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Chapter 6

Eight days after Jalen and Sydney concluded their weekend together, the elevator doors slid open, at Westward & Associates and Megan Westward stepped into the sleek, modern reception area. This is her husband's prestigious but notorious law firm. The moment she entered, all eyes subtly turned toward her. It was always like this. Megan Westward wasn't just any woman--she was the wife of Chris Westward, the prominent attorney. Megan is thirty years old and is known for her striking, sultry beauty and bold presence. She has long, dark brown hair with blondish tips that she usually wears in loose waves or sleek straight styles. Her eyes are one of her most captivating features, bright blue and almond-shaped, giving her an intense and mesmerizing gaze. Megan's facial features are well-defined, with high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and full, pouty lips, contributing to her look. Her overall appearance exudes confidence and allure, with a fit and toned figure that reflects her athleticism and ability to stay in shape. Megan often dressed in fashion-forward, edgy styles that highlight her glamor and charisma, whether at fancy events or more casual settings. But despite the admiring glances, despite the expensive designer heels clicking against the marble floor, despite the life of luxury and exclusivity she was supposed to be grateful for... Megan felt nothing.

As the receptionist greeted her with a polite smile, Megan returned it with a half-hearted nod before she was ushered into Chris's lavish corner office. He was already seated at his ridiculously oversized mahogany desk, typing away on his laptop with a glass of bourbon next to him... at noon.

Typical. Chris barely looked up as she walked in. "You're late."

Megan exhaled through her nose. "Hello to you too."

Her husband finally glanced at her, flashing that artificially charming smile that once drew her in years ago, but now only disgusted her. Thirty-eight-year-old Chris Westward is an extremely successful and wealthy defense attorney. He is notorious for using shady and underhanded tactics to get an edge in the court of law.

"Sit," he said smoothly, motioning to the chair across from him as if she were just another business associate.

She sat. And so began another joyless lunch date. Chris talked about himself, as usual. His recent court victories. His new high-profile clients. The connections he was making at the country club. Megan sat there, sipping her overpriced wine, pretending to listen, while internally screaming. She had everything, didn't she? The million-dollar mansion. The endless shopping trips. The first-class vacations. But she also had no freedom. Chris wouldn't allow her to work. He controlled every dime. And because of that prenup she signed like an idiot, she had no way out. She had traded her independence for security. And now? Now she was nothing more than a beautiful prisoner in Chris Westward's carefully curated life.

Megan was only half-listening when Chris casually mentioned, "Oh, I almost forgot. I have a contractor coming by tomorrow to discuss the wine cellar."

Megan blinked, stirring her drink. "Contractor?"

Chris nodded, barely looking up from his phone. "Yeah. Apparently, he's one of the best in the city. Jim Harbor recommended him."

Megan hummed, uninterested. "That's nice."

Another construction project. Another thing for Chris to brag about to his rich friends. She didn't care.

***************************************************

The following morning, Jalen pulled up to the Westward estate in Buckhead, whistling under his breath at the sheer size and luxury of the place. Jim Harbor hadn't been lying. Chris Westward had money. And if he was serious about building a wine cellar, this could be another major payday. Jalen was riding high off the Georgia Wellness project,

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