تسجيل الدخولMorana’s POVThe garment bags were spread across the entire bedroom like some kind of designer explosion. Each one is more expensive than my entire wardrobe from five years ago combined. I pulled them open one by one and tried on pieces because today I needed to look like someone the board couldn’t dismiss.But underneath the shopping was a different kind of thought running through my head. Things I needed to do and the ones I abandoned when I became Morana Greene and pretended that version of me could just disappear.A new wardrobe obviously. The stuff in these bags was a start but it wasn’t enough. I needed pieces that felt like armor and pieces that felt like me and knowing the difference was going to take time.I also want a house of my own. Maybe I’d renovate my father’s mansion eventually. There were memories there that were worth keeping. Right now I just needed space that was separate where I could breathe without performing.Then I have to reconnect with my friends. The one
Morana’s POVTristan was asleep on his side of the bed when I finally lay down. I stayed on my side with my back to him and the tension between us was so thick I could feel it pressing against my skin. I kept my eyes open staring at the city lights and listening to him breathe and understanding that we’d crossed some kind of line that couldn’t be uncrossed.By the time morning came, I’d barely slept. My body was wired and exhausted at the same time. I woke up to sunlight streaming through the windows and found him already awake on the other side of the bed answering emails on his phone. He wasn’t even looking at me. Just scrolling and typing with his free hand like he’d been awake for hours.I yawned and it came out longer than I expected and he finally glanced over.“Do you ever rest?” I asked.“Billions don’t make themselves” he said dryly and went back to his emails.I thought about what that meant. What it took to build an empire from nothing and maintain it. I used to work like
Morana’s POVI woke up at 3 AM thirsty as hell and my mouth tasted like something had died in it. The penthouse was completely dark except for the city lights coming through the windows. I lay there for a minute trying to remember where I was and then it all came back. The wedding at city Hall. That dangerous cream dress. Tristan’s kiss felt like something other than performance.I got out of bed and left the bedroom in just the slip I’d worn under the dress because I couldn’t be bothered to find actual clothes. The hallway was quiet and I was halfway to what I hoped was the kitchen when I saw light spilling out from the living room.Tristan was sitting on the floor surrounded by papers and documents and a laptop that glowed blue in the darkness. He was still wearing his suit from earlier except the jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up and he had a glass of something dark in his hand. He didn’t look up when I walked in but I knew he’d heard me because his shoulders got slig
Morana’s POVThe bedroom was bigger than my entire apartment had been when I was pretending to be Morana Greene. The bed was a California king with sheets that probably cost more than my car payment used to be. There was a window that looked out over Manhattan and the city lights were already starting to come on even though it was still early evening.I walked around the room slowly taking it all in. The furniture was minimal and expensive and completely impersonal like nobody had ever actually lived here.There were no pictures on the walls or books on the nightstands. Nothing that suggested Tristan Rothschild had ever spent time in this space for any reason other than sleeping. The closet was ridiculous. It was bigger than my bedroom at Xavier’s house. One entire side was full of his clothes organized by color and type. The other side was completely empty. Ready for me to fill it with whatever I decided I needed.I hung up the cream dress carefully and stared at the empty hangers.
Tristan’s POVI was waiting outside City Hall when the Rolls-Royce pulled up. I didn’t recognize the car at first. I just knew it was the kind of vehicle that made people stop and stare because it screamed money in a way that was impossible to ignore. The engine shut off and I watched the door open.I don’t know what I was expecting but THAY wasn’t entirely in my list of things. Morana stepped out of the car and I felt something shift in my chest that I wasn’t prepared for.She was wearing a cream colored dress and it fit her the way clothes were supposed to fit bodies like hers. The slit ran high on her thigh and when she moved, I caught glimpses of her skin as she moved. Her legs were long and lean and there was nothing fragile about the way she moved. She walked like someone who owned the ground she was stepping on.Her hair was twisted up in a way that exposed her elegant neck and shoulders. The makeup made her eyes look sharper and more like the woman I knew men fear in the b
Morana’s POVI stared at myself in the mirror seeing the thing people have been seeing. I look so pale and gaunt like someone is removing little bits of my meat and not just blood. Everything about this Morana staring at me is wrong. I turned to the side to check out the curves I have always been proud of. One many reporters accused of me getting surgery because my mother has been very lean. It wasn’t surgery. My grandmother had the curves of an African woman. She does not play with her heritage either. I wish u had her darker skin color too when I was younger, even today I want it but mom stepped in and gave me hers. I have my father’s dark brown hair that shines golden in the sun and my mother’s soft green eyes. They look soft on her but hard on me. I never allow them to crinkle when I smile. I grew up knowing what was at stake in the family business. Being a girl never readies you for what is ahead. They always want the patriarchy to win because they think women are a liability







