From Neglected Wife to CEO’s Obsession novel Chapter 11

The weather was gorgeous that day, the kind that makes you want to take deep breaths and smile at strangers. I was waiting in line at the hospital for my routine checkup, bored and scrolling through my phone, when Remy showed up. He had his daughter in his arms, and she was crying her little heart out.

“Hey, excuse me,” he said, looking flustered but still managing a hopeful smile. “Could you help me grab the bottle from my backpack? I think she’s hungry.”

I reached over, opened up his bag, and found the bottle. He took it from me and gave it a quick shake. He tested a few drops on his wrist, before gently offering it to his daughter. She latched on instantly, little fists clenched tight, drinking as if the world depended on it.

Remy watched her with so much tenderness that for a moment, I forgot about the crowded waiting room. He looked up at me and said, “Thank you,” his voice so soft it made my chest ache.

That gentle side of him was what made me fall, hard and fast, back when I was still figuring out what love even meant.

It turned out Remy was in the same college as me. He’s the kind of guy that everyone in campus had heard of.

It wasn’t just Marissa who disapproved when we started dating. My own mom was worried too. She thought marrying Remy would mean I’d end up a stepmom.

I was young and hopelessly in love, convinced I could handle anything. I brushed off her concerns like they were nothing.

Looking back now, I realize she wasn’t wrong to worry.

But life doesn’t give you a “do-over” button.

I was still thinking about all this when Elliot gently woke me up on the plane. We were starting to descend, and he’d draped his jacket over me. The fabric smelled like pine needles and something clean and crisp.

I wanted to thank him, but before I could even say a word, he calmly took back his jacket and slipped it on, buttoning it up with that serious look he always wore. He didn’t glance at me once, and I never got the chance to say anything. Elliot was just impossible to figure out.

The business trip was at Oakley Grove’s Grand International, one of those hotels that seemed designed just for people like us. Conference rooms were on the third floor, guest rooms on the eighth. Everything was sleek and efficient.

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