Chapter 1

It was a small cubicle, and it stank to high heavens with good reason. For the second time in that minute, she questioned herself why on earth was she hiding in the toilet. Anyone with horse sense didn't have to make a trip to the restroom to make a call. She smiled wryly. Then again, anyone sane would not have married someone who was a sorry excuse for a man, which was really the only reason why she considered herself to be worse than him.

Pressing the cell phone closer to her ear, she whispered, "Come on, Rachel. Pick up the phone." A sense of urgency flooded her as she listened to endless ringing. Any minute now, he would notice her disappearance from the lab.

"Hello?" Her sister's familiar voice filled her ear, thick with sleep.

She expelled her breath in relief. It wasn't the answering machine. "Hey."

There was a pause. "Are you okay?"

Trust her sister to know something wasn't right even when she said nothing. She shuffled her feet, shod in black pumps, positioning them side by side on the greyish-white tiles.

"Juliet?"

"I'm fine," she replied, knowing that was far from the truth. That was her standard answer, one she always gave no matter who asked. She had lots of experience in evading questions she didn't wish to face. She changed the topic, focusing the attention elsewhere. "How are you doing today?"

"I'm fine," Rachel echoed her reply cockily.

She got the point but ignored it all the same. "Any vomiting? Dizziness?"

"No. I just woke up about five minutes ago actually. I've never slept for so long since I got sick."

"That's good news."

"Hm."

"You're feeling better then?"

"A little."

The door squeaked as it swung open. She stiffened, holding her breath. Someone stepped in, making her way to one of the sinks and turning on the tap. She placed a hand on the faint pink-colored wooden wall that separated the cubicles, counting the seconds till the woman left.

"Juliet?"

The flow of water cut off. There was a tearing of paper towels. Heels clicked on the floor. The door squeaked again and then all was silent.

She released her breath. "Yeah."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing," she lied. "I can't come over tonight. Something's come up in the lab and I've got to work late. I'll see you during the weekend, okay?"

"You're not gonna be here tonight?"

She heard the twinge of disappointment in her sister's voice. "I'm sorry, Rachel. It's just that this—"

"I was kidding," her sister interrupted with a chuckle. "I wouldn't dream of keeping you from your work. It's your life."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be all right."

She nibbled on her bottom lip. "Well, call me if you feel unwell or if you need to talk or anything, okay?"

"I will. Quit worryin'."

She could almost hear her sister's teasing smile. "I'll see you on Saturday then." At that moment, she wished so badly to be with her sibling right now. She pulled the phone away and disconnected the call. It was time to get back to work. Unlatching the door, she strode past the rest of the empty cubicles. She walked through the doorway down the corridor only to hear the one voice that she detested call her name. It made her want to run, but she didn't. She couldn't. With dread curling inside her, she turned around.

His smirking face greeted her. "Edmund," she managed uncomfortably, barely able to keep her eyes up from the ground.

"Juliet." His voice had the ability to turn her into stone. "I don't think it's break time."

Her jaw worked. "I...had to use the restroom," she stuttered.

"Really."

She could hear footsteps coming down the hall, footsteps that sounded like there was more than just one person walking their way.

Oh please, not now.

She cleared her throat. "I think it's best I get back to work."

As she turned her back on him, he raised his voice. "Just because you're my wife doesn't mean you can slack on the job, Juliet."

She cringed, meeting the bewildered expressions of colleagues that she recognized worked on the same floor as she did. Ducking her head to hide her flaming face, she passed them swiftly, increasing her pace until she was back in her office chair.

Safe. At least, for now.


Standing in the blistering heat, he sat his leather briefcase down as he waited for the cab to appear in the distance. He chewed a tasteless piece of gum that had been in his mouth for at least three hours. Casting a furtive glance around and spotting the few people paying no attention to him, he wandered to a grassy patch and smoothly spat the rubbery substance onto the ground.

There. Much better.

He sauntered away, one hand in his pocket, certain that his little action went unnoticed by the public. It would have been strange to see a man in a three piece suit performing such unmannerly acts. They would think it most unsightly. He adjusted his sapphire tie, wishing he could just rip it off already. It was a damn hot day. Perspiration was soaking his inner shirt. He could feel it sticking to his back and it annoyed him immensely.

He caught the stare of a brazen woman in a short, tight black dress. She was seated on a bench across the road. Probably in her twenties, he guessed. She had dark brown hair with streaks of blond highlights. Her face was caked with thick makeup, but he could see enough to know that she had nice features. Finely shaped eyebrows, a sharp nose, pouty lips. Once upon a time, she was his type, but not now.

Now he had bigger fish to fry.


Plip-plop. Plip-plop.

She wondered if there was a certain rhythm that raindrops always made when they fell from the sky onto earth. Little spots of water dotted the wide window pane of the little cafe that she sat in. Who knew the sound of rain could be so therapeutic? She watched what remained of the masses outside scurry for shelter as the drizzle gradually transformed into a heavy downpour. No more pitter-pattering of water droplets on the sidewalk. It was now more like white noise to her ears, a continuous sizzle of some sort as sheets of rain drove hard into the ground.

She turned her eyes away from the sight, from the dark, dreary sky, from the dull colours blurred by the rain, from the miserable people huddled together merely waiting for sunshine to reappear. It could take an hour, or perhaps two, for the sky to clear up. She wouldn't harbour much hope for the storm to subside anytime soon.

Cupping her hands around her hot beverage, she closed her eyes and tried to immerse herself in the rich scent of coffee beans and milk. Low murmuring reached her ears from a corner of the coffee house. There were people carrying on a conversation near her, but not near enough for her to pick up the words. She opened her eyes. Two women, probably in their early thirties, were dressed fashionably in colour-coordinated clothes and in shiny heels. They occupied a table for two. From the laughing faces and relaxed body postures, she guessed that they were engaged in some girl talk. That was her deduction. Her forehead creased in a frown. She couldn't remember the last time she had a talk with any one of her friends.

In fact, she couldn't remember if she had any friends left.

She briefly considered trying to drown her misery in coffee. No one tried that before, she'd wager. It was worth a shot, but the idea of what all the caffeine in her body could do to her gave her second thoughts. That was her. Always having second thoughts. Never actually daring enough to take a risk.

The words were familiar. They sounded like something her husband would say. Maybe he did say them and her mind was just reiterating them to her. Her stomach churched. All of a sudden, the sweetened taste of coffee repulsed her. She leaned back and twisted her head away from the black mug, fighting the urge to retch. Shutting her eyes again, she forced herself to take a couple of deep breaths. As the soft, soothing sounds of jazz emerged from speakers in hidden locations, it filled her head, chasing away the dark thoughts and settling her stomach. Someone apparently didn't like the silence and had put on a CD. Good then. She had enough silence at home to deal with. Music was a nice touch to life.

She glanced at her watch, a round gold face with a thin brown strap around her wrist. It was ten to nine. She ought to be on her way home right now. She didn't see how it mattered, to be honest, since no one would be home. He never returned to the house before twelve. Sometimes, he never did come back.

Home. She scoffed inwardly. The word had lost its significance. The place where she lived was far from being a home. It was true, whatever it was that someone said. A house did not make a home, much less a house lacking in love, trust and warmth. She rubbed the tip of her tongue against the edges of her teeth as she stared into space. She wasn't even sure she knew what those few words meant anymore.

Time ticked by as she dawdled in that cafe. She could've spent the hours working in the lab if it weren't for her husband. Seeing his smug face was enough to put her off her work, though she would never admit it in front of him. Today was exceptionally bad. He taunted her before her sympathetic colleagues, utterly humiliated her. Just the recollection of the incident was enough to make her face burn with shame. Angry tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she would not cry. She'd done enough crying the past few days. She didn't want to feel those tears streaming down her face anymore.

The sandy-headed boy behind the counter politely told her that it was closing time. She replied with a quick smile, realizing that she was the only patron left in there. Draining what was left of her lukewarm coffee, she picked up her peach handbag, hooking it over her shoulder as she made her way from the cafe into the dark.

The rain had stopped. All that was left was the cold.


He watched her. In the outdoor area of a small bakery that stayed open all night, he sat in one of the straw chairs with a dark green metal frame, partially hidden behind the day's newspaper, and watched her. He was always watching her.

He saw that she was awkward. Every little bitty movement she made was awkward, the way she walked, how she angled herself slightly away from people even when talking, the twitch of her fingers, the constant touching of her hair. All of those depicted self-consciousness. Was she even aware of it? He sat the paper down and leaned back, likening her to an ugly duckling that had not yet come into its gracefulness. The slightest smile touched his lips. He would make her into a beautiful swan, and best of all, she would love him for it. Right now, she didn't even know he existed, but soon, she would know, just like the rest did. His plan would unfold precisely the way he wanted it to. It gave him much satisfaction to be the object of women's desire. Wasn't that what all men wanted? Deep down, though they might not admit it, it was in men's nature to want to be adored, to have all those starry-eyed women falling at their feet.

He watched as she lowered herself into a silver Volkswagen. There was a certain attractiveness about her that drew him despite her awkwardness. He couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly. He had spent hours at night trying to figure out what it was about her that pulled him in and had failed to find an answer. He knew others more beautiful, more talented, more - he searched his mind for a suitable word and finally came up with one. Those women were more qualified in every way.

But there was one thing she had in common with them. She met his requirements. He paused then and ran that thought in his mind again, cocking his head as he tried to figure out what was wrong with that particular sentence. He rubbed his hand thoughtfully against the side of his chin, racking his brain. When he finally understood what it was, it was as though a light bulb had gone off in his head.

He had no requirements. There were no requirements, only requirement. Just one.

She had the finances. That was all he was interested in.

He watched the tail lights of the vehicle diminish as it went down the road. As the car disappeared around a bend, he flicked his eyes to the white coffee cup before him. He wasn't much of a coffee drinker, really, but the night was chilly and he needed something to keep him warm. He picked up the cup and took a sip, hating the bitter undertaste that spread on his tongue. He set it back on its plate in disgust with a clink.

It was time to go. Tomorrow would be the day he set his plan in motion.

Grabbing his belongings, he pushed the chair back abruptly as he stood up. It protested with a screech at the rough treatment. He rounded the table and stepped out onto the concrete pavement where he saw a flash of yellow hair in his vision before nearly colliding with the woman who was rapidly walking down from his left.

He clicked his tongue in irritation. "Hey, Blondie. Watch where you're goin'."

He waved away her apology, dismissing her with a shake of his head. As he stalked away from the lights of the bakery, he felt a chill and became acutely aware of the cold seeping in through his clothes. He did his best to ignore it. Gritting his teeth, he plodded on. He would be home in just a couple of minutes, and when he did get back, the first thing he would do is get some water. The taste of bitterness lingered in his mouth.


In the cafeteria, the metallic sounds of clinking utensils and the cacophony of voices contributed to the chaotic atmosphere. On a normal day, she would feel as though she was drowning in an ocean of noise. Today, however, she was oblivious to it all. Blue eyes intently surveyed the tiny print on the faded news article about embryonic stem cell research. So engrossed was she in the reading that she didn't notice anyone standing by her table until she heard a soft clearing of the throat. She looked up in surprise.

A slight woman with eyes like clear water offered a tentative smile, her stringy, brown hair hanging just past her shoulders. "May I sit?" She asked in a voice as wispy as her appearance, but Juliet heard a faint, yet distinct British crisp to her words. "I'd find another spot," she added hurriedly. "But it's pretty crowded in here and all the other tables are taken."

"Please," Juliet gestured towards an empty chair. "There's plenty of room." She gave a friendly smile, knowing how it felt to have to ask to share a spot.

Thanking her, the brunette, who appeared to be in her late thirties or early forties, pulled up the blue-grey plastic chair. "I'm Mary-Sue Lewis, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Juliet Burke," she said, folding the article into half and putting it away. "It's nice to meet you too."

As Mary-Sue took out her lunch, a bottle of water and a sandwich from her bag, Juliet returned to the meal which she had barely touched while reading. Without even having to taste the roast beef, she deduced that it was overcooked, judging from the tough-looking edges. Why did she even bother to purchase food from the cafeteria in the building? The meals she prepared were of a better standard than this, and that was saying a lot.

"Is it that awful?" A voice interrupted her inner critical observation of her meal.

She glanced up, surprised, almost having forgotten her new companion at the table. "I'm sorry?"

"The food. For a place housing first-rate companies, they don't seem to be serving very nutritious meals."

She didn't quite know how to respond to that. Being the kind of person that she was, even if things were bad, she didn't like to spout negative comments. She shrugged. "I'm not really a huge fan of beef anyway. I've never gotten used to what they serve here."

"You should think about making lunch at home and taking it to work." Mary-Sue set down the sandwich stuffed with different kinds of green. "It tastes a lot better, and it's a lot healthier. I'm very picky about my food. It drives my husband crazy." Her eyes clouded over at an unpleasant thought. "Of course, nowadays he doesn't quite care anymore what I eat."

Huh. We have something in common.

The thought flashed through her mind even as her lips, as though on autopilot, moved to offer condolences. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter." The forced grin that Mary-Sue put on somehow said otherwise. "It's been like this for years now. I thought when we moved here, he'd be different, but no, he's still a huge flirt. I don't know how I got to know him, much less why I agreed to marry him." She gave a self-deprecating laugh. "Guess love really makes people blind."

Her stomach gave an uneasy lurch. The words hit too close to home. She averted her eyes, her appetite now completely lost. She wondered if making a hasty exit would come across as a little too rude.

It turned out there was no need for a plan of escape, because Mary-Sue stopped short all of a sudden, a troubled look on her face as though she had given away too much. "Forgive me. I didn't mean..." the woman trailed off. Taking a deep breath, she bowed her head. "I talk too much. I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right," she said, though it really wasn't. A change of subject would be good, she thought as a awkward silence fell on them, and decided on a safe topic. "Which area do you specialize in?"

"I'm a researcher. I do cancer stem cell research. You?"

"Fertility specialist."

The brunette drew in a sharp breath. "Wait. That's why you look familiar." A look of realization dawned upon her. "Do you work at Miami Central University Medical Research Laboratory?"

"Yes," she answered after a hesitant pause, not quite knowing where the conversation was going and slightly befuddled by the other woman's growing excitement.

"Then are you…" Mary-Sue paused and scooted a little closer to her with almost overwhelming enthusiasm. "Then you're the one who supposedly made the male mouse pregnant?"

"Well, that was a little while back. I had—"

"I can't believe I'm actually meeting you!" Mary-Sue interrupted excitedly, pressing her palm to her forehead. "When I got this new job here, I thought I might have a chance to maybe get to see you or something. This is such a coincidence." A giggle escaped her. "I was expecting to see you on a pedestal! You're a genius, you know?"

Taken aback by the change that had came over her new acquaintance, who suddenly seemed like an entirely different person, Juliet responded with an uncertain smile, once again unsure of the words to reply to such a compliment.

Mary-Sue appeared oblivious to her discomfort. "I know my company is really interested in your research." She sent her a wink as though they were in a conspiracy. "And you. So if you ever want to jump ship…" She waggled her brows with her unspoken suggestion. "They'd love to have you. It's not all that well-known so you may not have heard of it. Most people haven't either, but it holds some of its own amazing research. They pretty much have no limits to what they allow their employees to do. All in the name of science, you know."

No limits? Those two words made her curiosity grow by leaps and bounds. She imagined the walls of her boundaries crumbling down, imagined a world that allowed her the freedom to test out the ideas she'd always nurtured in secret, an environment without the nightmarish reflection of a man breathing down her back. The words tumbled out before she had a chance to stop them. "What's the name of your company?"

Seeing that she had caught a significant amount of interest, Mary-Sue leaned towards her, so far forward that her forgotten sandwich was squashed between her body and the table, and her eyes shimmered like mysterious translucent pools of water.


"Mittelos," she had replied. "Mittelos BioScience."

The familiar, calming fragrant of chamomile tea filled the little space that she called her private room as she mulled over the conversation that refused to cease replaying in her head. It had already been two weeks; yet, the opportunity that Mary-Sue had presented to her had shone brighter instead of fading away. She gazed at the flame of the candle that gave off the scent of her favourite tea as it flickered in the dimming light of dusk. The last time they met, she had informed the brunette of her interest, and Mary-Sue's eyes had lit up at the thought of her new friend joining her company.

She was almost afraid of believing it was possible. For so many years, she had dreamt of escaping this prison that she had unknowingly, yet inevitably created for herself. One decision had led to another, and all of a sudden, she was at this exact point on the timeline of her life. She wasn't even sure how she got to this stage.

She took a deep breath and leaned back in her cushioned chair, pushing her feet against the back of the cherry wood desk that was positioned right against the horizontal edge of the wide window. This was her secret place to hide out. It was tiny compared to the other rooms in the two-story house, but big enough to harbor a twin bed, a little white bookshelf, the desk, and a chair. The feature that had first caught her eye though was the tall window that was letting in soft orange rays into the room. As she watched dust particles float around as though suspended in air, she pretended that time had stopped for that moment, and for that instance, everything was calm. Everything with peaceful, and all was right with the world.

She wondered if things would have been different if she had been born with another sort of personality. Maybe a bolder, more outgoing character. It wasn't that she was unaware or oblivious that people regarded her as a doormat. She wasn't a fool, at least, not intellectually. No one would contest that, but when it came to street smarts and being capable of protecting your heart, she scored a big, fat zero.

There was a time when her elder sister had told her that every individual was entitled to their rights, but why was it that she, Juliet, would let others take those rights away without even making an effort to hold on to them? It had been a good ten years ago, but she still remembered the conversation line by line. She had bitten the inside of her bottom lip, hot tears threatening to fall at the harsh words, and replied almost defiantly, I don't understand why I should be putting up an effort to have to hold on to my rights. You said everyone is entitled to their rights, then why should I have to fight for mine?

Throughout the entire conversation, her sister had not raised her voice. She had not stormed around the room with smoke emerging from her ears like she usually did. The anger simmered just beneath her seemingly calm demeanor. She knew her fury was for the unjust treatment that she had received. Since young, her sister had always warned her that if she didn't quit wearing her heart on her sleeve and start standing up for herself, people were going to step all over her.

Exactly like a doormat.

She let out a sigh, trying to dismiss the rest of the memory and wondering if she should extinguish the thought of leaving her husband's firm as well. Playing with the idea of joining another company was like playing with fire. She hated to think of what her ex-husband would do if he found out she with toying with the idea of quitting.

Then again, why did she even care?

As she dropped her head in her hands, Rachel's lingering answer that had ended the conversation that night seeped into her mind, and the memory played like a new store-bought record.

There was a long pause, and the silence settled heavily in the room. "Maybe it's not that you have to fight for your rights," Rachel started again. The difference was that there was only resignation in her tone. The anger was gone, and somehow, that hurt more. "It's not even that they put a gun to your head and forcefully take your rights from you." Her sister's eyes softened. So had her voice, but it was right then where her next few words had torn her heart.

The tears that she had been holding back rolled down her face. The words had been barely above a whisper, and they trembled, but they hit her heart like arrows piercing their target with their sharpened tips, forever etched in her memory.

"Juliet. No one is taking your rights from you," her sister looked as if she was about to cry herself. "It's like you stand on the street, and you give them away."

One by one.

The words taunted her. Movement stilled. She stared out the window, unseeing, and for that few moments, as she was taken back into her past, the world stopped turning on its axis. Alone, in that room, her breathing slowed until she couldn't hear the inhaling and exhaling of air in the silence, until she could imagine that somehow, she didn't exist in this world.


The sweet scent of his favourite season was in the air. The leaves had long begun to deck the world with their beautiful, earthly colours, but that all would soon fade with the emergence of winter. According to the calendar, autumn was nearly over, so by right, it ought to be getting colder, yet the days sometimes were still heavy with humidity and heat. The nights, however, could always be counted on to be chilly enough to have to wear a jacket out.

The weather reminded him of the female species. Tempermental, indecisive, and unpredictable.

He lazed on the couch, one arm resting over his head, and mulled over the latest events. Just yesterday, he had made a date with his latest target, all prepared to set the next step into motion. Who knew she would come bearing a piece of news that would throw a wrench in his plans? With each word that she had spoken, he had seen the rest of his meticulous plan and hard work shattering and crumbling into dust. A gentle wind breezed in through the open window, lifting strands of hair from his forehead as a greeting, but he was in no mood to enjoy it. He released a sigh of frustration. And to think that whole conversation took place with a third party at the table.

"And this is Juliet. Juliet Burke."

He had flashed his signature smile and was immediately thrown off by her fleeting glance at him, the slight lifting of her lips that seemed more out of courtesy than interest. He frowned. Most women gave him a second long look, and she barely spared him one. He was an avid reader himself, but he wasn't about to be ignored for a book. Meanwhile, unaware that she had just dealt him a blow to his ego, she carried on reading that hardcover book as though it was the most intriguing object that existed at the moment. He pulled out the chair next to her, sat himself right down, and then stuck out his hand so that it would be utterly impossible to ignore him without being blatantly rude. In his easy drawl, he said, "Pleasure to meet you."

He watched her eyebrows rise in surprise at the intrusion. He would bet his last dollar she would take his hand, and true enough, politeness won out.

He held her hand for longer than necessary, refusing to break eye contact just to watch her reaction to his teasing. He made her work to have to pull her hand from his grasp. She lowered her lashes, and he could feel her hot blush from where he was.

A chuckle of amusement escaped him at the image of her reddened cheeks. He knew next to nothing about her, but he could read women pretty darn well. This one wore her heart on her sleeve.

Something about her seemed oddly familiar. He rolled to his side on the couch, his back already damp with perspiration, and pursed his lips, wondering where he had seen her before. Within a minute of racking his brain, it clicked.

Blondie.

She was the one whom he had collided with near the café that one cold night.

So that had been Juliet Burke.

Apparently, many companies were scouting her for her talent. To him, that meant lots of cash was involved.

He rubbed his thumb against his chin thoughtfully, somewhat registering the roughness of a stubble at the back of his mind. The target had found herself to be moving back to her homeland. There was no way in hell he would be packing up his stuff to move all the way to England. That would never be in the plan…unless, of course, it concerned a sum of money that could tide him through his entire life, which it didn't. It, however, did introduce him to another rainbow where he could quite possibly find a generous pot of gold at the end.

He pushed himself up on an elbow, the wheels turning like clockwork in his head. With each passing second, he grew to like the idea more. All he needed was to do his homework on her, and he'd be good to go.

She's not one of them.

As the thought materialized, he hesitated for just an instant, but it was enough time for the guilt to worm its way in. For a split second, he considered abandoning the change of plan. He'd always believed that most of the women he conned deserved it. They were selfish, two-faced prigs who had both time and money to spend. Sure, he was a con man, but he was also a good judge of character. She wasn't one of them.

But so what?

As quickly as the guilt came, he pushed it out from his mind and locked it tight. His victims were women looking for a little fun, wives with a wandering eye, rich people with too much time on their hands and searching for something to fill their days. Juliet Burke fell outside the circle of women he usually targeted, but he could always widen that circle. It'd be a challenge to see if he could get her to fall in love with him, not forgetting the brush-off during their introduction. His Southern good looks and charm weren't enough to attract her attention. That was more reason for the con. He loved a good challenge.

He plopped himself back on the couch with a loud sigh. He made himself think of the possible cash flow, the thrill of the con, the reason why he became who he was, and the guilt became nothing but a dull throb, which finally faded away. He stared up at the ceiling, and a slow grin spread across his face as he remembered the flash of those blue eyes beneath those long lashes.