Vanessa hasn’t come by again, thankfully. Worth mentioned it to his lawyer, who made it crystal clear to hers that if she tried pulling a stunt like that again, they’d file for a restraining order. The whole thing seemed to put her in her place—for now, at least.
Still, it’s strange, sharing a home with myhusband.
And even stranger knowing that, on paper, I’m someone’s stepmom.
Brianna has handled everything surprisingly well.
We’ve found a small routine. Every evening, we spend an hour together sketching at the kitchen table. I can’t draw to save my life, but Brianna doesn’t seem to mind. It’s when she’s most relaxed, when she actually talks. That’s when I hear about her friends, her classes, the things she won’t tell Worth because she thinks he worries too much. And maybe he does. But in those quiet moments, I catch glimpses of Brianna’s vulnerability.
This strange, new version of my life is starting to feel… not normal exactly, but something close to it.
By midafternoon, I’m at the office, buried in my submission proposal for the creative division. It’s my dream project. The one that’s been sitting in the back of my mind since college.Project Rebuild:a mixed-use community initiative that combines affordable housing with creative public spaces. My concept sketches show old industrial lots transformed into modern live-work studios, gardens built from reclaimed steel, and open plazas lined with art installations made by local youth programs. It’s ambitious and bold, and it’s exactly the kind of thing I’ve been dying to pitch to Worth’s board, whether they think it’s profitable or not.
Seraya sits across from me in the glass meeting room, her messy bun half-collapsing while she glances at her phone for the tenth time in five minutes.
“You’re gonna burn a hole in the screen if you keep glaring at it like that.”
She groans, setting her phone face down on the table. “Sorry. My new landlord is driving me insane.”
I arch a brow. “Again?”
“Yes,” she says, exasperated. “The man texts me about everything.Everything.This morning he messaged me to ask if I’d noticed the new mulch he put by the building entrance. Who texts about mulch?”
I laugh. “Maybe he’s just… being neighborly?”
“He’s beingweirdly attentive,” she mutters, rubbing her temples. “Ever since I moved in, he’s been popping up for the most random reasons. I swear, if he ‘accidentally’ locks himself out again and asks me to let him in, I might commit arson.”
“Please don’t,” I say, smiling. “You just got that apartment.”
“Yeah, well. I’m one text away from throwing my phone into the river.”
My chest tugs. Seraya has been holding it together, but I can tell she’s tired. Juggling a full-time job and a toddler is no small feat. I reach across the table and nudge her notebook. “Okay, no more landlord drama for ten minutes. We’re finishing our presentations today, yeah?”
“Yeah.” She nods, exhaling hard.
I catch a glimpse of a few coworkers passing by the glass wall, whispering to each other. One throws a glance my way before turning back around.
Ever since I came back asMrs. Miller,the atmosphere around here has shifted. I knew it would, but knowing doesn’t make it easier. Ethan barely looks at me now. He keeps a ten-foot pole between us at all times, which I’m sure makes Worth happy.
Others haven’t been as subtle. I’ve caught whispers in the hallway, and conversations die when I walk into a room. Last week, I overheard two people from my department saying I’d probably get “preferential treatment” now that I’m married to the CEO.
When Worth found out, he offered—no, threatened—to handle it. But the idea of him scolding people on my behalf like some corporate knight in shining armor? Yeah, no thanks.
I told him I’d rather eat nails.
He didn’t think that was funny.
Seraya notices my silence. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie. “Just thinking about the presentation.”
She hums, unconvinced, and opens her laptop again. “You’ll nail it,Mrs. CEO.”
I groan. “Don’t start.”
She smirks. “What? It’s true. You’re practically the office legend now.”
“More like the office cautionary tale.”