He Hurt Me, Now He Wants Me Back

"You were just a tool, Imogene."

Her heart stopped. "And I was foolish enough to believe you cared."

***

Imogene Scott had always known her place—by Damien Shaw’s side, even when his love was a distant dream. Marrying her only because of an unexpected pregnancy, Damien’s affection never blossomed. Instead, her devotion turned him from a mere sales manager into the billionaire CEO of IMU, one of Europe’s most powerful tech empires. But her sacrifices weren’t enough. After losing their baby, Damien’s coldness deepened, sealing their marriage with an unspoken “no meddling” rule.

Imogene’s reward? Watching Damien parade countless mistresses, all while she buried her own dreams to fuel his. She believed, naively, that one day he’d see her worth. But when he fell in love with her stepsister and served her with divorce papers, Imogene’s world shattered. Realizing she was nothing more than a pawn in Damien’s game, she vanished—pregnant and determined to protect her unborn child.

Three years later, Imogene returns, not as the broken woman who fled but as a renowned artist and mother to their two-year-old daughter. Now, Damien realizes what he’s lost and wants her back. But this time, Imogene is ready to fight, and she’s not making the same mistake twice.

The Betrayal

Imogene Scott

People do crazy crazy things for love. But what most people don’t do, is let their husband get with other women just because they think he’ll someday realize they’re the only one for him.

As I say this, I feel totally stupid. I’m sitting in the lounge of Haven’s hotels and Suites and I can’t help but feel uneasy. I’m waiting for my husband to walk out with one of his many flings or at least get his room number.

I’ve always known about Damien’s affairs for the past five years. Our marriage has been like that. He married me because I was pregnant with his child but after losing the baby, he completely changed.

Then the multiple affairs began and we both made a deal not to meddle in each other’s lives. I was hurt, but one part of me has always reassured me that one day, he’s going to get tired of the affairs and love me properly. That one day, he’ll realize he’s never going to find a woman like me in any of those occasionally flings.

Unfortunately, I think he just did.

He’s been seeing this blonde woman for over five months. A blonde woman whose identity he has succeeded in hiding so far. Most of his flings usually don’t last this long. He even stopped coming home too, claiming to be busy at the office.

To top it off, yesterday was our five years marriage anniversary and we were supposed to fly out to Los Vegas last night. But my husband left me waiting and only dropped a text claiming he had to fly out to Seattle for a business meeting. My intel however, told me he isn’t in Seattle but at this very hotel with that woman.

My face begins to heat up again and I drag in a laboured breath. I should at least get home first before wallowing in self pity again. I brought this upon my self. My stupidity has led me thus far.

“Ma’am, can I help you with anything?” a concierge says, walking across the lobby to where I am sitting.

I’m in a short floral dress and hat with a pair of sunglasses. He probably thinks I’m a tourist, wondering why a woman is wearing sunglasses indoors. But can’t help it, my eyes are all puffy from crying myself to sleep last night, hence the glasses.

I put on my best fake smile. Most people can tell it’s fake from the way my lips always twitch, but this good looking concierge seems clueless.

“Damien Shaw. Can I get his room number?” I ask politely.

He gives me a long hard look. “I’m afraid not, Ma’am.”

I open my purse and pull out a wad of dollar bills. Considering the fact that the grand opening of my first art gallery is in two days and this money is supposed to go into the payment for the studio’s lighting, I’m not supposed to be throwing wads of dollar notes around. I shouldn’t even be here, I should be preparing for the grand opening.

I’m finally pursuing my own dreams after spending five years of helping Damien pursue his.

“How about now?”

“Room 2672.” the concierge says almost immediately, taking the wad of notes from me.

By the time I get to the fifth floor, I’m already starting to regret my decision. Shit, did I just give five thousand bucks to that man just to get a room number?

Five thousand bucks shouldn’t be a problem if you’re the wife of Damien Shaw, the CEO of IMU. But I have decided not to spend Damien’s money and start out my own business on my own without his help.

Ding!

The elevator door opens when I finally arrive on the floor I’m headed. My feet go cold. I’m not sure what I’ll find but I at least know what to expect. I take a deep breath and propel my legs forward.

My heart aches. How did my marriage even get to this point? I have been overlooking the signs and hoping on something that’s never going to happen. I have been so stupid.

Standing by the door of room 2672, my fingers tremble as I raise my hand to the door, hesitating for just a moment before I force myself to knock. Three sharp raps that seem to drain all the warmth from my hand.

I wait for a response. A few seconds later, the door swings open revealing Damien in a white robe.

He’s stunning as ever, looking the same as the man I fell in love with five years ago. The man I knew didn’t love me but I still married anyway.

Maybe because I haven’t been constantly see him these past few days, but he suddenly looks like he belongs in an Armani photoshoot. Or modeling Calvin Klein underwear.

Those sharp, deep-set gray eyes, sculpted cheekbones and full, firm lips are being wasted. He’s tall, too, easily six-three or six-four with broad shoulders. And the robe he’s wearing fails to hide the power of his body. What woman wouldn’t want this man for herself? What the hell have you done to yourself, Imogene?

My breath seizes for a moment as I meet Damien’s cold gaze. This is definitely the rule number one of meddling—showing up to places uninvited.

“What are you doing here, Imogene?” his voice is sharp and condescending.

He leans against the door like he’s blocking the way. My heart churns, why’s he trying so hard to hide this woman? Has he finally given his heart to her?

“You told me you were in Seattle! You missed our anniversary dinner, Damien.” I say, my voice steady.

It’s the opposite of the storm brewing inside me. I can feel the tears welling up again, but I blink them away, refusing to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

Shit, I thought I already exhausted all the tears in me last night.

“I just got back this morning.” he replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Why are you here?”

The last part of my heart breaks. Lies, more lies. He’s here with his woman right now, and we both know it. I don’t know how I’ve been able to bear this for years but there’s only so much I can take.

This woman has to go!

I try to peer over Damien’s shoulder into the room, but he shifts, blocking my view. But with surge of strength fueled by all the emotions I have kept to myself for half a decade, I shove the door open, forcing Damien to stumble back. I storm into the room, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

My eyes darts around. It’s empty. The bed is neatly made, the curtains are drawn, and there is no sign of anyone else. For a moment, confusion clouds my anger. Have I been wrong? Have my suspicions twisted reality into something worse than it is?

But then, just as I’m about to turn back to Damien, I hear it. The sound of running water, the faint click of a bathroom door unlocking.

I freeze, my heart plummeting into a cold, heavy knot in my chest. I don’t want to turn around, don’t want to see what I’ve always known was coming. But I can’t stop myself either. Slowly, almost mechanically, I turn my head toward the bathroom.

The door opens, and there she is. My stepsister.

I Want A Divorce

Imogene Scott

There comes a moment in your life when you feel nothing is okay and nothing will ever be okay. For me, that moment is now.

My world is tilting and I’m unable to do anything about it. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stare at my step sister, Fiona who I’ve always felt overshadowed by, my whole life.

She along with her mother, infiltrated my life when my mother died and completely replaced us in my father’s life. She’s doing it again. Stealing my family wasn’t enough, she’s trying to steal my husband too.

No, she’s already stolen him.

“Imogene…” Damien’s voice breaks the silence, but I can barely hear him.

My gaze is locked on my stepsister, and my lips part, but the words don’t come. They’re too tangled in the agony that claws at my chest, too drowned in the tears I refuse to let fall.

“Why?” It’s the only word I can manage, my voice breaking as I finally speak. I’m not even sure who I’m asking—Damien, Fiona, or myself?

Damien’s eyes is filled with anger but I turn and flee the room before he can lash out. He has no right to! I push into the hallway and run to the elevator.

Frantically clicking on the buttons on the elevator, the sob I’ve held inside comes pouring out, my body shaking. I lean against the cold, mirrored wall of the elevator, unable to keep myself from bending at the waist and letting the tears pour.

I fight back the sickness rising up my throat as I desperately fight to wipe the offensive image from my head. During these past five years, I thought I’ve endured all facets of pain from watching Damien with different women. As long as he didn’t love them, I could bear it. But I’ve been wrong. I’ve been so wrong.

Because nothing can compare with the pain of seeing the one you love, finally giving his heart to someone else. The heart you have spent so many years to win over.

This is what I get for loving a man who I knew was never going to love me. For putting up with his infidelity in hopes that he’ll finally come to his senses. For going against my father for this same man and getting ousted by him. For abandoning my dreams to help him pursue his.

For spending five years of my life pleasing and helping Damien accomplish his dreams while being his trophy wife. Everything I’ve done for the past years have been for Damien. I wanted him to genuinely love me. But this is how he’s going to repay me?

As soon as I get to the parking lot, I get into my black Ferrari and drive off. I just want to be alone in my room and cry or do whatever to get rid of this feeling.

When my car finally glides into the lawn of a penthouse in the heart of the great city of Los Angeles, I get out of my car and rush into our empty palatial living room.

My shoes clack on every stair, and when I finally get to my room, I slump onto the bed. A nauseating feeling craws up my spine and I have to grip my stomach to stop the feeling from ripping further through my guts.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours, I’m not sure how long I’ve been crying but it’s starting to get dark outside. I hear Damien’s car screech outside. He’s back. My fists clench beside me and I sit up on the bed.

One moment, he’s approaching the room. I can hear his footsteps and my heart thumps with every step. The next moment, he’s standing in front of me, his face red with anger and clutching a document tightly in his hand.

He throws it on the bed next to me.

“I want a divorce,” he finally says.

The words swirls around us like a cloud of poisonous fumes. Theoretically, I understand what they meant, but I can’t comprehend them. Pain, the likes of which I never knew was possible, pierce my heart.

Divorce means breaking up. Breaking up means separating. And separating is simply impossible. It’s something that’s happens to other people, not to us. I’ve endured so much all these years only to give up on us?

No way, no fucking way! Who cares if he’s in love with another woman? It doesn’t matter, we can make this work. I love him and I don’t care if he doesn’t feel the same way. I just don’t want him to leave. He’s the only one I have.

“What’s this about, Damien?” I ask calmly, my fingers curling tightly around the sheets beneath me.

Damien’s dark-blonde eyebrows becomes a hard line over his eyes. “I said I want a divorce, Imogene,” he repeats, watching me with no sign of guilt.

A tear rolls down my cheek, but Damien’s dark gaze doesn’t waver. I manage to ask the only plausible question. “Why?”

Again with the whys! Why can’t your dumb brain think of anything else, Imogene?

But Damien’s response breaks me.

“Our marriage has been a mistake from the start, Imogene. Frankly speaking, I tried to love you but I don’t think I ever will. I love Fiona. And maybe she might be able to give me the child you haven’t been able to in half a decade.”

Damien gives me a long, hard look. He’s never looked at me like this before. It’s pitying and parental. I don’t like it, but there’s something to the depth of it that makes me realize he’s not going to budge.

“Here’s the papers. You can sign them when you’re ready.”

He then storms out of the study and slams the door behind him. I continue to sit there, frozen. Against my better judgment, I let myself pretend that the last ten minutes has never happened.

I let myself pretend that Damien didn’t say those words to me. That all the pain and suffering I’m feeling at this moment had never been felt. And the bottomless black void that has replaced my heart is filled with light—the brightest light possible.

But this isn’t our reality. Reality comes crashing back, like a storm-whipped wave dropping onto a rain-lashed beach. The pain sliced, stabbed, and throbbed away at me until I can’t breathe. The pain has barely just began, moving to rip through my lungs until nothing is left. It travels with lightning speed through my body, taking all, until only pain remains.

I’ve wasted so many years of my life on him. Hoping and praying and this is the outcome. I allow myself to hate him, to despise him for taking advantage of me all these years without remorse, and with that comes blinding clarity.

I can’t do this. I can no longer stand the man who broke my heart to shreds and unleashed this soul shattering pain unto my soul. My sobs eventually slows, then subsides altogether, and before I can second-guess myself, I grab the pen on the nightstand and sign the divorce papers. Damien’s signature is already on it.

I push open the closet and pull out a suitcase, then grab what I need and toss them into it.

I don’t allow myself to think. If I do, I’ll chicken out, and I can’t afford to at this stage. I stare at the wedding ring around my finger and slowly pull it out before placing it on the dresser.

Then I finally walk out the door. Out of Damien Shawn’s life.

The Surprise

Imogene Scott

For the next few days, I stay in a hotel. I have nowhere to go. My own father had cut ties with me long ago when I went against him and chose to marry Damien.

He has even forbidden any of his family members—my stepmother and Fiona—from contacting me. But I don’t even consider them family to begin with. Not after what Fiona did to me.

My mother is no more; she died of cancer ten years ago, and my father married his deceased driver’s wife, Sasha Nice, a few years later. Talk about being shallow.

It’s as if my life is at a standstill. I’ve stayed in bed for the past few days and haven’t stepped out of the hotel room. My gallery opening is on hold, and I just want to be alone. I just need time alone to think, but I’ve been doing nothing but sleeping my problems away.

Because I can’t summon the resolve to do anything else. As long as I can sleep, I feel numb, and numb is good; numb doesn’t hurt. To top it off, I’ve been down with a slight fever followed by constant nausea and backaches. But the fact that I’ve barely made any bowel movements these past few days can be the cause of it.

The glow of the screen in the dark room wakes me as much as the chirping song. I fumble instinctively for it on the nightstand, and somewhere in my mind, I’m registering the early time on my clock—4 pm—somehow trying to sort through the dream I’m losing.

My fingers wrap around the phone and I hold it close to my face for reading. It’s an unknown number. My dream is gone, and all that is left is the reality of a random number calling me when I haven’t received any calls in days.

Damien hasn’t even reached out to me after I mysteriously disappeared. Even though I hate him right now, one part of me wish he would call, but another part of me knows I will go running back to him if he does.

Am I so insignificant to him that he has completely forgotten about me in a few days? My chest aches and I swallow hard.

“Hello?”

“Imogene, it’s Elinor. I was wondering if you needed anything. I’m about to come see you.”

“Elinor.” I fall back on my pillows and close my eyes. I feel relieved, but I’m too tired to try to sort out why. It’s just that it’s her, so it’s okay. She’s my only friend, and we’ve known each other since our college days. She’s also the only one that knows about my current situation.

“I don’t think I need anything,” I murmur.

“How do you feel now?” Elinor’s voice trailes off at the other end.

I swallow back the nauseating feeling crawling up my lungs. “Not better.”

“Well, I’ll see you in a bit.”

The call ends, and I drop my phone beside me. I curl on my bed into a ball, and fresh tears start streaming down my face again. This time, I’m not sure why, but my heart aches like crazy, and I let out a gut-wrenching cry.

Why the fuck did this have to happen to me?

About forty minutes later, there’s a knock on my door. I wipe my tears, but my face is already swollen. I open the door and let Elinor in. She’s wearing a white boat-neck top and dark brown slacks. Both look fabulous on her slender figure. Her feet are in dark beige walking shoes, and her strawberry blonde hair is in a bun.

She hands a plastic bag to me with a pharmacy label on it. A shiver runs down my spine. Time slows; the air in my lungs thins as I bring out the pregnancy test stick in the bag.

“What do I need this for?” I ask with a laugh to cover a surge of mild are-you-kidding-me annoyance.

“I stopped by the pharmacy and explained your symptoms to the nurse. She thinks you might be pregnant.”

I stare at Elinor, frozen in horror. There’s basically no way I can get pregnant. After a miscarriage five years ago, I was told that my fallopian tubes are blocked. I hadn’t been able to get pregnant since then.

I look down at my belly with horrified shock, then at Elinor, who gives me the go-on look. I walk into the bathroom to take the test. Not that I think it’s going to come back positive, but I just need to eliminate the possibility.

I pee on the stick.

Then wait.

And wait.

I’m pacing, and it’s only because I need the exercise, not because I’m nervous. Because I know I’m not pregnant. No way, no how, not now.

Except…

The stick slowly reveals two lines.

I put a hand over my mouth. My head goes blank—just a barren white space with nothing. I’m sure I’m supposed to feel or think something, but I just can’t. Not when the stick says I’m regnant.

How could I be pregnant with Damien’s child? My knees start to shake. I stumble into the sink and knock a few things off. Something made with glass falls on the floor and shatters. But it’s hard to care when it feels like my life just got upended.

The door bursts open behind me.

“Hey, are you okay?” Elinor says, her eyes wide.

I turn and blink up at her. My life has already shattered into a thousand pieces, and now I find out I’m pregnant?

I want to feel joy, but all I feel is fear. How can I raise a child on my own? What kind of life could I possibly offer this baby when my own life is in ruins?

“I heard something crash.” Elinor’s voice jilts me. She comes over and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re pregnant?”

I nod numbly.

“Um...yay...? This is good news,” she says.

My breath hitch. Good news? This feels like a cosmic joke. After years of trying, hoping, and praying, it happens now—when I’m alone, abandoned, and heartbroken.

Elinor parks herself next to me on the bathroom floor. “Okay. Are you gonna tell Damien about it?”

“No,” I reply defensively.

He discarded me without a second thought. He no longer cares about me. I doubt he’ll be happy to know about it.

“Are you going to keep it?”

“Probably not…”

Elinor takes my hand in hers, then squeezes them tightly. “You’ve wanted this your whole life, Imogene. This is a second chance for you to rebuild your life, get back on your feet, and stop wallowing in self-pity. It’s Damien’s loss, not yours. Don’t throw this opportunity away.”

I process Elinor’s words through the numbness that has been spreading through my mind. What if this child is the beginning of something new, something better? The idea feels fragile.

I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to start over, but I also know that this baby didn’t ask to be born into this mess.

Gradually, optimism starts to bubble up, pushing away the anxiety. I exhale, then put a hand over my fluttering belly. There’s no way out of this. I’m going to have Damien’s baby. I’m going to start a new life with my unborn child somewhere far away where I can make a life for both of us without the troubles of this world.

I need to be strong. For my little one.

New Beginning

THREE YEARS LATER….

Imogene Scott

“Your gallery’s grand opening is tomorrow night and you’re telling me you fired Lily’s nanny?” Elinor’s voice is sharp on the other end of the line.

I grunt and place my phone on speaker, then put it on the kitchen’s counter. Shit! Shit! Shit! I wouldn’t have fired Mei Mei if she hadn’t been so careless with Lily. How could she leave a two years old toddler alone in a tub while on call with her boyfriend?

“Mei Mei was bad news.” I curse under my breath as I walk across the room. Then I pick Lily up from the only couch in the empty living room and place her into her scroller.

The couch is the only thing I will be leaving behind in my high rent two-bedroom apartment in West Virginia. I’m moving back to LA for the grand opening of my second art gallery.

“Plus, I was going to fire Mei Mei anyways. I can’t have her move back to LA with me, can I? She has her life here.” I add.

By ‘her life’, I mean her boyfriend. How I wish she knows how unreliable men can be.

There’s a long pause at the other end of the line, and it gives me time to rush into my room to grab the only suitcase remaining in the apartment. All my luggages have already been moved to my new apartment in LA a few days ago. But I had to wait behind because I needed to oversee some things before leaving.

As soon as I walk back into the empty living room, Elinor’s voice echoes through the room again.

“I’m glad you’re finally returning to Los Angeles. But you’ve been staying in West Virginia for three years now. Away from ‘you know who’ and everyone that might ever try to hurt you or Lily. Are you sure you’re going to be fine?”

My lips curl into a smile. Elinor and I always refer to Damien Shaw as ‘you know who’. No one’s ever allowed to mention his name. Mostly because of Lily who can easily pick up people’s names when mentioned.

“I’m over the past, Eli. Right now, my only focus is on Lily and my goals.” I reiterate.

“Are you sure?”

I know Elinor is only trying to look out for Lily and I. She’s been doing that for the past three years like she’s my real family. She’d helped me move far away from ‘you know who’ when I was at my lowest.

She had even encouraged me to reopen my art gallery here in West Virginia and it became a success. She and Lily are the only reason I made it this far.

“I know you’re worried about Lily and I. You’re worried ‘you know who’ might come back into our lives. But Los Angeles is a big city with millions of people. There’s zero percent chance I might cross path with him.”

A beat of silence. “Are you sure about this, Imogene?”

“I’ve never been so sure of something in my life.” I trail off. “I really gotta go now or I’ll miss my flight.”

I don’t wait for Elinor’s response before ending the call. I toss my phone into my purse, then swing it around my shoulder. With one hand, I grab my suitcase while I use my other hand to push Lily’s scroller.

A cab is already waiting outside. The driver helps onload my stuff into the truck, and I sit in the back seat, placing Lily firmly on my lap.

As the car drives closer to the airport, my feet suddenly feels cold so I let my mind wonder. Is returning to LA the best thing to do? Maybe not but I need to face my fears in order to expand. LA is the hottest spot right now for art and I’m not going to miss this chance just because I’m scared the city might open some old wounds.

I’m stronger now. Any woman will become stronger if she had to raise a child like Lily on her own. It hasn’t been easy for me, in between proving myself as an artist, organizing art auctions, finding the undiscovered talented artist, and making a name for myself.

But my hard work over the years has paid off and I’m now opening my second art gallery which is definitely going to be a success because a possible investor will be present at the grand opening. I can really use the opportunity for expansion.

I’m over Damien, over anything that can ruin my chances for a better life in LA. I reassure myself even though another part of me says I’m not ready for this.

“Mommy, why?” Lily’s tiny voice says to me as we step through the automatic sliding doors of West Virginia Airport.

I’m holding Lily’s hand tightly and her eyes are scanning the area. Even though most of her sentences are two-worded, I can easily plause them together and understand what she means.

I crouch down to Lily’s level and push her curly chestnut brown hair back. She has bright green eyes, and a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She’s wearing a rose patterned dress and a pair of flats.

"Ready to go on an adventure, sweetie?" I say softly.

She giggles, but I’m sure she barely understands what I said. It doesn’t matter. She’s excited about it and so am I. And that was all that matters.

****

The four hours flight was daunting but it was worth it when we finally arrive at our new home. A three bedroom apartment on the seventh floor of Aces Penthouse.

Most of the upper middle class families in LA reside there and being able to afford a high cost of living for Lily and me, is something to brag about.

Lily has already fallen asleep by the time we arrived so I place her on the couch to sleep some more. After that, I take a little tour of the apartment. The last time I was here to check out the place, it was empty.

But now, the living room has modern minimalist furniture, ivory accented with dark teak. Lot of buttery leather, and several watercolor paintings of green mountains on the walls. Some of them are my paintings.

The floor is pale champagne marble, buffed to a glossy sheen. A few geometric- patterned rugs add to the ambiance. There’s even an open archway that connects the living room to the dining room. No door for partitioning, but it makes the space appear bigger and airier.

I exhale sharply and slump into a chair, trying to shake off the lingering doubt. This is my life now—the life I’ve built for Lily and me. I deserve this fresh start. Nothing and no one is going to ruin this for us. I won’t let them.

The door bell jolts me. I rise to my feet and walk to the door. I know it has to be Elinor and I’m right. The hi-res security panel next to the door shows the person on the other side. Elinor is smiling awkwardly at the camera.

She’s gorgeous as ever in white shirt and jeans. Her hair is in a messy bun too but she’s smiling big. She hardly smiles but whenever she does, it’s genuine. I have always thought her smile is probably the closest thing to heaven’s bell on earth. But this time, I can tell it’s forced.

Something has to be wrong. Panic surges through me for a second.

I click on the monitor and it gives a long beep before the door finally opens. I step away from the door, dragging my feet back into the living room.

A few minutes later, Elinor walks into the living room. Her fists are clenched tightly beside her and she seems tensed. By now, she’s supposed to be yapping about how huge my apartment is. But she isn’t saying anything..

“Elinor?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.

She looks at me, opens her mouth, then closes it again, as if the words are too heavy to speak. Her fists unclench, then tighten again.

“Imogene, there’s something important I need to tell you,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I can feel the tension in the room, thick and suffocating. Elinor never hesitates like this. My stomach twists into knots as I brace myself for what’s coming next.

“It’s about Damien.”

Her words slice through me, and I have to swallow back the pain that claws up my throat. My hands start to tremble, and I grip the edge of the chair to steady myself. It has to be serious. She said his name, not ‘you know who.’

I’ve tried so hard to move on, to leave that part of my life behind. But it seems like Damien, and everything he represents, won’t let me go that easily.

His Regrets

Damien Shaw

“I don’t think staring at your wedding photo continuously will bring her back to you.” Breonna says as she walks into my office.

Breonna is my adopted sister who doesn’t knock. She never has. And I should’ve known she isn’t going to this time either. Her steps are hurried, and she has a knack for speaking as she enters the room. What I didn’t know, was how she predicted that I was staring at my wedding photo.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I don’t meet her judgy gaze.

“Joke’s on you, I was focused on a spreadsheet of products and how much is selling.” I say, my gaze still on the stack of papers in front of me.

She smirks, then walks to my desk and lifts the papers up to reveal a photo of Imogene and me buried under the stack of papers.

“You were saying?” she asks, making her way across the table to sit in the chair opposite me.

I exhale sharply. It’s the only picture of Imogene I have and it’s the only picture I’ve been staring at for three years. The paper company should be commended because no matter how many times I fold and unfold the picture into my wallet, it never seems to tear or fade out.

I finally raise my head to look at Breonna. She’s wearing a blue long sleeve dress and her glossy golden hair is brushed out and tumbles over her shoulders like a waterfall. But her usually lit face is gaunt and pale, with dark circles and bags under her sunken eyes.

“You look like shit,” I say, and I don’t hide the surprise in my voice.

Breonna’s eyes sparks with a hint of humor as she smirks at me and replies, “And you look like a fucking Ken doll. Drug dealer Barbie style.”

A huff of a laugh escapes me and she leans a little on my table, “I’ve been staying up late to study. Finals are wild and I’m graduating college in three days!”

“Aww, honey!”

She’s just twenty four but she’s in her final year of college. One would say graduating college means you’ve got everything figured out. Not her, she’s already planned to take a gap year to decide what she really wants.

Isn’t gap year supposed to be before college?

“She’s back in town. I heard it from someone.” Breonna suddenly says, her expression growing serious.

She knows I know what she knows. And she knows I’ve been waiting for it all my life. I’ve made horrible mistakes in my life and one of them was treating Imogene the way I did.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Do you think she still loves you?” Breonna asks me and I feel a chill in my bone.

That was the bigger question. Would Imogene even want to see me? Maybe she doesn’t love me anymore and maybe she doesn’t want to see me but I do love and want to see her.

I’m not mistaken just like when I thought I was in love with Fiona but only to realize I loved her because she tried her best to act a lot like Imogene. She just couldn’t be her, none of the women I had affairs with could be her.

And when Imogene finally left, I realized I had lost something valuable. I had lost the woman that stood by me and made sure my dreams became reality while unending hers.

I searched for her everywhere for three years until I heard the news that she was returning to LA to open her second art gallery.

“I don’t know, there’s only one way to find out.” I reply.

“But do you still love her?” Breonna asks, propping her chin.

Of course, I do. To love has always been a problem for me. At least that’s what I thought after the way my father treated my mother when I was young. He abandoned us and my mother raised me all on her own.

My father was irresponsible and failed to acknowledge his own actions. My mother saw me through college but passed away in my final year of college. She couldn’t see me graduate. After college, I met Imogene, the daughter of a rich conglomerate. She loved me for who I was and made me successful.

I shouldn’t treated her like shit but I was blinded by my own insecurities and greed. Now she’s back so it’s finally the right time to make things right.

My head tilts back slightly and I run a hand down my face. “I do love Imogene and I want to make things right.”

Breonna cocks a brow at my response, but I stay firm. Leaning forward, she puts both palms on the desk and asks quietly, like it’s a secret, “How do you intend to make it right? You can’t get Imogene back with money just like you solve any problems that comes your way. At least that’s what I think, I barely know her.”

Right, Breonna only joined the family two years ago. My aunt and uncle took her in after her parent’s death.

I steady my back against the leather chair, letting one hand fall to the armrest, my fingers tracing along the steel nail heads.

“I wish I knew,” I tell her in a breath. “Her gallery’s grand opening is tonight.”

“You’re going to her gallery opening, aren’t you?”

I don’t respond immediately. My gaze drifts back to the wedding photo, to the life I let slip through my fingers.

“I have to,” I finally say. “It’s my last chance to make things right.”

Breonna leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “And what if she doesn’t want to see you? What if she’s moved on?”

The air in the room tenses. A moment passes, and I can’t breathe. I’ve waited three years for this moment but I can’t find a definite answer. The hope that I might one day get Imogene back has kept me going. But I have never for once thought about a million ways things could go wrong.

“Just… don’t make it worse, Damien. Don’t hurt her again.” Breonna says again.

I nod. “I won’t.”

As she leaves my office, I hear her voice, softer this time. “You’re not the only one with regrets.”

I pause, turning back to her. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, then shakes her head. “Nothing. Just… be careful.”

She says something about Imogene again, but I don’t hear, and she’s already gone before I can question her. Staring at the closed door, Breonna’s words echoed in my mind.

“Just… don’t make it worse, Damien. Don’t hurt her again,”

Her words strike a nerve. I know I’ve made mistakes, but this is my chance to make amends. Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself.

I sit back in my chair, staring at the closed door where Breonna disappeared. My heart pounds as I imagine what’s to come. Tonight, at Imogene’s gallery opening, everything could change. I’ll see her again. But what if she looks at me with the same disdain she had when she left? What if she’s moved on completely, and the pain of my mistakes is something I’ll never escape?

Why Now?

Imogene Scott

“I think Damien knows you’re back in town, but he doesn’t know about Lily yet.” Elinor’s voice from yesterday keeps echoing in my head and I’m unable to concentrate on the artwork my assistant, Emmett Brown is showing me.

“Imogene?” Emmett calls again. “Should I put this George W. Bush terrier painting at the center of the room?”

I cock my head. I sometimes wonder how Emmett knows so much about art when he only has a degree in art history—a made-up degree for rich people.

“Sure. It’s the centerpiece.” I say and he gives me a long look before walking towards the white wall of the gallery.

Emmett is good at his job even though he just started yesterday. He’s twenty five, but still, it’s like God ran out of decent personality, felt bad about it, and overcompensated by giving him a gorgeous face. He’s ridiculously good looking with broad shoulders and a body that puts any male model to shame.

His smugness and lack of personality is a huge turn off, but I had to hire him because his talent is so undeniable.

I sighed heavily as my eyes scans the gallery. It’s alive with people moving around with purpose. The chair and tables are being arranged out front since the event will be held outside. The final touches for tonight’s grand opening are still in progress too.

I’m standing in the center of it all, but my mind is elsewhere. I’ve spent all night thinking about what Elinor said to me about Damien. Damien knows I’m in town but he doesn’t know about Lily yet. It’s only a matter of time before he finally does and what happens then?

My heart squeezes at the thought. He still very much hates me, what if he tries to take Lily away from me? Maybe it’s not too late to give it all up and return to West Virginia? But why should I run? I’ve done nothing wrong, I’m not the one that put a knife to his back!

That familiar feeling starts creeping up my spine again. The feeling of fear and heartbreak. I’ve left this all behind me. For my happiness, for Lily. I’m not going to let it back into my life. Ever. Damien is never going to find out about Lily.

The ringtone of my phone snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly reach for it. The screen flashes with Elinor’s name, and I can’t help but fake a smile as I answer.

“Elinor,” I say, holding the phone close to my ear.

“Hey, Imogene. Just wanted to let you know that Lily is doing great. We’re having a lot of fun,” Elinor’s voice is warm, reassuring, and it eases some of the tension in my body.

“Thank you, Elinor. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I reply, my eyes scanning the gallery, noting how everything seems to be falling into place.

The only thing not in place, it seems, is me.

“You really should take it easy. It’s your big night, after all. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just… busy,” I admit, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand. I glance at the clock on the wall and realize I’ve been so caught up in the preparations that I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to wear tonight.

“Well, make sure you enjoy yourself. You deserve it,” Elinor says before hanging up.

As the call ends, a wave of panic washes over me. I haven’t even picked out a dress for tonight. I’ve been so engrossed in making sure everything is perfect for the gallery’s opening that I’ve completely neglected myself.

“Emmett!” I call out and he soon appears at my side.

I tell him about my dress situation but he tells me it’s already been delivered an hour ago and waiting for me to try on in the showroom. I furrow my eyebrows, I’m not sure I heard right because it doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t ordered any dresses for tonight, not yet.

Unless, Elinor ordered the dress for me? Of course, Elinor would think of that.

I immediately feel grateful to Elinor, for the fifth time today. I make my way towards the showroom, which is nestled further inside the gallery. As I enter the showroom, I spot the dress hanging on a mannequin in the corner of the room.

It’s breathtaking—a floor-length gown of deep emerald green, with delicate embroidery that shimmers subtly under the light. The fabric looks rich, luxurious, and I can’t help but run my fingers over it. Elinor really has eyes for the good stuff. It's exactly what I would’ve chosen for myself.

I quickly undress and slip into the gown, the smooth silk gliding effortlessly over my skin. It fits perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places. The color complements my dark hair and pale complexion.

There’s a knock on the door, and a makeup artist steps in. She greets me with a smile and begins her work. When she’s finished, I open my eyes and take in the final result. The dress, the makeup, everything comes together beautifully. I feel like a different person, someone confident, someone ready to take on the world.

But that lingering feeling of doubt remains and I can’t seem to shake it off. I take one last look at myself in the mirror, adjusting a stray hair, before stepping out of the room and back into the gallery.

The space is bustling with activity now, more people have arrived, and the air is charged. The main event will be held outside, under the stars, but the inside of the gallery is already filling up with guests.

This is really happening. My heart thumps in my chest with every step I take in my shiny diamond heels.

“You’re an artist, and you’ve found a way to make a living from your art.” Mrs Steele, one of my major investors, says to me halfway through the event.

We’re standing outside just by the tall opening cake. The night air is cool against my skin. I’ve spent half the night talking to my investors and smiling so hard that I feel my mouth will rip soon.

My face turns pink as Mrs Steele continues to praise me. “That’s pretty enterprising. Most people quit before they ever get a chance to fail. You’re impressive.”

I wave the compliment away. Slow music starts playing in the background, Mrs Steele moves away towards her husband.

I step backward and watch them dominate the dance floor. My heart aches for them, but in a good way. How they’re in their late seventies and still married.

Suddenly, I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder. A young man is standing right in front of me with his hands stretched out. I’ve never met him before but he’s incredibly gorgeous in a black suit and crisp white shirt. His hair is dark blonde and his fave is so carefully sculpted like God took an extra day creating him.

He’s beaming with smiles too. Okay, where the hell did this god fall from?

"Would you let me have this dance, Miss Scott?" he asks under his breath.

Everyone is now staring at us and don’t want to let down so I agree. He leads me to the dance floor and the spotlight follows us. We dance to "Perfect" by Ed Sheeran. He tries to start a conversation but I pretend not to hear him over the music. All I grab is his name—Keith Jordan.

Suddenly, it feels like everyone’s attention is drawn to someone walking in. They’re all looking in the same direction. Our dance comes to a halt and I take two steps back from Keith-Charming.

And then, I see him.

Damien.

He’s walking towards me, commanding the attention of everyone. My heart stops, my breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, the world around me fades into the background. All I can see is him stopping in front of me.

His eyes rakes over my figure, taking in the dress. A slow smile spreads across his face, and it’s the kind of smile that used to make my knees weak, that made me believe in every lie he ever told.

“I knew the dress would look good on you,” he says, his voice low.

I freeze, my heart is thumping and it’s only a matter of time before it jumps out of my chest. Damien bought the dress? I glance down at the gown, at the fabric that felt so perfect just moments ago, and suddenly, it feels like a trap.

“How…?” I begin, my voice faltering, but he cuts me off, leaning in closer, his breath warm against my ear.

“It wasn’t hard to figure out your taste. You always did have impeccable style,” he murmurs, and I can hear the amusement in his voice, the way he relishes in my discomfort.

I want to say something, to tell him to leave, to demand answers, but the words stick in my throat, choking me. All I can do is stand there, frozen, as the memories come rushing back, the betrayal, the pain, the years I spent trying to rebuild myself after he tore me apart.

And now, here he is, back in my life, back in my world, and all I can think is: Why now?