تسجيل الدخولClaire's POVThe penthouse was unusually quiet that evening.Not empty. I had learned that Damien's penthouse was never truly empty. There was always the faint hum of the city beyond the windows, the distant movement of traffic several floors below, the quiet sounds of someone moving through another room.But tonight, there was no television playing, no phone conversation drifting from Damien's office, and no Maria in the kitchen making enough noise to remind us that dinner would eventually appear whether we were hungry or not.I was curled into the corner of the living-room sofa with a book resting open in my lap, although I had been staring at the same page for several minutes without absorbing a word.My mind had been doing that lately. Wandering and searching.Sometimes I wondered whether I was helping my memories return or simply thinking about them so much that I was creating memories that had never existed.That frightened me.The last thing I wanted was to give Damien somethin
Tiffany's POVI remained standing on the pavement long after Damien's car disappeared into the traffic.My phone was still in my hand, and I kept staring at the dark screen as though I could somehow make it light up again if I waited long enough. It didn't. Damien hadn't called back, and deep down I knew he never would.That realization should have made me angry, but what I felt was worse, humiliation.I'd gone into that conversation believing the history between us still gave me some kind of influence over him. I had thought that if I reminded him of the woman he had once planned to marry, the woman he had trusted enough to stand beside him in front of hundreds of people, then some part of him would remember what we had been.Instead, he'd looked straight through it. History doesn't give you the right to interfere with my present.I could still hear his voice saying the words.My jaw tightened as I finally looked away from the road. "Your present," I muttered bitterly.I hated the wa
Tiffany’s POVI spent the entire evening telling myself that I wasn't jealous.It was a ridiculous word, and I refused to let it belong to me. Jealousy was for insecure women who watched another woman walk into a room and immediately wondered whether they were being replaced, women who questioned their own worth because someone else had received the attention they believed belonged to them.I wasn't insecure and I knew exactly who I was.I'd known Damien long before Claire had ever become his wife. I had been the woman he was supposed to marry, the woman whose name had once appeared beside his on invitations, contracts, and wedding arrangements. I had been the woman everyone expected to become Mrs. Blackwood.Claire had simply come afterward with a contract and a convenient arrangement. A woman who had filled a space that I had left empty or at least, that was what I kept telling myself as I stood across the street from the restaurant and watched Damien help Claire into the car.I had
Claire’s POV"I think I'm starting to choose you."The words seemed to remain between us long after I had spoken them, almost as though neither of us quite knew what to do with them now that they were out in the open.Damien didn't answer immediately. His fingers were still wrapped around mine, his thumb moving slowly across the back of my hand, but something in his expression had changed. The teasing warmth that had been there only moments earlier had faded, leaving behind something far more vulnerable."You don't have to say that because you think I need to hear it," he said quietly."With you?" I asked, looking at him, and he gave a small nod before his expression softened. "Yes, with me.""Claire..." He started, but I shook my head gently. "I mean it."He studied my face for several seconds, and I could see the uncertainty beneath his calm expression. Perhaps he was trying to decide whether I was saying it because I felt sorry for him, because I was frightened of losing the only p
Claire's POVBy the time evening arrived, I had almost convinced myself that I wasn't nervous.I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom, looking at the woman staring back at me and wondering why choosing what to wear for dinner suddenly felt like such an important decision. It wasn't a business dinner and it wasn't a family gathering and it wasn't even some grand occasion.It was simply dinner with Damien, yet somehow, that felt like enough to make my stomach flutter.I had changed twice already before finally settling on a simple dark dress that Olivia had bought for me. I ran my fingers through my hair, letting it fall over my shoulders, then stared at my reflection for another moment.The kiss from the previous night came back to me and so did the kitchen. The memory of Damien stealing food and my own laughter. The realization that I had loved him during those ordinary moments.I still couldn't believe how strange memory was. It wasn't returning in some neat sequence. There was
Claire's POVThe words had barely left my mouth when Damien's expression changed.He didn't rush toward me. He didn't grab me or start asking a dozen questions. He simply stood there, looking at me as though he was afraid that if he moved too quickly, the memory might disappear and take me with it.Maria quietly set the wooden spoon down. "Claire," she said gently, "are you sure?"I nodded, although my eyes were still fixed on Damien. "I remember being here."Damien's voice was soft when he answered. "You remember this kitchen?""Not this kitchen exactly. I mean..." I pressed my fingers against my temple, trying to find the words. "I remember the other kitchen. The same one, but different. I don't know if that makes sense.""It does.""You were standing there." I pointed toward the stove. "You were wearing a white shirt."His mouth curved slightly. "I owned several.""You had the sleeves rolled up.""I usually did.""And you kept stealing food."He laughed under his breath. "Apparent
Claire's POVThe problem with Tiffany Morgan was that she never did anything obvious because if she had openly flirted with Damien, I could have been angry if she had insulted me in front of other people, I could have defended myself and if she had behaved like the villain I wanted her to be, at le
Claire's POVBy noon, I had accomplished almost nothing. On paper, my morning had been productive. I had answered emails, approved schedules, finalized travel arrangements for three executives, and reorganized next week's board meeting agenda.In reality, I couldn't have told anyone what half of th
Claire's POVDamien's words settled over the room with all the force of a collapsing building. "We will need to discuss the divorce arrangements this week."For a moment, I wasn't sure I had heard him correctly. The candles flickered softly between us. The meal I had spent hours preparing filled th
Claire's POVThe receptionist smiled as she handed me a small envelope. "Don't lose that," she said. "Most mothers end up keeping the first ultrasound forever."I looked down at the photograph tucked inside the envelope and felt something tighten in my chest.Forever.It was such a simple word, suc







