LOGINI married Leander Ivanov for love – even if our life together was more steady than passionate. After two years of building a quiet life side by side, I thought we were finally ready to start a family. I planned to tell him I was pregnant on his 30th birthday, surrounded by his favorite meal and the custom watch I’d spent months creating just for him. But when I turn on the news, I see him with Wren Harris – his first love, back in town after five years abroad. They look like the perfect couple, and the way he looks at her makes my heart shatter into pieces. When he comes home, he claims it was just a coincidence – but then Wren shows up at our door, wearing my watch and revealing the flowers he gave me were meant for her. As Wren and her mysterious business partner Leon Rossi weave their way into our lives, I start to suspect there’s more to their return than meets the eye. The rumors about a hostile takeover of Ivanov Industries aren’t just gossip – they’re part of a dangerous plan to destroy everything Leander’s family built. Now I have to fight for my marriage, my unborn child, and the company that means everything to the man I love. But can I trust Leander to choose us over the woman he once thought was his soulmate? And will the truth be enough to save us when lies threaten to tear our world apart?
View MoreQuinn’s POV
I’ve spent three hours preparing for Leander’s birthday dinner, and my feet ache. Braised short ribs rest in the oven, roasted vegetables are ready to serve, and the chocolate lava cake, I practiced twice to get it right sits on the table. I looked at myself in the mirror, wearing the dress he once said made me stunning. I know he’d like it. I wanted everything to be perfect. Because tonight, I’m going to tell him I’m pregnant. The positive test is in my clutch, wrapped in paper like it’s a precious gift; not just two pink lines that have changed everything. We’ve been married two years. His grandfather arranged the union to save my family’s small business, but we tried to build something real between us. We weren’t passionate, but things were steady like a house with strong walls that hadn’t been painted yet. I always thought we’d decorate it together someday. My phone buzzes. It’s Sam, a colleague I worked with on a fashion spread last year; we keep in touch to talk about the industry. I open her message, expecting she’ll ask about the design conference. “Hey, take a look at the new photos I took today. This is my friend—she’s a traveler.” Three minutes later, the photos arrive. I’m admiring the shots when I notice a man in the background, his arm around a blonde woman. Only half his body is visible, but I’d know that suit anywhere. The cufflinks were made by my own hand–they’re one of a kind in the world. The woman has long blonde hair, her hand on his back as she looks at him like he’s all that matters. I recognize her as Wren Harris. I’ve seen old photos of her in his desk drawer before, the ones I pretended not to notice the first time I cleaned his table. “Sam, can you please not post this picture on social media?” I reply, my words heavy with sadness. “Why?” “Because that man in the picture is my husband.” “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” I stare at the screen, feeling as though cold water has been poured over me. I sighed heavily, set my phone down, and rest my hand on my stomach. The baby is too small to feel, but I swear I notice a tiny flutter. I tell myself I won’t let this ruin our special night. I was planning to place the test by his plate with a blue bow, but now the idea feels like a cruel joke. The door swings open. He’s finally here. “Quinn? Why are you still up?” He sees the dinner spread and looks surprised then guilty for just a moment. “I was waiting for you,” I say, forcing a sad smile. “Happy birthday, Leander.” He runs a hand through his hair a telltale sign he’s nervous. “I’m sorry. Work was insane, we’re finalizing the merger, and everything went wrong. You shouldn’t have waited. The day’s over now, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll take you to that restaurant you love this weekend.” I only sighed in response. What else can I do? He seems tired or perhaps just not interested in celebrating his birthday with me. I look at the suit he still wears. It’s wrinkled, and there’s blonde hair on the collar. I want to scream, but I stay calm. “I talked to Sam earlier,” I say, starting the conversation I never wanted to have. “She showed me photos from the airport a man in a navy pinstripe suit with custom stitching. She couldn’t tell who it was, but I recognized my work. I knew it was you.” He freezes, glancing at his sleeves. He reaches for my hands, but I pulled it away. “It was a coincidence, I swear,” he says. “I was picking up Mr. Stanton, his flight was late and I ran into Wren by chance. Her driver didn’t show up, she had a lot to carry, so I couldn’t leave her.” “Did you tell her you’re married?” I ask. “No. We never talk about our personal lives, only work, that’s all.” He looked away, not wanting to discuss it further, I wonder if he was wearing his wedding ring. I reach for my clutch. “I have something to show you. I’ve been wanting to tell you for days.” I’m about to pull out the test when his phone rings. It’s Wren. “Leander! My power’s out there’s a storm, the windows are rattling, I’m scared. I don’t know anyone here, I—” “Okay, okay, calm down,” he says, grabbing his keys. “I’m coming. Lock the doors and stay away from the windows.” He stands up immediately and heads for the door. "Don't go." I tugged at his sleeve. "It's your birthday. I've been preparing for this for so long." Bitterness welled up inside me. "She doesn't only have you, you know." "You need to be a little more compassionate." "But, Leande–" He raised his right hand to stop me, he didn't say a word instead, I watched his retreating figure, the pregnancy test still in my hand. I tried not to let the tears fall. I pulled out the test and hold it as tears blur the two pink lines. I want to shout as loud as I can.Leander's POVI’ve been standing in the alley behind the old market for twenty minutes, watching the crowd move like water through the narrow streets. The air smells like fried fish, fresh bread, and the sharp scent of spices from the stall at the corner—Quinn used to love coming here with me, back when we thought every day could be this simple. We’d spend hours walking from stall to stall, her hands full of fabric swatches and sketches, mine carrying bags of food she’d insist on buying for the workers at the factory. “They make everything we sell,” she’d say, handing me a bag of warm samosas. “The least we can do is make sure they eat well.”I came here today because Wren said Quinn might be stopping by the weaver’s stall—“She’s looking for new fabric for the collection,” she’d told me yesterday. “Maybe you could talk to her, just say hello.” But now that I’m here, hidden in the shadows, watching her laugh at something the man next to her says, I can’t move. My feet feel like they’re
Wren's POVThe bell above the door of my family’s old fabric shop jingles as I push my way inside, and the familiar smell hits me dust, wool, and the faint sweetness of dried lavender my great-grandma used to keep in jars on every shelf. The shop has been closed for fifteen years, but I still come here at least once a week. It’s the only place where I can think straight, where the weight of what I’m doing doesn’t feel quite so heavy.I run my hand over a bolt of dark green wool my great-grandpa William bought this the year before Elias Ivanov pushed him out of the company. “Good fabric lasts forever, Wren,” he used to tell me when I was little, letting me sit on his lap while he cut cloth for customers. “Just like good work you have to put your whole heart into it if you want it to mean something.” I wonder what he’d think if he knew what I’m doing now using the same care he taught me to weave a web of half-truths and good intentions, all to get what I want.I pull out a small wooden
Lincoln's POV The alarm on my phone goes off at five thirty, but I was already awake. I’ve never been a heavy sleeper—not since I was a kid, when my grandma would wake me up before dawn to help her bake bread for the shop she ran. She’d say, “The best work gets done when the world is still quiet, Lincoln. That’s when your mind is clear.” I’ve lived by that ever since.I swung my legs out of bed and pull on jeans and a gray hoodie, my go-to for early mornings. I pad down the hall to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of dark roast, and look out the window at the garden. In a few minutes, I’ll head over to the villa to check on Quinn—she moved in yesterday, and I want to make sure she slept well.I’ve been thinking about her a lot since the day I almost hit her by the river. Not just as a designer I want to work with, but as a person. There’s something about the way she carries herself, quiet strength, like she’s been through hell but refuses to let it break her. It reminds me of my gran
The morning sun streams through the hospital window, it feels warm on my face. I woke up early, took a bath and prepared my staffs I have not been able to sleep much because of a little bit of excitement. I hold the photo of my mom for a minute, running my thumb over her smile. “We’re leaving today, Mom,” I whispered. “We’re starting over.”A knock comes at the door, Lincoln is already here. He walks in with a coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. He is wearing jeans and a soft blue shirt – he looks more like a friend than a company owner.“Good morning, Quinn,” he brightly said, handing me the coffee. “I brought you your favorite, black with just a little honey.”"How did you know it's my favorite coffee?" My eyebrows frowned. As what I have remembered, I didn't mention the flavor of the coffee I want."Connections?" He said unsurely and it makes me laugh a little bit. "Thank you." He helps me pack the last few things, then picks up my bag and holds out his arm fo












Welcome to GoodNovel world of fiction. If you like this novel, or you are an idealist hoping to explore a perfect world, and also want to become an original novel author online to increase income, you can join our family to read or create various types of books, such as romance novel, epic reading, werewolf novel, fantasy novel, history novel and so on. If you are a reader, high quality novels can be selected here. If you are an author, you can obtain more inspiration from others to create more brilliant works, what's more, your works on our platform will catch more attention and win more admiration from readers.
reviews