Addicted 2 Moni

Echoes between Walls

James☝️☝️

Moni's POV

It's been about a week, and Wayne still hasn't gone back to work. And no—he still doesn't know I'm his new secretary. Honestly, I don't think he's ready to face his father yet.

I just don't want my baby sitting at home, turning into a couch potato, when he could be out stacking more money. Yeah, I know he's got it, but come on—you can never have too much.

Truth be told... I kinda miss him. 😩

It's been three days since I last saw him—and three and a half sexless weeks. Not that we're having problems. Paradise is still perfect. He's just been going hard on that case his father refused to let him handle. From what he told me, he's got everything his father needs to win it—and if he has to, he'll beat it himself. Wayne knows I'm riding for him no matter what, so I don't complain. Not even when we don't have our usual "us" time.

Being a secretary? It's cute. But quiet. A little too quiet.

I've cleaned and re-cleaned Dewayne's office so many times, I swear it could be featured in a damn magazine spread. His claims files? Color-coded. Red for urgent, yellow for 'meh, it can wait.'

The couch had some mystery stains—I took care of those. Alphabetized his bookshelf. Adjusted the blinds for the lighting. I even reorganized the pens in his drawer by ink flow.

I glance at the clock.

Ten more minutes.

I lock up Dewayne's office, grab my phone, and sling my Michael Kors over my shoulder. A quick bathroom break, then I'm out.

📱**<3WayneDaddy:** Hey beautiful, come see me when you get off.

A smile creeps onto my face. My heels click softly as I hum my way down the hall. Just as I approach the women's restroom, the men's door swings open. A tall, handsome man steps out.

His eyes catch mine—and stick there.

"You must be Ross's new secretary," he says, grinning like the devil just got dressed in Prada.

I give him a once-over. Not my type. Clean-cut, smooth talker... the kind who smells too good and knows it.

"What exactly have you heard?" I ask, shifting my weight just enough to catch his eyes dropping low.

"That you're gorgeous," he says, leaning against the wall like he's got all day.

"Mmhmm." I push the bathroom door open.

"See you around," he adds with a smirk, licking his lips before strolling off.

I shake my head as I step inside.

📱WayneDaddy: Hurry up, girl!

I laugh at my screen as I walk out the building. The second I step into the open, raindrops kiss my forehead. I duck back under the awning, sighing as I gauge the distance to my car.

I can make it... probably.

Then I hear him again.

"I can walk you to your car, if you'd like."

It's him—umbrella in hand, grin intact.

"Come on now," he says smoothly. "You don't want to ruin them heels or mess up them curls, do you?"

I hesitate... then smile. "Okay."

He links his arm in mine like we're prom dates or something. Walks me to my car. Opens the door like a gentleman.

"Goodnight, beautiful. Hope to see you tomorrow."

Unknown POV 

I wake to the sound of her groaning in pain.

"Baby?" My voice comes out cracked and hoarse. I clear my throat, but the effort turns into a cough that rattles in my chest.

"Baby?" I call again, a little louder.

Across the room, she shifts. Barely. "Why doesn't he just kill us..." she cries, voice strained as she tries to move toward me. But she can't.

The sheet covering her is thin, stained, doing nothing to hide the swelling beneath it. That soft, unnatural rise. I catch myself staring again.

I hate myself for looking. Hate myself for not being able to help her.

I'm supposed to be strong for her. Be the one who protects her. Shields her from everything. But I failed.

And now, I'm just a man in a room, watching the woman I love disappear piece by piece.

"I don't know, baby," I whisper when I should say more—something comforting, something brave.

But that's all I've got.

She turns her head as best she can. "What about our kids?" she says. "My babies..." Her voice cracks around the word.

The air leaves my lungs.

Their names crash through my mind like broken glass. I can't say them. Can't let myself imagine their faces right now.

A fire rises in my gut. It burns past my lungs, up my throat. I throw my head back—

And scream.

A sound that rips out of me like it's been waiting to escape for months.