CHAPTER TWELVE

She snatched the letter from his hand and tore it to shreds, the pieces fluttering to the floor like broken promises.

He didn’t flinch. Calmly, he met her eyes.

“What was in the letter?”

She looked away, avoiding his gaze, then climbed onto the bed, drawing her knees to her chest.

“It’s just another one of Madeline’s threats,” she muttered.

He joined her, the bed sinking slightly under his weight.“Threatening you about what exactly?”

“Nothing special,” she said, too quickly. “Just you. And everything else.”

He watched her closely, then smiled—though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I can help you get your revenge on Madeline... without you getting involved.”

Her voice was firm.

“This is my fight, Ethan.”

There was a flicker of something raw in his eyes. Pain. Regret. Love.

Tears brimmed but didn’t fall.

“You can leave when it’s over, Lauren,” he said quietly. “I won’t hold you back anymore. This time... I promise.”

And without waiting for a response, he stood and walked out.

She sat frozen, stunned.

He had never looked so sad—not even the day he came back. Why now? Why give up?

A knock broke the silence.

Her brow furrowed. It wasn’t Ethan. He never knocked.

The door opened slowly, revealing a woman in her early sixties, elegantly dressed, her silver-streaked hair swept into a low bun. She smiled and offered a polite bow.

“Good evening, ma’am. I’m Charlotte Harper, born and raised in Yorkshire. I worked with Mr. Raymond Whitmore for over twenty years—looked after Taylor and Viola when they were just little girls. Three years ago, I was brought back to care for Ethan, to guide him through his recovery after the fire... until he could remember who he truly was. I’m here now to properly introduce myself to you, so you know I’m part of the family—and someone you can trust.”

Lauren blinked.

“Viola and Taylor?” she asked.

“Ethan’s stepsisters,” Charlotte nodded. “Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know them. We only recently discovered that Raymond had a son. A beautiful son—Ethan. The girls and their mother will be returning in a week or two. We’d love for you to meet them soon.”

A young maid with curly red hair entered the room, carrying a silver tray. She had a dusting of freckles across her nose and a quiet, practiced grace. She set the tray gently on the side table.

Charlotte turned toward Lauren with a soft smile and gestured toward the plate.

“This is Madison Blake. You’ll be seeing her often—she’s in charge of your night meals.”

Then, more warmly, she added:

“I thought you might enjoy something light and comforting today.” Charlotte’s voice was maternal, almost knowing. “Just a bit of chicken and vegetable pie—gentle on the stomach, packed with protein and folate-rich greens. It’s the sort of thing that helps keep your strength up... without being too heavy.”

Lauren paused, puzzled. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Thank you... for everything,” she said carefully.

Madison gave a brief nod and exited. Charlotte remained.

She stepped closer, her tone soft but precise.

“He’ll find out soon, you know. You should tell him before he does.”

Lauren tensed.

“What are you talking about?”

Charlotte’s smile deepened—wise, kind, and unsettling all at once.

“The child in your womb,” she whispered.

Lauren froze.

Her hands instinctively touched her abdomen.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked, rushing to the mirror in panic.

Charlotte chuckled gently.

“Women in their sixties don’t need it to be obvious, love.”

She began to straighten the bed with steady, practiced hands.

“I used to walk the halls of the Royal Household with Queen Elizabeth when I was just sixteen. By thirty, I realised I hadn’t built a life of my own. Had a son... a sickler. He passed when he was ten.” Her voice faltered just slightly. “I hadn’t bothered to ask the father’s genotype. He was a high-ranking man in the Royal house. That one careless moment cost me everything. I mourned for years. So I poured myself into raising Taylor and Viola as if they were mine.”

Lauren turned, listening now with silent reverence.

Charlotte looked up.

“Don’t make the same mistake I made, Lauren.”

“What mistake?”

“I never built anything for myself because I never stopped to ask what I really wanted. Everything I became was an accident of other people’s needs.”

She smoothed the final corner of the duvet and gave a soft, graceful bow.

“You’re still young. It’s okay to make mistakes. But please, don’t make the kind that cost you a lifetime.”

With that, she turned and quietly left the room.

Lauren stood there, heart pounding.

Charlotte knew. And somehow... she also understood.

But what mistake was she really warning her about?

***

The sun slanted through the wide bay windows, casting golden light over the high-ceilinged room of Pearl Whitmore, Ethan's step mother.

Raymond Whitmore's legal wife.

She was coming in a week time.

The only maids allowed into private rooms of the Whitmores were Madison, Edna and Emma.

Charlotte was in charge of the supervision as usual.

Madison dusted the ornate wardrobe, her movements stiff with irritation.

"This better be the last time I have to prepare this room for her," she muttered, her voice edged with a sigh. “I’ve not recovered from the last time Pearl Whitmore stayed here. That woman’s obsession with perfection nearly drove me mad.”

On the floor, Edna scrubbed harder, the rhythmic squeak of her sponge sharpening with tension. “I’m less worried about her taste in curtains and more curious about what happens when she finally meets Ethan’s wife. They’ve never met before , have they?”

“Nope.” Madison shook her head. “Pearl’s daughters lived with Ethan and their father while he was recovering from amnesia but Pearl hadn't really had the chance to be with him".

“I don’t know what to make of that Lauren girl,” Edna added, dropping her voice. “The same day she arrived, she cornered me and demanded access to Ethan’s secret room. She’s suspicious of him—and she’s not hiding it.”

Emma, fluffing the pillows by the window seat, snorted. “Honestly, I thought Ethan would end up with Amy. She’s been around for years—quiet, poised, loyal…”

Madison scoffed. “Amy? Please. Ethan’s obsessed with his wife. Have you seen the way he looks at Madame Lauren? That man would burn this house down if anyone touched her.”

The three of them laughed—low and wicked—before the door creaked open.

Charlotte stepped in, her posture stiff as ever, eyes scanning the room like a headmistress inspecting disobedient students. “You were told to clean,” she said coolly. “Not exchange village gossip.” With a glance sharp enough to slice pride, she turned and walked out.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Edna smirked. “Pearl Whitmore can’t stand Charlotte. She’s convinced the woman had an affair with Mr. Raymond back in the day.”

Emma muffled her laughter into the duvet. “The way Charlotte walks around like nothing touches her? I live for it.”

But Madison narrowed her eyes, thoughtful. “You don’t think Charlotte’s planning something, do you?”

“Like what?” Edna asked, wiping her hands on a towel.

“She stayed back with Madame Lauren after dinner last night. Alone. For nearly twenty minutes.”

The room fell quiet.

Emma raised a brow, her lips slowly curling into a grin. “Oh. This is going to be good.”

***

Caleb Monroe’s car rolled slowly down the quiet road toward his home. It had been a long day at work, but—for once—everything had gone smoothly.

He had just closed a big deal: the Zurich Microgrid Project, one of NovaCorp’s clean energy wins in Europe. No tricks. No pressure from Monroe Holdings. Just smart strategy.

He breathed out, allowing a small smile.

“One honest victory,” he said to himself.

But his mind couldn’t rest for long. Blackspire Global, run by Ethan Whitmore, was still ahead in the Geneva Link race. If Caleb didn’t move quickly, Blackspire would gain full control of Europe’s new digital supply chain—and NovaCorp would lose everything it worked for.

Then something caught his attention.

As he approached his gate, he noticed a small pink car parked just outside.

He slowed down.

It wasn’t security. It wasn’t anyone from NovaCorp.

He looked again. A Chanel sticker on the rear window. A gold ribbon air freshener on the mirror.

His chest tightened.

Guinevere.

Seven years. No calls. No messages. She had left him when NovaCorp was still growing—said he was too focused on work, too cold, too distant.

And now, here she was. Outside his house.

He pulled inside and stopped the car, confused.

She smiled as soon as she saw him and walked up slowly. “It’s been a while, Caleb,” she said softly. “I just wanted to let you know I moved to Beverly Hills. I work with Madeline Collections now.”

Caleb froze. “Madeline Carter?” he asked.

Guinevere nodded. “Yes. I work directly with the managing director. She rented the house next to yours.”

He didn’t need more explanation.

Madeline Carter had done this on purpose. She brought back Guinevere—his ex—just to rattle him. Just to hurt Lauren.

So this was how far Madeline was willing to go? Take over Lauren’s business, drag back her old rival, and steal the two men in her life?

Without another word, Caleb walked past Guinevere and entered his house.

He tossed his jacket aside, took a long shower, and let the anger build in his chest.

If Madeline hadn’t interfered, Lauren would still be his.

Water ran down his back, but his thoughts were sharp and bitter.

Three months. That’s how long he’d been without sex—because of Lauren. And now… here was Guinevere. Her timing wasn’t a coincidence.

Maybe this was the moment to let go. Maybe it was time to stop being the calm, patient man Lauren kept walking away from.

He stepped out of the shower, wiped the steam from the glass, and looked out the window.

Guinevere was just getting back into her car.

He didn’t think twice.

He walked outside, called her name, and she turned.

Without saying much, he pulled her inside the house. Their lips met. Her hands slid over his body like she had never left. Clothes came off, one by one. His need overpowered everything else.

He didn’t care if it was revenge or weakness. He just needed to forget Lauren—even if just for a night.

She took off his robe, and just like seven years ago, he laid her on the floor and let his desire take over.

As she melted beneath him, he made up his mind.

He was going after Madeline. Hard.

And if he had to use his body to destroy her plans and win Lauren back, he wouldn’t hesitate.

***

Lauren's phone rang while she was sleeping in the room.

A restricted number.

She connected it. "Hello?".

It was Madeline Carter. "Hi Lauren, you haven't opened I*******m since seven hours now. I sent something interesting". She disconnected the line.

Lauren immediately opened her I*******m chats with Madeline Carter.

It was Caleb Monroe in bed with a strange woman.

Lauren trembled in shock.

The restricted number came in again.

Lauren reluctantly connected it.

"I have another news for you Lauren Lancaster. Are you aware that your best friend Amy whom you thought had been practicing law in Los Angeles have been in Beverly Hills for three years, secretly meeting Ethan Whitmore?".

Lauren grit her teeth. "Just be quiet ! Get off my phone you liar".

Lauren's phone beeped from Madeline's message and she checked.

It was a photo of Ethan and her best friend whom she had last seen at Los Angeles, they were smiling at each other and having a conversation.

Lauren tried to get a grip of herself.

The shock was too much to bear.

If Amy, her best friend had watched her mouth for her husband all these while and kept it away from her, that concluded everything.

There was something fishy about her relationship with Ethan.

From the shock of what Caleb Monroe and Ethan Whitmore has done , Lauren couldn't gather herself together as anymore, she collapsed on the floor.

***

Lauren was fast asleep when her phone rang on the nightstand.

The caller ID said Restricted Number.

Still half-asleep, she answered. “Hello?”

A cold, familiar voice came through.

Madeline Carter.

“Hi Lauren,” she said sweetly. “It’s been seven hours since you last opened I*******m. I sent you something... interesting.”

Before Lauren could respond, the line went dead.

Heart pounding, Lauren opened her I*******m and tapped on her messages with Madeline.

The photo loaded slowly—then hit her like a brick.

Caleb Monroe. In bed. With a woman she had never seen before.

Lauren’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands trembled.

The phone rang again. Same restricted number.

This time, she hesitated before picking up.

“Lauren Lancaster,” the voice said mockingly. “Did you know your best friend Amy—the one you believed was practicing law in Los Angeles—has actually been living in Beverly Hills for the past three years? Secretly meeting with Ethan Whitmore?”

Lauren’s chest tightened. “Just shut up!” she snapped. “You’re lying. Get off my phone!”

A message beeped in right after.

Lauren’s heart sank as she opened it.

It was a picture of Ethan and Amy—laughing, talking closely outside a café. Amy looked relaxed. Ethan looked… familiar with her.

Lauren’s knees weakened.

If Amy—her closest friend—had been secretly around Ethan all this time, what else had she hidden? How many lies had Lauren believed?

Her mind spun. Her heart raced. She couldn’t hold it in anymore.

Too much betrayal. Too much pain.

Her phone slipped from her hands.

And then—everything went dark.

She collapsed to the floor.