Chapter 3  

LUSH.

I never dreaded weekends the way I dreaded this one. It was like a sour reality I'd never be able to escape from.

Last night was a busy one for me. I spent almost all night clearing up my things from my matrimonial bedroom to the visitor's room just down the corridor.

I curled up in my new bed all night, gulping frequently in order to drown the lump that was desperately forming in my throat, threatening to spill in the form of tears.

I intended to keep the promise I made to myself of not crying over Maven anymore. I'd wasted enough of them during the two years he stopped seeing me as his wife.

Morning came slow, almost like the world was waiting to see if I'd survive it, but thankfully, it was noon already.

I was setting up the dining table to have my meal. I had to stay alive for my plans to materialize.

The House Of North still hadn't gotten back to me as promised, and honestly, I was hurt but not surprised. Perhaps they didn't fully connect with my pitch the way they should because they weren't my target audience. Mr. Jared North was my target in that meeting.

I had studied him like a thesis, read almost every article there was about him, watched almost every interview, and dissected the best collection he'd ever created... I had shaped my entire pitch around who he was and what he could become with me in his corner.

But my fingers were still crossed. I was still positive they'd reach out.

The sound of Maven's favorite car made my heart race to pick up speed. My appetite returned to the pit of my stomach, twisting into a knot so tight I nearly dropped the cutlery.

They were here.

I had prepared mentally for this moment, but... Why do I feel so nervous?

I tried to focus on my meal like I wasn't so concerned. I had to look unaffected, powerful, and in control.

The front door pushed open, and my husband – ex-husband – walked in, his fingers intertwined with a woman who glowed with the kind of effortless beauty that irritated me more than I cared to admit. She looked about two or three years younger than me – twenty-five or so. Her hair was silk-straight and honey-golden, and her smile... Overly sweet.

She looked innocent. But I had come to learn that I should be more wary of the innocent-looking ones

Behind them, the driver pulled her luggage in like she was the lady of the manor.

They giggled like idiots in the first scene of a rom-com. And it grated against every nerve in my body. But I steeled myself.

Their little happy moment stopped abruptly, and their laughter died in their throats the moment they saw me.

Maven froze like a child caught stealing.

The girl blinked, her hand slipping from Maven's.

Did I look that intimidating? Come on. I was just in my pajamas with my hair all roughed up and unkempt. I shouldn't have such an effect on this gorgeous, happy couple.

The girl cleared her throat nervously like she didn't know whether to say something or just bolt.

Maven still hadn't said a word. His fingers hovered at his sides, unsure whether to reach for his mistress or slide into his pockets and pretend he was actually in control.

The girl looked like she had swallowed something too large for her throat. Her round, blue eyes darted around the dining room like it was a courtroom, and I was the judge, jury, and executioner all wrapped into one.

The tension was so thick that I could cut it with the fork I was holding.

I could've let the silence sit a bit longer. I could've made them squirm some more. But, no. I had no time for that.

Instead, I stood slowly and let a radiant, polite smile flash across my face. The kind of smile that said to the girl, 'This is still my house. I am still your host. And you are nothing but my guest until I say otherwise.'

They were both now my business partners, and I had to treat them as such.

"Hello," I said in the warmest voice ever.

The girl blinked again. I extended a hand before she could decide to fold into herself completely. "You must be Deline."

She hesitated for barely a second and then placed her palm in mine. It was soft, moist, and clammy with nerves.

"I'm Lush. Welcome." I offered her a gentle smile, tilting my head just slightly. "That's a lovely shade of blonde you have. I imagine it glows like gold under the sun."

Her lips parted. She didn't seem sure whether it was a compliment or a trap. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"You look a little pale," I added, sweeping my gaze briefly over her. "It must've been a long ride. Would you like some lunch? I just set the table. There's enough for three."

Her head shook almost too quickly. "No. No, I'm okay. I'm not hungry."

Her voice was thin and brittle. It cracked in places she clearly didn't want it to.

I let my gaze rest on Maven for a second.

His shoulders tensed. He had expected me to lose composure. To scream, curse, or break something. Maybe throw a plate or throw her out the door. But here I was, still, calm, and unbothered, and it made him visibly uncomfortable.

Good.

I turned back to Deline, still smiling, "Well, if you ever feel peckish, let me know. We have a few lovely wines chilled. You strike me as someone who appreciates a crisp white."

"I… thanks. I'm fine."

I held her gaze a moment longer. I wanted her to feel the impact of being welcomed in a house she had no right to feel comfortable in. Then, I turned slightly, feigning nonchalance.

"I'll be in my room if you need anything."

I started to walk away, but just as I reached the stairs, I paused and looked over my shoulder, locking eyes with both of them.

"Oh," I said casually. "The master bedroom's been cleaned and prepped. It's ready for you, Deline. Fresh linens. Full wardrobe space. Just let the staff know if anything's missing."

Her mouth opened slightly, but I guess she couldn't find the words to say. Neither did I wait for a reply.

I climbed the stairs and headed for my room.

The moment I closed the door, the temptation to break down was overwhelming. But I didn't fall apart.

Even though my fingers trembled so hard and my chest constricted so tightly, I took a few deep breaths with my eyes closed. It always did the magic.

I bit the inside of my cheek and pressed my palms together tightly, willing the pain away. Wishing and praying to God to please, just give me a distraction. Anything.

Immediately, my phone dinged, almost as if the universe heard my cry.

I opened my eyes, my lashes sticky with tears I hadn't let fall, and turned toward the bed where I'd tossed the phone hours ago.

Dragging my feet across the room, I picked it up, already bracing for the usual: another pointless newsletter, a weekend email from work, or one of those irrelevant press statements HR loved to circulate.

For years now, I have stopped having restful weekends. I always brought work home, enough to drown in. And all of it for his company.

The Paragon.

Four years of my life poured into that name.

I took The Paragon from a modest consultancy to an elite powerhouse. When I joined, the systems were patchwork, the strategies laughable, the clients… occasional.

It was still scrambling for press mentions and surviving to mid-tier contracts.

I changed all of that.

I rebuilt its identity from the ground up, led the innovation wing, rebranded every major client, designed campaigns that made headlines, and brought in the kind of names that put us in rooms Maven could never enter on his own.

I didn't just strengthen the backbone; I became it.

Every new account? Mine.

Every high-value relationship? Mine.

Every juicy contract? Mine.

He only had the title of the CEO, but I had the empire.

And now I couldn't help but wonder: who the hell did he think could replace me in his company by the time I left?

This gives me a perfect advantage because, by the time I was finally ready to walk, I'd walk with every single thing I ever brought in.

I lazily tapped the email open to see what it was they needed from me this time.

But the subject line stopped me cold.

Subject: Re: Pitch Review - The House of North.

My breath caught, and my eyes scanned faster.

Ms. Lush,

Thank you for your recent presentation to The House of North. Mr. Jared North personally reviewed your proposal and was impressed with your unique perspective and understanding of our brand vision.

He has requested a private meeting with you and your team this coming Monday at 10 AM at The Paragon. Kindly confirm your availability.

Looking forward to your response.

Regards,

Dana Kole, Executive Assistant to Mr. Jared North.

I reread the message over and over again.

My knees nearly buckled, but instead of falling, I sat down on the edge of the bed, one hand clutching the phone, the other pressing against my lips as I stared at the glowing screen.

Mr. Jared North…

Mr. North himself finally wants to meet me.

This was a dream come true.

Because Mr. Jared North was going to be one of the matchsticks I needed to set my one-year plan ablaze.