MR WALLACE'S SUBSTITUTE BRIDE.

THIRD PERSON POV

The office floor had gone unusually quiet.

Most of the employees had already left for the day, their laughter and hurried footsteps fading into distant echoes beyond the elevators. What remained now was the low hum of air conditioners, the faint ticking of wall clocks, and the occasional sound of keyboards from the few workers still glued to their desks.

Anastasia Moore happened to be one of them.

Seated behind her desk with her glasses resting low against her nose, she carefully reread the last email she had drafted for one of the company's international clients. Her eyes moved slowly from one sentence to another, checking every punctuation mark, every spacing, every choice of word.

At Wallace Corporate Company, perfection was not appreciated.

It was expected.

The company had built its name on professionalism and precision over the years. One mistake could stain an employee's record permanently, especially for someone in Anastasia's position.

And Anastasia could not afford mistakes.

Not after spending an entire year desperately searching for work.

Not after surviving rejection emails that slowly destroyed her confidence one by one.

Not after learning how humiliating it felt to borrow transport fare while pretending everything was fine.

This job mattered too much.

Finally satisfied with the email, she released a quiet breath and clicked send.

The message disappeared from her screen.

Only then did she remove her glasses and lean back against her chair. Slowly, she turned toward the wide glass window beside her desk and stared down at the city below.

California was slowly drowning in evening traffic.

Cars lined endlessly across the roads, their headlights glowing like restless streams of light beneath the darkening sky. Even from five floors above, faint sounds of impatient horns floated upward.

Rush hour.

Anastasia glanced at the time.

6:47 PM.

A tired sigh escaped her lips.

Soon enough, she too would become part of the exhausted crowd fighting traffic just to get home. But unlike most employees who had already packed up and left, Anastasia remained seated.

Her boss was still in the office.

Leaving before him would not look good.

She had spent years building a reputation as the hardworking secretary who never cut corners. In a place like Fords Corporate Company, reputation was almost as important as competence itself.

She was still lost in thought when the sharp click of heels echoed through the quiet hallway.

Anastasia did not even need to look up immediately.

That sound alone was enough.

Confident.

Proud.

Attention seeking.

There was only one person who walked into the company building like she owned every single soul inside it.

Jennifer Quins.

Anastasia slowly turned her chair around just as the woman appeared by the entrance of her office.

"Hey secretary, is Travis in?"

There she was.

Beautiful as always.

Jennifer carried elegance effortlessly. Her fitted cream dress hugged her body perfectly while her long dark hair rested neatly over one shoulder. Even standing still, she looked like someone straight out of a luxury fashion magazine.

Unfortunately, beauty was the only pleasant thing about her.

"Good evening, Ms Jennifer," Anastasia greeted politely.

Jennifer barely acknowledged the greeting.

"You haven't answered my question."

Anastasia maintained her professional smile despite the irritation quietly building inside her.

"Mr Wallace is inside his office."

Without another word, Jennifer adjusted the expensive purse hanging on her shoulder and turned away gracefully, her heels clicking proudly against the marble floor like she was walking a runway.

Anastasia watched her leave before shaking her head slightly.

The woman truly had confidence.

Or perhaps audacity.

Maybe both.

Her eyes briefly followed Jennifer's figure disappearing down the hallway.

The body was perfect.

Too perfect.

Anastasia would not lie to herself. Jennifer was undeniably attractive. Any man would look twice at her. But what Anastasia could never understand was why Travis Wallace seemed completely blind whenever Jennifer was involved.

Everyone could see it.

Everyone except him.

Jennifer Quins loved money.

Not Travis.

Money.

The signs were painfully obvious.

And the worst part was that Jennifer was already married.

Not only married, but the third wife of a rusty old billionaire whose children were older than her by many years. The entire relationship between her and Mr Wallace was hidden carefully from the public to avoid scandal.

Even when it is obvious of what Jennifer wants, Travis Wallace still chased after her relentlessly.

It baffled Anastasia every single time.

A successful lawyer.

A billionaire.

One of the most desired bachelors in California.

Yet out of all the decent women practically begging for his attention, he chose Jennifer Quins.

A woman who looked at rich men the same way starving people looked at food.

Honestly, it was perplexing.

Anastasia adjusted her glasses again before forcing herself back to work.

Moments later, another familiar sound interrupted her thoughts.

Firm footsteps.

Slow.

Controlled.

Authoritative.

Her head immediately lifted.

And then came the scent.

That expensive cologne she had unknowingly memorized after years of working beside him.

Travis Wallace.

He stepped into her office with the effortless presence of someone fully aware of the power he carried.

Tall.

Broad shouldered.

Perfectly tailored black suit.

Sharp jawline.

Dark hair brushed neatly backward.

And those grey eyes that somehow managed to look cold and intelligent at the same time.

Everything about Travis Wallace screamed success.

A renowned lawyer.

A billionaire.

A man feared inside courtrooms because he never lost a case.

In the four years Anastasia had worked under him, she had never once seen him lose.

Not once.

The man was frighteningly intelligent.

Which made his obsession with Jennifer even more confusing.

"I will be leaving for the day, Ms Moore," he said calmly.

His deep voice pulled Anastasia quickly from her thoughts.

"Ensure all my scheduled meetings for tomorrow are arranged on my desk before I arrive."

"Yes, sir. Right away."

She noticed the unusual eagerness hidden beneath his calm expression.

The man looked impatient to leave.

As though someone important was waiting for him.

And of course, someone was.

Jennifer appeared behind him moments later, leaning lazily against the door frame with one manicured hand pressed dramatically against her chest.

"Come on, Travis. You're wasting time."

The irritation in her tone was obvious.

Yet Travis merely glanced back at her before turning toward Anastasia once more.

"Goodnight, Ms Moore."

"Goodnight, sir."

And just like that, he walked away with Jennifer beside him.

Anastasia remained seated quietly as she watched them disappear down the hallway together.

A strange feeling settled inside her chest.

Not jealousy.

Definitely not.

She admired love when it was genuine. She admired couples who stayed loyal to each other through hardships and sacrifices.

But whatever existed between Travis and Jennifer did not feel like love.

It felt one sided.

Parasitic.

Jennifer took.

Travis gave.

Simple.

What baffled Anastasia most was that Travis was not stupid.

Far from it.

The man could read people like open books inside courtrooms. He detected lies for a living. Yet somehow, whenever Jennifer smiled at him, his intelligence disappeared completely.

Still, none of it was her business.

Travis Wallace was a grown man.

A smart one too.

If he could not see the warning signs himself, then who was she to interfere?

A secretary.

Nothing more.

The wise monkey sees and hears but says nothing.

Exactly.

Exhaustion slowly settled over her shoulders as she finally stood from her chair.

Today had been long.

Too long.

And all she wanted now was a hot bath, silence, and enough sleep to survive another stressful morning at Wallace Corporate Company.

She began her usual closing routine.

Organizing files neatly.

Arranging documents into proper stacks.

Turning off her computer.

Checking the office sockets one after another to ensure no gadgets remained plugged in.

Everything had its place.

Everything had its order.

Finally, she reached for her bag resting beside the desk.

Old but durable.

Unlike most women working in the building with designer handbags and luxury heels, Anastasia lived carefully. Every salary came with responsibilities attached to it.

Rent.

Bills.

Food.

Survival.

She slipped the bag over her shoulder before turning off the office lights.

Darkness swallowed the office almost instantly.

For a brief moment, Anastasia stood still near the doorway, staring at the now silent office she had spent years of her life in.

Then quietly, she stepped out and locked the door behind her.

Completely unaware that before the night ended, her ordinary life was about to change in ways she could never imagine.