MasukLydia’s POVI rolled my eyes, gathering the reports into neat piles.“Cancel my seven-thirty virtual movie night with Anna.”Her smile immediately disappeared.“Oh…”“You’ve just volunteered me for war.”I looked up.“What?”“You think Anna is going to accept that calmly?”“I’ll explain.”“She worships movie nights.”“I know.”“She literally creates themed snack menus.”“I know.”“Last month she mailed you popcorn seasoning because she said your collection was ‘embarrassingly basic.’”“I know.”She shook her head dramatically.“I wish you luck.”I laughed despite myself.“She’ll survive.”“Will you?”“I’ll survive too.”My assistant picked up her phone.“I’ll notify her before she starts buying snacks.”“Thank you.”“And…”She looked back at me with a mischievous smile.“I’m not taking responsibility if she declares emotional warfare.”I laughed.“I’ll take full responsibility.”“Excellent.”“Because she’ll definitely blame somebody.”By six o’clock, I was finally home.The house felt
Lydia’s POVTwo weeks later,Now…Everything was quiet.Not the kind of quiet that came from people giving up.The satisfying kind.The kind earned after weeks of relentless work.The kind that reminded me exactly why I loved what I did.My office overlooked nearly half the city, the floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the room with the pale morning sunlight that reflected off neighboring skyscrapers. The projector hummed softly against one wall while dozens of charts stretched across the screen—stock performances, engagement reports, public sentiment analyses, quarterly forecasts, and media perception indexes.This…This was my version of watching a blockbuster movie.People assumed public relations ended once the headlines changed.It didn’t.That was where the real work began.A reputation wasn’t rebuilt the day the crisis disappeared.It was rebuilt every day after that.I sat comfortably at the head of the conference table with a notebook open in front of me, absentmindedly twirlin
Theo’s POVHalf the restaurant probably knew my name now. I walked over, shaking my head. “You know,” I said as I pulled out my chair, “most people simply wave.” “That’s boring.” “You’ve been here long?” She glanced at the empty basket of tortilla chips on the table. “…Maybe.” “Anna.” “They brought complimentary chips.” “And?” “I got hungry.” I looked toward the waiter. “Did she already order?” Anna answered before he could. “I ordered appetizers.” “You said we were having dinner.” “We are.” “I also ordered dinner.” “…Anna.” “And maybe dessert.” I stared at her. She smiled sweetly. “What?” I laughed under my breath. “I forgot how exhausting you are.” “You say exhausting.” She reached across the table dramatically. “I say delightful.” The waiter returned carrying sizzling fajitas, grilled vegetables, warm tortillas, fresh guacamole, roasted corn, and a platter of steak sliced perfectly over peppers and onions. I looked from the
Theo’s POV Few days later, The following morning began with a message from the one person capable of disrupting my carefully structured day before I’d even finished my first cup of coffee. Anna. I didn’t need to open the message to know it would contain either chaos, unnecessary enthusiasm, or both. It was both. Anna: Dinner tonight. Seven. Don’t make excuses. I smiled despite myself. Me: Is everything okay? The three dots appeared almost immediately. Disappeared. Appeared again. Then another message arrived. Anna: Absolutely not. I sighed. Me: What’s wrong? Anna: I’m bored. I stared at the screen for a full five seconds. Me: That’s not an emergency. Anna: It is for you. Another message followed before I could respond. Anna: Come and spend quality sibling time with your favorite sister who’s clearly going through a psychological crisis. I snorted. Me: You’re my only sister. Anna: Exactly. Anna: Which makes me your favorite. A third
Lydia POV The silence that settled over the dining table after my outburst was almost tangible. Just moments ago, the room had been overflowing with laughter, interrupted conversations and two overly excited six-year-olds talking over each other about telescopes, chemistry kits and constellations. Now, the only sounds were the occasional scrape of cutlery against ceramic plates and the faint hum of the air conditioner somewhere behind me. I hated silence like this. Not because it was loud. Because it usually meant someone had been hurt. I glanced across the table at Ava. She had quietly placed the silver constellation necklace beside her plate exactly where I’d asked her to, her little fingers resting next to it as though she was afraid it might disappear if she looked away for too long. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t pouting either. She simply continued eating her dinner in the same calm, polite way she always did. Somehow… That made me feel even worse. Children weren’t sup
Lydia POVAnna.Anna:Babesssssssss 😭😭😭I smiled immediately.Only Anna could make panic look adorable.I opened the chat.Me:Who’s dying?Three dots appeared almost instantly.Anna:MEEEEEE.Anna:Save me.Anna:I need your giant business brain.I laughed.Me:My giant business brain charges consulting fees.Anna:I’ll pay.Me:How much?Anna:Friendship.Me:Rejected.She sent six crying emojis.Then another message.Anna:Okay serious now.We’re reviewing next quarter’s influencer strategy.The numbers aren’t making sense.Marketing wants three celebrity ambassadors.Finance says absolutely not.Meanwhile we’ve got like… forty micro-influencers emailing us wanting partnerships.I genuinely don’t know which direction gives better returns.Help before I lose my mind.I smiled.Classic Anna.Brilliant at running operations.Less confident whenever marketing became more psychological than mathematical.I typed.Me:Question.Why are the celebrities your first choice?Her reply came
Bernard stepped in, hands clasped neatly in front of him.“I apologize for disturbing you, ma’am. I came by earlier, but there was no response.”I rubbed my eyes. “I was asleep.”“Yes, ma’am.”He said it so respectfully that I almost felt bad for sounding irritated.Almost.“Would you like dinner?”
Lydia’s POVThe inside of the house was even worse than the outside.Worse, because now I had to physically stand inside it and accept that this was where I was expected to live.The space swallowed me the second I stepped in.The entrance opened into a massive living area with floors so polished I
Lydia I turned.He was standing a few feet away now, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.There was no softness in his face.Just cool detachment.The kind that made the evening breeze feel warmer by comparison.For the first time since he arrived, he looked directly at me and held the
Lydia POVAfter what seems like forever, a black Rolls-Royce pulled into the court compound, I had already imagined three different ways to murder my husband.Future husband.Potential husband.Missing husband.Whatever.At that point, I wasn’t being picky.The sleek black car glided through the ga







