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Familiar Face
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2025-07-30 23:40:16Dominic POV
He wasn’t a man who got distracted. He didn’t forget faces, didn’t dwell on the past, didn’t lose sleep over unfinished chapters. But today… something was off. Dominic leaned back in the leather seat of his car, staring out the tinted window at the bustling street outside Riverside Books. His assistant sat beside him, tapping away on her tablet. “Amanda,” he said without looking at her, “did you find out who she was?” She paused. “The woman? She’s not on any employee records. Apparently, she rents a room upstairs and works part-time managing the register. Paid under the table.” He turned to her now. “Name?” Amanda hesitated. “I asked the shop owner. She said the woman goes by Lena Hart.” The name dropped like ice water down his spine. Dominic sat up straighter. “Say that again.” “Lena Hart,” Amanda repeated. “Why?” His mind went blank for a split second. No. It can’t be. “She was my wife,” he said flatly. Amanda’s jaw dropped. “Wait—that’s Lena Hart? The one from the contract marriage thing?” Dominic’s fists clenched in his lap. “She disappeared after the divorce. Changed numbers. Moved cities. I never heard from her again.” Amanda frowned. “She didn’t take anything, right?” “No,” he muttered. “She left everything… except the truth.” He remembered the last time he saw her—small, pale, standing in that glass-walled office whispering the words: “I’m pregnant.” He hadn’t believed her. He hadn’t wanted to believe her. But now, after seeing that child… He turned sharply. “Did she have a little girl with her?” Amanda blinked. “Yes. Around four or five, I think.” His chest tightened. And for the first time in years, Dominic Black—the man who controlled entire empires—felt something foreign creeping in. Doubt. ⸻ Lena POV She couldn’t sleep. Eliana was tucked into bed upstairs, peacefully dreaming in her little pink pajamas. But Lena sat at the kitchen table, heart racing, staring at the silence around her. She knew the look on Dominic’s face when he turned toward them at the event. He hadn’t recognized her… but something had clicked. Something had stirred. And when Dominic Black got curious, things burned. She pressed a hand to her forehead. God, what if he comes back tomorrow? What if he asks questions? Would he demand a paternity test? Try to take Eliana away just to prove a point? No. She wouldn’t let him touch her daughter. Not after what he did. Lena stood and crossed to the cupboard, pulling out a small box tucked behind a stack of dishes. Inside were folded papers—Eliana’s birth certificate, a few old photos, and a copy of her divorce agreement. Her hands trembled as she unfolded them. So much of her life had changed… but one thing hadn’t. She had always known that this day might come. Lena stared down at the birth certificate. Eliana Grace Hart. Born April 4th, five years ago. Father: — She had left the space blank. Not out of spite, not even out of anger—but out of survival. Dominic had made it clear back then: he didn’t believe her. He thought she was using the pregnancy to trap him. As if she wanted more years of silent dinners, cold glances, and a marriage that only looked perfect in photographs. Lena pressed the paper flat, her fingers trailing over Eliana’s name. Then—unbidden—the memories came flooding back. Five Years Ago She had sat across from him in his office, the sonogram photo in her hand trembling. “I’m pregnant,” she said softly. Dominic didn’t even blink. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Whose is it?” The words hit her like a slap. “Yours,” she whispered, stunned. He scoffed. “We haven’t shared a bed in months.” “You know that’s not true—” “I know you want out of the marriage. This is a bold way to negotiate.” “Negotiate?” Her voice cracked. “Dominic, I’m not lying. I didn’t sleep with anyone else. You’re the father.” His jaw clenched. He stood, walking to the window. “Then prove it,” he said coldly. “But don’t expect me to rearrange my life around your stories.” Something shattered inside her that day. The fragile hope she’d held onto—the dream that maybe, deep down, he could care—was gone. And so, she left. With nothing but her name and the baby in her belly. Present Day Lena folded the documents back into the box, carefully, as if they were made of glass. She knew he would come back. She felt it in her bones. What do I do if he demands answers? If he wants Eliana? Would the courts believe a billionaire or a bookstore cashier? Before she could spiral further, her phone buzzed. A text. From Rina, her boss. “Dominic Black was asking for you by name today. Said he wants to meet tomorrow. Privately. I said I’d pass the message along.” Lena’s stomach dropped. It was happening. Dominic remembered her. And he wasn’t walking away this time. She rose slowly from the table, crossing to Eliana’s bedroom and peeking inside. Her daughter was fast asleep, one hand tucked under her cheek, her stuffed lion tucked beneath the other arm. So innocent. So unaware of the storm about to hit. Lena stood there, whispering to the quiet: “I’ll protect you. No matter what it costs me.”
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The Forgotten wife of the Billionaire 90: Broken Glass
Lena’s POV The house was too quiet. Not peaceful but accusing, the kind of quiet that pressed against my skin and whispered in every silence: you saw what you saw. I hadn’t even realised I was gripping the steering wheel so hard until my hands cramped. When I pulled into the driveway, my knuckles were white, my chest a knot of rage and grief that felt impossible to untangle. I couldn’t even look at the house without remembering Clara’s smile, her voice purring like she owned him, the hotel key glinting in her fingers. Trust. Once cracked, it never shines the same. I sat in the car until my body shook from holding it all in. Then I forced myself inside. ********** Eliana’s laughter floated down the hallway. She’d returned from her playdate, oblivious to the chaos her parents were choking on. For one terrible second, I wanted to collapse against her, to cry into her little pink backpack and tell her Mommy didn’t know how to hold things together anymore. But I couldn’t. She dese
The Forgotten wife of the Billionaire 89: The Trap
Lena’s POV Trust is a strange thing. It can survive storms and betrayals, it can bend without breaking — until suddenly, in one sharp breath, you wonder if you ever had it at all. I kept replaying Dominic’s promise from that night: No more secrets. You’ll know everything. And for a few weeks, he held to it. He told me about the men he assigned to watch Clara’s movements, about the legal letters his lawyers sent, and about every time she tried to call. We were, for the first time in years, fighting side by side. And then the phone rang. It was nearly dusk. Eliana was at the neighbour’s for a playdate, the house so quiet I could hear the clock tick above the stove. I recognised Dominic’s assistant’s number. “Hello?” “Mrs. Black,” the young man’s voice was clipped, nervous. “I think you… I think you should come to the downtown hotel. The Royal Crest. Room 808.” “Why?” My stomach turned. A pause. “Just—come quickly. Before the press does.” The line went dead. For a moment I sto
The Forgotten wife of the Billionaire 88:At the Door
Lena’s POV The house never felt smaller than on mornings like this — when the quiet stretched too long. I moved through the kitchen as if walking a tightrope, every step measured. Eliana’s drawings were still tacked to the fridge. A half-finished bowl of cereal sat on the counter from last night. The silver bracelet glittered in the drawer where I’d hidden it. “Mommy?” Eliana’s small voice cut through the room like a knife sharpening. She padded in, hair in a lazy tangle, Leo hugged to her chest. “Are you okay? You look like the moon.” I smiled because she needed me to smile. “I’m fine, love. Go pick a dress for today, okay? We promised we’d bake chocolate chip cookies later.” She beamed and ran off, and the ache in my chest eased for a fraction. God, children had the cruellest ability to make everything right and everything wrong at the same time. The phone buzzed on the counter. I almost dropped it. Dominic’s name flashed, then a text: Running late. Handle breakfast. Call me i
The Forgotten wife of the Billionaire 87: The Gift
Lena’s POV The day had been ordinary—mundane, even. I’d folded laundry, reminded Eliana a dozen times to put her crayons back in the box, and prepped Dominic’s favourite pasta for dinner. For once, there had been a whisper of peace in our house, a calm I craved but never trusted. Until the doorbell rang. A courier stood there with a small pink box, wrapped in glittery paper with a satin bow tied perfectly on top. He smiled as if he’d just delivered joy itself. “For Eliana,” he said, reading the label. “Special delivery.” My stomach tightened. “Who’s it from?” He only shrugged. “No sender listed.” I signed, my hand trembling, and shut the door quickly. The box felt heavier than its size, like it carried a hidden weight. Eliana looked up from her crayons, her face lighting up. “A present! For me?” Her voice was full of wonder, innocent and unguarded, and my heart clenched. “Yes, baby. But Mommy needs to check first.” I carried it to the kitchen counter. The bow came undone to
The Forgotten wife of the Billionaire 86: The Past Never Stays Buried(2)
Dominic’s POV The thing about ghosts—they don’t announce themselves. They slip in through the cracks, through a remembered perfume, through a hand brushing yours when it shouldn’t. Clara wasn’t just a woman from my past. She was a wound that had never fully scarred. I met her when I was twenty-four, too arrogant, angry, and determined to prove myself to the world—and to my father. She had walked into my life like fire, all red lips and sharper teeth. She wasn’t afraid of me. That’s what caught me first. Everyone else treated me like I was an extension of my father’s empire—Clara treated me like I was a challenge. And God help me, I liked being challenged back then. We met at a gala—one of those endless charity events my father used to launder his reputation. She wore black, sleek and understated, but her eyes cut through the crowd like a blade. I remember her leaning in, whispering, “You look like you’re about to suffocate. Want me to save you?” I should have walked away. Instea
The Forgotten wife of the Billionaire 85: The Guest
Dominic’s POV The morning had been mercifully quiet. For once, the paperwork stacked on my desk felt manageable, almost mundane. I let the monotony steady me and distract me from dinner with Clara, from the venom laced behind her smile and the threats curled beneath her words. I’d almost convinced myself she was bluffing. Almost. The knock on my office door was too sharp to be one of my assistants. I didn’t bother to look up. “Come in.” The air shifted before I even raised my head. Perfume—heady, expensive, familiar. A ghost from a life I thought I’d buried. “Hello, Dominic.” Clara. She stepped into my office as though she owned the ground beneath her heels, her red dress a flare of fire against the muted tones of my office. Every line of her body screamed confidence, possession, intrusion. She didn’t ask permission to sit. She didn’t need to—not in her mind. “What the hell are you doing here?” My voice was low, dangerous. Clara crossed one leg over the other, the movement la
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