All Chapters of My Nemesis Became My Husband : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

NEVEAHThe first joint Westbridge meeting lasted exactly twenty-seven minutes before I realised our new partnership was going to be considerably more complicated than signing a contract.We had barely finished reviewing the coordination structure when Daniel Mercer, the Blackwood infrastructure director, placed a set of revised maps across the conference table. He didn't look particularly apologetic about the timing. In fact, he looked like a man who had been waiting for the right moment to ruin everyone's morning.“There is an issue with the eastern transport corridor,” he said.I looked down at the map.The eastern edge of Westbridge contained three of the district's preserved historic structures, a row of old commercial buildings that had been empty for years but were considered culturally significant. Sterling had built part of our proposal around restoring that area. The plan was to turn the buildings into boutique retail spaces, restaurants, galleries and smaller offices, with a

NEVEAH By Friday morning, the revised eastern corridor had survived the first round of testing. That didn't mean it was safe. In my experience, a business proposal was never truly in danger when the numbers were wrong. Numbers could be corrected. Models could be rebuilt. Assumptions could be replaced. The real trouble started when the numbers worked and people simply didn't like what they were being asked to give up. And Westbridge was about to enter that stage. I arrived at the coordination office at seven thirty-eight, carrying two coffees and a folder containing the latest financial projections. Sebastian was already there, naturally, standing over the central table with three engineers and the updated site plan spread beneath them. He looked up. “You're early.” “Don't sound disappointed.” “I've adjusted.” I opened my folder. The revised model had held up better than expected. Traffic flow improved without requiring the expensive underground route. The historic buildings

NEVEAHThe sitting room had become the one place in the house neither of us could claim.My bedroom was mine. Sebastian had his own. Our offices belonged entirely to their respective owners, and even the kitchen had developed an unofficial set of rules that somehow seemed to change depending on who had touched the coffee machine last. But the sitting room was neutral territory. Neither of us had chosen the furniture, neither of us had decorated it, and neither of us had any particular attachment to the arrangement. It was simply there, in the middle of the house, offering enough space for two people to sit without being forced into conversation.That afternoon, we were both taking advantage of it.Sebastian sat at one end of the sofa with a book open in his hands. I was at the other end with my legs tucked beneath me, scrolling through my phone without actually reading anything. The television was off, the curtains were partly open, and the late afternoon light stretched across the fl

SEBASTIAN Monday mornings had never been particularly kind to me.There was something about returning to work after a weekend that made every email look more urgent than it actually was and every meeting feel longer than necessary. I usually preferred getting into the office early, before people started appearing with questions, reports and problems that somehow became mine simply because I happened to be in the building. This morning, however, I found myself thinking about something far less important.Neveah was still annoyed about the dinner.I could tell from the way she had walked into the kitchen. She hadn't said much, but I had known her long enough to recognise the signs. Her movements became sharper when she was irritated. She put things down a little harder than necessary and had a particular expression when she was trying not to argue before breakfast. This morning, she had also stared at me several times as though she expected me to confess to something.I hadn't.The tru

NEVEAH The first sign that something was wrong was my mother's call at seven-thirty in the morning. Not because she called early. My mother had never respected the concept of reasonable calling hours when she believed she had something important to say. She had once called me at six in the morning because she had remembered a dress she wanted me to try on. According to her, that counted as an emergency. I was still lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince myself that another five minutes of sleep could somehow become twenty when my phone started vibrating across the bedside table. I reached for it without looking at the screen. "Hello?" "You're awake." I opened one eye. "Unfortunately." There was a pause. "Neveah." "Mother." "I need you and Sebastian at the house this evening." I pushed myself up against the headboard. "For what?" "Dinner." "That's not an explanation." "It's dinner, darling. People eat at dinners." "You're hiding something." "I am