27. Monica
27
MONICA
I sit next to Henry on my living room couch, our thighs almost touching as we face my laptop. On screen, Josiah Carter—Henry's lawyer—speaks in a measured tone that somehow manages to be both calming and authoritative. His silver-framed glasses catch the light each time he leans forward to emphasize a point.
"So what we're dealing with here is a clear case of harassment, intimidation, and now distribution of intimate images without consent." Josiah taps his pen against a legal pad. "Mrs. Blackwood, I understand how difficult this must be, but I need you to walk me through the timeline of events."
Mrs. Blackwood. The name still feels foreign on my skin. I glance at Henry, who gives me a reassuring nod.
"It started with him showing up in my life again. He was trying to intimidate me and belittle my marriage." My voice comes out steadier than I expect. "When I rejected his advances, my restaurant was vandalized soon afterwards. And yesterday, the photos."
Henry's hand finds mine, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. The simple gesture grounds me, but also sends a fresh wave of guilt crashing through my chest. This man is fighting my battles, using his resources, his connections. All for someone who isn't even really his wife.
"I've saved everything," I continue. "The texts, photos of the damage to the restaurant. I even have security footage from that day."
Josiah nods approvingly. "Excellent. Documentation is crucial. Now, has he made any direct threats?"
"Not in those words. But the message is clear—he wants to ruin what I've built."
"And what I've built with Monica," Henry adds, his voice taking on that hard edge I've come to recognize when Benjamin is the topic. "This piece of shit needs to understand he can't just?—"
"Henry," Josiah interrupts, "I appreciate your passion, but let's stay focused on building our case."
I squeeze Henry's hand, feeling the tension in his fingers. He's angry for me. Protective of me. The realization sends warmth spreading through my chest, followed immediately by that persistent, nagging guilt.
"What can we do?" I ask Josiah.
"We file for a restraining order immediately. Then we pursue charges for the vandalism and revenge porn. New York has strong laws against non-consensual pornography." Josiah shuffles some papers. "With the evidence you've collected, we have a solid foundation."
I nod, but my mind drifts to Henry beside me, who's moved mountains to help me face my past. A past that has nothing to do with him. A past he could have easily walked away from.
He doesn't have to do this for me. He doesn't have to do any of this. He could have just let me be—I'm his fake wife!
But he's moving mountains to help me deal with Benjamin. And for that, I'm grateful.
As Josiah continues outlining the legal strategy, I feel a strange calm settling over me. For years, Benjamin had this power—this ability to make me feel small, to make me question my worth. Now we're mapping out a plan to legally keep him away from me. From us.
"The restraining order will be the first step," Josiah explains. "It establishes a legal boundary he can't cross without consequences. Then we'll pursue charges for the vandalism and the non-consensual sharing of intimate images."
"How long will this take?" I ask, my voice steadier than I expected.
"The temporary restraining order can be issued quickly—within days. The permanent order will require a hearing, but with your evidence, I'm confident. The criminal charges may take longer, but they send a clear message."
Henry's hand remains firmly wrapped around mine, his presence solid and unwavering. I never imagined having someone fight alongside me like this. It's strange how quickly our lives have become entangled—what started as a convenient arrangement has evolved into something I can't quite define.
"What about my safety in the meantime?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
"Document everything," Josiah says firmly. "Any contact, any sightings, anything suspicious. We'll include provisions in the restraining order about your workplace and home."
Home. The word hits differently now.
"We've got you covered, Monica," Henry says, his voice low, certain, and undeniably sexy. "You're not facing this alone anymore."
I nod, trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. This fake marriage has become the most real relationship I've had in years. Henry knows more about my demons than anyone, and instead of running, he's standing firm.
The irony isn't lost on me—we entered this arrangement to solve Henry's family problems, but now we're knee-deep in mine. My past and our uncertain present have collided, creating something neither of us planned for.
As our meeting with Josiah draws to a close, I meet Henry's gaze. Something shifts inside me—a new determination replacing the fear that's been my constant companion since Benjamin reappeared in my life.
"Thank you, Josiah," Henry says, closing the laptop. "We appreciate you making time for this on such short notice."
"I'll get the paperwork for the restraining order filed first thing tomorrow," Josiah replies. "In the meantime, continue to document everything and send the evidence my way. And Monica—try to stay somewhere safe if possible."
"She's staying with me," Henry says with absolute certainty, not even glancing my way for confirmation.
After we end the call, the penthouse falls quiet. Henry runs a hand through his hair, his jaw tight with tension. I realize I've been holding my breath and let it out slowly.
"Henry, I—" My voice catches. There's so much I want to say, so many conflicting emotions swirling inside me.
Instead of speaking, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around him, burying my face against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and steady beneath my cheek. He hesitates for just a moment before his arms encircle me, one hand cradling the back of my head.
"Thank you," I whisper against his shirt. "For everything. For not walking away when this got complicated. For fighting for me."
His arms tighten around me, strong and secure. "I'm not going anywhere, Monica. Not now, not ever."
I pull back just enough to look up at him, needing him to understand what this means to me. "I'm not used to having someone in my corner like this. It's... new territory for me." My voice wavers slightly as memories of Benjamin's constant undermining flash through my mind.
"For me too," he admits, his eyes never leaving mine. There's a vulnerability there I rarely see. "But we're figuring it out together. One day at a time."
I nod, feeling the truth of his words settle between us like a promise. This fake marriage has become something neither of us expected—something real and solid amid the chaos Benjamin has tried to create. Something worth fighting for.
"We're going to get through this," I say, surprising myself with my certainty. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding on.
His smile reaches his eyes, crinkling the corners in that way that makes my heart skip. "Damn right we are." He brushes a stray curl from my face, his touch lingering. "Benjamin doesn't stand a fucking chance against us."