تسجيل الدخولThe question hung gently between them. Verity opened her mouth. Then she closed it again. Did she? She honestly didn't know. But she only knew one thing. Every day she spent with him made her realize how wrong she had been. "I..." She laughed nervously. "I'm still learning." His smile deepened just enough for her to notice. "I hope you never stop." Something warm settled inside her chest. And it frightened her. She had promised herself she wouldn't fall for Quentin Langford. She had repeated it so many times that it had become a habit. Yet lately... She wasn't pretending to be his wife anymore. She found herself asking whether he had eaten lunch, even cooking dinner because she genuinely wanted to make him smile. There are times she felt like kissing him or touching him. Things she knew were not in the contract. The contract didn't say anything about love. Wait, love? Who's talking about love? Her fingers unconsciously tightened around the wedding band on her left hand
Quentin remained standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows for several moments after the bathroom door closed. The New York skyline stretched endlessly before him, but he wasn't looking at the city. He was thinking about the same sentence that has been bothering him. "For the next six months..." Every time Verity said those words, they reminded him that she still believed there would be an ending to their marriage. She still didn't know the truth. A faint smile touched his lips. "I'll change your mind, sweetheart," he murmured quietly. "Not by convincing you... but by loving you the way you deserve to be loved." He glanced at his watch before turning away from the windows. They had an exhibition to attend. A very important one. *** Nearly forty minutes later, Quentin was already downstairs. The penthouse living room was quiet except for the soft tapping of his fingers against the screen of his tablet as he replied to a few emails that couldn't wait until tomorrow. A
Verity stirred beneath the luxurious duvet, blinking slowly as she adjusted to the light above. For once, she woke before Quentin and turned slightly. The sight beside her immediately stole her breath away. Quentin was still asleep, his one arm rested lazily above the blanket while the other lay across his stomach. The duvet slipped low enough to reveal his broad, sculpted chest, rising and falling with slow, even breaths. Morning light highlighted every defined line, making him look almost unreal. For a moment, Verity forgot to blink. How could one man look this handsome without even trying? She had always known Quentin Langford attracted attention. Every magazine, every business article, every society event seemed to feature him somewhere. She had simply assumed it was because he was wealthy and powerful. Now she knew better. The man himself was distracting. Kingsley had always been considered attractive. Even during their marriage, women often stared at him when they atten
Inside the Langford triplex penthouse, the atmosphere felt peaceful. The long dining table was set elegantly, the soft glow of candlelight reflecting off crystal glasses and polished silverware. Dinner was served nearly fifteen minutes ago. The herb-crusted filet mignon rested neatly on Quentin's plate, accompanied by garlic mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus, and a rich mushroom cream sauce. Exactly the way Quentin liked it. He noticed it immediately. He also noticed that Verity had prepared his favorite dark chocolate soufflé for dessert. None of it was accidental. He knew that as well. Yet he didn't mention it. Instead, they ate quietly, exchanging only the occasional sentence. "How was work?" Verity asked softly. "Busy." "You looked exhausted this morning." "I was." She nodded before taking another bite of her dinner. "The board meetings?" She asked. "They ended the way I wanted." A small smile touched her lips. "I suppose that's why you're the boss." "I suppose so."
The office door closed softly behind Kingsley. For several long seconds, Quentin remained exactly where he was, his eyes fixed on the polished wooden door. Silence settled over the executive office. Only moments ago, his younger brother had walked in believing he could reclaim the woman he had once called his wife. Moments later, he had walked out carrying a truth he had never imagined. Quentin loved Verity, and not because of any contract or private arrangements. He simply loved her. And the realization shattered whatever hope Kingsley had walked into the office with. Quentin released a slow breath before turning back toward his desk. His attention immediately fell on the silver photo frame resting beside his laptop. It wasn't a formal wedding photograph. It was much simpler than that. Verity stood on the balcony of the New York triplex one quiet morning, wearing one of his white shirts while staring at the city below. She hadn't known he had taken the picture. Her hair was da
The executive floor of Langford Global Headquarters had been very busy and barely slowed down despite the morning slipping into early afternoon. The honeymoon had ended sooner than Quentin intended, but business never waited for anyone. Especially not for him. By eleven o'clock, he had already concluded two board meetings, approved three international acquisitions, rejected a merger proposal worth hundreds of millions, and signed enough documents to fill an entire cabinet. Now he sat alone inside his corner office on the top floor, Manhattan stretching beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him. His suit jacket rested neatly over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms. A stack of contracts sat open before him while another waited patiently beside his laptop. Yet every few minutes, his attention drifted toward his phone. Always thinking of receiving a call from Verity. He had also planned to call her after finishing the last report. He wondered if she
Verity ended the call with Monica slowly, her cheeks still warm from Quentin’s laugh. The room felt strangely different, not because of the headlines, or because of the marriage. But because Quentin Langford no longer felt like an untouchable billionaire standing somewhere above her world. For th
The moving van idled outside the grand entrance of Central Park West like a quiet declaration of war. Or better still, something close. Verity stood on the sidewalk in a simple white T-shirt and jeans, watching as the movers carefully carried her easels, canvases, and the few personal belongings sh
The lounge hummed with quiet sophistication around them. Soft jazz floated through the air while Verity and Monica settled deeper into their corner booth. The white wine in Verity’s glass caught the warm light as she took another sip, feeling strangely lighter than she had in months. Monica was st
Verity walked into a quiet and elegant lounge, tucked away in one of Los Angeles’ most exclusive neighborhoods. Soft golden lighting bathed the dark wood tables and deep velvet seating. A jazz pianist played softly in the corner, the notes low and soothing. This was the kind of place where powerful







