A/N: Jesse's point of view.

Happy NaNoWriMo! To all my fellow plotters, pantsers, and others poised somewhere in between, may the quill be with you!

Don't expect this chapter to be even nearly perfect. This is NaNo and I'm writing as much as I can as fast as I can, so grammar police can go eat some doughnuts.

FSOGFanFictionAddiction (Vvn_Noel): Let me know what you think about Jesse. Today you said this Carla would sell Ana to live one more day. It's interesting that you would say that.

Guest: You're correct, proofreading is important. So is constructive criticism, but you're missing essential elements which render your comments more destructive rather than edifying.

Reds77: Ana has always been a self-sacrificing person, practically to the point of martyrdom. Life is about choices. She hates Carla but loves Ray as much, if not more. Looking at Carla's past judgment, her marriage to Ray probably saved Ana's sanity and, quite possibly, her life. Ray is a good man who has a misplaced sense of chivalry and charity. There are things he does not know that would've considerably changed his outlook.

Joangoldman9: You will discover how huge a hypocrite Carla is by this chapter's end. When it rains, it pours. Ana can't afford to help Ray save his home. Ray and Ana are almost impossible to divert once they've set their course.

motherbeatrice: Sometimes knowing isn't all it's cracked up to be. Glad you like the story!

Yet Another Guest: Why isn't Carla on Medicaid? First of all, it's Carla. Is "effort" too flippant a response? She had moved away from Savannah and had no actual residency anywhere. She knows she's dying and wants experimental treatment(s) that Medicaid won't pay for. Also, Carla isn't 65 or over and has hardly ever worked. Her longest marriage was to Ray and she's had two husbands since. Honestly, most readers are looking at this scenario through the lens of now [2022] as opposed to when this story takes place [2011].

Chantal: Good news! Ana does meet Christian.

Luvdisney2007: Glad you're onboard with the Carla loathing; Ana has reasons.

Inspiration Song(s): AC-DC - Thunderstruck

JessePoV

Would you get a look at that? I'd first spotted her from an upper-story window. I goggled at her for a clear minute. I had to go outside for a closer look. I'd never seen such a beautiful girl. The perfect body, long, luxuriant chocolate locks trailing down her back. She possessed that fresh, clean look money couldn't buy.

She was one of those lucky women who didn't need makeup to enhance their beauty. Better yet, she seemed beautiful on the inside, too. That was Steele's daughter? If I had a daughter who looked like that, my primary occupation would've been trailing behind her with a rifle.

She brought her father lunch almost every day. Sometimes she even baked bread or muffins. I hadn't had fresh, home-baked goods in years. If she didn't come, she made sure to send him with a knapsack and thermos full of provisions for his day. She was an old-fashioned type of woman. Demure, kind, and hard-working, but with a spine of steel. Most days, I envied Ray.

Gossip was that his wife had come back to him, which was shocking considering the rumors that surrounded her initial departure. I'd heard she was the town bicycle. I was sure they were exaggerating. My family had owned this property for a long time, but the big house that once stood here was dilapidated, and my parents had never lived here. Therefore, I didn't grow up with these people. Thank fuck! But that didn't stop them from filling me in on all the salacious details.

Though I owned quite a bit of land around the Pacific Northwest and a few other houses including a home in Seattle, I haven't wanted to live there for years. Before becoming a Montesano transplant, I'd lived in a condo. After the divorce, some expected me to sell the property. But it was my family home, and I'd be damned if I let her adulterous behavior cost me my house, especially in this depressed real estate market. Sure, it was in a great neighborhood like this it would be snapped right up, but it would get nowhere near the price it might if I waited. For now, I'd let it stand as a monument to stupidity.

A permanent reminder of the morning I'd woken up hungover next to Lee-Ann Smith. Sure she was hot, but she was a waitress at a strip club; good looks are in the job description. I wasn't planning to take her home or to my hotel suite, so when she came to me knocked up, I went ahead and sent it my responsibilities. It wasn't like I had a woman at home to answer to. And if she was having my kid, I wanted it to have my name, no questions asked.

It barely took her a minute to determine that Lee-Ann Smith from Vegas was too common, so she legally changed her name to Elena Lincoln neé Moore. A few months later she miscarried, and our marriage, such as it was, never recovered. Honestly, after a couple months, I'd begun to doubt she was ever pregnant. She threw herself into the Seattle social circuit, trying to prove herself. Elena had grown up with nothing and she barely had an education. The private detective's report had told me that much, so I wasn't surprised we had very little in common. Our only area of compatibility was my money and her desire to spend it.

She had never seen a sale she didn't like, spending money like water. I let her if only to keep the peace. It's not like I didn't have a fortune, so why quibble over the small stuff? I guess she thought access to money would buy acceptance, but it was Seattle where money was common. It was who you knew, who you grew up with, where you attended school, and what positions you held. Elena was like a fish out of water.

So, a few years later, when I caught her getting serviced by the young punk who had practically grown up next door, I didn't get mad, I got even. I could have caused a scene and alerted them to my presence, but why bother? Why chance a possible arrest when I could rid myself of them both? If pretty boy's parents knew he was laying the pipe to my old lady, there would be all types of shit stirred up. I didn't need the aggravation, plus I knew that with such blatant evidence of her adultery, Elena would have nothing coming in the divorce settlement.

To be fair, I almost didn't catch her. She had taken advantage of one of my out-of-town trips. Too bad her loud screaming had me thinking she was under attack by a home invader. I had quietly approached, hoping to catch the intruder unawares, but the only thing being plundered was Elena's guts. Thank goodness for oiled hinges and early arrivals.

Instead of clocking a robber, however, I ended up running into her screaming yes, yes, and more as the pale ass of Christian Grey laid the pipe to my wife while he whacked her hindquarters with a crop. No wonder she looked for outside attention if this was the kind of twisted shit she wanted. The last thing I'd ever do was hit the bitch, even with her permission. Even if she begged. I could just imagine her manufacturing enough crocodile tears in court to spin domestic discipline into domestic abuse. No. I'd had a lucky escape.

"Hi, honey. I'm home!" I had called out, interrupting them in the act. Grey didn't know what to do. He was naked except for his jeans. Kid wasn't even wearing underwear, so I didn't want to think of what kind of nastiness was on those pants. Then again, Elena was usually dry as the Sahara, so I might've been projecting.

The Grey fucker panicked, but what was he gonna do, challenge me to a swordfight? In any normal world, golf club trumped riding crop, and even with that fancy martial arts shit his mother insisted on, I knew I had the drop on him.

Elena was hissing at him to just go, that she would handle this. I directed him to at least untie her. I'd already seen my fill of what pathetic attributes Elena had to offer. I hoped she had some clothes nearby to cover herself. Maybe she would leave with him.

"Is this where you tell me this wasn't what it looked like?" I mocked conversationally.

"You think this is funny!" She had accused shrilly. "You drove me into the arms of another man."

"No, I didn't, and you know it. This," I said waving my hands between us, "has been a shitshow from start to finish. I never should've married you. Kid or no kid. I never respected you, and it's clear by the enthusiastic fucking Grey was giving you in my family home that you sure as hell never respected me."

"Linc, you didn't even try!" she shouted.

What colossal nerve! She's standing in front of me covered in some other bastard's spunk in my fucking house and has the gall to offer me recriminations?

"You were in trouble and you came to me. I did my part. I gave you my name and you repaid me by trying to remake yourself into someone you weren't. That boob job? The nips and tucks? Those were all on you. I never asked for that crap. You've become so fucking plastic, I used to worry the trash man would accidentally confuse you with the recycling."

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, coming at me, claws bared. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was trying to rile me up or turn me on. Being that she was freshly covered with proof of her infidelity, both were a stretch. I wouldn't touch her with the aforementioned garbageman's dick. I'm no woman's cuckold. Was she hoping I'd take a swing at her? If I was going to slug anyone, it would've been Carrick and Grace's prick of a son. Besides, I was reeling like a one-man Mardi Gras, because the prenup clauses had kicked in.

I mean, shit couldn't have been better if I'd planned it. I had them both over a barrel. Elena cheated and I caught her in the act. And Grey can't afford the scandal. He was an ornery little fucker, drinking and fighting all through junior high and high school, until somewhere in his sophomore year. I'm sure the Greys contributed to more libraries and fieldhouses during his matriculations than the Gates.

Now, he has even more to lose. This makes them both look terrible unless she keeps her mouth shut, tucks her tail between her legs, and takes the pittance of a settlement she has coming. Maybe Grey'll put her ass up because she sure as hell had to leave this house. I heard he has a nickel or two to rub together.

I dodged her vicious attack. God only knew where her hands had been. I was going over everything I had to do before I could close this ugly chapter of my life. We'd been married almost twenty years. Didn't they go by in a blink?

I had to call my lawyer. My doctor. I had no way of knowing how long this had been going on. Had there been others? My skin was crawling at the implications. My disgust must have been apparent because she started haranguing me again.

"You're standing in judgment over me? What have you been doing all this time?" she sneered.

"I'm a lot of things, Elena, but a cheater isn't one of them. I tried to help you every step of the way, but it was all a goddamn lie, and this is how you repay me? I'm done," I stated.

"You hate me? Is that it?" she ranted.

"Frankly, I don't care enough about you any more to hate you," I retorted.

I think knowing I'd reached the point of not giving a shit hurt her more than anything else I could've said. She hated that she'd become irrelevant. Even though she clearly didn't want me, she couldn't stand the reality that I, or anyone, found her undesirable. She was too stupid to understand that her outward appearance didn't matter to me because inside she was hideous to the damn bone.

The divorce was being processed so quickly, it was like we had never been married. One sticking point was that she had insisted on keeping my last name. That was the hill she'd decided to die on? I decided not to fight it. If she wanted to be Ms. Lincoln for the rest of her days, good on her.

I plunged myself deeper into my work. The lumber industry had begun to shrink. Sure I could have done something else, but timber was in my blood and that of multiple generations before me. I couldn't let it go, so I retrenched and diversified. Just because conservation policies changed, people were still buying wood, even if it was reclaimed. The name of the game was sustainability, and I was still a major player. I had nothing to lose. Besides, it wasn't as if I had anyone to leave my legacy. Despite how some wealthy live, I couldn't take it with me.

Seeing Anastasia Steele though, was really something. I never at least not for a long time felt a visceral, physical attraction to a woman that lasted more than a night. I found myself thinking about her days after her first visit. Sometimes I would see Ray looking at me from the corner of his eye as if trying to figure me out. He'd seen us that fateful day and witnessed my pathetic, rusty attempt at flirtation. I knew Ana didn't take me seriously. But she was kind about it.

While going over my financial records with my attorneys and financial accountant less than a few weeks into my divorce proceedings, I realized why she had been attempting to fast-track it all. I wouldn't have put it together if Carrick hadn't vented to me a couple of years ago about his son leaving school to invest in his startup. He'd told his parents he'd dropped out and demanded his trust fund. Of course, Carrick and Grace had said no. He hadn't even shown them his business plan. Christian Grey may have looked to be an up-and-comer, but right before he dropped out of Harvard, he'd plateaued. He had needed a cash infusion, and Elena was there for him with a direct payment of $100,000 to him from my accounts. Accounts my scheming, cheating wife had never been authorized to access.

So before the divorce went through, I had a final meeting with my soon-to-be future ex-wife. She had committed wire fraud and grand theft, and my attorney, a trusted childhood friend, insisted that she admit to that and her adultery in writing. Leaving that conference room with her signed confession gave me more satisfaction than our entire marriage.

Elena had stolen money from Lincoln Timber. Ironically, our prenup had been structured to protect her from liability from any creditors. She didn't have shares. She had an allowance. And when she habitually overspent her funds, I usually paid the shortfall. There were many ways she could've hidden her theft had she tried.

She hadn't possessed the common sense to spread out the payments over time. She was so desperate to put my cash in that fucker's hot little hands, she had stupidly transferred the whole hundred grand to him in one lump sum. In essence, I had paid Grey to cuckold me. I counted it as a loss, as that brick was nothing compared to the millions she could have gotten had she known how to keep her legs closed or at least shown enough discretion to avoid being caught. It was one of the best deals I've ever made. I might have woken up next to her hungover, but I hadn't woken up yesterday. Before our quickie Vegas marriage, my lawyers had already faxed over the papers for her to sign.

Her face had been a picture. She hadn't banked on me having the wherewithal to consider filing a prenup while my back was against the wall. But I didn't love her, and I barely liked her. I wasn't going to compound my error by getting married in a church. Not even one of those little quickie chapels. I found the most secular clerk where all we had to do is agree to be married before signing the register. It was barely a wedding because she was scarcely a wife.

To be fair, I wasn't much of a husband. After the baby was lost, I quickly realized we had absolutely no common interests. Her idea of education was dropping out of beauty school, but then she had the nerve to want to go back. I couldn't believe it. how would it look if I send my wife to school, not for art studies or something like that, but cosmetology? I would have been laughed out of Seattle.

She tried to give me the impression that I was holding her back but she was spending thousands of dollars at the beauty shop, spas, and all the local boutiques. She needed the best fashion-forward designers.

How could I have possibly taken her seriously? I mean what was she going to do after graduation? Get a job working at the spa where all her fancy friends got their nails and feet done? If I thought she was serious, I would have bought her a shop of her own so she could run it. But she wasn't interested in taking business courses. I wasn't going to get her a fancy education so she could turn around and get a menial service job.

After the divorce, she'd landed on her feet, running a chain of salons. I'd wondered where she got the ready, but then I saw how well the Grey kid was doing and figured she'd found a new sugar daddy. I was amazed he liked it well enough even after all this time to still pay for it. Guess it was true that one man's trash was another man's treasure, but maybe this was his way of paying her off. Who knew? I was just glad she was out of my life.

Sometimes in divorces, you can lose more than money. You could lose family, friends, and a way of life. But those Gray kids? I didn't mind putting them in my rearview. Supposedly, all those years, he was coming by my place to clean up the rubble. He was moving rocks all right and getting them off in my wife. Exactly how much yard work did the Gray parents think we had? And that I couldn't hire a landscaper?

Now I wonder if she hadn't had a boy toy all along. It would explain how our sex life had fallen off to almost nothing in the years preceding the divorce. Honestly, I figured it was the least she could do. But that's just the way of whores; you pay 'em, you fuck 'em and then you make the mistake of marrying one and realize that her shop is closed for business. At least for you.

I made do, however. My five fingers worked and I had no desire to pay for the privilege of having sex with someone else. And it was good to have a wife. Even if not much of one. Having a wife was a tremendous asset. Something about signing your name on the dotted line seems to make people consider you more trustworthy. This was surprising considering how many men were actively cheating on their wives. I guess they figured a marriage gave you ties to the community. Surprisingly, divorcing her made no appreciable difference to my bottom line, so maybe my business associates knew something I didn't. But a few years after Elena was draining on anyone, I was only glad that I had gotten out when I did.

The only drawback was that after my divorce, I found myself quite devoid of a desire to meet anyone to marry again. And after a while, knowing the treachery of women, at least one of them, it was hard for me to get it up. Some might say that my masculinity was threatened or I lost my mojo, I never needed Viagra. I'd be damned if I started popping pills now to fuck someone who would, later on, screw me over. The simple truth was I was a healthy man in my prime. That's why when I felt it rising in a significant way I was almost frightened. I was afraid that Raymond Steele would see my hard-on for his daughter and clock me.

Another surprise was that she was a college co-ed who had decided to return home. Everyone was questioning it. She was the small-town girl made good and almost a princess of this town; everyone loved her, despite her mother, so it almost looked as if she was running away from something with her tail tucked between her legs.

I'd heard a few rumors that she'd gotten knocked up in school and she would come back home to pop the baby and go back. But it soon became obvious she wasn't pregnant. So it couldn't have been that. Then they had suspected she'd had her heart broken. I was surprisingly jealous. Surprisingly because we had barely exchanged more than a handful of words. I had never been possessive of Elena. Maybe that's why I couldn't bring myself to become enraged even when I caught her in flagrante. If you catch someone who you love cheating, or heck even if you wanted them, you should feel anger, and I didn't, which pretty much put paid the idea that we ever should have been married. Every day with her was a lie.

Ana had the most beautiful, clear, and sweet blue eyes, piercing, but without the wicked, calculating gaze of deceit and cruelty wielded by Elena.

So when she didn't come to the job site a few days in a row I surreptitiously asked around to see what I kept her. Has she gone back to school?

No. With her BA in English Literature, having graduated summa cum laude, she had gotten a job working at the local diner. And wouldn't you know, I had just become their most faithful customer.

I was there every other day. Sometimes I would skip a couple of days so she wouldn't know how interested I was in her. Or at least not appear like a creeper. Once in a while, I would get her to take a break and take a load off to sit across from me.

The reason for her return to her small town and her father's house? Her mother Carla had become ill and the whole family, the two of them, had banded together to help. The Steeles were made of sterner stuff. The salt of the earth.

Later, I would discover that it wasn't love for Carla that Ana had given up school and taken on a menial job but the determination that her father did not work himself to death. There seemed to be no love lost between Carla and Ana. Soon, I'd begun to wonder if Ray's dedication to helping his ex wasn't doing his relationship with his daughter more harm than good.

Having been married to a woman who'd milk a cow on all four teats before expecting you to buy another cow, I knew a user when I saw one. Ray should've insisted she apply for Medicaid. No-one would've held it against him, but some men are just burdened with the Captain Save-A-Hoe spirit and it was too late for an exorcism since she was still living in his house.

It was clear that Ana could take Carla or leave her, and would preferably leave her, but Ray was working himself to the bone, so Ana was doing her best to contribute as much as she could. I was thinking that she might have been able to do more from Seattle with her degree, but I guess she couldn't trust Carla from such a distance not to take even greater advantage of Ray's generosity.

Small calluses had developed on her hands. Her beautiful, slim, tapered fingers also showed the mark of a hard worker, but what pained me the most to see was her significant weight loss. Though her fragile beauty remained, Ana was clearly in need of some good meals and some rest.

Two days later, I came to the restaurant again and I didn't see her in her usual location, but her car was parked in front. Thinking she was in the bathroom, I waited. But when no-one came out, I walked outside the restaurant hearing hiccups and cries around the corner. It was Ana, her head bent into her hands as she cried piteously in despair, her body shaking. I rushed to her, holding her hands in mine, asking what I could do for her.

"It's too late!" she whimpered, her tears dampening my shirt. "She's won. She's taken everything. It's a done deal. Carla has gotten sicker, the bills came due, and Ray is going to sell his land."

I was shocked I couldn't believe it. I mean, I'm sure Ray might have loved Carla once, but the idea of selling something that had been in his family for generations to save the life of the woman who cheated on him and took his daughter away? I couldn't fathom it. I thought I'd heard everything, but this took the fucking cake.

I wonder if Ray would be so anxious to bet the farm if he could see his daughter right now. He was making a terrible decision and I could see the evidence of it in Ana's rigid posture, her despair, and her desperation. In a moment of foolishness, I offered to loan her the money.

If possible, she stiffened even further, pulling away from me, roughly wiping away the tears from her cheeks. She stood up and stomped to the entrance of the restaurant, whipping on her apron.

"Sorry I'm late," she murmured to the manager, pasting a bright, false smile on her face. "I just needed a breather. I'll skip my next one."

I knew the days of me sitting in her restaurant, spending her breaks together, and talking were over. I felt my heart squeeze in my chest. I missed her already and she was right in front of me. How was I going to go on without her sweetness and light in my life?

I found myself doing something that I knew I had no business doing. I decided to have Ana investigated along with Ray and Carla. I told myself it was so I could pay her bills in secret, saving them the trouble, but in a more honest moment, I just needed to be sure. I guess I wanted to understand Ana better because obviously, I was missing something.

A disease as pernicious as cancer even if he sold all his land, the bills would still wipe him out. The disease would still require more. She had a pre-existing condition; private insurance wouldn't touch her. And though he loved her once, I couldn't see much evidence that he loved her still. Except his determination to carry her cross and nail himself to it.

A week later my investigator furnished his report. Before Carla showed up on the scene, Ray had been dating some widow lady. Understandably, the woman got the hell out of Dodge before he destroyed what was left of her dignity. Being dumped for a whore is one of the worst things that could happen to a woman. Then Ana came back. What a clusterfuck! This selfish, grasping bitch had them all dancing to her stupid tune, and then after taking everything they have, she's probably going to kick off as a final laugh. I was especially infuriated when I found out she hadn't even shown up for her daughter's high school graduation.

Even worse, I found out her latest divorce was on the grounds of adultery which completely burned her with me. It looks like she had a history of screwing people over. I wondered if she and Elena were related. But it did explain Ana's rather strained relationship with her.

If I had to give up my dream to care for someone I knew would only screw me over in the end, I doubt if I'd be very happy with that person either. Carla was a vampire, a succubus, stealing Ana's youth and future. Was it wrong to hope she would get much sicker quicker and do them all a favor so they could just put her ass in a pine box and bury her in the backyard? Hell, I'd even donate the wood.

A few days later I found myself back in the cafe. I warned myself it was a fool's errand, but I couldn't abandon her when I knew what burdens she carried on her shoulders, which were sloped as she worked. Though she was just as pleasant to the patrons as she usually was, I could tell that her essential spark had dimmed. She had been brought down low by her current circumstances, and I wanted more than anything to help her.

I had the resources, the money, and the time. And I wanted the best for her. And how she was living wasn't it. I was angry. I wanted to help her fight this battle and I wanted to make her smile.

As she approached my table, I could see her struggle to smile and treat me like every other person in the restaurant. But she couldn't. We had become too close for indifference and had developed a friendship. At least I thought we had.

"Hey Jess," she said softly. She was the only person who called me Jess. Everyone else called me Mr. Lincoln, Jesse, or Linc. I guess they thought Linc was more manly. And it stuck. I much preferred that diminutive of my first name on her lips. She made it sound almost like an endearment. She didn't realize she was the only person who have been given the privilege.

I couldn't deny my answering smile, waving her over, hoping she would finally return to the Ana she was before. Silently capitulating, she took the seat next to me so she could look at the other customers just to see if anyone needed any help while she took a short break.

"I'm sorry!" we both said at the same time.

"Jinx!" she shouted, giggling. Her laughter was like bells.

I guess this had been our first fight. Would she let me make up for my bumbling delivery? I wanted to help her. I wanted her happy. But I couldn't deny that I wanted her, too.

Would it be so wrong to pursue a relationship with her if only for companionship? I felt like Hades seducing Persephone. Offering her money, or respite from her struggles, in exchange for her youth? I craved her company and longed to bring her springtime into my darkened life. Screw it, I thought harshly. I'd take my chances. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

At that moment, I realized I was going to ask Anastasia Rose Steele to be my wife.

She was looking at me so trustingly as she laid her hand in mine. I know it meant something different to me than it did to her, but I felt her friendship and trust would be enough. A solid foundation to build a relationship. And to keep her from throwing her life away for a lost cause. Besides, I think we both hated Carla about the same. Soon I would find I couldn't have been more wrong.

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Thank you for reading.

Nichole Stewart FB