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Avery’s Pov
I checked my reflection one last time, smoothing down the navy blue dress. His favorite color with my hair down the way he once mentioned he liked, back when he looked at me once. The diamond bracelet from christmas glinted under the light, probably picked by his assistant, but I wore it anyway. Tonight had to be perfect. Richard, my father-in-law, was bringing fourteen important guests, and I was going to be exactly what they expected, the graceful hostess, the perfect wife. Maybe if I tried hard enough, he’d finally see me. Pathetic yes, I know that. I’m Avery Monroe Sterling, twenty-four. Married fourteen months to a man who keeps me in a separate bedroom and barely speaks to me. We signed a contract, one year to save his company’s image and fulfill his father's wishes. The year ended two months ago and I’m still here. Before Nate, my husband, I was engaged to someone else. I caught him cheating with someone I trusted. The betrayal sent me running into traffic, straight into Richard Sterling’s car. He saw opportunity in a broken girl. So here I am, trying, still hoping. I headed downstairs, heels clicking against marble. The dining room was filled with expensive conversation, men in suits, women dripping with jewelry. Nate sat at the head of the table, laughing at something Richard said. He looked perfect, untouchable. My heart still did that stupid thing when I looked at him. His eyes met mine for half a second. Then he looked away, dismissing me like furniture just like he always did. I took my seat, smiled at guests, and played my part. The food was rich, heavy. Conversation danced around me like I wasn’t there. Then the smell hit me. Salmon in thick butter sauce, overwhelming me. My stomach turned violently. I gripped my fork, swallowing hard against the rising nausea. Not now. Please, not now. “Mrs. Sterling, you look pale,” Mrs. Waters said, her voice carrying across the table. “Are you feeling alright?” Every head turned. Including Nate’s. “I’m fine,” I managed, forcing a smile that felt like it might crack my face. “Just…” Another wave hit harder. The room tilted. I stood too fast, chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Excuse me…” I took only three steps before my stomach betrayed me and I doubled over, vomiting onto the Persian rug. Gasps erupted around the table. I heard someone’s wife squealed in disgust. I couldn’t stop, body heaving while humiliation burned through every nerve. Then Mrs. Waters’ voice, excited and warm. “Could it be? Richard, are we finally getting a grandchild?” The room fell silent, too silent. I looked up, wiping my mouth with trembling hands. Richard’s face had gone carefully blank. But Nate… Nate was staring at me like I’d just confirmed his worst suspicion. He walked to me, he clamped his hands around my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. He hauled me toward the stairs while I stumbled, trying to keep up. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. “I didn’t mean…” “Just shut it.” He shoved me into our bedroom and slammed the door behind us. I stood there shaking, from sickness, from humiliation, from the cold in his gray eyes. “Are you pregnant?” he demanded, his voice deadly calm. “What? No, I…” “Don’t lie to me, woman.” He stepped closer, towering over me. “Whose is it?” The words didn’t make sense at first. I stared at him, trying to process. “Whose is what?” “The baby,” he said, each word sharp as a blade. “Whose baby are you carrying?” “I’m not pregnant!” The words exploded out of me. “I’m just sick!” “Everyone downstairs thinks you are,” he said coldly. “And since I’ve never touched you, we both know it can’t be mine.” The implication hit like a slap. He thought…he actually thought… “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” My voice came out small and broken. “What else should I think?” He pulled out his phone, jaw tight. “You disappear during the day and you end conversations when I walk into the room.” “Those conversations are with my mother!” Anger finally broke through shock. “And I ‘disappear’ to work at the hospital!” “Where you work with how many male doctors?” His eyes were cold, accusing. “You’re insane,” I whispered, my whole body trembling. “Stay here.” He moved toward the door, not looking at me. “Don’t come downstairs. You’ve embarrassed me enough for one night.” “Nate, please…” “I said stay here.” He walked out without a backward glance. The door closed. Not a slam, just a soft click that felt worse than this situation. I sank into the bed, my whole body shaking. Not from sickness anymore. From anger, from the crushing weight of knowing this is what he thought of me. The party continued downstairs. Laughter drifted up, sounds of glass clicking. Like nothing had happened. I moved to the window, trying to catch my breath. Then I heard Nate’s voice from the hallway. “Celeste.” Nate's voice sounded more like a surprise. I moved to the door and leaned against it, straining to her clearly. “…didn’t expect to see you here Celeste.” His voice was shocked and unbelieving. “I had to see you, Nate.” A woman’s voice, sweet and confident. Celeste. My heart starts to hammer against at my ribs. The name felt like ice in my veins, his first love. The ghost that lived in this marriage. I heard she was back in New York a week ago. Everything began to click, that’s why he has been different, distracted and checking his phone constantly. But why is she here tonight? “You shouldn’t have come,” Nate said but it was not convincing enough. I heard them walking towards the stairs. I slipped out of the bedroom quietly, moved down the hallway keeping to shadows. I followed their voices to the conservatory at the back of the house. The door was cracked, just enough. Nate stood with his back to me. I saw a moment and I saw her. Celeste, blonde, beautiful, everything I wasn’t, standing close to Nate, too close. “I know I hurt you,” she was saying, her voice was soft. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but I had to.” “We are both married, Celeste. There is no point…” “I am not,” she cut him off. “Not anymore, I ended it.” “You what?” “The marriage,” she said quietly. “I ended it. I wasn’t happy, Nate. I tried but I couldn’t forget you. When I heard you got married, I thought I’d lost you forever. I had to come back, to tell you I still love you.” My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. “You left me,” Nate said, voice rough with emotion. “Three years ago, you left!” “I am sorry Nate.” She said crying. “I was scared. Young and stupid and scared of how much I felt and that was the biggest mistake of my life.” “Celeste…” “Are you happy with her?” she asked, desperate now. “Do you love her?” The silence was far stretched. I held my breath, waiting for his answer. I shouldn’t be listening to this, I shouldn’t care what his answer would be. But I couldn’t move. He still didn’t answer. “We can fix this,” she whispered, looking up at him and wrapping his hands round his waist. “We can still have everything we should have had.” Then she rose on her toes and kissed him. The world around me stopped. Nate stood frozen. I waited for him to pull away, push her back to remember he had a wife upstairs. But instead, his hand came up to her waist and the other to the back of her neck and he kissed her back.Wyatt’s POVI didn’t sleep.I sat in my hotel room with my laptop open with running searches, making calls to contacts who specialized in things most people didn’t want to know about. Marcus also worked through all the night tracking vehicles, running plates and checking hotel registries within a fifty-mile radius.By six in the morning, he walked in carrying a folder. His expression already told me everything before he opened his mouth.Marcus dropped the folder on the table in front of me. “Davis Investigations, based in New York. High-end firm that specializes in locating people who don’t want to be found.”I opened it and I saw photos of a middle-aged man with professional camera equipment and telephoto lens. His license plate was registered to the firm. Hotel check-in was dated five days ago at a place two towns over.“Who hired them?” I already knew the answer but needed to hear it.Marcus opened another page of the folder. It contained an invoice header visible in the backgrou
Wyatt’s POV“I need space, Wyatt.”Avery’s words kept echoing in my head for days straight, still sharp as broken glass that I couldn't focus on my work.I sat in my hotel room staring at a glass of whiskey I’d poured but wouldn’t drink, the table was scattered with documents needed to be sorted out.My hands shook slightly as I set it down the glass. I wasn’t the type to break things or punch walls when angry or pissed. Control was what I did best.But right now, control feels impossible for me.I couldn’t leave Seabrook. The doctor’s warning played on repeat in my head like a recording I couldn’t shut off. I know she'd kicked me out, told me to leave her alone. But I couldn’t. Not when one bad day, like that day, could destroy everything.I pulled out my phone from my pocket and called my security team.“I need discreet surveillance on the beach house, far enough she won’t notice but close enough to respond in seconds if anything happens.”“Copy that. How many men?”“Three rotating
Nate’s POVIt’s been two days in Paris. Our luxury hotel for our honeymoon overlooked the Eiffel Tower, the kind of view that should’ve been romantic.But It wasn’t.Celeste had planned everything down to the last minute. Breakfast at eight, Louvre at ten, lunch at some Michelin-starred restaurant, shopping on the Champs-Élysées, dinner at another expensive restaurant with too many forks.Everything was scheduled and photographed for Instagram.I went through it all like a robot. I smiled for pictures, held her hand when cameras were around and I said a few words needed to be said.But my mind was somewhere else.My father’s words wouldn’t just stop echoing. “Do you even know who you married?”Our hotel suite had two bedrooms. Celeste’s excuse was jet lag, exhaustion from the wedding planning. We hadn’t touched each other since the wedding night and that even felt more like a must to do than desire.She dragged me to the Eiffel Tower yesterday. She made me take about fifty pictures of
Nate’s POVIt was Monday morning after the wedding I woke up with a headache that wouldn’t stop.We had finished the press photo shoot for Vogue after the meeting yesterday and today was the two-hour interview about “the new Sterling power couple” that made my skin to crawl. Celeste answered most of the questions while I sat there smiling like a trained dog and our hands locked together like a happy couple.Tomorrow we leave for Paris, two weeks of honeymoon I wasn’t ready for.But today, I have one thing to do: visit my father in the hospital.The drive to the hospital was quiet. Celeste checked her phone constantly, typing responses to God knows who. I stared out the window, trying not to think about how trapped I felt.At the hospital, Celeste immediately changed from a businesswoman to a devoted wife. She smiled at my father and touched his hand gently.“Richard, you’re looking so much better.” Her voice was warm and laced with concern. “I’m so glad you’re recovering.”“Celeste.”
Avery’s POVI sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the wall for hours. Broken glass still littered the room floor. I didn’t have the energy to clean it.I heard voices through the thin walls. It was Marcus first, low and urgent. Then another voice cut through, louder and desperate.Wyatt...My chest tightened. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn't ready to look at him knowing what I knew now.Then the door opened.He stood there looking completely wrecked with his hair messy like he’d been running his hands through it all day and his shirt wrinkled “Avery.” He just said my name, like a prayer.I didn’t turn to look at him, I kept my eyes on the floor.“Marcus said someone came.” He said, with a rough voice. “Did he tell you anything?”“He told me the truth.” I struggled to say. “You’re not a struggling investor.”The silence between us was stretched. Then, quietly, “No.”“You’re wealthy and powerful.” I finally turned to meet his gaze. “You are ruthless and you destroy people for profi
Avery’s POVI woke to an empty house.The couch where Wyatt had been sitting last night was empty. I found a note on the table in the kitchen.“Had to handle something urgent. Back by afternoon. - W”I stared at the note, the feeling, that familiar feeling of being left behind, story of my life...That morning, I made tea that I didn't drink. I stared at walls and outside the window, counting the cars and people that passed the streets. A knock on the door startled me.I moved to the door and looked through the peephole. A man stood there in a simple casual t-shirt and faded blue jeans with his hands in his pocket, a cross back on him.“Yes?” I called through the door.“Miss Monroe? I’m here on behalf of Wyatt Kane.” He said.My heart jumped in my chest. Did something happen to him?I opened the door fast. “Is he okay?”“He’s fine.” The man smiled, extending his hand. “Daniel Cross, business associate. Wyatt asked me to check on you while he’s away.” That sounded like something Wy







