*Raymond's POV*
Five years had passed, but I still couldn’t erase the memory of that beautiful woman.
The stranger from the bar.
I had spent countless nights trying to recall her face, but all I ever remembered were her deep, sorrowful eyes and the way her body melted into mine that night. She was wild, desperate, and breathtaking. And just like a storm, she had disappeared by morning.
I sent out men after her, using the little information I had, but no one could find her, there was no name, no identity. Just a ghost of a woman who had burned herself into my soul.
But I guess fate had its own plans.
Five years had passed, and everything had changed.
Alexander had moved on and married Rachel. Our father was proud, boasting to everyone about how his "perfect son" had settled down. He even gave Alexander time off from work to enjoy his marriage, while I was left behind to shoulder the entire weight of the company.
I didn’t mind at first, Hard work was all I knew.
Until my mother sat me down and told me the truth.
"Ray, listen to me carefully," she had said. "Your father plans to give everything to Alexander. The company, the estate, the assets, everything. And do you know why? Because he thinks you’re not responsible enough because you are unmarried. You know how your father thinks."
"What?" My grip on the glass tightened, the weight of her words slamming into my chest.
"Your brother plays the perfect son, the perfect husband, and because of that, your father thinks he deserves to run the family empire."
"But I built this company!" I snapped. "I worked my ass off day and night while Alex was out living his dream life! And you're telling me I’m being cut out?"
"Not if you act fast," she whispered.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Marry, Raymond, Find a wife, is it that hard for you? Show your father you’re just as responsible as Alexander. It doesn’t have to be love, just someone to stand by your side and make you look like the family man he wants you to be."
Marry? The thought was ridiculous.
But then I thought about everything I had worked for, Every late night, every deal closed, every sacrifice, every sleepless night, i wasn’t about to let it all slip through my fingers.
I would get married.
No matter what.
...
The Next Morning
I sat in my office, my fingers drumming against the desk as Samantha, my secretary, walked in.
"Sir, the candidates for the job interview are here."
"Good. Send them in, one at a time."
I was supposed to be hiring a personal assistant, but in the back of my mind, I was also searching for something more. Someone suitable, Someone who could be molded into the role I needed.
The first candidate walked in. Dressed in all black, with dark lipstick and a permanent scowl. She looked like an emo.
"No." I dismissed her before she could even introduce herself.
The next woman was beautiful, an Italian with a killer body, but when she started running her hands down her chest, trying to seduce me right there in my office, I was done.
"Out."
She ran out, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was a waste of time.
"Next," I muttered.
And then she walked in.
A woman in a red dress, elegant and confident, sat down in a nice position. Her hair was tied back in a sleek bun, her skin flawless, and her lips set in a firm line, as if she had little patience for nonsense.
She met my gaze, her eyes unwavering.
"My name is Erica Smith. I’m 28 years old, and I’m here for the job application."
Something about her felt familiar.
"Do you know what job you’re applying for?" I asked.
"No, sir," she admitted.
"Then why do you think you’re capable of handling it?"
Her lips twitched. "Because there’s nothing I cannot do. And let’s be honest, who wouldn’t want to work for an empire like yours?"
She was sharp, I liked that.
I placed the contract on the table. "Take a look, and if you agree, sign at the bottom."
She quickly skipped through the pages, then grabbed a pen and signed without hesitation.
I leaned back, amused. "Do you know what you just signed?"
She smirked. "A job contract?"
I chuckled darkly. "No, Erica. You just signed a marriage contract."
Her entire body stiffened.
"What? "Her voice barely above a whisper.
"I told you to read through, didn’t I?"
She swallowed, her hands shaking slightly. "You’re joking."
"I don’t joke when it comes to business." I leaned forward, my eyes locked onto hers.
"Here’s the deal. We will be married for two years. In return, you will receive ten million dollars, five million upfront and the remaining five after two years. In public, we will be the perfect couple, behind closed doors, we are nothing more than business partners. No emotions. No expectations."
She stared at me, her breaths uneven.
"Are we clear?" I asked.
Her hands clenched into fists. "But… but there’s something you need to know about me."
I arched my brow. "If it’s not important, skip it."
"It is."
I exhaled impatiently. "Then what is it, Erica?"
She hesitated, then whispered, "I have a daughter."
Everything inside me stilled.
"What?"
"I have a daughter," she repeated, her voice steady. "And if you’re going to marry me, you need to know that she comes with me, she’s my responsibility, and I won’t abandon her for any amount of money."
For the first time in years, I was left speechless.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
A wife I could handle, A fake marriage, I could control.
But a child?
A child changes everything
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