LOGINDEMETRIAFive Years Later…I still remember the time Marion promised to build our home on this land. A home for the kids and us, close to his parents. A place where we grow together. A real family.Now, out of ten acres, two acres of rolling green stretch around me, our home sitting right at the center like something out of a magazine. Tall windows, warm stone, soft wooden finishes… a mansion, yes, but somehow still ours. Still full of fingerprints and crayons and little shoes abandoned in hallways. From the balcony, I can see the golf path that leads straight to his parents’ house — a five-minute ride on the little family-sized cart the kids love to drive too fast. On the other side, the stables shimmer in the morning sun, horses grazing lazily. And behind the house, my favorite part: the garden. Wild, bright, and stubbornly thriving… just like us.Some days it hits me all at once. How far we’ve come.When Marion handed me the deed to the building in Beverly Grove, I cried like a ch
MARION“You couldn’t wait for us to say our goodbyes, husband?” Demetria teased, her arms circled my neck as I carried her up the jet’s stairs.I smirked, staring at her pretty face. “Marcel will inform them when they notice our absence. Right now, I need you all to myself.”We left the wedding venue in a whirlwind, eager to escape the world and have these first stolen moments alone. Now, as we boarded the jet on our way to our honeymoon in Bora Bora, French Polynesia, I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face. Finally, my wife, entirely mine, and the thought of exploring every inch of her body set my mind alert.The air hostess stepped in gracefully. “Welcome aboard, Mr. and Mrs. Whitfield. Everything is ready for your flight.”“Thank you,” I said, giving her a nod. “We can take off now.”She smiled and turned, and I added, “Please inform the team not to disturb us unless it’s time to land.”Demetria’s lips curved into that mischievous smile I adored. “Wow, bossy even in the
DEMETRIAWedding Day…It was finally here. My wedding day, in the last week of January. It felt like a dream someone dipped in gold. The morning had been a swirl of makeup brushes, hairpins, perfume, and nonstop giddy squealing from my bridesmaids. At some point, Anastasia had shown me the breaking news alert about Paula’s death splashed across every media outlet.I’d only blinked, nodded, and whispered, “I already knew.” And I was at peace. Nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to cast a shadow over my good day.Now, I was finally seated in the back of the long white limousine, my dress flowing around me like clouds, Anastasia beside me in her silk gown, with Amanda and my bakery girls in shades of blush filling the rest of the seats. They were all chattering, buzzing, glowing with joy for me.Anastasia nudged me with her elbow, wiggling her brows dramatically.“So, Mrs. Almost-Whitfield… how are you feeling?” she teased.I laughed, pressing a hand over my racing heart.“Like I’m flo
DEMETRIAThe energy buzzed with excitement as everyone congratulated us. Desserts were passed around, something I didn’t know my bakery team had planned, adding to today’s big surprise. Across the room, I noticed my father approaching, his arm linked with his new lady, both smiling warmly in our direction.I stepped forward as my father reached me, his face lighting up. “Mija, I’m so happy for you,” he said warmly, pulling me into a firm hug. “You’ve grown into a strong, wonderful woman. And Marion… take care of her. Always.”I smiled, feeling the pride and love in his voice, and nodded. My father then introduced his lady beside him. “And this is someone special I want you to meet,” he said. I hugged her briefly. “It’s lovely to meet you,” I murmured, and we laughed softly.Curiosity bubbled up. “Dad… when did you arrive? How did you know about today?” I asked, glancing between him and Marion.He tilted his head toward Marion, a small smile playing on his lips. My brows furrowed, and
MARION“Marion… what’s going on here?” Demetria laughed nervously, turning in a slow circle as she took in every familiar face. Her eyes widened even more when they landed on one person in particular. “Papa… you’re… what? How—?”Demetria blinked hard, like she was making sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Everyone chuckled—my parents, Marcel, Stephen, and his wife, Cyprian, Mikhail, Amanda with her whole bakery crew, and Anastasia’s husband. The room buzzed with warmth and excitement.Her dad lifted a hand in a soft wave, the woman beside him smiling politely. “Hi, mi princesa.”“Okay… what’s going on?” she demanded, hugging the bouquet tighter to her chest, her voice a blend of confusion, wonder, and the beginning of happy tears. She turned to glance at Anastasia, and I used that opportunity to kneel in front of her. She gasped when she saw me in that posture.“Mar—”“Wildfire,” I said, feeling every heartbeat echo in my chest as I knelt there. Demetria’s breath caught, her eyes wide a
DEMETRIA“Okay… girl, I see you. It’s superb, better than mine. I love it for you,” Anastasia said when I showed her my new car in Marion’s underground garage, the one he gifted me after the accident.Now we’re on our way to God-knows-where, since she and Marion both told me to relax and enjoy the day.“Yeah, that’s Marion, always fulfilling his promises. Today’s gifts were straight off my Pinterest board,” I said with a smile, recalling each one.“That’s a billionaire showering his woman,” she teased, giving me a side-eye before pulling out of Marion’s building. “And because I’m your best friend, I get to tag along while he spoils you today.”“So, you still won’t tell me where we’re going?” I asked, leaning back in the passenger seat.“Deme!” She laughed, shaking her head. “I know you hate surprises like this. We’re almost there, you’ll see.”We pulled into West Hollywood, and Anastasia parked with a smug little smile that told me she’d been dying for this moment.I blinked up at the
DEMETRIAThe sky had already begun to blush into shades of orange and pink. Another long day, but we’ve got a lot to do before the gala on Friday. It is the day. The event. The Whitfields.I slipped off my apron and set it on the counter, exhaling slowly. My hands smelled faintly of cinnamon and but
MARIONBzzzztBzzzztBzzzztLooking at the nightstand beside the bed, my phone vibrated with an incoming call from the front desk. “Yeah?” I grunted, voice scratchy from my sleep.“Good Morning, Mr. Whitfield. Please, Miss Paula is here to see you.” I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand,
DEMETRIA“A date?” I asked, arms folded, pinning him with a stare.“Yes. Wildfire. A date.” His lips curved into a smile, and damn it, my pussy reacted before my brain could catch up. I shook my head hard.“If you think you’re going to blackmail me now that the gala’s a go—just to make me go out wit
MARIONThe jet wheels screeched against the tarmac, a smooth landing slicing through the calm of the L.A. morning. From my window, Los Angeles brightened like a canvas washed in gold. The sky stretched wide and endless, a pale blue brushed with faint wisps of white clouds, while the sun cast a warm







