All Chapters of THE MISTAKEN MISTRESS : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Jane's POV Jane stirred awake to a gentle kind of silence, one that felt like a comforting blanket. No beeping machines, no hurried footsteps, and no heavy breathing next to her, just pure, soothing quiet. It took a moment for her to realize that she wasn’t back in her apartment, far from the chaos that had engulfed her life. Instead, she found herself in Williams’ guest room, wrapped snugly in a duvet that had the delicate scent of clean cotton mixed with something warm, perhaps him. As her eyes adjusted, she noticed the sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting soft golden lines on the wall. She blinked, her mind still hazy from the whirlwind of emotions the night before: the panic attack, the rushing tears, and Williams carrying her out of the hospital as if she were weightless. His voice echoed in her mind, reassuring her, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” She swallowed hard, her chest constricting at the memory, though it wasn’t fear that tightened her heart. It was some

Jane's POV Jane had anticipated a typical day. After everything she’d been through,the panic attacks, the hospital visit, breaking down in Williams’ arms,she longed for some peace. Just one day where she didn't have to struggle to breathe. So, she arrived at the office early, meticulously sorting through the files on her desk, keeping her head down as she tried to ease back into a routine that felt… comforting. But it seemed the universe had other plans for her. As soon as she finished arranging a stack of folders, the elevator pinged, and Mira stepped onto the floor,confident, fashionable, and radiating the vibrant energy of the creative department. Jane blinked in surprise. She found herself liking Mira much more than she anticipated. Their brief encounter the previous week had been pleasant and relaxed,Mira had dropped off some documents for Williams, praised Jane's neat handwriting, and casually invited her to "swing by the creative department anytime you’re feeling b

Jane woke up earlier than she intended. Her alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but her eyes were already open, and her heart raced with a mix of nerves, excitement, and a touch of fear, emotions swirling together like paint colors she hadn’t quite learned to untangle. Sitting on her bed for a moment, she placed her fingers gently against her chest. Training with Mira. It felt surreal. The events of the previous day had been overwhelming, Mira tweaking one of her sketches, then sending it off to Williams without warning, and the way he had looked at her afterward, as if she’d caught him off guard. Like he noticed something in her that she couldn't quite see in herself. Her cheeks flushed at the thought. She shook off her daydream and got dressed, a simple blouse, minimal makeup, and her hair neatly tied back. She aimed for an effortless look, not wanting to appear as if she were trying too hard while still wanting to feel that she belonged. As she entered the office, she held h

Jane's POV Morning arrived far too quickly. I hardly got any sleep, as my dreams intertwined with swatches of fabric, the glow of runway lights, and the lingering echo of Mira’s text from the night before: The CEO of the creative division will be present at rehearsal. Every time I shut my eyes, I felt that tightness in my chest creeping back. By the time I reached the company, the city was still waking up. The glass building shimmered in the pale sunlight, appearing tranquil and innocent completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside me. I took a deep breath before stepping through the doors. Today was not the day for panic. Today was about proving I belonged here. The creative department was buzzing when I arrived. Music played softly from someone’s speaker, while designers gathered around rolls of fabric. Assistants zipped back and forth, juggling tablets and coffee. The air was infused with the scents of perfume, paper, and ambition. “Good morning, Jane!”

Jane's POV The penthouse today was oddly serene. Not the kind of silence that sends a chill down your spine or makes you hesitant to even draw a breath no, it was a soft kind of quiet. Like the space itself had finally let out a deep sigh after weeks of chaos. There were no ringing phones. No staff bustling around. No emergency meetings. Just me and the man whose name had once dominated gossip columns alongside mine and now my boss. I stood there, barefoot, peering into a refrigerator that resembled more of a high-end showcase than a place for actual cooking. Everything inside was meticulously arranged; imported juice, gourmet cheese, and perfectly sliced fruit in clear containers. No instant noodles. No bread. No eggs. Naturally. “Who actually lives like this?” I muttered to myself. I closed the fridge and leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms. After the first week, living in William Martin’s penthouse didn’t feel surreal anymore. The marble floors, th