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 MoreThea
I have two feelings now. Sad and Happy at the same time. I'm sad because I have to be away from my one and only best friend, Alexa and also her kids. On the other hand, I also feel happy because I finally got a good job as an interior designer at one of the companies in Paris. But still, I have to live far from them which makes me so sad. Alexa just said to me it's gonna be okay even though she's not that okay too.
Now, I'm on the plane and on my way to my new home, Paris. I just sleep and sleep until the announcement tells us that we're going to land in a few minutes. Finally! My back hurt and numb because sit too long.
When I got off from the plane, I look around to find the way out. After roaming around, I finally found the door. I walk there and I feel so nervous because I don't know how to speak French at all. Oh, shit! I'm doomed now. Then, how am I supposed to tell the driver where I'm going? Thea, you should learn how to speak French while you're on the plane not sleeping all the time. Look now who's in trouble.
I wait for the cab and then when one cab stop in front of me, I just get in and put my luggage next to me. I feel so nervous now. Okay now, how should I tell him that I'm going to my new apartment. "où allez-vous?" Suddenly he asks me and I'm speechless don't know what to say.
"Ummm do you speak English?" I ask the taxi driver carefully. He stays silent for a moment. Did he understand what I just said to him? Oh, gosh, when will I arrive at my condo. Somebody helps me. I shift myself awkwardly and then the taxi driver finally talks again after a long silence. Not so long but whatever. "Yes yes. Where to?" Did he just talk English to me? Yes!! Haha.
"Thank god. You know how to speak English." I said and then tell him the address that my new boss send to me. He nodded his head and then drive off. That's a good thing that my new boss gave me a house not for me only but for his employees. At least I didn't have to think where should I stay and I didn't have to think about the rent cause it's free.
I take a look outside of the window and Paris is pretty. I take my phone and take a picture of the street. Don't blame me it's just worth it to take a picture. Then, I lean my back and close my eyes. My back hurt so bad because I sleep in a wrong position on the plane earlier.
"Miss, we arrive." I open my eyes and look outside. Wow, this condominium looks like an expensive one. I can't believe I'm staying here. I open the door and get out after paying for the driver. I take my luggage out and then close the door. I just standing in front of this building for a few minutes to mesmerize this beautiful building and suddenly I feel my waist hurt. So, the best decision is to walk in and go to the receptionist.
"Hello miss how can we help you?" The receptionist greets me with a decent smile.
"Umm, I work for J. S. Cooperation, and he said that he already has a house for me, and he sends me the address and here I am," I explain.
"Can I know what your name?"
"It's Thea Morris," I tell her, and she checks something on the computer.
"Oh yeah, the new Interior Designer in J. S Cooperation. Here is the key to your new house." She gives me the keys and I take it happily.
"Umm, can I ask something?" I ask and the receptionist nods her head. "Do all the employees of that company live here? " I ask curiously.
"Not all because most of them already have their own house. There's like maybe a few lives here but don't worry this building is under the company too." I nod my head in understanding then I thank her before walking to the lift. I hope there's someone who I can befriend here.
I walk to my new house and use the key to open the door. "Wow... "All I said. Why I feel like I'm in the hotel room and not in my own house. It is just breathtaking. It has a huge glass window that shows the city of Paris and also has a balcony. I leave my luggage in the middle of the house and I take a moment to look around. It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms.
This house is so cozy and comfortable. The decoration is in English Modern concept. I love it. After I'm done wandering around the house, I pull my luggage into my room.
I plop on the bed and just decide to unpack tomorrow after work. Besides it's already nearly night. I think I just gonna skip dinner and sleep the entire night.
Sounds good. With that, I close my eyes without even care about my shoes and my clothes. All I think right now is I want to sleep.
Tomorrow gonna be a long day because it's my first day working as an interior designer.
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
Quinn’s POV The design school’s blueprint is spread across my mom’s drafting table—Leander’s additions are in pencil, mine in ink. The small workshop space he suggested for plant dyeing sits right next to the garden, just where she would have wanted it. I run my finger over the lines, tracing the p
I am so happy that my mother's studio is now a part of Ivanov industries. I run my hand over the drafting table, where sketches for Roots and Blooms are spread out in neat rows. The blue fabric we’d admired sits in a bolt at the corner, already cut into panels for the first batch of dresses. “The w
As I reach my car, Wren appears from the shadows near the loading dock. “He’s not a bad man,” she says quietly. “He’s just scared of losing what his family built, scared of admitting they were wrong.” “Scared doesn’t excuse lying,” I say, sliding into the driver’s seat. “But if he wants to make thi
The sound of police sirens fades down the driveway as they lead Leon away in handcuffs. Wren sits slumped in the armchair by the window, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. Mr. Ivanov Sr. places a steady hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get your family safe,” he says, his voice gruff but kind. “But f












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