Mr Kingston, It's Too Late

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed 2:00 AM. Claire sat on the velvet living room sofa, staring at the muted television. The penthouse was massive, perfectly decorated, and entirely too quiet. Look, but don’t touch. Live in it, but definitely don't make a sound. Outside, the rain began to hit the floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the glowing skyline of the city. The front door clicked open. Heavy footsteps echoed in the foyer, followed by the soft rustle of a jacket being taken off. Raphael walked into the living room, loosening his tie. He paused when he saw her sitting in the dark. "You're awake," he said. His voice was deep, exhausted, and completely devoid of any warmth. "And you're home," Claire replied dryly, not moving an inch. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Did the office run out of coffee, or did you just forget the way to your actual bed?" Raphael rubbed his temples, a habit he had developed over the last few years whenever she spoke for more than five seco

"A nursery." Claire muttered, her head still resting between her knees on the cold hospital floor. "He wants to build a nursery."The doctor crouched down beside her, his expression sympathetic but firm. "Mrs. Kingston. Brain trauma is highly unpredictable. Right now, his mind has built a protective wall. It erased the trauma and stress of the last five years to keep him functioning.""So un-erase it," Claire said, finally looking up. Her voice was flat. "Tell him the truth. Tell him he’s a workaholic who pushed me away, and we got a divorce.""If we force a reality on him that his brain isn't ready to process, the psychological shock could trigger a severe regression. He could slip into a coma, or suffer permanent cognitive damage," the doctor warned softly. "For now, you need to play along. Act like it's five years ago. Ease him into the present.""Play along?" Claire let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Doctor, I don't know if you've ever tried to act deeply in love with a man you just

The squashed hospital sandwich lay sad and forgotten on the linoleum floor.Claire stared at the glowing screen of her phone in Raphael’s hand. Her brain completely short-circuited. Out of all the messages Daniel could have sent, it had to be the one spelling out her entire secret in bold letters."Well?" Raphael prompted, his voice dangerously quiet. "I’m waiting, Claire."For a split second, looking into those cold, calculating dark eyes, Claire completely forgot she was looking at a man with severe brain trauma.The affectionate, golden-retriever husband from ten minutes ago was gone. Sitting in that hospital bed was the ruthless, terrifying CEO of Kingston Corporation. The man who destroyed his competitors before breakfast. The man who had made her feel two inches tall for the last three years."Why do you have my phone?" Claire snapped, her defensive instincts kicking in before her common sense did."It buzzed. It was sitting right here," Raphael said smoothly, tapping the screen

"Give those back to me, Sophia," Claire said, her voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger. She took a step toward the armchair.Sophia didn't flinch. She elegantly tapped the thick stack of papers against her knee, her expression cold and completely unbothered."I don't think I will," Sophia replied flatly. "Do you have any idea how much damage these five pieces of paper could do to Kingston Corporation if they leaked to the press right now?""This isn't about the company!" Claire snapped, walking closer. "That is my personal life. It's a legal document. You have absolutely no right to touch it.""I have every right," Sophia stood up, her sharp heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "My job is to protect the CEO. From rival companies, from greedy board members, and apparently, from his own incredibly selfish wife."Claire stopped in her tracks. "Excuse me?""You heard me," Sophia said, her dark eyes narrowing behind her sleek glasses. "You are selfish, Claire. You have always b

A week later, the private VIP suite in St. Jude’s Hospital felt like a ticking time bomb.Raphael was fully dressed in a crisp black button-down shirt and slacks, looking completely out of place in the sterile room. The bandage on his forehead was gone, leaving only a fading bruise, though he still moved a bit stiffly because of his ribs.He tapped his expensive watch, glaring at the door."Where is she?" Raphael demanded, his voice low and dangerous.Ethan, who was comfortably slouched on the tiny visitor sofa playing a game on his phone, didn't even look up. "Traffic, probably. It's Friday afternoon, boss. Have some patience.""She said she would be here at two. It is now two-forty-five," Raphael snapped, pacing the length of the room. "Claire is never late. Did you call the driver? Did something happen on the road?""No one crashed, relax," Ethan sighed, finally putting his phone in his pocket. "She probably just lost track of time. Women do that when they're shopping."Raphael sto