Hilary WindsorWarm morning light spilled through the curtains, hitting the edge of the table like a spotlight on last night’s chaos. A sketchpad, two forgotten mugs, and a throw blanket half-draped over Bennett’s legsBenett was still asleep.I sat beside him, legs curled beneath me, just watching.Bennett Landon the man who barely blinked in boardrooms and never let his suit wrinkle was fully out. Not just dozing. Deep, slow, peaceful sleep. His chest rose in steady rhythm, lips slightly parted, brow smooth.I would’ve smiled, if I wasn’t so confused.I’d never seen him like this. Not this still. Not this calm.The sound of his soft inhale broke the silence again. Then, as if on cue, his fingers twitched, and his eyes blinked open.He stared up at the ceiling for a second, disoriented. Then he turned to me.“You’re awake,” he said, voice rough with sleep. “What time is it?”I bit back a grin. “Past ten.”His brows furrowed and he sat up fast, pushing a hand through his hair. “Ten?”
Hilary WindsorThe hallway lights flickered as I stepped out of the elevator, the weight of the workday still clinging to my shoulders. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor as I neared home.Just as I reached the door, I spotted a delivery guy coming down the hall, arms full of medium-sized brown boxes.“Miss Windsor?” he asked.“That’s me,” I replied.“These just came in from Eastfield,” he said, scanning a tablet. “Studio return, right?”I nodded, signing. “Thanks for bringing them up.”“No problem.” He gave me a friendly smile, tipped his cap, and disappeared down the hallway.I dragged the boxes inside, setting them down near the edge of the living room. My old fabric samples. A few design tools. Some unfinished sketches from a lifetime ago. I’d asked them to send everything over last week. I didn’t expect it to make me feel like I was reopening a wound and stitching it shut all at once.I knelt beside the boxes, pulling out my sketchpad.This… this was how it would st
Bennett Landon“Text me the address now” I said with urgency in my tone.Nate didn't ask questions. Then seconds later, the text came in short and direct.“He’s in Notting Hill. Private townhouse. 27 Westbourne Terrace.”I stared at the address, my jaw tightening. I didn’t reply. I just grabbed my keys, wallet, and coat, and headed straight to my car and left the Landon building without a word.The drive to Notting Hill felt longer than it should have. The rain started, and with it came the kind of silence that let every thought crawl back in.I didn’t know what I expected, maybe some cryptic setup or a game of phone tag. But what I didn’t expect was the call I got just as I turned onto the street.An unknown number called. I answered.“Mr. Landon,” the voice said, low, calm, clearly rehearsed. “If you’d like to speak with Mr. Windsor… the price is £10,000. Cash. No receipt.”There was a long pause before I said anything. I was stunned by the audacity “He wants me to pay to talk to hi
Bennett LandonI stared at the file in front of me, but the numbers blurred. For the first time in years, work didn’t distract me.My mind was on a name. Nicholas Windsor.The name Nate had dropped like a bomb. The same man who was ghosted from public life. A man I had no reason to ever cross paths with until now.I picked up my phone and called Nate. He picked up after a single ring.“You’re getting clingy,” he said dryly.“I need more,” I said. No hello. No sarcasm. Just urgency.“About Nicholas?”“Yes. Have you found out where he is?”Nate’s tone shifted. “I’ve been digging. You’re not gonna like what I found.”“Try me.”“He was released from federal prison a month ago. It seemed like a quiet release. No media. No family statement. Nothing. Your typical Windsor sweep-under-the-rug.”I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “Why was he in prison?”“Wire fraud. Embezzlement. A lot of rich-man crimes. The Windsors covered it well. Your fiancée probably doesn’t even know.” He r
Hilary WindsorThe moment I got home, I couldn’t sit still.I paced the living room with my arms folded tightly across my chest. The memory of that message burned behind my eyes: “I’m watching you.” Three words that sent chills down spine.Bennett was at the kitchen counter, looking up from his tablet as I circled past him again.“Hilary,” he said calmly. “Talk to me.”I turned to him, trying to keep my voice steady. “Someone sent me a message today. A text. No name, no context. Just… I’m watching you.”His brow furrowed instantly. He set his tablet aside and crossed over to me. “When?”“Earlier this afternoon. Right after I got back to work.” I ran a hand through my hair. “It was from an unknown number.”He put his hands on my shoulders. “Did you tell security?”“Not yet.” My voice cracked slightly. “I- I didn’t know how seriously to take it. But after the parcel… I don’t know. I just can’t shake this feeling.”“You think it’s Emily again?” he asked.“I think she’s working with someo
Hilary Windsor The penthouse was quiet, the soft ticking of the clock above the fireplace broke the stillness. I sat curled up on the edge of the sofa, a mug of tea cooling in my hand, untouched. The city lights blinked across the glass walls, but I wasn’t paying attention to them.I was waiting for Bennett.My thoughts kept circling back to what Emily said.“Do you really know what happened to your father?”I hadn’t been able to shake those words since they left her mouth.Then the front door creaked open, and I sat up quickly, my spine stiffening as my eyes locked on him.Bennett stepped inside, his tie loosened, his expression weary but soft when he saw me. “You’re back early,” I replied, my voice softer than I intended.He set down his briefcase and walked toward me. “You okay?”I didn’t answer right away. He took that as a cue and sat beside me, close enough for his presence to wrap around me like heat.“I went to see Emily,” I said quietly.His jaw tightened slightly.“I know,
Bennett LandonI got to the office earlier than usual, but the work in front of me barely registered. My mind had been stuck on that damn parcel since I woke up. The threat. The photo. The look on Hilary’s face when she opened it.The way Hilary had gone pale right before she nearly collapsed in my arms.I’d promised to handle it. So I would.I unlocked my phone and scrolled to the name I hadn’t dialed in months.Nate Calloway. It had been about a month since I last called him. The time I’d been trying to find Hilary that night.I scrolled to his name in my contacts and dialled his number.He answered on the second ring.“Well, well,” Nate drawled. “Bennett Landon calls me frequently? Should I be worried or impressed?”“I don’t call unless I need something.”“Which means you need something. Again.” He sounded like he was grinning. “Let me guess… trouble in paradise? The engagement’s all over the media. I gotta say, your new girl is… something.”“Don’t,” I warned, already annoyed.H
Hilary WindsorBennett stood at the doorway, holding a brown parcel. He handed me the parcel.It had my name on it.Just a plain, ordinary parcel. No return address. No markings. Nothing that screamed danger.But the moment I opened it, my stomach twisted.Inside was a white envelope. I pulled it free, feeling the weight of something folded inside.Bennett stayed silent, eyes locked on me as I unfolded the glossy paper.My breath caught in my throat.It was a picture of me naked.Except... it wasn’t me.The background was wrong. The angle was wrong. Even the body didn’t look like mine. Not really. It was a bad fake, but realistic enough to fool someone at first glance.My hands shook slightly as I spotted the note taped underneath.“Stay away from Bennett. Or the public gets to see this.”I stared at the words for a long moment, my mind blank, the blood roaring in my ears.Anger, hot and immediate, burned through me.I turned to Bennett, hands trembling but voice steady.“This is Emil
Hilary WindsorThe elevator doors opened with a soft chime. I stepped onto the top floor of Landon Global Market, heels clicking lightly against the floor.My blazer was fitted, my silk blouse tucked perfectly into high-waisted pants. I looked powerful.Heads turned. Conversations paused. The moment I walked past the reception desk, the whispers began.“She’s the one… the girl from the wedding.“Didn’t she crash it?”“I heard she betrayed her sister”“She’s working here now?I kept walking. My eyes ahead. Shoulders high.Let them talk. I wasn’t here for them.I followed the map I'd studied last night, all the way to the executive wing. The place smelled of polished wood, money, and control.Regina’s name was on the frosted glass door. I knocked once, then opened it.She was standing behind her desk, reviewing files. She looked up, confused for half a second then her confusion turned to fire.“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone sharp.“Yes.” I stepped inside. “I’m your newest employe