Nothing Can Separate Us

Roberta's POV We stepped out of the elevator. Ethan was standing there. His eyes went to our hands first. Then to our faces. Something flickered in his expression—surprise, disappointment, a flash of something that looked like hurt. "Good morning, sir," he said. His voice was steady. Professional. But I could hear the tightness underneath. "Good morning, Ethan," Brett said. Ethan looked at me. "Good morning, Roberta." I felt the guilt rise immediately. The memory of last night—the kiss, the way I had used him—flooded through me. "Good morning, Ethan." My voice was warm. Softer than I meant it to be. "How are you?" He blinked. Like he hadn't expected me to ask. "I'm... I'm fine. Thank you." Vanessa stepped forward. She didn't look at me. Her eyes were fixed on Brett. "Good morning, Brett." Her voice was smooth. Practiced. "How did you sleep?" I felt something twist in my chest. The audacity. The sheer nerve. Brett didn't answer. He just looked at her. His hand found my wris

Losing Control

Roberta's POV “She lied about me kissing her,” Brett said. His voice was measured, but nothing underneath it was. “Not a small lie. Not a white lie. She looked you in the face in that bathroom and told you I had been physical with her. She used Victoria’s name. She used my grief. She took the most vulnerable thing about me and handed it to you like a weapon.” He paused, eyes locked on mine. “And it worked. You went back to the table, turned your phone off, and kissed Ethan because you believed her.” I opened my mouth. Closed it. “She didn’t make a mistake,” he continued, quieter now, but harder. He looked at me steadily. “I would fire her again tomorrow. Twice.” The silence that followed felt heavier than the argument itself. I looked at him—at the absolute certainty in his face, the unyielding line of his jaw—and I thought about Vanessa in that bathroom. The composed smile. The casual delivery. The way her eyes had sharpened the second mine stung. The brief flash of satisfactio

The Woman in His Wife's Clothes

Roberta's POV Sophia's voice died in her throat. She was Standing in the doorway with a folder pressed against her chest, her expression cycling through shock, recognition, and a kind of delighted mortification so pure it almost looked painful. I jerked back from Brett so fast I nearly lost my balance. My mouth felt swollen. My hair was no longer where it had started the morning. Brett’s tie was slightly off-center. We both looked exactly like what we were: two people who had just been making out like the office didn’t exist. “I am so—” Sophia started. “I’ll come back. I’ll just—” “No,” I said, voice thinner than I wanted. I stepped fully away from Brett. “I was just leaving.” Brett’s hand caught my wrist. I looked at him. He looked back with the specific expression of a man who had been mid-sentence—and mid-something else entirely—and considered the matter unfinished. “Later,” I said, quieter. He released my wrist. I walked past Sophia, who was studying the folder in her

All Chapters of HIS FORSAKEN WIFE HIS GREATEST REGRET : Chapter 71 - Chapter 73

Nothing Can Separate Us

Losing Control

The Woman in His Wife's Clothes