LOGINCLAY'S POVIt was with a sense of apprehension that I entered my car. As the sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the now confined space, I inhaled deeply to steady my bearing and calm my palpitating heart, then pulled out my phone and clicked on the messaging app. A new message blinked innocuously at the top of the inbox, the information it contained making me apprehensive.âI have some pertinent information about the caller. When should we meet?âThe message instilled a sense of rage and relief in me, all at once. Absently, my mind went to the outing â I almost dubbed it a date â that I had gone to with Anyta, to the art gallery. It had almost been perfect. I wasn't sure, couldn't truly confirm anything, but for a moment, or several moment, it had almost felt like things would go back to the way they used to. The walls that had been built up between the both of us were being slowly but steadily chopped away by sheer proximity, and it was all I could've ever asked for.Until th
EVERETT'S POV. The question pierced the air between us, and for a long moment I had no idea what to say. On one hand, I had always expected for us to talk about it. That was when everything had really started to go downhill for me, wasnât it? Wait, no. I shouldnât lie to myself. It had started long before that. Not when Grandma Jo had betrothed the both of us, but when I had let my antipathy with the betrothal and eventual marriage to color the way I treated her. When I blatantly discarded and borderline abused her, in favor of her sister, who was herself already with someone else at the time.Gods, even just remembering it made my heart clench in remorse and embarrassment.With the benefit of hindsight, I could admit to myself that I had never really âseenâ Anyta, not like I had seen her sister. Anyta had never been anything more than a burden, a yoke that had been fastened to my neck without my say so.âWhich is why it was so easy to believer her, at the time,â I was saying to the
ANYTA'S POVI stood in my own doorway for longer than was dignified, my brain struggling to process the sudden turn of events before me.There was my ex-husband, the man who had made my twenties feel like a slow and elegant drowning, sitting cross-legged on my living room floor helping my son sort through a bucket of Lego with the focused patience of someone who had nowhere else to be. Oh, the audacity. The complete and breathtaking audacity of this man.Teddy, innocent as he was, was explaining the structural importance of the flat grey pieces with great seriousness, his small brow furrowed the way it always did when he was convinced the adults around him were not grasping something obvious. Everett was listening. Actually listening, not the performance of it, not the distracted half-nod he used to give me across dinner tables when he had already decided what he wanted to say next and was simply waiting for my mouth to stop moving. He was watching Teddy's small hands with something u
Anyta's POV.I did not shout.I never shout. Shouting was Everett's language, and I had spent enough years in that house to know that the loudest person in the argument was usually the one with the least to stand on. So I kept my voice even, kept my hands still in my lap, and I took Clayton Grayson, the most elusive billionaire in the country. A man who now stood apart piece by careful piece."You had time," I said. "That is what I keep coming back to. You had time to tell ms everything. Not once, not in passing, but in all the quiet moments we shared, all the dinners, all the nights you sat across from me and looked at me like I was something worth protecting. You had time and you chose silence.""I know.""Do not just say I know.""What else do you want me to say?""I want you to explain it to me in a way that makes sense," I said. "Because right now the only explanation I can find is that you did not trust me. And if that is the case, then everything I thought we were building is a
Clayton's POVI hit my carâs ignition like an assassin on the run, breathless, heart pounding with high adrenaline. If word gets out about my identity my life would become a spectacle, like a gold fish in a jar, hounded and overly monitored. And this was the lifestyle I avoided all my life even after my father tried to get me to step into his shoes and join politics. Even after he made me swear on his death be, but not after I met Anyta. She was a peaceful soulâ jagged at the edges scarred, yet beautiful and full of love. I wouldn't enjoy life with her if the color of our bed sheets made magazine covers. The mysterious Owen Grayson was famous, alright, his net worth standing at the top of the Forbes list. But I knew I wouldn't find love that way, and I never want to repeat my fatherâs mistakes. My hands tightened on the steering as the seconds go by. I threw a glands at Anita our hands are folded across our chest this pleasure sitting on our pretty face. âI will never lie to you an
ANYTA'S POV"Ms. Rushmore, can you hear me, are you still on the line?"I cast a slow, careful glance at Clayton whose eyes remained widened in shock. Who was this person, and what nerve did they have to call me or inquire into Clayton's life at all?"Hello Ma'am"The caller said again. With another look at Clayton's face, I considered hanging up the phone, but I placed my hand over the speaker and scooted some inches away from him."Who are you, and what do you want?""Well that took time," the masculine voice said smugly. "Well, I don't want much, and as for who I am, you'll discover sooner when you meet me at the address I'll text you in some minutes."I swallowed the anger bubbling in my throat."Who are you, and what do you have to call my number? This is not a joke, Mr Man. I'll have the police on your trail in five minutes. What do you want with Mr Clayton and me?""You're walking into a snare Ms. Rushmore," the voice answered in a cool, composed manner. "I just thought to tell
CLAYâS POVâ... I'm still looking into the target, Jon.â I pressed a hand to my forehead, âthere's no need to worry, I'll find out what you need.âThe call had been going on for almost twenty minutes and I was getting tired of reassuring the other man that our contract was fool-proof.His sudden la
SIENNA'S POVâAh!â I exclaimed sharply, promptly sliding my thumb into my mouth.I glared at the kettle Iâd just burned it on, as if that would hurt it back.I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly because my hands were shaking.Not violently though, and thankfully not enough to spill water or
EVERETTâS POVI was fuming. Steam-pouring-out-of-my-ears, stomach-aching, chest-heaving, fuming!It was definitely not the sharp, fleeting kind that burned out as quickly as it flared. This one was deep, seeping into every crevice of my being like acid corrosion.It was the kind that made my jaw a
ANYTA'S POVI stared at my reflection and sighed as a slight sense of deja vu washed over me.My hair was already done, soft curls falling neatly over my shoulders, glossy and cooperative for once, without multiple tries.That alone felt like a minor victory. But the problem wasnât my hair.It was







