Se connecterI was carrying his child when he threw me out. He believed his female best friend’s lies over my tears, called me unfaithful, and left me to raise our baby alone. Four years later, Only to find him back, as my new Boss. And the DNA test proved the truth, our son was always his. Now he’s on his knees, begging for forgiveness, begging to have us back. But how do I trust the man who shattered me when I needed him most? Should I forgive me? Or move on?
Voir plusI woke up sore, every muscle aching, my body still humming with the memory of last night. Heat lingered on my skin, the sweetest kind of ache. My lashes fluttered open and there he was, lying right beside me.
Reid. My world. My husband. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint stubble shadowing his jaw, the way his arm was already draped across my waist as if he couldn’t let go even in sleep, it all made my heart squeeze. I shifted closer, snuggling into his warmth, breathing in that intoxicating scent of cedar and skin that was uniquely his. Just as I tilted my face to look at him, his lips brushed the curve of my neck. A shiver shot through me. “Mm… Reid…” I whispered, my voice half a moan, half a plea. His lips curved into a smirk against my skin. “Good morning, my baby,” he murmured, his voice low, rough with sleep, but devastatingly tender. His hand slid over my hip, pulling me closer until not even a breath could fit between us. I turned in his arms, catching the hunger in his eyes the moment they opened. “You’re insatiable,” I teased, though my voice trembled with want. “Only with you,” he replied, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip before capturing it with a possessive kiss. I gasped against his mouth as his weight shifted over me, his body covering mine with protective heat. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper, needing him closer. His kisses grew urgent, tasting of promises and fire, tracing down my throat as if he couldn’t get enough of me. “Reid,” I moaned again, my nails raking lightly over his back. “We… we shouldn’t… it’s morning…” He chuckled, dark and wicked, lips grazing the swell of my chest. “Then let the morning start with you,” he whispered. “Let every day start like this, with my wife in my arms, moaning my name.” The words melted what little resistance I had left. His touch became bolder, his kisses hotter, until the room blurred around us and the only thing that mattered was him, his hands, his mouth, the way he made me forget the world outside our bed. Every sigh, every shiver, every whispered endearment became a symphony between us, building again until I was consumed, lost in the love of the man who held me like I was everything he’d ever wanted. Reid brushed my hair back gently, his lips ghosting over my temple before he rolled onto his back with a satisfied sigh. I curled against him, still dazed. “Where are you going?” I asked when he started to sit up. My voice came out small, uncertain. “It’s Sunday… we should be spending the day together.” Reid reached for his shirt, buttoning it lazily while giving me that familiar smile, the one that always made me forgive too easily. “I’m going to meet Natalie,” he said matter-of-factly. “She’s having trouble with that property case in court. She needs my help.” At the mention of her name, something tightened in my chest. Natalie. His childhood best friend. She always seemed to need him. Always managed to find her way into our weekends, our evenings, our moments. I tried to keep my voice steady. “But… it’s Sunday, Reid. I thought… maybe just for once, we’d stay in bed, spend the day together. Just us.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead softly, lingering as if that would erase my unease. “You’re my wife. My everything. But Natalie's been by my side since we were kids. She really needs me today, and I promise I’ll be back before evening.” I forced a smile, nodding even though doubt pricked at me like needles beneath my skin. “Alright,” I whispered. “I’ll wait.” Reid cupped my face, his thumb brushing along my cheek. “Don’t worry,” he said gently, his eyes holding mine. “It’s just Natalie. Nothing more. You have my heart, always.” I nodded again, this time more hesitant than before. My lips curved, but inside, unease lingered. As the door clicked shut behind him, I lay back against the sheets still warm from his body, my mind whispering questions my heart didn’t want to hear.AFTER SOME MONTHSWEDDING DAY REID'S POINT OF VIEWThe wedding day finally arrived.And I was sweating badly.Not the polite, composed kind of sweating.The nervous, slightly panicked kind.“Take it, Reid.”James pushed a neatly folded handkerchief into my hand before I could even ask.“Thanks.” James once my assistance said.Correction, not just my assistant anymore.Family.After secretly dating Mia for one year, pretending they were “just friends” and publicly dating for exactly one dramatic day before announcing their engagement, they decided by the third year that waiting was pointless.They got married.And somehow James, who once trembled during presentations, now stood in front of me calm and married.“Thanks,” I muttered, pressing the handkerchief to my forehead.He smirked. “You know, I was also this nervous on my wedding day.”“It’s not my first wedding either,” I replied dryly.He raised an eyebrow.“But it feels different,” I added quietly.Different wasn’t even the rig
THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEWEthan had fallen asleep inside the farmhouse, curled under a thick blanket Isabella had tucked around him.Matteo and Isabella had long since gone in as well, leaving the yard bathed in moonlight and the faint orange glow of dying fire.The farm felt different at night.So still and silent now.Karline stood near the wooden fence, her fingers resting lightly on the cool surface. Beyond it, the fields stretched into darkness, silvered by the moon. A soft breeze moved through the grass.Reid stood a few steps behind her.He watched her quietly.There was something in his expression, not doubt, not regret, but a nervous weight.He swallowed once.He had rehearsed the words in his mind all evening.And yet now, standing under the open Italian sky, they felt heavier.He walked toward her slowly.Tired from the day.Content from the laughter.But carrying something fragile in his chest.KARLINE'S POINT OF VIEWI heard his footsteps before I saw him beside me.I di
AT NIGHT THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEWClosing time always came gently.The last customer waved goodbye, promising to come early the next morning for cinnamon rolls. Karline smiled and turned the sign on the glass door from Open to Closed.The soft click felt satisfying.Reid was already stacking the outdoor chairs neatly, lifting two at a time like it was nothing.“You don’t have to do all that,” she said, wiping down the counter.He glanced at her over his shoulder. “I know.”“But you still will.”“Of course.”Ethan dragged a small broom that was slightly too big for him. “I’m helping too.”“You’re mostly spreading the crumbs around,” Karline teased.“It’s strategy,” Ethan replied seriously. “Ants need food.”Reid laughed under his breath. “He’s got a point.”Karline shook her head, but her eyes were soft.Within twenty minutes, the tables were aligned, the lights inside dimmed to a golden glow, and the ovens turned off. Reid locked the door and tested it twice, out of habit.“Ready?”
THREE YEARS LATERTHIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEWThree years had passed.Life no longer felt like something they were surviving. It felt like something they were living. Slowly and peacefully.The little bell above the bakery door chimed as the last morning customer stepped out into the soft Italian sunlight. The street outside was calm, lined with flower pots and pale stone buildings that warmed under the sun. The scent of sugar and baked bread lingered in the air, sweet and comforting.Behind the counter stood Karline, tying a thin ribbon around a pastel pink box of pastries. A loose strand of hair had slipped from her bun, and there was flour faintly dusted along her apron. She looked content, not tired, not overwhelmed, just quietly fulfilled.“Mumma, all the blueberry muffins sold out?”She looked down immediately.Ethan stood in front of her, now eight years old, taller, leaner, with the same bright eyes and that wide, toothy smile that had somehow grown even more charming with time
NATALIE'S POINT OF VIEWThe food smelled like something that had already died twice.I sat on the cold concrete floor, plastic tray in front of me, staring at the grayish mash they called dinner.“What is this?” I muttered under my breath. “Do they expect humans to eat this?”Across from me, one of
NATALIE'S POINT OF VIEWThey assigned me to clean the corridor floor that morning.On my knees.Again.The bucket was half-filled with murky water and cheap detergent that burned the skin if you kept your hands in it too long. The mop was taken by someone else, so I was given a rough scrub brush in
THIRD PERSON POINT OF VIEWWhen the applause finally settled and the formal statements ended, Reid stepped down from the stage.The atmosphere had shifted. What had begun as a tense press conference now felt like something softer, resolved, almost reverent. Cameras were still flashing, but not aggr
NATALIE'S POINT OF VIEWI was standing in the lunch line, tray pressed against my stomach, when I heard his name again.It travels fast here. News. Rumors. Scandals. Especially when it involves powerful men.“Reid Carter is going to name everything after that kid,” one of the women in front of me s
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