COMMENT
Chapter 6
Early the next morning, my phone buzzed. Jack’s voice exploded through the line, practically dripping with excitement. “Natalia! Owen just wired 250 grand to the company account. He’s begging for mercy!”
That was the price of crossing Quinn. Owen’s groveling didn’t matter–Quinn wasn’t the forgiving type. Once one made it onto his radar, there was no escape.
Jack, on the other hand, was over the moon. “You’re a damn powerhouse, Natalia. I knew you’d pull this off!”
A faint smile tugged at my lips, but I didn’t bother correcting him. The money was secured, and that was all that mattered. Without wasting time. 1 headed straight to the police station to bail out my adoptive father.
Two days in custody had aged him years. His suit hung off his frame like it didn’t belong to him anymore, and the dark circles under his eyes told the story of sleepless nights.
“Natalia. Elijah rasped, his hands trembling as they clutched mine. Desperation cracked through his voice. You have to save the Hinton Group. It’s everything I’ve worked for–it’s my life.”
I forced a soft smile, though my chest felt unbearably tight. “Dad go home and rest. I’ll handle it,” I said, my voice calm and steady, even if I didn’t feel it.
I watched as the driver helped him into the car, and I didn’t move until it disappeared down the road. Only then did I let out a sigh, heavy and hollow.
The situation was bleak. The bail alone had cost me 30 grand. Between Owen’s payment and my personal savings. I had scraped together 300 thousand dollars.
It was enough to make a dent in appeasing the victim’s family, but it still left me staring at a gaping 650 thousand shortfall.
I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push back the pounding headache. Where the hell was I supposed to get that kind of money?
Before I could even begin to think, my phone buzzed again. Quinn’s name flashed across the screen.
“Come to my office. Now” His tone was cold, clipped, and unapologetically demanding. The line went dead before I could get a word in.
I glanced at the time–it was almost the end of the workday. What the hell could he want at this hour?
Since the start of our marriage, working under Quinn at the Madden Group had felt like walking a razor’s edge. He was my husband in name, my boss in every other capacity. His orders were absolute; arguing was pointless.
With a sigh of resignation, I grabbed my keys and drove back to the office.
Stepping into the CEO’s office, I was met with an eerie stillness. The blinds were drawn tight, blocking out the fading sunlight, and the faint, bitter scent of whiskey lingered in the air
He wasn’t at his desk. I didn’t need to guess where he was. I crossed the room to the door of his private suite–a secluded, high–end space only he had access to.
Raising my hand, I knocked softly, hesitating. For a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d even answer,
The door creaked open, and there he was.
Quinn stood in the doorway, his tall frame leaning casually against the doorframe. The dim lighting highlighted the mess of his slightly disheveled hair and the shadows under his eyes.
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His intense, unreadable gaze met mine, but his usual pristine composure was cracked. The smell of alcohol hit me full to
“You’ve been drinking?” I blurted out, stunned.
Quinn never drank on the job–never. He was always calculated, always in control. But now? The sharp tang of liquor practically rolled off him, and from the look in his eyes, he’d had more than just a glas
or two.
He didn’t say a word. Just stared at me, the silence between us thick with something unspoken. Then, without warning, hi hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. Before I could react, he pulled me into the suite with surprising force.
“Quinn, what’s going on?” 1 gasped, caught off guard by his grip.
I’d never seen him like this–out of control, vulnerable. My initial shock quickly gave way to concern. “Did something happen!”
Instead of answering, his arms wrapped around me tightly. Too tightly. I froze as he buried his face in my hair, his chin pressing gently against the top of my head. “Do you regret it?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
“Regret what?” I asked, baffled, my mind scrambling to piece together what he meant.
But Quinn didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers found the zipper of my dress, tugging it down with slow, deliberate movements. His breathing was heavier now, each exhale warm against my skin.
Before I could make sense of the situation, he scooped me up effortlessly, his strong arms cradling me as if I weighed nothing, and laid me gently on the bed.
His lips found mine, trailing soft, tender kisses that caught me off guard. So, this was Quinn drunk–his usual cold demeanor replaced with an unexpected gentleness.
“Quinn” I whispered, my checks burning. My voice trembled, caught between longing and confusion.
Even as he held me close, something felt off. I could tell he wasn’t really here with me–not fully. Whether it was the alcohol talking or the fact that Diana couldn’t meet his needs while recovering. I wasn’t sure.
Either way,
rway, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was nothing more than a stand–in for someone else.
Was he thinking about her? The thought stung like salt rubbed into an open wound.
“Quinn,” I asked softly, “do you even know who I am?
“Yeah, he murmured, not breaking his rhythm, his lips grazing my neck.
“Then tell me. I cupped his face, forcing him to meet my gaze. Who am I?”
For a fleeting moment, his dark eyes softened, and I thought I saw something real–something that felt like the Quinn I’d once believed in. My reflection stared back at me in those depths, fragile and fleeting
He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came, Diana’s voice rang out from the hallway, shattering the moment. “Quinn, are you in there?”
He froze above me, his entire body stiffening. In an instant, the haze in his eyes vanished, replaced by that sharp, calculated
Jorus I knew all too well
sadness
Without a word, he stood, adjusted his clothes, and glanced back at me for a while. There was a flicker of something-
“Stay here,” he ordered firmly, before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.
I stayed where I was, laughing bitterly under my breath. Me, hi egal wife, hidden away in a private room 1
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Chapter 6
little secret while he went to console her. The humiliation stungworse than I wanted to admit.
Through the crack in the door, I heard Diana’s voice, trembling with emotion. “Quinn, I don’t want to stay in the hospital anymore. Can’t you take me home?
His reply was gentle, coaxing “Be good, Diana. The doctors haven’t cleared you for discharge yet.”
Diana’s voice trembled, desperate and small. “Why were you drinking? Was it because of me? Did I upset you? Please tell me what I did wrong–I’ll change. I promise.”
Quinn sighed, his tone tinged with weariness. “Diana, don’t overthink things.”
Diana whimpered like a scolded child before shifting to a pout. “When I’m discharged, will you take me home? Can I move into your room then?”.
1 stiffened, my heart pounding. So she hadn’t been sharing a room with him this whole time?
Quinn didn’t give her a straight answer, his voice low and steady Let’s get you back to the hospital first.”
Their footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence.
For a while I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts in a complete whirl. Eventually, I snapped out of my daze and started getting dressed, determined to leave,
But when I tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. It was locked from the outside.
Jiggled the handle a few more times, frustration bubbling up inside me. No use. I was stuck. I pulled out my phone, ready to shoot Quinn a message–he’d have to let me out–but my screen was black. The battery was dead. I hadn’t charged it the night before.
Greal
With no other options, I searched the suite, hoping for a charger or at least some way to contact the outside world. Nothing
Was I really going to be stuck in here all night? Would Quinn even bother coming back?
I let out a bitter laugh. Diana had chased him all the way to the office, practically hanging off his arm. Like hell he’d come
back
Thankfully, the suite was well–stocked with the basic necessities enough to get through the night without starving or freezing to death.
I took a quick shower, but when I went to dry my hair, the power cut out.
I froze, staring at the darkened room. That’s when it hit me: the building’s power was routinely cut at 10 PM unless there was some kind of emergency or special circumstance.
The guards had probably flipped the main breaker, unaware that I was still here.
Without heat, the room turned freezing cold in no time. The winter chill gnawed at me, and with my wet hair, wrapping myself in a blanket didn’t do much to ward off the cold.
I started shivering uncontrollably, and soon, the icy air felt like it was cutting straight to my bones.
Before long, I was sneezing–over and over.
This wasn’t good. If I stayed like this, with the baby growing inside me, I could be putting both of us in serious danger. I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach, the concern gnawing at ine.
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I had to do something, or we wouldn’t make it through the night.
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I tried banging on the door again, desperate to catch the attention of anyone who could help. “Hello? Is anyone out there?” I yelled, pounding with both fists.
Minutes ticked by with no response. My throat grew raw, and the pain in my abdomen flared up suddenly, sharp and relentless. I gasped, clutching at my stomach, the cold sweat breaking out across my forehead. This wasn’t just discomfort. Something was wrong.
I couldn’t keep shouting, I had to conserve my energy. If I lost inbow, I might not make it through until morning.
I stumbled back toward the bed, hoping the pain would ease, but it only got worse, a sharp jolt of agony that dropped me to my knees.
Then I felt it–warm liquid trickling down my legs.
My heart skipped a beat as my trembling hands reached down. I looked up at the dim light, my breath hitching in my throat. as I saw the blood.
