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.

THIRD PERSON POV

Anastasia let out a deep sigh as she collapsed onto her bed after her bath.

The warm water had helped a little, washing away the sweat and stress from the long day, but it did nothing for the exhaustion sitting heavily inside her bones. Her legs still ached from standing all day at the office, and the terrible traffic on her way home had only made everything worse.

The small apartment was quiet, almost too quiet.

She stared at the ceiling for a moment before reaching for the cup of tea resting on the small stool beside her bed. Earlier, she had managed to eat two cupcakes because honestly, she was far too tired to cook anything proper.

Tonight, survival was enough.

She took another sip of tea before finally reaching for her phone.

Working for Travis Wallace had completely ruined whatever social life she once had. Most days, she barely touched her phone unless it involved office work or family matters. Sometimes she even forgot she owned one until she returned home at night like this.

As she lazily scrolled through her notifications, her eyes suddenly landed on a message.

Ronan.

Immediately, the tiredness in her eyes softened.

She quickly opened it.

"Hey Anastasia, can we meet for dinner at Westwood Bar? Eight pm sharp please. I will be waiting."

Her eyes widened.

"Oh no."

The time at the top of her screen made her jump up instantly from the bed.

Without wasting another second, Anastasia rushed toward her wardrobe and pulled out a simple flowered gown that stopped below her knees. She brushed through her hair hurriedly, adjusted her glasses, slipped into her flats, and grabbed her bag without even checking herself properly in the mirror.

Her body begged her to stay home.

Her feet hurt badly.

Every part of her wanted sleep.

But this was Ronan.

Her boyfriend.

The man she had been dating for six months now.

No matter how exhausted she felt, she could not stand him up.

"Please God, help me not to be too late," she whispered under her breath as she hurried out of her apartment.

The moment she reached the roadside, she raised her hand for a taxi.

Thankfully, the first cab stopped.

Anastasia entered quickly, holding her bag tightly against her chest as nervousness slowly settled inside her stomach.

Throughout the drive, she kept checking the time on her phone repeatedly.

Traffic.

Always traffic.

By the time she finally arrived at Westwood Bar, guilt had already started eating at her conscience.

She quickly paid the taxi driver before stepping out.

The place was lively despite the late hour. Music floated softly through the air while groups of people laughed around tables both inside and outside the bar.

Anastasia adjusted her glasses and quickly checked her phone.

9:15 PM.

Her heart dropped instantly.

More than an hour late.

"He probably left already," she murmured softly to herself.

And honestly, she would not blame him if he did.

Disappointment and guilt settled heavily inside her chest as she slowly turned around, already preparing herself mentally to head back home.

"Anastasia."

The familiar voice stopped her immediately.

She turned quickly toward the direction of the voice and relief washed over her almost instantly.

He waited.

A small smile found its way to her lips as she made her way toward the table where Ronan sat.

Ronan looked neat as always.

His blond hair was properly arranged, his white shirt clean and crisp against his skin. To Anastasia, he had always looked handsome in a calm and simple way.

"I'm so sorry, Ro..."

"It's fine," he interrupted quietly before she could continue.

Anastasia blinked in surprise.

She had expected annoyance.

Maybe irritation.

After all, she was more than an hour late.

Yet Ronan looked strangely calm.

"Sit," he said.

Something about his tone felt unusually firm, but Anastasia ignored it and quietly sat opposite him.

"Look, I am not angry with you," Ronan began, leaning back slightly.

"I know how seriously you take your work with Travis Wallace. Even when the man probably does not appreciate half the things you do for him, you still overwork yourself."

Anastasia sighed softly.

"I am not doing my job because I want appreciation, Ronan."

She looked at him carefully.

"I work hard because I have responsibilities. That job pays my bills. It helps me support my family and my siblings."

The moment the words left her mouth, Ronan suddenly gave a dry laugh.

"Oh wow."

Anastasia frowned.

"So now you are trying to remind me that I am not useful enough?" he asked sharply.

Her brows pulled together in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"You are trying to say you survive all by yourself. That you take care of yourself, pay your bills, and therefore I have no right to complain after waiting here for over an hour."

His voice had risen slightly now.

People nearby began glancing toward their table.

Anastasia stared at him in complete disbelief.

"What are you even saying right now, Ronan?"

This did not sound like the man she knew.

The Ronan she met six months ago was calm and gentle.

But tonight, he felt different.

Almost like a stranger.

Silence settled awkwardly between them before Ronan finally rubbed his forehead.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he muttered.

"I should not have said that."

Anastasia stared at him quietly before nodding slowly.

Maybe it was frustration.

Maybe stress.

People had bad moments.

"Good evening."

Both of them looked up to see a waiter standing beside the table with a small notepad.

"What would you like to order?"

"Coffee," Ronan answered immediately.

Anastasia glanced briefly at him before smiling lightly at the waiter.

"Coffee for me too."

The waiter nodded and walked away.

Truthfully, whenever they went out together, Anastasia usually paid for most things. And when Ronan insisted on paying, she intentionally ordered something cheap so he would not feel uncomfortable.

She knew how difficult unemployment had been for him.

Soon, the coffee arrived.

Warm steam rose gently from the cups while silence settled once again between them.

Anastasia carefully took a sip, trying to ease the tension building inside her chest.

"So... how was your day?" she asked softly.

Ronan let out a short laugh.

"My day went well."

Something about his body language felt

Bold.

Or rather..."Proud"

Anastasia tried to ignore it.

"Oh... does that mean Mr Artemis accepted your proposal?" she asked with genuine excitement.

Her eyes brightened immediately.

"Oh...He should finally give you the contract. It'staking longer time" she smiled.

"Actually..." Ronan leaned back slowly.

"He did."

Anastasia's face lit up instantly.

"And I will be moving to Canada soon."

The smile disappeared from her face immediately.

"What?"

Ronan remained calm.

"You got a job that requires you to move to Canada and you are only telling me now?" she asked in disbelief.

"You are leaving immediately and you are saying it this casually?"

Ronan exhaled heavily.

"What exactly did you expect me to do, Anastasia?" he asked, irritation slipping into his voice again.

"Reject the opportunity after months of unemployment until I informed you first?"

Anastasia swallowed hard.

Again, that unfamiliar tone.

That coldness.

It genuinely felt like she was sitting across from another person entirely.

"I did not say that..."

"I knew this would happen," Ronan interrupted.

"Which is exactly why I asked to meet tonight."

For the first time that evening, fear quietly settled inside Anastasia's chest.

Ronan looked directly at her.

"Now that I have this opportunity in Canada, I think it is best we go our separate ways."

The words landed heavily on her chest.

Painfully.

"What?"

"This relationship will not work. You are here in California and I will be in Canada."

He said it so casually.

Like their relationship meant nothing.

Anastasia stared at him speechlessly.

"So this dinner..." she said slowly while staring at the untouched coffee before her, "was simply to break up with me?"

Ronan sighed.

"Anastasia, you are a good woman. Honestly, too Perfect."

She hated those words immediately.

"The way you stayed beside me during my unemployment... the way you supported me financially whenever we went out..."

He shook his head slowly.

"It is commendable."

Anastasia looked at him in confusion.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

Ronan finally met her eyes fully.

"I am saying I cannot continue this relationship."

His expression remained emotionless.

"I am breaking up with you, Anastasia."

Her chest tightened painfully.

"After everything?" she whispered.

"After standing beside you through all your struggles? After praying every night for things to finally work out for you?"

Ronan suddenly stood up from his chair.

And whatever emotions Anastasia still had for him vanished with his next words.

"That is exactly the problem," he said coldly.

"One day, when I become successful, you will start claiming you built us from nothing. You will say you picked me from the gutters and made me who I am."

Anastasia stared at him in shock.

"I promised myself that would never happen to me."

He reached into his pocket, dropped some money carelessly onto the table, and grabbed his jacket.

"You can keep the change."

Then he walked away.

Just like that.

Leaving Anastasia frozen in her seat.

She watched his figure disappear into the crowd while her chest burned painfully.

Maybe she should never have tried love.

Maybe loneliness was safer after all.

Her father had spent years proving to her that men eventually disappointed women.

She should have learned from that experience.

But instead, she had chosen hope.

And now, hope had broken her heart far more painfully than loneliness ever could.

THIRD POV-ANASTASIA

Anastasia quickly wiped the tears gathering in her eyes before they could spill down her cheeks. She lowered her face immediately, hiding behind the curtain of her hair and oversized glasses. The last thing she wanted was for the staff around the office to notice she had been crying again.

Unfortunately, in a place like Wallace Firm, nothing ever stayed unnoticed.

"Felicia, if someone had told me Ronan would break up with me, I would never have believed it," she whispered shakily. "Never."

Her voice cracked on the last word.

Felicia sighed softly and adjusted herself against the desk she had been leaning on. Out of everyone in the firm, she was the only person with whom Nastasia truly felt comfortable Maybe it was because they both came from the same background. Both held only a diploma in Business Legal Studies while everyone else in the company carried intimidating law degrees and expensive confidence.

The lawyers barely acknowledged them unless work was involved.

But Felicia never made Anastasia feel small.

"Look at me," Felicia said gently.

Anastasia raised watery eyes toward her friend.

"It is better he shows you who he truly is now. Earlier is always better than later."

Anastasia swallowed painfully.

The wound still felt fresh. Ronan had left her just yesterday, and somehow the office lights, the clicking keyboards, and the endless emails only made the ache worse.

Felicia narrowed her eyes carefully before asking the question.

"You did not give him your virginity, did you?"

Anastasia immediately shook her head.

"Exactly," Felicia breathed out in relief. "Then thank God for that."

Anastasia frowned slightly.

"I am serious," Felicia continued. "Imagine giving everything to a man only for him to walk away afterwards. That pain destroys people. Trust me, some of us have walked that road before."

There was a bitterness in her smile that told Anastasia enough.

"You are lucky he left before taking more from you."

Anastasia tightened her grip around the edge of her jacket. She understood what Felicia meant, truly she did, but heartbreak still hurt terribly.

Especially when you love honestly.

"I am never falling in love again," Anastasia muttered stubbornly.

Her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose as she pouted like an upset child.

Felicia laughed softly despite herself.

"People always say that after heartbreak." She reached forward and fixed Anastasia's glasses properly. "Love is only a scam when you meet the wrong person. Real love still exists."

The words sounded comforting, but Anastasia could not bring herself to believe them.

Felicia opened her arms and Anastasia finally leaned into the embrace, allowing herself to cry quietly against her friend's shoulder.

Unfortunately, from a distance, the scene looked entirely different.

Several staff members assigned by exchanged knowing looks.

Again, poor Anastasia had probably been yelled at by Mr Wallace.

That assumption had practically become a normal office tradition.

TRAVIS WALLACE

The atmosphere inside Wallace Firm shifted the moment Travis Wallace stepped into the building.

Just like every other morning, silence and tension followed him naturally.

Employees straightened instantly behind their desks. Fingers moved faster across keyboards. Conversations died immediately.

The mere sound of his polished shoes against the marble floors carried authority.

Travis walked forward confidently with both hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored black trousers. His expression remained unreadable as usual, cold and sharp enough to intimidate even senior lawyers twice his age.

To everyone around him, he looked composed.

Focused.

Untouchable.

But internally, his mind was nowhere near the office.

Jennifer.

Again.

The thought of her had followed him through the entire drive to work.

How long exactly was he supposed to continue hiding whatever existed between them?

Every time they spent the night together, he convinced himself things would change. Yet every morning she gathered her clothes quickly and disappeared before sunrise fully touched the windows.

As if she did not belong there.

As if she did not belong to him.

And that irritated him more than he cared to admit.

He wanted her publicly.

Openly.

He wanted the world to know that Jennifer Quinn, California's most desired model, belonged beside him and no one else.

But reality remained complicated.

Especially because her husband happened to be his client.

Travis exhaled sharply as he entered his private elevator.

"What nonsense," he muttered under his breath.

He had fought impossible legal battles for Quinn. Won properties back for him. Protected his interests countless times.

Yet somehow, he could not even fight for the woman he wanted.

The elevator doors opened directly into his private floor.

"Enough," he told himself firmly as he walked into his office. "You have work to do."

That was his routine.

Work first.

Everything else later.

He sat down behind his desk and pressed the power button on his computer. Normally, his daily schedule would already be waiting neatly arranged on the tablet Anastasia prepared every morning without fail.

But today, the desk was empty.

Travis frowned immediately.

His eyes moved across the surface once.

Then twice.

Nothing.

Annoyance slowly crept into his expression.

He checked the time on his wristwatch.

8:45 AM.

Fifteen minutes before nine and his secretary was nowhere to be seen. He stood up and stormed to her office but it was empty.

Wonderful.

He reached for his phone, intending to call her immediately, only to pause halfway.

He did not even have her number saved.

The realisation irritated him further.

With a frustrated breath, he stood up and walked out of his office, heading toward Human Resources to retrieve her contact information.

As he descended the floors, tension spread once again throughout the company.

Employees lowered their heads instantly as he passed.

No one wanted unnecessary attention from Travis Wallace.

But Travis barely noticed any of them.

Until he saw her.

At the far end of the department stood Anastasia Moore, completely distracted as she spoke to another staff member.

Felicia noticed him first.

Her eyes widened instantly in panic as she tried desperately to signal to Anastasia to stop talking.

But Anastasia remained oblivious.

Too emotional.

Too lost in her own heartbreak.

Travis approached silently until he stood directly behind her.

Felicia looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

Then Anastasia suddenly went still.

His cologne.

She recognised it immediately.

Slowly, she turned around while clutching her handbag tightly against herself.

The moment her eyes met his, her heartbeat stumbled.

"Good morning, Mr Wallace," she greeted quietly.

His expression remained cold.

"I would like to know why my secretary is not in my office doing her job."

His voice was calm, but dangerous.

Anastasia swallowed nervously.

"Sir, I was actually passing through some..."

"I do not care what you are passing through, Miss Moore."

The interruption was sharp enough to make nearby employees freeze.

"This is a professional environment."

His eyes locked directly onto hers.

"And professionalism requires responsibility."

Every staff member around them had stopped pretending to work.

The entire floor listened.

"It is almost nine o'clock," Travis continued. "My schedule has not been arranged. My emails remain untouched. Yet instead of doing your job, you are standing here gossiping."

The humiliation hit Anastasia like a slap.

"I do not pay you to socialise."

His voice rose louder.

"If you do not wish to lose your job, then return to my office this instant and finish your duties."

Then he turned to leave.

Something inside Anastasia snapped.

Maybe it was the heartbreak from Ronan.

Maybe it was exhaustion.

Maybe it was years of silently enduring humiliation.

But suddenly, she could not remain quiet anymore.

"I am tired of being treated like this!"

The words burst out before she could stop herself.

Gasps spread instantly across the department.

Felicia grabbed Anastasia's arm in horror.

Nobody spoke to Travis Wallace that way.

Nobody.

Anastasia's chest rose unevenly as angry tears filled her eyes.

"I work myself to exhaustion every single day," she continued shakily. "I come earlier than everyone else and leave later than everyone else because I work directly under you."

Travis slowly turned back around.

The entire office held its breath.

"Even though I only have a diploma, I work harder than half the people here with degrees," Anastasia said emotionally. "But because I came late once while dealing with personal issues, suddenly I am irresponsible?"

Her voice cracked painfully.

"And you think it is okay to embarrass me in front of everyone?"

Silence.

Complete silence.

Travis stared at her.

Not angry.

Not shouting.

Just staring.

There was something almost fascinating about the fire burning inside the timid secretary who normally trembled whenever he looked her way.

Nobody challenged him.

Nobody raised their voice at him.

Yet here she stood with tears in her eyes and fury in her voice.

The audacity alone shocked him.

Anastasia's breathing became uneven as emotion overwhelmed her.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then Travis finally spoke.

Coldly.

Firmly.

"You are fired."

The words landed heavily across the entire floor.

Anastasia froze completely.

Before she could respond, Travis turned around and walked away without another glance.

And the moment he disappeared from sight, the entire office exploded into stunned whispers.