re entering the home stretch now. Just a few more weeks. You both need to be careful, especially you, Imogene."Imogene nods politely. “We will.”I thank her and reach for the door handle, ready to leave. I’m already thinking about the drive home, when Dr Rogers calls out to me. “Damien, could I speak to you for a second?”I stop and glance at Imogene.“I’ll wait in the car,” she