LOGINSTACY'S POVHis tear hit my skin, warm and shocking. I stared at it, my mind split. One part screamed: Hold your ground. Don’t let tears manipulate you. He has to prove change, not just cry about it. The other part, softer, weaker, whispered: He’s hurting. Really hurting. You made him hurt.His hand still held mine. His grip was tight, almost painful. But his eyes were the worst—wide, wet, stripped of all that arrogant armor. Michael, the man who commanded boardrooms with a glance, who made deals with a cold smile… was trembling in my bed.“I shouldn’t be moved by this,” I said aloud. My voice sounded small. “I had my resolve. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t do it again.”He nodded, a quick, desperate jerk of his head. “I won’t. I promise. No more monitoring. No more… controlling what you see. I’ll respect your choices.” He swallowed, his throat tight. “Because I know you. You’re someone who doesn’t know how to cheat. You’re loyal. I was stupid to forget that.”The words felt right
STACY'S POVThe first thing I felt was warmth. A solid, heavy warmth wrapped around me. Michael’s arm, pinned across my chest, his body curved against my back. The room was dim, morning light filtering through the curtains. My eyes opened, and for a second, there was just comfort. Then my mind clicked on.He’s still here.I tried to shift, to slide out from under his weight. His arm tightened instantly, a reflexive pull that dragged me back against him. My body stiffened.“Let me go,” I said, my voice scratchy from sleep. “I need to get Millie ready.”He didn’t move. Just a low murmur near my ear. “She has nannies. Walkers. I saw the schedule in the kitchen. Why would you need to get her ready?” His voice was clear. Too clear. Not groggy with sleep, but knowing. “Besides,” he added, his fingers tracing a lazy line down my arm. “It’s Saturday. No school.”My heart gave a sudden, sharp thump. Saturday. How did he know that? He’d been drunk last night. Blurry-eyed, stumbling. He’d been w
STACY'S POVThe silence in my own house was a different kind of loud. For days, it was just me and Millie. We fell into a rhythm, a quiet, wounded one. I went to work. I came home. I took her to the pastry shop, watching her lick frosting from her tiny fingers, and my heart would ache for the family breakfasts we used to have. The ones that felt whole.Michael wanted to see Millie. Of course he did. So I’d bundle her up, drive to the park, and sit on a bench far away while he pushed her on the swings. I never looked at him. Not directly. I kept my sunglasses on, my gaze on a tree, a bird, anything else. If I looked, I might falter. I might see the hurt in his eyes and run to him. And I couldn’t. He needed to learn.You don’t get to monitor me like a project, I thought, the mantra playing on a loop. You don’t get to hack my life and call it love.But god, being apart from him broke me. Every night, the bed was too big, too cold. I dreamed of his hands, his smell, the low rumble of his
MIACHEL'S POVThe door closed behind me with a soft click, but it felt like a slam. I stood in the hallway of Stacy’s office building, my back against the cool wall. My chest was tight. She knows. The words echoed in my head, a dull, punishing rhythm. She knows I hacked her cameras. I’d watched her for days. Her office, the main corridors, the private lounge she used for breaks. I’d seen her work, seen her stress, seen her smile at colleagues. I’d seen everything.And I hadn’t asked. I just did it.I walked toward the elevator, my steps heavy. The guilt was a physical weight, sitting low in my stomach. I shouldn’t have. That part was clear. But the other part, the louder part, whispered: I had to. She’s in danger. Someone’s targeting her. Someone used her parents. I need to see. The conflict tore at me. Protecting her was my priority. Always. But doing it this way… sneaking, spying… it felt dirty. It felt like him. Like the man I was trying to protect her from.The elevator arrived, e
STACY'S POVThe silence in my office after security took them away was heavy, but it wasn’t peaceful. My mind was racing, tripping over the same jagged thought. Those people are not my parents. The words echoed, cold and final. It wasn't a guess anymore. It was a fact, sitting in my gut like a stone. They’d sold me. Locked me away. That wasn’t love. That wasn’t family. It was… a transaction. I must have been taken. Abducted. Or something else I couldn’t even picture.My hands were flat on the desk, palms cool against the wood. I needed to know. I have to find out who I really am. A private investigator. That was the answer. But which one? The city had hundreds. How do you even pick a good one? Do you just call and hope? I didn’t have connections in that world. My world was design, business, Michael. Not shadowy people who dig up stolen pasts.My phone was still on the desk, the recording saved. I picked it up, my fingers trembling slightly. I scrolled through contacts. Henry’s name wa
STACY'S POVThe laugh hung in the air, sharp and ugly. It felt good. Let them hear it.Helen’s face tightened, her lips pinched into a thin line. George just blinked, confused.“You find this amusing?” Helen spat. “Your own parents asking for what’s rightfully ours?”“Rightfully yours?” I said, my voice flat. “You think you can just walk in and take everything I built? Keep dreaming.”George leaned forward, his bulk making the chair creak. “It’s not taking. It’s family support. You owe us.”“I owe you nothing,” I said. Each word felt like a stone I was throwing. “You showed up with your hands out, demanding shares, control, everything. And you think I’ll just give it up? Because of what? Because you say so?”Helen’s eyes flashed with real anger. “You are unfilial. Stupid. If you think you can get away from us, it’s a lie. A pathetic lie.”George nodded, trying to look menacing. “Give us the shares. Or we ruin this company. We’ll tell every investor, every client, about your character.
Stacy's POVMy heart was pounding so hard it hurt. I didn't look back. I just ran, Matt's cold smirk burned into my mind. He's out. How is he out? The hallway of the Kingston stretched endlessly, all plush carpet and silent doors. My breath came in ragged gasps.Suite 1200. The numbers blurred in m
Stacy's POVI knew saying I hated him wouldn't stop him. I knew it would probably make things worse. But I was too angry to care. Too furious to think straight."I hate you," I repeated, my voice shaking. "I hate what you've done. I hate—"He didn't let me finish. His hand shot up to the back of my
Stacy's POVI stood at the bottom of the stairs long after he left, my knees aching from kneeling on the carpet. The cool air from the open door washed over me before I finally pushed myself up and closed it.What the hell was I doing?My hands were shaking as I locked the deadbolt. I pressed my f
Michael's POVI stood in the shadows of the hallway, watching.The door to the little girl's room was open just a crack. Soft yellow light spilled out. I could hear Stacy's voice, low and soothing, telling a bedtime story. Millie's soft questions. The rustle of covers. A mother's nighttime ritual.







