FAZER LOGINDespite being married by contract, Fiona Clarke believed her husband could love her as much as she had loved him from the first day she met him. But as soon as his first love returned to town, Sebastian Blackwood filed for divorce. Devastated, Fiona had to face a different direction in her life despite loving him silently. After all, she was there when he needed her most, but now he was discarding her as if she were nothing more than a surrogate wife. But Sebastian misses her and realizes that Fiona is the woman he always longed for, but it seems too late for reconciliation since a man of interest is comforting Fiona.
Ver maisFiona’s POV
When I was like this, in my husband’s arms making such good love, it felt like the rest of the world vanished before our eyes, and it was just him and me and the magic of our love. But that magic always shattered soon after the passion and desire faded, and we went back to acting like two strangers sharing the same bed. I saw Sebastian coming back from the bathroom, already wearing his pajamas, and the mattress sank beside me when he lay down. As always, he turned his back to me, as if the fiery, passionate love we’d just made minutes ago meant nothing to him; just a need, not because he truly loved me, and that hurt so much. I stared at his broad back for a moment as my heart sank deeper into sadness, then turned my back to him too, already realizing there wasn’t much I could do to change it. But in that moment, something so unusual happened that I thought I was dreaming. Sebastian hugged me. I felt his heavy arm over me, his large hand gripping my waist and pulling me toward him, then my back pressed against his body. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest. I mean, like any wife, of course, all I wanted was to cuddle with my husband, especially after passionate sex. I wanted to lie there quietly, feeling the warmth of his body as his arms enveloped me, but that never happened, so I had to settle for its absence. But today… today was different. My eyes darted around as I tried to figure out what I might have done differently to earn this, but nothing came to mind, especially since I always tried my hardest to please him. Could he finally be realizing that he loved me and wanted to make us work? He was holding me tightly with both arms, caressing my body as if he wanted to map it out. His heart beat strong and steady, and I nearly melted in his embrace. Sebastian I rubbed my forehead against his stubbled chin, feeling that sensation of pleasure spreading through my entire body. He finally wanted to give us a chance... Things could start to change; we could start being a real couple from now on, doing couple things like holding hands, walking our dog, or even having babies… “I needed to do this,” he confessed, his voice so low it was almost a whisper, still holding me tightly in his arms. I smiled widely My chest bursted with excitement. Then he said, “Fiona, I’m sorry. But I want a divorce.” I lifted my face to look at him, shocked. “What did you say?” “It’s time to end this,” he replied. I was frozen, my throat dry. It was as if time had stopped. “What happened?” “It’s Ross. She’s back.” Ross. That name was my worst nightmare, lingering in my mind like a ghost. She was Sebastian’s ex-girlfriend. And she was back… “She reached out to me recently. And you know she needs me,” he explained, but it wasn’t like he owed me any explanation, did he? I had always been the surrogate wife… “Yes, I understand,” I replied, then pulled away from his arms and lay back down with my back to him. He was also settling in to sleep as if nothing major had just happened. I suppressed the moan and sob that were about to escape and forced myself to close my eyes to hide the tears. But the tears couldn’t be controlled, streaming quickly and soaking the pillow. I was thankful we were facing away from each other so he couldn’t see me crying like the idiot I was. I always knew his heart never belonged to me, because throughout this marriage, all three years of it, he made it clear how much he loved her, his ex-girlfriend, his first love. Ross. The next morning when I woke up, I saw that my husband’s side of the bed was empty, indicating he’d already been up for a while. I sighed. Calling Sebastian my husband, knowing his rejection, was painful now. Still shaken, I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to try to wash my face. I groaned when I noticed my eyes were swollen from crying so much, and my blonde hair was all disheveled. That would definitely give me away. I didn’t want him to see that I’d been crying, not at all; I didn’t want him to see my weakness. So after a shower, I put on makeup to hide the puffiness and did everything to look presentable, to act like none of this was affecting me. “Fiona, come down for breakfast. I heard you wake up,” he called from downstairs. “I’m coming.” When I went down the stairs, I saw he’d already prepared breakfast, my favorites: eggs Benedict with smoked salmon on an English muffin, with creamy hollandaise sauce and a sprinkle of fresh chives. “The table looks beautiful,” I commented as I sat at the large table. “Thanks. I wanted you to feel better,” he replied as he sat down too. It was just the two of us, as always. This house had always been too big for just the two of us, but I didn’t mind because I was with my husband. But now, knowing he wanted me gone, it felt strange to even share a meal with him. It was like we’d become strangers overnight, and that only broke my heart more. After that somber breakfast where I couldn’t manage to exchange a single word with him, I went back to the bedroom to pack my bags. There was no reason to stay since he didn’t want me anymore. When I came downstairs with my suitcase ready, Sebastian was already waiting for me. “Did you cry?” His gaze was oddly concerned. Not because he was showing concern for me—Sebastian had always been kind to me—but I never wanted just his kindness; I wanted his love… “No,” I shook my head, my voice a bit hoarse. He looked at my suitcase. “Fiona, you… don’t have to leave so quickly.” I had no reason to stay. He asked for a divorce, showing that no matter how hard I tried, I’d never be the most important person in his heart. I couldn’t fool myself anymore. Even though Sebastian was kind, thoughtful, and caring toward me, he didn’t love me. His true heart was always reserved for his first love. I had to go now. I was afraid that if I stayed longer, I’d break down and ask Sebastian why he couldn’t see my love and treat me as his wife. “I already called my mom; she’s waiting for me at home,” I said. He didn’t try to hold me back, just let me go. Since the Uber I’d called was already waiting outside, I realized I was really leaving. The moment I stepped out of the house, my heart ached even more. Three years were, after all, just a dream. The joyful times we spent together and the happy moments we created vanished. I walked to the taxi with Sebastian by my side, and he helped me put my suitcase in the trunk. I could barely look at his face, afraid that if our eyes met, I’d collapse in tears right there and beg him not to let me go. As I was about to open the door and get in the car, he asked a question, looking into my eyes. “By the way, who’s Eli? I’m sorry for wasting your three years. He must be very important to you.”Third POVThe penthouse was silent in the small hours, the kind of quiet that amplified every tiny sound—the distant hum of traffic far below, the faint tick of the clock in the hallway, the soft rustle of sheets as Irene shifted in bed. She reached out instinctively, her hand expecting the warm solidity of Sebastian's body beside her, but finding only cool, empty space. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim glow of the city lights filtering through the half-drawn curtains. The clock on the nightstand read 3:17 AM. She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, a small frown creasing her forehead. He must have gotten up for water, she thought, or maybe to check his phone—insomnia had a way of sneaking up on men like him, the ones who carried the weight of empires on their shoulders.She swung her legs over the side of the bed, the hardwood floor cool against her bare feet. Slipping into a silk robe that hung on the back of the door—deep burgundy, a gift from her time in Italy—she padd
Sebastian stood by the wide bedroom window, the city lights stretching far into the distance like scattered embers in the dark. The glass was cool beneath his fingertips, but his thoughts burned far too intensely for him to notice the chill.Behind him, the room was quiet except for the soft rustling of sheets and Irene’s slow breathing. She lay half draped over him, her head resting against his chest as if it were the most natural place in the world. One of her legs was tangled with his beneath the blanket, and her arm rested loosely across his stomach.He absently ran his fingers along the smooth curve of her back.But his mind was somewhere else.Irene tilted her head slightly, sensing the tension in his body. Even without looking at him, she knew when something was wrong. Her fingers traced a lazy circle over his chest.“You’re thinking too loudly,” she murmured sleepily.Sebastian glanced down at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips.“Is that a thing now?”“It is when you feel
Third POVThe weeks following their first joint therapy session blurred into a rhythm that felt almost too good to be true. Fiona and Maverick fell into a quiet routine at Sofia's house, the kind of everyday life that built itself on small moments rather than grand gestures. Mornings started with shared coffee on the porch, Maverick's hand on her belly as they felt the twins stir awake. Afternoons were for walks in the park when Fiona felt up to it, or lazy hours on the couch with books and soft music playing in the background. Evenings brought family dinners—Sofia's hearty stews or Maverick's surprisingly good attempts at homemade pasta—followed by more therapy sessions, where they peeled back layers of hurt and rebuilt with careful words.The pregnancy progressed smoothly, the twins growing stronger with each checkup. Dr. Joanna noted their steady heartbeats, their positions shifting as they prepared for the world. Fiona's bump rounded out, making simple tasks like tying shoes a t
Third POVThe restaurant had been one of those hidden gems in the West Village—dimly lit, with exposed brick walls and candles flickering in mismatched glass holders, the kind of place where conversations lingered over dessert and wine flowed like secrets. Sebastian and Irene had spent the evening there, tucked into a corner booth, plates of shared pasta and grilled octopus between them. He’d made her laugh with stories from his travels—omitting the darker edges, of course—and she’d shared glimpses of her life in Italy, the sun-drenched vineyards and the quiet mornings she’d come to love before it all fell apart. But underneath the easy banter, Amber’s words from earlier that day echoed in Irene’s mind like a distant warning bell: “Be careful. Men like Sebastian Blackwood don’t just have baggage. They have cargo containers.”She pushed it away as they stepped out into the cool night air. The city hummed around them—distant horns, laughter spilling from a nearby bar, the faint scent


















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