👋🏾 Hey Dear readers and Co-writers, it’s me again! So this is my very first story of this kind 😅 (I know, I’ve been doing a lot of “firsts” lately 🙈). Fingers crossed I don’t mess it up 🤞🏾😂. I really hope you’re enjoying it so far 🥰📖. And don’t worry, this is NOT one of those weak female lead stories 💪🏾👑. We’re going strong all the way! Big thanks for giving this story a shot 💕🙏🏾. Don’t forget to drop a comment 💬, leave a review ⭐, and please vote, it helps more than you know 🌟🔥. Love you all! 💖🙌🏾
Damien’s POVThe call came just after midnight.I had been in my study, staring at the same document for over an hour, seeing nothing, my mind lost in the labyrinth of regrets that never left me. When my phone rang, I almost ignored it. But the urgency in the ringtone, my private line, snapped me out of my fog.It was my mother.Her voice trembled when I answered. “Damien… it’s your father. He collapsed.”Everything inside me stilled.Within minutes, I was in the car, my driver weaving through the near-empty streets, the city lights blurring past. My chest tightened with every passing second, each one heavier than the last. My father had been strong all my life, a man of power and presence. To hear he had fallen, that he was in the hospital, it shook me in a way I hadn’t expected.When I arrived, the sharp scent of antiseptic hit me like a wall. I strode down the hall, the polished floors gleaming under the cold fluorescent lights. At the waiting area, I found my mother seated, her ha
Elena’s POVThe dinner was small, elegant, and carefully curated, one of those business gatherings where every handshake meant a potential investment, and every smile was another stitch in the fabric of reputation.I had attended dozens of these since I’d become a manager in the Oswald Group’s five-star chain. Tonight was no different. The restaurant was private, the lighting warm, the hum of conversation low but strategic. Men in tailored suits and women in jewel-toned dresses floated from table to table, their laughter perfectly timed, their words carefully weighed.I moved through the room with practiced ease, greeting clients, offering them updates on our expansion projects, ensuring every guest felt valued. It was the role I knew best: professional, polished, untouchable.But the moment I saw Ethan across the room, my composure wavered.He was speaking to two older investors, his hands in his pockets, his smile charming without effort. He looked powerful, confident, the kind of m
Elena’s POVThe whispers started the moment I walked into the lobby.I felt them, the way eyes darted toward me then quickly away, the hushed voices that trailed after me like shadows. No one dared to speak openly, after all, I was their superior, but the air was thick with rumors.I didn’t need to ask what they were whispering about. I already knew.Ethan Oswald.One dinner. One harmless dinner, and suddenly the entire staff had decided I was climbing into the owner’s bed.I kept my chin high, my stride steady, ignoring them all as I headed straight to my office. Let them talk. Let them spin their little stories. I had endured worse in my life than gossip.Closing the office door behind me, I exhaled. Silence washed over me, but it wasn’t comforting. It only gave my mind space to wander.I thought about the night before, the soft lighting of the restaurant, the warm timbre of Ethan’s voice, the ease of his laughter. For all the whispers, the truth was embarrassingly simple: he had ke
Damien’s POVI wasn’t pleased to see her.The moment Isabelle stepped into my office with her painted smile and her carefully arranged tray, I felt the familiar weight of irritation settle across my shoulders.She had been warned. More than once. But she didn’t care. She never cared.I dropped my pen on the desk with a soft click and raised my eyes to her. “What are you doing here?”She set the tray down delicately, her voice almost airy. “Food,” she replied. “I know you haven’t eaten.”My jaw clenched. “You are not my wife. Stop acting like you are.”The words were ice, but still she flinched as if I had struck her. Her lips trembled, her eyes growing wet.“Why?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I’ve loved you for years, Damien. I knew you before her. We were together before her. Had it not been for her, we would have been together. But since she left, you’ve been cold. Why, Damien? At least let’s start over, see what life brings us.”She was on the verge of tears, her entire body
Damien’s POVThe air in my office had grown stale. Or maybe it was just me.I sat behind the broad mahogany desk, the skyline stretched behind me through floor-to-ceiling glass. The city glittered under the sun, but it might as well have been ash.Lately, everything felt like ash.I had become colder, harsher, sharper with each passing day. My staff avoided my gaze in the halls, their conversations clipped the moment I appeared. Executives trembled when I entered boardrooms. I no longer spoke with measured restraint but with cutting precision, my words knives that left wounds they couldn’t see but felt all the same.They whispered that I was terrifying. That I had grown impossible to please. That the Damien Rothschild who once carried the charm of his father had vanished, replaced by a storm no one dared approach.They weren’t wrong.The truth was, rage had become the only thing keeping me upright. If I let go of it, I feared I would collapse into the void Elena had left behind.A kno
Elena’s POVThe restaurant Ethan chose was one of the most refined in the city, private booths, candlelit tables, soft piano in the background. The kind of place where every detail was calculated for comfort and class.When I stepped inside, I almost turned around. The air smelled faintly of jasmine and expensive wine, the waiters gliding about in crisp uniforms. It reminded me too much of the world I had left behind, the one built on Rothschild wealth and power, a world I had been cast out of.But then I saw Ethan rise from his table.He wore a charcoal-grey suit that looked effortless on him, his posture relaxed, his smile warm but not overbearing. He didn’t rush toward me or make a scene. He simply waited, letting me approach at my own pace.“Elena.” His voice was smooth, inviting. “You look beautiful.”I smoothed my dress self-consciously. It wasn’t designer, just a simple navy-blue sheath I had bought on sale, but his compliment felt genuine. “Thank you. And thank you for the flo