Henry Morning came quickly. I leaned back in my leather chair, scrolling through the contract proposals for the new textile import expansion. My coffee sat half-drunk, cooling beside a neat stack of acquisition reports. I had barely slept the night before, caught between conference calls with Seoul and finalising a property purchase in L.A. I was halfway through an email draft to our tax consultants when my secretary buzzed through. “Sir, Ms Jennifer Sinclair is here to see you.” I paused, blinking once, twice, before clicking my pen shut. We didn’t schedule a meeting though…. “Jennifer Sinclair?” “Yes, sir. She says it’s important.” A small sigh escaped my lips as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. What could she possibly want now? Lucian’s name instantly flickered in my mind, bringing a frown to my face. “Send her in.” The door opened moments later, and there she was, clad in a fitted beige dress with gold buttons trailing down her torso, accentuating every curve. Her blonde
Eloise The morning sunlight spilled through the linen curtains, casting warm golden stripes across my living room floor. I sat cross-legged on the cool marble tiles, scattered sketches surrounded me. Charcoal pencils rolled across the pages with each shift of my weight as I hunched forward, squinting in focus. I traced the line of a tailored bodice, letting my pencil dip into delicate curves, flaring into bell sleeves that draped like wilted flower petals. My thumb smudged the edge to soften its fold, and for a fleeting moment, peace fluttered in my chest. Designing always felt like breathing underwater; terrifying and freeing all at once. A knock jolted me from my trance. “Come in,” I called out distractedly, still shading the hemline detail. The front door creaked open, followed by heavy footsteps padded across the living room rug. “Working already?” Mike’s deep voice floated in, lined with gentle amusement. I didn’t look up, but my lips curled faintly. “I haven’t slept.” “El
Jennifer I stared at the black screen of my phone, the dim glow of my bedside lamp casting an orange halo across my silk sheets. The quiet hum of the AC filled the silence, but it didn’t soothe the chaos tearing through my chest. My pulse thundered so loud it echoed in my ears. Lucian hadn’t called back. Not since last night when he kicked me out of his penthouse, leaving me humiliated and trembling in the elevator, mascara streaking down my cheeks as I clutched my purse like a lifeline. I thought of his eyes, cold, distant, almost empty, as he’d told me to leave. It wasn’t rage or disgust that haunted me. It was that emptiness. That blankness that said I don’t see you anymore. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the sting of fresh tears. No. I refused to cry for him again. I refused to let Eloise win this game. She was always lurking in his mind like an unkillable parasite, festering and rotting everything I Jennifer worked for. Even after she stole some of his company shares, even
Lucian I sat across from Carter in his office, my thumb tapping against the dark mahogany armrest of my chair. The blinds were tilted halfway, letting golden slivers of morning light pierce through, illuminating the glass decanter on his sideboard and the thick stacks of paperwork that lined his antique bookshelf. Carter was flipping through a file, the silent rhythm of pages turning only heightening my tension. He wore a black three-piece suit, his tie knotted tightly at the neck, his grey temples and wireframe glasses giving him an air of unassailable wisdom. But today, even he looked uneasy. “So,” he said finally, closing the file with a deliberate thud. “You’re proceeding with the custody appeal.” I shifted in my seat, rolling my shoulders back, my tailored black suit stretching slightly across my chest. “Yes,” I replied, voice low. He studied me over the rims of his glasses. “Is this…because you want to be more involved in Max’s life, or is this…something else, Lucian?” I
Jennifer The amber light of dawn streamed through my penthouse windows, casting long golden bars across the polished oak floors. My assistant had left an arrangement of fresh lilies by the balcony, their perfume heady in the still morning air. I stared out at New York' s waking skyline from the living room, cradling a cup of dark roast coffee in my manicured hands.I should have felt satisfied. My latest collection had sold out within hours, my name was on every billboard, and Lucian’s company shares were rising with my brand attached to them. But none of it mattered. Because underneath it all, Eloise’s name still flickered like an inextinguishable flame.She was gaining traction again.I scrolled through my tablet, my fingers flying across the screen as I scoured comments on the fashion influencer reels. They gushed about “Eloise’s raw, authentic designs” and her “emotional textures that speak to real womanhood.”My throat tightened with bitterness. Emotional textures. They were my
Eloise The quiet hum of cartoons filled the living room as Max curled into my side, his small fingers playing with the hem of my sweatshirt. The evening sun filtered through the blinds, casting striped shadows across the coffee table cluttered with coloured pencils, Legos, and Max’s half-finished superhero drawing. “Mommy,” he said, tilting his head up to me, his brown eyes wide and searching. “Will Daddy come visit soon?” I swallowed, my chest tightening around a pain I could never voice aloud. I brushed a stray curl from his forehead and kissed him softly. “Daddy’s…busy, sweetheart. You know that.” His mouth turned down in a pout, his little brows knitting together. “But I miss him. I want him to come see my drawings.” I forced a smile, though my heart cracked at his words. “I’m sure he’ll see them one day,” I whispered, not believing it myself. My phone buzzed beside me on the couch, breaking the heavy silence. I glanced at the screen and froze. Dad. “Hello?” My voice cam