Whittaker Chambers: A Biography

“Do you like seeing yourself like this, Genevieve?” He whispered, lips pressed to my ear while his brother railed into me. “Soaked, trembling, painted with our cum like a perfect canvass?” A whimper fell from my lips as I gripped onto the headboard of the bed, silk sheets siding off my front as Felix suddenly got in front of me. His hard cock glistening at the tip. “Open your mouth, Genevieve…let us please you.” —- The Wrong Wife for Mr Whitmore: Pregnant, Divorced, and Back to Reclaim It All Genevieve Carlisle thought losing her husband was the worst thing that could happen to her. She was wrong. Because divorce was only the beginning. After a tragic accident leaves her struggling with fractured memories, Genevieve finds herself caught between two men she can no longer understand. Elias Whitmore, her ex-husband, the man she spent years loving, the man who chose another woman over her and is now engaged to someone else. And Felix Whitmore, Elias’s identical twin brother. The cold, untouchable one. The brother everyone swears is incapable of love. The brother who watches her for a second too long. Touches her like she’s something precious. Looks at her as though she’s already his. To make Elias see what he’s lost, Genevieve agrees to a fake relationship with Felix. It should have been simple. A little revenge. A little pretending. A way to make her ex-husband regret walking away. Instead, she finds herself trapped between twin brothers who fight over everything except her. Because when it comes to Genevieve, neither man is willing to surrender. As her lost memories slowly return, so does a shocking truth. This isn’t the first time she’s been caught between the Whitmore twins.

I was nineteen the first time Cole Whitfield broke me. Not with cruelty. With a single word. Why. Not did you — why. Like the answer was already settled and he just wanted the story to make sense. I told him the truth anyway. He said nothing that mattered. So I picked up my bag, walked out of his apartment, and decided that a man who trusted a rumor over two years of me wasn’t worth a correction. I spent the next two years becoming someone I actually liked. New city. Graduate program. A published paper with my name on it. I was done with Cole Whitfield in every way a person can be done. Then I walked into Seminar Room 114 and he was sitting right there, gray eyes already on the door, like some part of him knew. I sat down. I opened my notebook. I did not look up. Here’s the thing about studying how people form beliefs: you understand exactly why he believed it. That doesn’t mean you forgive it. That doesn’t mean two years of silence disappear because he’s learned how to look at you like he’s sorry. He wants a conversation. I want my degree. But the campus is small, the seminar table is round, and the boy who broke my heart at nineteen is doing everything right at twenty-one — and I’m starting to understand that composed isn’t the same thing as healed. I hate that I still know the exact sound of his voice.

She loved the wrong Whitmore. Now she works for the one she can’t stop thinking about. Elara was always just a friend to Noah Whitmore, the boy she quietly adored for years. When he married her best friend, she had no choice but to move on. Now, four years later, she’s working as the assistant to Lucian Whitmore, Noah’s older brother. Cold, brilliant, and infuriatingly controlled, Lucian is everything she shouldn't want. But behind every clipped command and long silence, there’s a heat simmering just beneath the surface, one she tries hard to ignore. Then Noah returns. Divorced, familiar, and unexpectedly present. Suddenly, Elara finds herself pulled between the past she thought she buried and the man who makes her question everything. Noah never meant to break her heart. But Lucian might.

After five long years of dating, Winona Shaw finally said yes. I was elated, like a scavenger who'd struck gold. I put everything I had into the engagement party, but out of the blue, Winona embraced Claude Landton instead. She even tried to frame me and boot me to jail. I canceled the party and called the cops instead. That made Winona mad, and Claude started panicking. Icily, I said, "Now, calm down. We have a lot of trials to go through. See you in court."

At the start of graduation season, my boyfriend took more than two hundred photos of Madison Vale. Chase Whitman was president of Westbridge University’s photography club. He knew how to find flattering light and how to coax people out of stiff smiles. Madison stood beneath the maples outside the library in a white dress, her graduation cap tucked under one arm. “Am I taking up too much of your time?” she asked. Chase checked the last few shots and smiled. “You make my job easy.” When it was finally my turn, he barely looked at me. “Stand by the tree.” He clicked the shutter twice and lowered the camera. “Done.” I stared at him. “That’s it?” He turned the screen toward me. In one photo my eyes were half-closed; in the other, a branch shadow slashed diagonally across my face. “Can we try again?” Chase sighed. “Avery, you always tense up. Fifty more takes won’t change that.” Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed. He had posted in the Westbridge Buy: Twenty dollars for someone to spend ten minutes taking a few graduation photos of my girlfriend. Nothing fancy. She just needs something usable. Half an hour later, a stranger replied. I sent him my location, then added: Just so you know, I’m not very photogenic. His answer came almost immediately: That usually says more about the photographer than about the subject. When Rowan Hayes arrived, he looked at Chase’s two photos and said, “He didn’t even try.” An hour later, he sent me the raw files. No filters, no heavy retouching. Just me on the library steps, my hair loose in the wind and my eyes brighter than I remembered them being.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, my wife left me for the man she could never forget. "Winston's raising a child on his own. You know that being a single father isn't easy. Besides, you're both men, can't you cut him some slack?" Not only was I willing to "cut him some slack," but I was also willing to step aside completely. I was willing to be the bigger man so the two of them could raise that child together. I packed my things and left, taking the initiative to apply for an overseas program in architecture. To my confusion, she came running to me, crying and begging me not to go. Still, it was too little, too late.