*Naomi's POV*
Today is the happiest day of my life and obviously Tomorrow will be even better.
"Aren't I the lucky one?" I asked my designer as she adjusted the fabric of my dashing wedding dress.
"Yes, you are, ma'am. Not everyone gets to be with the love of their life," she replied and smiled.
"Well, I guess I am," I murmured, running my fingers over the fancy, delicate dress. The dress was elegant, and had nice designs and gosh—it was perfect Just like my love for Alexander.
I sighed, the only thing missing was my cousin, Rachel.
"I just wish Rachel was here. At least she would have helped me get fitted, we'd have had fun fitting this dress. She always does all the hyping and all.”
"Don't worry, ma'am," my designer reassured me. "She said she'll be back later for your bachelorette party. No need to worry."
I forced a smile. "Yes I know. Alright, I'll leave you to continue your work."
"You should rest, ma'am. Tomorrow is such a big day. You need enough rest, so you can have strength."
"Thank you ma'am, I'll rest once I get home."
As I left her store, I felt strange, and I couldn't say why exactly. I brought out my phone to call Alexander, I wanted to hear his voice.
The phone rang twice before he answered.
"Hi, hi, darling husband-to-be."
"Oh, Naomi, my lovely wife to be" he said, his voice warm. "How are you doing? I can’t wait to see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, me too," I said, feeling a rush of love. "So, what's your plan?"
"Plan? For what?"
"For tomorrow, silly. Our wedding."
He chuckled. "It’s a surprise, Naomi."
I started blushing, all my face turned red. "Wow, that’s so romantic, I can't wait to see all of it. So, are you home or out with your friends?"
"No, I’m home alone, preparing for you, my darling wife."
Home alone. I bit my lip, a naughty idea crossed my mind.
"Okay," I said, grabbing my coat. "See you tomorrow."
But tomorrow felt too far away. I wanted to see him now, I wanted to surprise him.
The ride to his house was quick, my heart was filled with excitement. I was already imagining the look on his face when he sees me. Would he scoop me into his arms and kiss me? Whisper how much he loved me?
The thought made me giggle like a child as I got to his entrance. I was about to knock when I noticed it was slightly open.
That was strange.
I was reluctant at first but curiosity got the better of me. I stepped in, quiet as a whisper. And then the next thing I heard sent shivers down my spine.
"Ah, yes, harder," came a very familiar feminine voice from his room.
I froze.
Rachel?
I moved forward, every step making my stomach twist.
"Oh, yeah, baby, don't stop, oh… I wish I could steal you from that wretched girl, Naomi," Rachel said while moaning.
I was shocked.
"Oh baby, don't ruin the fun," Alexander responded.
No. No, no, no.
"I wish I could have you all to myself and not Naomi, but you know she's the key to the inheritance."
That instant, it was as if the ground should open and swallow me. I couldn't breath, it was as if all the air in me had been taken out. I felt suffocated.
I kept shaking my head, I wished it was a dream, a hallucination. But then the moans and their bodies on each other, reality hit me like a slap.
Their tangled bodies, The sheets, the way he held her, whispered to ears—the way he touched her like he once touched me, the way her nails dugged into his skin.
I almost fell,
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t think.
I turned and ran.
It was late already, so I turned to leave. I had no idea where I was headed, I just knew I found myself at the one place I had sworn never to return to.
The bar. I used to love coming here, especially Friday night, T.G.I.F. After a stressful week at work, I'd just come to the bar to chill and relax. But Alexander doesn't like that, I wanted to be a better person for him, so I stopped.
The smell of alcohol and regret wrapped around me as I pushed through the doors.
"This is your sixth bottle, ma'am," the bartender said, snatching the seventh before I could grab it.
"Killjoy," I said mumbling.
The world tilted, My mind was in chaos. But the more I drank, the heavier the betrayal sat in my chest.
"Another," I said in my drunken state.
"No."
I glared at him. "Aren’t you just interested in the money?"
"I am," he admitted, "but not with your safety on the line. I don’t want the cops asking me questions after your death."
I laughed bitterly. Death. Wouldn’t that be nice?
I stood up from the stool, my legs wobbling, I was seeing double. The walls seemed to breathe, the lights too bright, the floor too unsteady.
I needed more, maybe somewhere else.
Anywhere but here.
As I tried walking out, my head started spinning, I was seeing stars. My legs twisted. And then—
I bumped into someone.
"Whoa!" A Strong arm caught me before I fell to the ground.
"Hey, miss," a deep voice said. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I muttered, swaying. "I'm fine."
"You reek of alcohol."
"And you don't," I smiled at him.
"Where do you leave?" The handsome guy asked, "Cause you are in no driving state," he continued.
I giggled, poking his face. "Why should I tell you where I live?"
"My mom warned me about strangers." I smirked tightening my grip around his neck.
He sighed. "Maybe because this stranger is your only way of getting home safely tonight?"
I didn’t know where or how I got the boldness, but I leaned in, my voice dropping into a sultry whisper.
"Can I have a feel of you inside me tonight?"
His grip on my waist tightened, his jaw clenching.
For a moment, the air between us crackled.
Then, he exhaled sharply. "You’re drunk."
I pouted. "So?"
"So, I don’t take advantage of drunk women."
His words sliced through me.
I stared at him—at the sharp lines of his face, the storm in his eyes. Something about him felt… safe. Even as my world spun, even as my heart shattered, he was steady.
"Come on," he said, slipping an arm around my waist. "Let’s get you out of here."
And for the first time that night, I let someone hold me without breaking me.
Naomi's POV The interview ended at exactly 8:00 p.m.By 8:03, I was already trending on four social media platforms.By 8:07, there were hashtags I hadn’t authorized and headlines I hadn’t written or thought about.How fast people spread rumors or even jump into conclusions.And by 8:15, my inbox was an avalanche—sympathy, skepticism, celebration, and venom all twisted into one tidal wave of “Naomi, you’re everything,” and “Naomi, how dare you.”I didn’t know what I was expecting, but it's definitely not this.---Raymond didn’t ask questions when I stepped into the car outside the studio. He just reached across the console and laced our fingers together.“Relax babe,You’re shaking,” he said softly.“I think I’m still in shock.”“You were brilliant there.”“I was visible,” I whispered. “That’s what they’ll remember.”“Then make sure it’s for the right reasons.”His voice was calm, it was soothing, like an anchor in the storm.We didn’t speak much the rest of the drive. I watched the
The camera light was hot, it was Blinding.But I didn’t blink, not even once.I sat with my back straight, fingers lightly interlocked on my lap. Across from me, the host—a tall, composed woman named Vivien Gray—smiled with professional calm. We’d never met before this moment. But I could already tell she was sharp, fair, and didn’t intend to give me an easy pass.I didn’t want one.“Welcome,” she said, voice clear as glass. “Tonight, we have Naomi Montego-Darlington joining us in her first and only live interview regarding the controversial relaunch of the Sanborn Project.”I smiled politely. “Thank you for having me.”Vivien turned slightly to the main camera. “There’s been much speculation—about your return, about the legacy you carry, and about what Sanborn really means to the communities it’s meant to serve. We’re going to unpack that tonight.”“Please,” I said softly. “Let’s.”She leaned forward. “Let’s begin with the obvious: why now?”The question echoed in my chest.Why now?
Naomi's POV The studio smelled like warm lights and polished wood. It was too bright, Too sterile, Like a courtroom dressed as a stage.Everything buzzed—cables, phones, makeup brushes fluttering like moths around my cheeks. Charlotte paced near the back, whispering updates into her headset. The stylist tugged gently at my sleeve while the producer double-checked my mic, her voice cool and efficient.We were fifteen minutes from going live.Charlotte paced outside the door. Kendra was in the control room, coordinating slides. I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror—still Naomi, but my face was looking sharper, Softer, too. My features were calm, but something inside me trembled, shifting like a storm beneath calm waters. This was the moment they’d been trying to crush. And here I was—still standing, still speaking, still me.And carrying life.The thought made my throat tighten.Raymond had offered to wait backstage, but I asked him to stay home with Miranda instead. I neede
Naomi's POV The article dropped before I opened my eyes.I knew it before my phone lit up. Something in the air had changed, it was heavier, tighter, like a storm pressing against the glass from the outside in.Kendra’s message came first: You’re trending and It’s not good.Raymond was still asleep beside me. Miranda was humming faintly in her room, her voice rising and falling like birdsong through the hallway. But the moment I tapped the link Kendra sent, the warmth in my chest turned to ice.> “Beneath the Violets: Naomi Montego’s Quiet Rise Back to Power”Scandal, Silence, Secrets, What does the Montego heiress owe the public—and what is she hiding?They didn’t hold back.They dragged up my father’s withdrawal from Sanborn, Rehashed the takeover attempt by Rachel. They Questioned the timing of our revival, claimed I was using “soft feminism and trauma language” to rebrand myself after disgrace. They didn’t call me a fraud outright—but they didn’t have to, The implications curled
Raymond's POV I’ve sat in rooms with billion-dollar contracts on the table a lot of times and never felt as much pressure as I did watching Naomi stir her tea three times and not drink it.She hadn’t touched her coffee that morning either, or her toast, and the past few nights, she’d tossed and turned so much that I stopped pretending to be asleep and just held her hand under the sheets.She said it was just stress. That her mind was too full. And I believed that—partly. But there was something else, something deeper vibrating beneath the surface of her. She was running on fumes, emotionally and physically, and I wasn’t sure she realized it.Naomi wasn’t someone who asked for help. She offered it like oxygen to others, but when it came to herself, she tightened like a fist. She thought surviving meant silence. But I’d learned her language—the small pauses, the forced smiles, the way she flinched from garlic one night when I was cooking, only to pretend nothing was wrong.It was sub
Naomi's POV We started the next morning with a list.Leona sat across from me at the conference table, tying her curls into a tight knot as I spread the Sanborn materials across the surface.“We need three things before we go near Elijah Cross,” she said. “Legal cover, political leverage, and someone he doesn’t see coming.”I nodded, already making notes. “Beatrice knows people in planning and zoning. I’ll talk to her today. We need the Sanborn land frozen—no sudden transfers.”“I’ll talk to Kendra,” Leona added. “She’s still got friends in investigative journalism. Quiet ones.”“And Rachel?” I asked.Leona’s jaw ticked. “Keep her busy. Just not involved in this.”I didn’t argue.While Leona made calls, I sat down with Beatrice in the small staff kitchen.She listened carefully, then opened her planner and pulled out a business card. “City registrar owes me a favor. He can flag that land for public interest. Temporary hold. Give you some breathing room.”“What do I say to him?”“Noth