Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 1 - Chapitre 10

Anna’s POVMadison said red was his favourite.I stare at my reflection in the mirror for longer than necessary.The dress hugs my waist more than I’m used to. The fabric is soft and fitted, nothing like the oversized blazers and loose skirts I usually wear to work.“You never wear things that show your shape,” Madison had laughed earlier over video call. “Anna, you have curves. Stop hiding them.”I remember smiling awkwardly.Hiding feels safer.But tonight is different.Tonight is three years.Three years with Maxwell.Three years of learning his coffee order. Three years of cooking his favourite meals. Three years of telling myself love requires patience.I smooth down the red fabric again.Maybe tonight he’ll look at me differently.Maybe tonight he’ll finally see me.My phone buzzes.Madison.I smile immediately.She’s been so helpful today.“Are you dressed?” she texts.“Yes. I feel overdressed,” I reply.She responds instantly.“Trust me. He’ll love it. Go now before he falls a

Anna’s POV I barely sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see red. The dress. The sheets. Madison’s smile. By morning, my eyes are swollen, but I still go to work. Because staying home would mean thinking. And thinking hurts. The office feels different when I walk in. Buzzing. Whispering. “Have you heard?” “He’s already here.” “They say he fired an entire department at his last company.” I keep my head down and head toward my desk. New CEO. Right. I forgot that today was his first day. Perfect timing. HR calls me before I can even sit down. “Anna, there’s been a reassignment.” My stomach tightens. “Reassignment?” “You’ll now be assisting the CEO directly.” I blink. “Me?” “Yes. You’re organised. Reliable. He requested someone competent.” Requested? How would he know me? My heart beats faster for reasons I don’t understand. Or maybe I do. I smooth my blouse — loose, safe, hiding. The same way I’ve always dressed. The same way I’ve always made myself… less n

Anna’s POV – PresentMadison’s perfume lingers long after she steps away.Sweet. Expensive. Familiar.It clings to the air like a memory I don’t want.I keep smiling.Because cameras are everywhere.Because weakness here would be fatal.Because this world does not forgive cracks.But my hands—My hands won’t cooperate.They’re trembling.Not violently.Not enough for anyone across the room to notice.Just enough that the champagne glass vibrates faintly between my fingers.A soft, almost invisible shake.But I feel it.And I hate it.I hate that after everything… they can still affect me.I hate that even standing here, dressed in silk and diamonds, I can still feel like that girl in the doorway.Small.I lower the glass slightly, hoping no one notices.But someone does.Xavier.He doesn’t look at my face.He looks at my hands.And before I can pull away—He gently takes the glass from me.No sudden movement.No attention drawn.Just smooth. Controlled.He sets it aside on a passing t

Anna’s POV – PresentI didn’t think I would be nervous again so soon.But as the car turns through the iron gates of the Cortez family estate, my palms grow warm against my lap.The mansion is older than Xavier’s modern home.Grand.Not flashy.Established.The kind of place that doesn’t need to prove its wealth.Xavier notices my silence.“They value composure,” he says calmly.I glance at him. “And if I’m not composed?”His mouth shifts slightly — not quite a smile.“You are.”The certainty in his voice steadies me more than he probably realises.The EntranceThe front doors open before we reach them.Staff greet us respectfully.Not bowing.Not dramatic.Just precise.Inside, the air smells faintly of polished wood and jasmine.Family portraits line the walls.Generations.Legacy.Responsibility.Xavier is the only son.The heir.The center of all this expectation.And he chose me.The thought feels heavier in this house.Meeting His ParentsHis father stands first when we enter th

Xavier’s POVI do not make emotional decisions.That is something my father drilled into me long before I was old enough to understand it.Emotion clouds judgment.Judgment builds empires.And I was raised to build—not to hesitate.Not to feel.Not to second-guess.And yet—I married Anna Santos.ObservationI stand across the living room, watching her without announcing it.She doesn’t notice immediately.She rarely does.Anna stands near the window, barefoot now, the polished floors cool beneath her feet.Her heels are gone.Her posture has softened.Her hair has fallen from its structured arrangement, now resting naturally over her shoulders.Without the emerald dress, without the controlled perfection of the reception—She looks smaller.Not weaker.Just… real.More human.More unguarded.She exhales slowly.A quiet breath she doesn’t realise I catch.A release.Controlled, but not entirely.She does that often.Holds herself together until she believes no one is watching.Then—