Chapter 3: Shattered Illusions

That afternoon, the office door sealed with a soft electronic beep, locking us into our own world.

His secretary and assistant were stationed outside, intercepting anyone who came near—Mr. Brooks was on an urgent call with Tokyo, no interruptions allowed.

For three hours, Nathan didn’t let me go. By the end, I could barely stand, and he carried me down from the desk with a quiet, satisfied laugh, as if he’d just won a prize.

He took me to the window. The city sprawled beneath us—tiny, powerless. The Capitol dome and Washington Monument mere toys from up here, the Potomac glittering like confetti. This was Nathan’s kingdom, and for a moment, I was his queen.

"Rachel," he murmured, wrapping me in his arms, lips brushing my ear. His hands pressed firmly on my stomach, anchoring me to him.

"Your birthday’s coming up. What do you want?" His voice was lazy, content.

My fingers traced misty circles on the glass, breath clouding the window. My face in the reflection was flushed, eyes shining with tears and something darker. I looked ruined, possessed.

Those tears trembled as his thrusts grew harder, each movement sending another wave through me until I shattered. I didn’t know if the wetness was from crying or something else, and I didn’t care.

I reached back, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight. No wedding ring—there never was. I always checked.

"Nathan Brooks, I just want to be with you." The words tumbled out desperate and raw.

He laughed, quiet and almost sad. Then he spun me around and hugged me tight, my cheek pressed to his racing heart. "Silly girl, haven’t we always been together?"