All Chapters of After Three Years: She Wakes Up: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

“Absolutely not,” my immediate response was resolute as I scrunched my nose and shook my head. Andrew Clark was my personal, one-man heart attack of frustration–not someone to catch feelings for. “He's just my irritating, bossy, micro-managing co-worker. He doesn't care about me--he only cares about how things look to others when it regards our company, HMG. I'm pretty sure he hates me…didn't you see how he just treated us?" I thought I had done a good job explaining myself, but instead of understanding, a strange smile crossed Josh's face as he shook his head in disbelief. "Ariana, that was not hate," Josh snorted. "I know what hate looks like. Men don't get that jealous over someone they hate."He can’t be serious. Is Dr. Andrew Clark jealous over me?I thought Josh was smarter than that. "Jealous," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "Dr. Clark wasn't jealous. He can’t be. Jealousy would require him to feel something about…well, anything other than his self-interests. That man is NOT j

Thinking back as to when things started to get weird between Misha and I, was it really just two months ago, or did it go back further. He’s been “working late” for months now on the new merger deal, taking showers at work, sometimes not even returning until days later. Being the blindly doting, loyal housewife, I didn’t question it. But what if he had been really working on a merger of another sort?The last payment made by Misha’s company occurred around the time Mavis would have discovered her pregnancyDid she become bold once she knew she was carrying my husband’s heir–Bold enough to start hurting me and my family?A single warm teardrop landed on the papers before me as my eyes glazed over, not with sadness, but with anger. Setting those papers aside, I struggled not to shred them and crumple their remains. I needed to keep these intact to add to my mounting pile of evidence against my unfaithful husband. Sighing, I reached for the last set of documents–the receipts for the mos

An hour later, as the sun dipped behind the Catskill Mountains we pulled into the main gate outlining the edge Davies family estate–Havenwood. It was a massive property covering several parcels of land and has been in the Davies family for generations. Much like my own family estate, Rosecliff, the property had started as a homestead in a time before county lines and state boundaries existed. Spanning a distance between the Hudson River and the mountains beyond, it was 20,000 acres of mostly pristine paradise. As we crossed the threshold and made the long spiraling journey to the main house two miles down a private road leading into the depth of the forest, I watched my friend’s demeanor shift. Her shoulders eased down her back, her hands loosened, her face relaxed. She was home, away from the bustle of the city. I wish the same could be said for me. There was more than one reason why I resisted the trip up north. There were too many memories here from a time before my family fell

“The members of the symphony’s Board of Directors, myself included, would like to invite you to join…” I shook my head before she could finish her words. “No, I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure I ever will be.” “Nonsense,” she shook her head. “A talent like yours cannot be kept silent.” That may have been true once, before my mother’s coma. But now. “You don’t want me, I haven’t touched the violin in years.” Lorna gave me a sly grin. “Oh? Because I received a very interesting video two weeks ago from a dear friend. A young woman at a medical conference in San Francisco playing Pejačević’s Sonata, BY EAR.” She smirked. “I’ve only ever seen one young woman do that before, and she’s standing in front of me right now.” I blushed, unable to believe that someone had not only recorded that moment, but that they sent it to the New York Symphony!She pulled out her phone and as she showed me the video, I saw for myself what she had seen. Under the strange lighting of the convention cente

Breakfast went smoothly after that awkward moment, and I soon found myself engaged in conversation as I stuffed myself with as many eggs as I could stomach. My morning sickness seemed to be replaced with a more than healthy appetite.As I reached for my third piece of sausage, Archibald Davies, Allison’s father and head of the Davies family, stood and announced that “our first guests will be arriving soon. Everyone is expected to be a gracious host.” “Guests,” I startled, speaking a bit louder than I intended. “I thought it was a family hunt. How many people are coming?” “It WAS supposed to be a family hunt,” Allison sighed with exasperation, “But now that Connor is home, Dad thought it would be a good idea to mix business with pleasure.” She signed again, deeper this time as she added, “So he’s called potential investment partners and members of the wealthier families from across the country to attend. I don’t know why he can’t see that Connor wants nothing to do with the Davies Gro