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Her stepsister stole her husband, just like her stepmother had once stolen her father. After learning she had stomach cancer, she found a way to get her husband to sign the divorce agreement. Thirty days later, they met again at a global technology conference. The arrogant man who had once looked down on her stood before her with bloodshot eyes. He desperately begged for another chance. Her brothers broke down in tears and pleaded for forgiveness. She simply turned around and walked away. ===== Stage II adenocarcinoma. The doctor slid the medical report across the polished mahogany desk. The diagnosis printed in black against the white page looked less like medical information and more like a death sentence. Roselyn Hudson watched the doctor's mouth move, yet none of his words seemed to reach her. Above them, the fluorescent lights hummed without pause, the sound pounding against her head. Breathing became difficult. The air around her felt scarce. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck before tracing a path down her spine. No tears came. Instead, she dug her nails into her palm until half-moon marks appeared in her skin, but even then, she felt nothing. What are the odds? Roselyn asked in an even voice. The doctor seemed taken aback by how calm she sounded. Patiently, he explained the treatments available to her. Targeted therapy. The possibility of surgery. The difficult months waiting ahead. Without any change in expression, Roselyn listened and nodded. Not long afterward, she left the hospital. As soon as the heavy glass door closed behind her, the strength left her legs. Down the cold tiled wall of the hallway she sank until her knees met the floor. The report remained locked against her ch**t. A sudden knot tightened in her stomach, and the tumor inside her made itself known again. Suddenly, her phone vibrated inside her purse. Her shaking fingers reached for it. The message was from her husband, Adrian Riley. Don't wait for me tonight. I have a business meeting. The text carried the same distance and indifference she had come to expect. As the successor of Riley Group, Adrian stood at the center of the city's largest real estate empire. For the past three years, Roselyn had quietly filled the role of the quiet wife behind him. She had given up a future in AI medical research. She had taken care of his home. She had tolerated the ridicule of the people around him. Through it all, she had loved him. Earlier that morning, however, a sweet unfamiliar perfume had lingered on his collar. Not long after that, his phone screen had lit up with a message from someone saved under a single name. Emma. Emma Hudson. Emma was Roselyn's half-sister. She was the daughter born from their father's af**ir with Sophia Grant. Sophia had once destroyed Roselyn's mother's marriage. Now it seemed the same story was beginning all over again. With those innocent eyes and that soft voice of hers, Emma had ended up in Adrian's bed. Roselyn's eyes remained fixed on the message. Another wave of pain tore through her stomach, spreading through her like fire. One tear slipped free. She brushed it away and her expression turned cold. Then she unlocked her phone and searched for two things. The rules for dividing assets after a divorce and the price of targeted treatment for stomach cancer. Forty minutes later, her car rolled into the garage at the Riley estate. Adrian's Aston Martin wasn't there. Good. He wasn't at home. Without hesitation, she headed for Adrian's study. The room carried the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather. Her destination was the safe concealed behind a painting. The code wasn't difficult to remember. It was Adrian's birthday. A click sounded from the lock. From inside, Roselyn removed a thick stack of contracts related to an acquisition Adrian was preparing for. After that, she located their prenuptial agreement. Carrying it to the shredder, she fed the document through one page at a time. Once it was gone, she printed a standard divorce agreement and carefully completed the asset division section using the information she had just researched. Afterward, she made a copy of the cancer diagnosis. The divorce agreement and medical report were then slipped into the middle of the contract stack. Next, she picked up her phone and called Jenifer Riley. Jenifer was Adrian's mother. She was also the person who controlled the Riley family's finances. For as long as Roselyn could remember, Jenifer had looked down on her and considered her nothing more than a woman after the Riley family's money. What do you want? Jenifer asked. Impatience filled her voice. Mrs. Riley, Roselyn said evenly. "I'm calling about my divorce with Adrian. I need him to sign the agreement tonight, and we need to discuss the settlement." Silence followed on the other end. A moment later, a quiet laugh escaped Jenifer. In her eyes, Roselyn had finally accepted reality and realized she would never truly fit into the Riley family. So you're finally showing your true colors, Jenifer said in a clipped tone. "Come to my place tomorrow morning. I'll handle everything from there." I'll be there, Roselyn replied before ending the call. Her eyes drifted to the documents spread across the table. A faint, bitter smile appeared on her lips. Only after midnight did the front door open. Loosening his tie, Adrian stepped into the living room. The scent of al**hol lingered on him, mixed with that familiar perfume. Roselyn remained seated on the couch. The stack of papers rested on the coffee table between them. Why haven't you gone to bed yet? Adrian asked with a frown as he ran a hand through his hair. There wasn't a trace of guilt on his face. What showed instead was irritation. These need your signature, Roselyn said as she pushed the documents toward him. "Your mother said they were related to the acquisition and needed to be handled right away." A long sigh escaped Adrian. He was well aware that his mother and Roselyn had never gotten along. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pen and opened the thick file. Inside her ch**t, Roselyn's heart pounded relentlessly. Outwardly, however, she showed nothing. Using one finger, she indicated the last page. Sign here, and here. Tired and convinced Roselyn knew nothing about corporate matters, Adrian didn't waste time looking through the hundreds of pages. His signature quickly landed on every marked line. Without realizing it, he signed away his marriage together with the acquisition documents. Afterward, Adrian dropped the pen onto the floor. You don't look well, he said, his brow tightening further. The remark carried criticism, not concern or kindness. "Roselyn, don't start creating problems right now. I'm exhausted. Just let me get some rest." For three years, Roselyn had loved this man. Now, there was nothing left. Only an ending she could finally see clearly. It's nothing. My stomach's bothering me again, Roselyn said softly. "It's an old issue." Ask Donna to make you some soup tomorrow, Adrian said before walking toward the bedroom. Alone in the dim room, Roselyn tightened her grip on the folder. Then she took out her phone and sent a message to her best friend, Nina Parker. I have cancer. I'm divorcing Adrian. Nina replied, "What? I'm on my way!" I still need to deal with a few things. Come tomorrow, Roselyn responded. After getting to her feet, she headed upstairs. When she reached the master bedroom, she noticed the door hadn't been fully closed. A voice drifted from inside. It was Adrian. Emma, sl**p well. Roselyn stopped where she was. Pain churned through her stomach once again, but not a sound escaped her lips. Without looking inside, she continued past the room and entered the guest bedroom. They hadn't shared the same bedroom for months. After locking the door, she placed the signed documents inside the nightstand drawer. Under the faint light, she began writing. "Freedom Countdown. Sign the divorce agreement. Secure financial compensation. Return to my career. Keep the diagnosis secret." One final word was added. "Survive." Whatever happened, she had to survive. No one could know the truth. She would allow them to believe she was simply causing trouble. Without water, she swallowed two strong painkillers. Still wearing her clothes, she lay down on the bed and stared upward until daylight slipped through the curtains. By morning, Adrian was already standing near the front entrance, adjusting his watch. As Roselyn came downstairs, he glanced at her briefly. Then he walked out without another look. Soon, everything would be finished. The divorce agreement had already been signed. Drawing in a steady breath, Roselyn picked up her phone and called Jenifer. I'll arrive in thirty minutes. Chapter 2 You're A Snake Roselyn occupied a velvet armchair in the spacious living room. Across from her, Jenifer sat with a saucer in hand while her manicured nails struck against it at regular intervals. The gesture made her irritation obvious. Without a word, Roselyn pushed a document over the glass coffee table. Jenifer took the papers and looked through them. As soon as she reached the end of the document, her eyebrows shot up. She sl**ped it down onto the table. Thirty million dollars? Jenifer's sharp voice shattered the silence. "Have you completely lost your senses, Roselyn? What have you ever done for the Riley family that makes you think you're entitled to that amount? This is nothing but blackmail!" Not a single change appeared on Roselyn's face. She opened her designer handbag and removed a silver flash drive. Then she set it down in front of Jenifer. Every claim I've made can be verified, said Roselyn. "The drive contains records proving Adrian moved substantial marital assets into an offshore account under Emma's name. It also contains internal correspondence detailing how Riley Group dealt with tax issues connected to a major development project from last year." Jenifer's face immediately lost all color. Her grip tightened against the armrests. I'm only asking for what is legally mine. On top of that, I deserve compensation for the emotional harm I've endured. Roselyn settled back into her seat as she spoke. "If you choose not to agree, these documents will be submitted together with my divorce filing. The moment that happens, they'll become part of the public record. I imagine both the media and the IRS will be very interested in reviewing them." Jenifer stared at her, breathing hard. Only then did she understand how badly she had misjudged Roselyn. For years, she had seen Roselyn as someone weak and obedient. You're a snake, Jenifer spat through clenched teeth. You should know-I learned it from watching people like you, Roselyn retorted. Jenifer's expression hardened. If information like this ever got out, Riley Group could lose hundreds of millions in value. Compared to that, thirty million dollars was nothing. Fine. Jenifer gave in reluctantly. "But you're signing a nondisclosure agreement first. Then pack everything you own and leave Adrian's house." I have no problem with that, Roselyn agreed. Without hesitation, she accepted the NDA from Jenifer, signed it, and stood. You have three days to transfer the money into my account. If that deadline passes, the files will be released automatically. Leaving the house behind, Roselyn headed for the exit. The oak door shut behind her with a heavy sound. The moment she settled into her car, a slight tremor ran through her hands. She had succeeded. Instead of going home, she drove to her office. Long before she became Adrian's wife, Roselyn had helped establish a medical AI technology company as one of its founding engineers. After the marriage, however, fewer and fewer people viewed her the same way. She walked through the familiar hallways. The efficient, professional atmosphere felt completely different from the endless conflict surrounding the Riley family. Outside the office of Gerald Hardy, the company's operations director, she paused and knocked on the door. Surprise flashed across Gerald's face when he saw her. "Roselyn? I wasn't expecting you. Come in and have a seat." From her bag, Roselyn took out a white envelope and handed it over. "Gerald, I've decided to step down from my nonexecutive board position. For now, I'll also be transferring my voting rights." As Gerald reviewed the letter, a frown slowly appeared. "Does this have something to do with Mr. Riley's af**ir?" My health is the reason, Roselyn answered. She offered no further explanation. "Right now, I need time to rest." After signing the paperwork, Gerald let out a sigh. "No matter what happens, there'll always be a place for you here." Thank you. For the first time that day, Roselyn truly felt grateful. After leaving his office, she made her way toward the elevators. A hand suddenly caught the doors before they could shut completely. Nate Robinson stepped into the elevator. As Adrian's executive assistant, his arrogance rivaled that of his employer. Mrs. Riley, Nate sneered as his gaze swept over her. What brings you here? To see Mr. Riley? You know he can't stand it when you follow him around. Roselyn felt her stomach tighten. To steady herself, she rested a hand against her abdomen and kept her breathing under control. I'm here to complete the process of leaving the board, Roselyn replied calmly. "And from this point forward, you'll address me as Ms. Hudson." A moment of surprise crossed Nate's face before he burst out laughing. "Leaving the board? Is this another one of your attempts to get attention? Does Mr. Riley even know you're doing this?" Roselyn kept her eyes on the elevator doors and didn't look at him. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with." When the elevator reached the lobby, the doors opened. Without another word, Roselyn stepped out. Behind her, Nate remained where he was, still wearing that disdainful look. Once she returned to her car, Roselyn pulled out a notebook. She crossed off the second item on her list-secure financial compensation. Then she placed a check mark beside the first item-sign the divorce agreement. Below the four items, she wrote something new. "Freedom Countdown: 30 Days." A vibration came from her phone. A message appeared on her phone from her cousin, Stefan Hudson. Roselyn, there's a private dinner happening tonight. Would you like to come with me? For several seconds, Roselyn looked at the text. Exhaustion weighed on her. The stress and the tumor had left her body aching. Even so, she needed to start rebuilding her connections. She needed to find the version of herself that existed before Adrian became part of her life. Her fingers moved across the screen. "Where is it, and what time does it start?" Silence filled the house when Roselyn arrived home. In the hallway, Donna Flynn, the elderly housekeeper who had always been kind to her, was busy dusting. The moment Donna saw her, concern showed on her face. Roselyn's pale appearance was impossible to miss. Mrs. Riley, are you alright? Donna, I'd rather you call me Roselyn. I'm alright. Just a little tired. Actually, I'll be moving out soon. Shock spread across Donna's face. "Moving out? Oh dear... I'm sorry to hear that." Donna understood better than anyone how Roselyn had been treated under that roof. You don't need to be sorry. A smile appeared on Roselyn's lips. Though tired, it was genuine. "This is the right decision." Roselyn headed for the guest room upstairs. A suitcase came out, and she started packing her belongings. Everything Adrian had purchased for her remained exactly where it was. Her gaze settled on the closet after it had been emptied. At that moment, something she hadn't felt in years stirred inside her-anticipation. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she opened her laptop and began writing an email to the mentor who had guided her in the past. Is there still room for me on the new AI diagnostics project we talked about last year? The email was sent. Before two minutes had passed, a response arrived. Roselyn! We've been waiting for you. After closing the laptop, Roselyn sat quietly for a moment. Goodbye, Adrian, she whispered to the empty room. Chapter 3 I Owe Him My Life For the private dinner, Roselyn picked out a black dress with a clean, elegant design. Just as she prepared to head out, her phone started ringing. Roselyn, I owe you an apology. An inspection came up and delayed me. Stefan sounded rushed. "So I asked a friend to pick you up instead. He's already outside waiting." A frown crossed Roselyn's face. "Stefan, that's unnecessary. I can make it there myself." Relax, you'll be fine with him. I'll see you at the restaurant. Before she could respond, Stefan ended the call. With her clutch in hand, Roselyn took the elevator down to the first floor. At the curb, a black Maybach was already parked. When she neared the vehicle, the driver got out and opened the rear door. Roselyn stepped inside. Someone else was already seated on the opposite side. The light from a tablet cast a glow across his features. Sharp bone structure. A calm expression. An authority that didn't need to be announced. His presence alone was difficult to ignore. The man sitting there was Kevin Wheeler. Roselyn stopped cold. Kevin turned to look at her. For a split second, something intense flickered across his face before disappearing. The change vanished so quickly that she couldn't be certain she had seen it at all. Hello, Roselyn greeted with a courteous smile. My name is Roselyn Hudson. I'm Stefan's cousin. Thank you for coming to get me. Kevin Wheeler. His voice was low and steady. "Stefan talks about you often. From what I understand, you've had a difficult time recently." Roselyn immediately grew guarded. Without thinking, she closed her fingers into her palms. Why would Stefan tell him something so personal? There are a few things in my life that need to be dealt with, she said after a pause. Rather than questioning her further, Kevin offered, "If you find yourself needing assistance, you can reach out to me." His tone remained casual, yet the offer felt far more significant than it should have. Confusion flickered across Roselyn's face. She couldn't understand why someone she had only just met would extend that kind of offer. Soon afterward, the Maybach rolled into the underground parking area of an upscale restaurant. Kevin stepped out and opened the door for her. Standing next to him made most people feel diminished by comparison. Roselyn rarely experienced anything like that. Together, they made their way into a private dining room where Stefan was already seated and motioning for them to join him. As the dinner continued, Roselyn began to understand the extent of Kevin's influence. He wasn't simply a friend of Stefan's. He was one of the investment world's most influential figures, someone capable of shaping the future of countless companies with a single decision. Even so, he spent most of the evening listening rather than speaking. Stefan carried much of the conversation with one story after another. Several glasses of w**e later, Stefan started talking about their family's past. Roselyn's uncle, Arthur Cunningham, was a legend, Stefan said with a grin. Arthur Cunningham? Kevin repeated. The way he said the name was noticeably quieter. "He is your uncle?" A nod came from Roselyn as a familiar sadness surfaced inside her. "That's right. He passed away many years ago." Kevin didn't look away. Something about the way he watched her sent a sudden shock through Roselyn. I owe him my life, Kevin said. The amusement vanished from Stefan's face. Roselyn became completely still. Many years ago, he pulled me out of a situation that should have ki**ed me, Kevin continued. His gaze remained fixed on her. "Afterward, he never asked for anything in return." An old memory surfaced in Roselyn's mind. She remembered hearing that Arthur had once rescued a boy from a vehicle engulfed in flames. He had been so happy because of that, but he had never revealed who that boy was. Since then, I've never forgotten what I owe him, Kevin said. "Meeting you tonight finally gives me a chance to repay that debt." Roselyn thought of the uncle who had always shown her kindness. Her throat tightened as emotion rose inside her. "That's not necessary. My uncle would've done the same for anyone. You don't owe me anything." I disagree. I know exactly what I owe. Kevin's voice made it clear he wasn't open to debate. "If there's ever something you need, all you have to do is tell me." Sensing the atmosphere growing heavier, Stefan cut in, "Roselyn, do you realize how valuable that offer is? Getting a favor from Kevin is like hitting the jackpot." Roselyn turned her attention to Kevin. There was no trace of pity in his eyes. All she found there was sincerity. She needed support now more than ever. Even so, she wanted to hold on to what remained of her pride. Thank you, Kevin, Roselyn whispered. "If the day comes when I have nowhere else to turn, I'll remember what you've offered." The corner of Kevin's mouth lifted slightly. Once dinner ended, Kevin refused to let her find her own way home and arranged for the driver to take her back. The ride passed in silence. When the car finally arrived outside her apartment building, Roselyn stepped out onto the sidewalk. Roselyn. Kevin's voice stopped her before she could walk away. "Don't forget what I said." Roselyn caught her breath. Before any response could leave her lips, the darkened window rose, and the Maybach disappeared into the night. A cool breeze brushed against her coat while she remained standing on the sidewalk. Her arms folded across her body as one thought after another ran through her mind. There was no doubt that Kevin was a dangerous man. Yet after everything she had gone through, he was also the first person to offer her something completely genuine. Chapter 4 Stop Making A Scene The following day, Roselyn met Nina at the hotel cafe. Across the table, Nina used the edge of her fork to cut into a slice of red velvet cake. I still don't know how you pulled that off. Thirty million dollars from Jenifer? That's unbelievable. Disbelief filled Nina's face as she shook her head. "Once she saw those financial records, she didn't have anywhere to run." Only a small smile appeared on Roselyn's face. Beneath the table, she quietly pressed her fist against her abdomen as a sharp cramp tore through her stomach. I just had something valuable enough to negotiate with. The strain in Roselyn's voice was difficult to hide. Nina was too caught up in the conversation to notice how drained Roselyn looked. "Oh, right. I think I spotted Kevin upstairs earlier." A playful smile spread across her face. "The man who offered to help you." Getting to her feet, Roselyn moved quickly. "Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom." Leaving the cafe behind, she walked into the hotel's grand main corridor. Without warning, another surge of pain hit her. The pain became so severe that she had no choice but to stop beside a marble column and brace herself against it. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the breathing techniques her doctor had taught her. Several moments later, the pain finally began to ease. Slowly, she opened her eyes again. Directly across the corridor stood a luxury jewelry boutique. Carefully arranged lighting reflected against rows of glass display cases. One particular piece drew Roselyn's attention. An extraordinary sapphire and diamond necklace occupied the center of the display. Its name was "True Love." Roselyn caught sight of it and froze for a moment. Six months ago, Adrian had brought her to this same boutique. Standing beside her, he had pointed at the necklace and spoken in a low voice. "That necklace belongs to you, Roselyn. No one else should wear it." Back then, she had accepted every word as truth. Looking back, she felt fo**ish. Roselyn was ready to leave when movement inside the boutique caught her attention. All the color vanished from her face. For a moment, she couldn't move. The two people entering the store were Adrian and Emma. Through the spotless glass, Roselyn watched Adrian speak with the store manager. With an eager nod, the manager unlocked the display at the center of the boutique. Carefully, he removed the necklace and handed it over to Adrian. Adrian turned toward Emma. Using his own hands, he secured the necklace around her neck. An exaggerated g**p escaped Emma. Without any hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Adrian and ki**ed him. As he drew her closer, his hand came to rest at her waist. Concealed behind the marble column, Roselyn didn't move. Her nails bit into her palms until pain spread through her hands. A metallic bitterness settled in her mouth. The pain in her stomach intensified. Soon, the burning sensation rose into her throat. Breath became difficult to draw, yet her eyes remained fixed on them. With a shopping bag, Adrian and Emma eventually left the boutique. Roselyn tried to retreat farther into the shadows, but it was too late. Emma's sharp gaze locked onto her. A victorious gleam flashed across her eyes. Roselyn! What a surprise. Her sweet voice echoed through the corridor. Holding tightly to Adrian's arm, she guided him straight toward Roselyn. The moment Adrian noticed her, he stopped walking. Look at this. Adrian bought it for me. Lifting her chin, Emma made sure the newly acquired necklace was impossible to miss. "He told me the sapphires made him think of me." Nausea churned inside Roselyn, but she refused to let it show. What are you doing here, Roselyn? The question came from Adrian, and his voice carried nothing but cold disapproval. Anyone listening would've thought he was confronting a stranger instead of speaking to his wife. Roselyn met his gaze. How disappointing. This was the man she had given up her career for. This was the man she had once imagined spending her future with. I stopped by for coffee. Though Roselyn's voice sounded strained, it didn't waver. "I didn't expect to see you two." A frown appeared on Adrian's face. For the first time, he seemed to register how pale and unwell she looked. "Stop making a scene, Roselyn." Making a scene? A humorless laugh slipped from Roselyn's lips. "All I'm doing is standing here." Leaning against Adrian, Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Adrian, we should leave. We still have to pick up my gown." Without another look at Roselyn, Adrian turned away. "You're right. Let's go." Roselyn remained where she was and watched them disappear around the corner. The moment they were gone, the adrenaline left her. The pain came rushing back with even greater force. It ripped through her body and almost drove her to her knees. She reached toward the marble column for support, but her hand missed. A strong arm caught her around the waist before she could fall. In the next second, she found herself held firmly against a solid ch**t. I've got you. The quiet voice sounded near her ear. Struggling for breath, Roselyn lifted her head through blurred vision. Kevin. Without any effort, he steadied her and led her toward a velvet bench tucked away from the main corridor. Kevin asked, "That man... is he your husband?" Roselyn shut her eyes. At last, a tear slipped free. "Yes, and the woman beside him is my half-sister." Something changed in Kevin's expression. Anyone could tell he was angry. "He humiliated you for another woman." It doesn't matter anymore, Roselyn whispered. Kevin's gaze shifted to the arm she still kept pressed across her stomach. "You don't look well." It's just an ulcer. I'll be alright. The answer came naturally, but her uneven breathing exposed the lie. For a long moment, Kevin said nothing. He clearly didn't accept her explanation, yet he let it go. What I said before still stands. The edge in his voice softened. "Whenever you're ready to be honest with me, I'll listen." Footsteps suddenly echoed from around the corner. Moments later, Nina appeared, panic written across her face. "Roselyn! I've been looking everywhere for you! I saw Adrian and..." The rest of her sentence vanished when she noticed Kevin. With a brief nod, Kevin acknowledged her presence. Before leaving, he gave Roselyn one last look. "Take care of her," he said to Nina. Then he turned away and disappeared into the crowd without another word. Nina hurried over and took hold of Roselyn's hands. "Roselyn, your hands are freezing. What happened? And why was Kevin with you?" Drawing in a shaky breath, Roselyn tried to steady herself. "He helped me." Slowly, she rose from the bench. Her body still felt weak, but her thoughts had never been more certain. "Nina, please take me home. There's something I need to do first." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &4&

She woke up in an interstellar beast-world novel as the fake heiress everyone hated—a spoiled, low-ranked female doomed to a brutal ending. The real heiress would return in two years, so she got to work fast: stealing opportunities, making money, and building connections with anyone powerful enough to keep her alive. She wouldn't touch the heroine's chosen men, but the ones the heroine kept around and never valued? She took every last one. ===== "Your Highness, take a look at this one. He's strong and sturdy." "And there's this one. He's thinner, but very attractive." "This one over here is very timid. Perfect if you enjoy something unusual..." People hurried to crowd around Ella Morgan, their faces glowing with eager flattery. Everyone knew that Ella, the third Princess, despite being only a C-level female with weak spiritual power, always spent money lavishly without hesitation. In their eyes, there was only one reason she would appear in a small market like this. She had obviously come to choose a few males as her servant. Their constant chatter made Ella's head pound. It had been three days since she transmigrated into this werecreature universe. In her previous life, she had been an ordinary office worker, squeezed dry by endless overtime until she worked herself to death at her desk. When she first woke up and realized she had become a princess, she nearly wanted to celebrate with ch**pagne. Unfortunately, that excitement disappeared the moment she absorbed the memories of this body. She realized she had transmigrated into a novel. She had read this novel before. The story centered around the true princess of the Central Empire, an S-level female who had been separated from her family and raised elsewhere. After finally returning home, she was treasured by her parents, adored by her two older brothers, and became deeply involved with more than a dozen exceptional males. Back then, Ella had enjoyed reading it quite a lot. Watching so many outstanding males grow jealous and compete for the heroine's affection had been undeniably entertaining. But the problem was that she had not become the heroine. She had become the fake princess, Ella. Even while reading the novel before, Ella had disliked this character who shared the same name as her. It wasn't even because the character was especially evil. Compared to typical villainesses who poisoned people, framed others, or hired assassins, the character had never committed any unforgivable crimes. She was merely obsessed with handsome males, spoiled by her status, and burdened with weak spiritual power. Even so, the author of the novel seemed determined to pour every ounce of malice onto her. The moment the true princess returned, the parents who had once spoiled Ella immediately viewed her as a fraud who had stolen their daughter's place. Her two older brothers, who had once protected her so fiercely, began to resent her for taking everything that rightfully belonged to their real sister. The males Ella had once admired turned against her with cruel words, while the nobles who had once flattered her openly ridiculed her. Later in the story, even after the character Ella experienced a dramatic rise in spiritual power and became a rare S-level female, she still lost completely to the heroine's overwhelming plot armor. In the end, everything was taken from her, and she was exiled to the Barren Star. Meanwhile, the heroine was living a sweet and carefree life. Back when Ella read that ending, it had infuriated her. She had never expected that one day, she would have to face that fate herself. After transmigrating, she spent a long time thinking things through and came to one conclusion. The story had only just begun. She still had a chance to change her future. There were still two full years before the real princess returned. And Ella's spiritual power had not gone through its second awakening yet. She was still only at C-level. What she needed to do now was secure enough resources to protect herself before the real princess came back. Money? Because of her weak spiritual power, the old Ella had developed a habit of spending recklessly to hide her insecurity. Even with an enormous monthly allowance, almost nothing remained in her account. Power? Although the old Ella was a female, who had a high social status in this universe, her spiritual power was painfully weak. On top of that, she had been spoiled as a princess and refused to take on any responsibilities, leaving her without any real authority in the empire. Ella spent the entire night thinking before finally setting her sights on the males. She planned to compete with the real princess for them. Naturally, she had no intention of fighting over the male leads who were completely devoted to the heroine. The males she wanted were the important characters who didn't end up with the heroine. To put it simply, she planned to win over the males the heroine had overlooked. For example, Kyson Howe, the heroine's most loyal guard later in the story. Kyson came from the family of a convicted traitor. Two years ago, his family collapsed. Some relatives were executed, while the rest were exiled. As for him, he was reduced to a mere servant. In the original novel, after the heroine bought him and treated his injuries, Kyson became deeply devoted to her. Now, Ella was here two years before the heroine would arrive. Getting Kyson to pledge that loyalty to her sounded like a great idea. With that thought, Ella continued walking deeper into the market. In the novel, Kyson was described as a werewolf. Ella searched for nearly ten minutes but still could not find any werewolf. The male beside her continued rambling. Ella interrupted him coldly. "Do you have any werewolves?" The male paused for a moment at her words. At that moment, another male nearby, who had failed to squeeze through the crowd earlier, suddenly brightened. "Your Highness, I have exactly the one you're looking for!" Ella lifted a brow and tipped her chin slightly. "Lead the way." The male instantly bent over with eager politeness and hurried to guide her farther into the market. At last, they stopped in front of a door. With a flattering smile, the male pushed the door open. "This one is tough and can endure all kinds of labor. He's still young, too. And he's really cute..." Kyson listened quietly as the male listed his so-called "merits." He wondered who had come for him this time. Suddenly, light poured into the room, so bright that he instinctively narrowed his eyes. Through his blurred vision, he could barely make out a slender figure standing outside. A sweet, clean scent drifted through and rushed into his nose. Kyson forced himself to lift his head, trying to see the female more clearly. Under the glare of the light, all he could distinguish was a pair of eyes that suddenly seemed to shine brightly. Then, he heard her clear voice. "I'll take him!" Chapter 2 We're Done The male was quick to read the situation. The moment he noticed the satisfaction in Ella's expression, he immediately raised the salary. Ella didn't find it unacceptable. There were a hundred thousand coins left in her account. Without hesitation, she handed over her bank card. The male accepted it with a wide grin. "Get out! Greet your new employer!" The silver-haired young male remained motionless, and the male lifted his foot, about to kick him. Ella immediately placed her hands on her hips and snapped, "How dare you kick him? Who gave you permission to touch what's mine?" The male instantly bent over in apology and retreated a step. "Please forgive me, Your Highness." Ella signed the contract, excitement rising in her ch**t. Her plan had succeeded! "Let's go," she said to Kyson. From Kyson's position, all he could see were a pair of slim ankles and the gently swaying hem of her dress. He forced his stiff body to crawl after her. After only a short distance, the footsteps ahead suddenly stopped. Kyson's body instantly tensed. He prepared himself for the pain that was about to come. Ella looked down at him and let out a quiet sigh. She lowered her gaze toward Kyson. "Can you stand straighter?" For a moment, Kyson almost failed to process her words. Then, he gave a small nod and tried to straighten his back. Ella quietly let out a breath of relief and led him outside. The moment they stepped out of the market, a bright female voice suddenly called out, "Your Highness!" Ella looked up instinctively. A young female with a ponytail was hurrying toward her with obvious delight written across her face. It was Zoey Dixon, the old Ella's closest friend. Ella looked away indifferently, her expression turning cold. A low gr**n suddenly sounded behind her. She turned around at once and saw Kyson's body swaying unsteadily. She quickly reached out to catch him. The pain from Kyson's injuries had made him dizzy for a moment. When his thoughts finally cleared, he realized he had collapsed into Ella's arms. Shock filled his widened eyes as he immediately struggled to stand upright again. Unfortunately, his weakened body failed him, and bl**d from his wounds smeared onto her clothes. This was bad. Kyson froze completely, not daring to move another inch. Males were naturally tall and big, and supporting him took more effort than Ella expected. She immediately gestured for a nearby guard to bring the car over. Feeling Kyson trembling against her, she assumed he was just too weak. By then, Zoey had already reached them. "Your Highness, I finally found you! Why did you come to a place like this?" Zoey's voice sounded warm, but her face showed clear disapproval. The moment her eyes landed on Kyson, disgust appeared in them. "This kind of place doesn't suit you at all! And you're even getting close to a servant like him. If Jonathan finds out about this, he'll dislike you even more!" Ella gave her a faint glance. Taking that as encouragement, Zoey continued, "Honestly, I think you should spend more time learning royal etiquette. Be more elegant and gentle. That's the kind of female Jonathan likes!" Ella finally lost her patience. "Shut up," she said coldly. Zoey was stunned into silence by her harsh attitude. Ella ignored her reaction. This so-called best friend came from an insignificant family with little status. Her spiritual power was just as weak as the old Ella's. Because they shared similar circumstances, the old Ella had treated Zoey as a close friend and cared deeply about her. Unfortunately, this friend had always relied on the old Ella's identity as a princess to benefit herself. She constantly used Jonathan Ford, the male the old Ella liked, to manipulate her. After the true princess returned, Zoey was also the first person to betray her and side with the heroine instead. Ella had no interest in maintaining this fake friendship. Right now, all her attention was focused on the male leaning weakly against her. The guard arrived and helped the half-conscious Kyson into the car. Ella stepped forward to get in as well, but Zoey suddenly blocked her way. "Your Highness, what is wrong with you today? I'm only saying this for your own good. If you keep refusing to listen to me, Jonathan will never pay attention to you again!" "Enough. I heard you already," Ella said and waved her hand impatiently. "Now move. You're blocking my way." Zoey stared at her in pure shock. In the past, Ella would have panicked the moment Jonathan was mentioned. As long as it involved him, she would obediently listen to every word she said. So why was Ella acting so differently today? "Your Highness! It's Jonathan's birthday party tonight. We're already running late. You should ditch this male and go to the birthday party with me now." Ella did not even bother looking at her. "You can go on your own. Move." Zoey was taken aback, embarrassment flashing across her face. Without the accompany of a royal, someone of her status would never be allowed into Jonathan's birthday party. For a moment, she even suspected Ella was deliberately humiliating her by doing this. Zoey clenched her teeth and threw out her final card. "Your Highness, if you refuse to listen to me, then I'll never talk to you again!" Only then did Ella finally look at her. She pointed at herself and asked, "What did you just call me?" Zoey blinked in confusion. "Your Highness..." "That's right," Ella replied with a faint smile. "So what gives you the right to order a princess like me around?" Zoey's face instantly turned red with humiliation. Ella brushed past her and stepped into the car. Furious, Zoey rushed to the door and shouted, "What is this supposed to mean? I'm your only friend!" The car window slowly lowered. Zoey's eyes brightened immediately, thinking Ella had changed her mind. But Ella leaned halfway out of the window and said, "Oh, right. I almost forgot to mention it. I don't think you're qualified to be my friend anymore. We're done. Also, make sure you return all the clothes, handbags, jewelry, and money you've borrowed from me over the years." "What... what are you talking about..." Ella's smile widened. "If you refuse, I'll have my eldest brother deal with your family." The car window rolled back up, and the hovercar quickly disappeared. Zoey remained standing there in a daze. She felt certain that Ella had gone crazy. *** Kyson thought he must be dead. Otherwise, why would someone be treating him so gently now? Ella pulled her hand back with a sigh. After returning home, she had tried using her spiritual power to soothe Kyson. Unfortunately, the results were barely noticeable. He still had not opened his eyes. Letting out another sigh, Ella took out the medical kit and personally tending to Kyson. Chapter 3 The Expensive Gift This wasn't something Ella should've handled herself, but she didn't trust anyone else to do it. She was worried rumors would start spreading. Especially if her eldest brother, Chris, heard about this. Although the old Ella was a useless female at this time, her father doted on her, and her mother was also very patient with her. Her second-eldest brother, Ricky Morgan, was an oddball in the royal family. He spent his days in the entertainment industry and rarely returned home. Still, they were close enough. But her eldest brother, Chris Morgan, was completely different. He was extremely stern. He was ten years older than her and currently served as a major general of the empire. He was stationed in the border sector year-round, but whenever he occasionally returned to Capital Star, his discipline toward the younger generation was so harsh that it bordered on unreasonable. Even the old Ella, despite being a female, couldn't escape it. She was terrified of him. If Chris found out she'd bought a male servant and kept him at her side, he would definitely scold her. So, Ella hid the unconscious Kyson in her room. The technology in this world was highly advanced. The medicine used to treat wounds came in the form of a nano-repair spray that could quickly stop bl**ding and stimulate cell regeneration. However, no matter how advanced the technology was, it still couldn't remove the pain caused when the medicine stimulated the wounds. "Ugh!" His eyes flew open, and he instinctively struggled, his arms lashing out in resistance. "Ouch!" A female's startled cry rang out beside him. Kyson immediately froze, cold sweat spreading across his body. He wondered if... in his struggle just now, he had accidentally hurt the female who had taken him in. Ella hadn't expected Kyson to accidentally hit her. Only after a while did she finally recover enough to straighten herself. When she looked back, her gaze met Kyson's half-open eyes. Ella bent down slightly until her face was close to his. "You're awake?" Kyson still looked somewhat dazed. Ella picked up the spray bottle and shook it lightly. "I'm applying the medicine to you now. Bear with it for a bit, and don't move." Kyson remained silent. His unfocused eyes stayed fixed stubbornly on her. In fact, he couldn't see clearly at all. Ever since suffering a head injury, his vision had remained blurry. But his hearing was perfectly fine. She was going to treat his wounds? For a moment, Kyson thought he must be dreaming. His whole body stiffened as fear crept into him. He was afraid the dream would suddenly shatter. Seeing that Kyson had gone still, Ella hurriedly finished applying the medicine. After treating his wounds, she looked at him and said, "Can you stand up? If you can, go sl**p on the sofa." Only then did Kyson slowly realize this might not be a dream after all. Even in his dreams, he wouldn't dare imagine a female telling him to sl**p on a sofa in her own room. Still dazed, he slowly pushed himself upright and tried hard to make out Ella's appearance. Ella pointed toward the sofa across the room. "Go." The sofa was large enough for him to lie down comfortably. Kyson moved slightly and realized his wounds had even been treated and wrapped with bandages. He nodded awkwardly and made his way forward. Then came a dull thump as his head slammed hard into the leg of a table. Only then did Ella realize something wasn't right. She walked over to Kyson and waved a hand in front of his eyes. Kyson's unfocused gaze shifted faintly. "You can't see clearly?" she asked. Kyson hesitated briefly before giving a small nod. A complicated look crossed Ella's face. She hadn't expected Kyson to have problems with his eyesight. In the original storyline she remembered, the heroine's rescue of him had only been mentioned briefly. Most likely, his eyes had later been healed by the heroine's spiritual power. But Ella couldn't do that. She didn't possess that level of spiritual power. Ella sighed to herself. The gap between a heroine and someone like her-a side character-was just too wide. After letting out another quiet sigh, she helped Kyson lie down on the sofa. "Just sl**p here for tonight." Kyson's body remained stiff as he lay there. Ella tossed a thin blanket over him before climbing into her own bed and shutting her eyes to rest. She was completely exhausted. Anything else could wait until after she woke up. Kyson lay motionless on the sofa for a long time, not daring to move. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction from her. This female had treated his wounds and even allowed him to sl**p on the sofa... Was this real? Kyson couldn't tell anymore. Exhaustion finally overtook him, and he slowly closed his eyes. Even if something waited for him tomorrow, at least tonight, he could rest for real. Not long after Ella fell asleep, the sharp ringing of her communicator jolted her awake. Still half asleep, she accepted the call without even checking who it was. "Hello?" A loud voice immediately burst from the other end of the call. "Ella! It's almost midnight already! Weren't you supposed to personally deliver Jonathan's gift? If you don't get over here now, you'll miss your chance! I've already covered for you for a long time, so where are you?" It was Ricky. Ella sat up groggily as the relevant memories slowly surfaced in her mind. Jonathan was an unfavored male from a noble family, the Ford family. By relying on the old Ella's status as a royal princess along with her popularity and resources, he'd managed to become a fairly well-known celebrity in the entertainment industry. The old Ella was one of Jonathan's most devoted fans. Every year on his birthday, she personally handled everything and showered him with ridiculously expensive gifts. Last year, she had given him a limited-edition Star Sea series hovercar, but Jonathan had complained that it was too flashy. So after learning from that mistake, the old Ella decided to give him something more practical this year. She'd asked Ricky to order a spiritual power bond crystal from another sector for her. It was said to help nourish a male's spiritual power, and it cost her a full one million coins. One million coins! Thinking of that, Ella became fully alert in an instant. "Ricky! You didn't give him the gift yet, did you?" Ricky let out a snort. "Now you're panicking? There are only eight minutes left before midnight. Hurry up and get over here already. I've brought the crystal with me. I'm just waiting for you to hand it to him personally." "Don't give it to him!" Ella nearly screamed. "Just wait for me! I'm coming right now!" But Ricky apparently didn't catch the rest of her shouting and abruptly ended the call. Ella jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes in a rush, and sprinted out the door. On the sofa, Kyson slowly sat up, confusion filling his face as his unfocused eyes stared toward the direction she'd disappeared. *** The party hall blazed with bright lights, and beautifully wrapped gifts were piled high in the center of the room. The guests kept glancing toward the second-floor terrace. Leaning lazily against the railing, Ricky casually held a small gift box in his hand. Excited gasps rose from the crowd below. "Oh my God! That's Prince Ricky! He's so handsome!" "Wait, aren't you a male, too? Why are you acting this excited? Ah! He just looked over here! He looked at me!" Clearly bored, Ricky tossed a few charming looks toward the crowd before withdrawing his gaze again. He sneered inwardly. If his sister hadn't begged him to show up at Jonathan's birthday party, a superstar like him would've never attended an event like this. And after making him come all the way here, Ella herself hadn't even appeared. Once he got home, he was definitely going to scold her for this. "Your Highness," someone called out behind him. Ricky turned his head, and annoyance immediately flashed across his face when he saw who it was. At some point, Jonathan had walked up behind him. As a male werepavo, Jonathan was undeniably good-looking. He was tall, with delicate skin and eyes that naturally gave him a gentle appearance. But Ricky still caught the trace of arrogance hidden in his gaze. "Princess Ella still hasn't arrived?" Jonathan asked, unable to hide the impatience in his tone. He found the situation strange. Every other time, Ella would've arrived long ago. But today, there was still no sign of her now. Ricky was losing patience as well. He lifted his hand, ready to hand the gift box directly to Jonathan. Once the gift was delivered, he could finally leave this place that made him uncomfortable all over. But just as he was about to pass over the box, an anxious voice suddenly rang out. "Wait!" Chapter 4 Ready To Choose A Prime Mate Ella's shout rang through the banquet hall, instantly drawing everyone's attention toward her. Under the stunned gaze of the entire crowd, she rushed onto the terrace, grabbed the gift box straight out of Ricky's hands, and clutched it tightly against her ch**t. Thank goodness. She'd made it in time. Ricky stared at her in surprise before slowly looking her over. "What exactly are you wearing?" A coat tossed over a nightgown. Was this supposed to be some new trend? Ella was still catching her breath when another voice suddenly interrupted with clear dissatisfaction. "Your Highness, you're late." Ella turned toward the speaker and finally got a proper look at the male standing beside her. Jonathan was tall and lean, with handsome features. Unfortunately, he wasn't remotely her type. Jonathan frowned slightly as he looked at her. "Your Highness, why did you come dressed like this?" Attending a banquet without even wearing a formal gown was an outrageous breach of etiquette. Ella paused for a second. The audacity of him! She was a princess, yet he dared to speak to her like this? If not for the expensive gift, she wouldn't even have bothered coming here tonight. Still, Ella kept a polite smile on her face. "Sorry about that. I was in a bit of a hurry when I left home." Beside them, Ricky silently turned his face away, his expression dark. He'd disliked watching his sister chase after this weak-looking male for a long time already. Unfortunately, Ella had always been hopelessly devoted to him, so he could only pretend not to care. He genuinely couldn't understand what Ella saw in Jonathan. In his opinion, if she really wanted Jonathan, all she had to do was pressure the Ford family a little, and Jonathan would've been her mate. Noticing Ricky's dark expression, Jonathan suppressed his irritation and decided not to pursue the matter of Ella arriving late. He generously let the issue slide. "It's fine. I'm happy you came, Your Highness." His eyes shifted toward the gift box in Ella's arms. Zoey had already told him that Ella had asked Ricky to order an extremely valuable bond crystal for him. He was waiting for Ella to personally hand over the gift. Ella blinked her wide eyes and spoke with visible nervousness. "I... I have something I need to tell you." The terrace wasn't far from the main hall, so the guests below heard her clearly. Instantly, they exchanged amused looks and let out knowing chuckles. Here it came again. Everyone assumed Ella was about to confess her love to Jonathan all over again. Every year on Jonathan's birthday, something like this would happen. Every year, Ella confessed her love and got rejected. And after every rejection, she ended up crying. The males who had witnessed this before were already used to it and practically treated it as part of the entertainment. But to everyone's shock, Ella hesitated briefly before continuing, "I came here today because I want to make things clear between us. We shouldn't keep seeing each other anymore. I can't keep fooling around like this." Jonathan stared at her in disbelief, convinced he'd heard her wrong. "What did you just say?" The surrounding guests instantly became interested. Something felt completely different this year. Had Ella suddenly changed her approach? Ella kept a serious expression as she spoke sincerely. "My mother has already started arranging a future prime mate for me. You know my spiritual power is weak, so my future prime mate will already be making a sacrifice by bonding with me. If I continue getting involved with other males, it'll hurt him. I've thought about it carefully, and I think I should start behaving more appropriately from now on. After all, if I keep getting tangled up with other males, my prime mate will suffer because of it. I can't do that to him. Don't you think I'm right?" Everyone present was completely stunned. The banquet hall fell silent in an instant. So everything Ella had done for Jonathan before had only been her... fooling around? And she valued her future prime mate this much? Thinking about it carefully, everyone started to envy her future prime mate. If Ella could lavish that much money and attention on Jonathan when she was merely "fooling around" with him, then once she truly chose a prime mate... just how much she would spoil him? Several young males immediately sensed an opportunity, and the way they looked at Ella quickly changed. Even Ricky was shocked. He snapped his head toward his sister in disbelief. Jonathan's face shifted from shock to humiliation before finally hardening into a cold expression. "Oh? Is that so?" he sneered. "Your Highness, what does your decision to choose a prime mate have to do with me? Choose whoever you want. Honestly, I'm curious myself to see how many males would actually want that position." He thought she'd gone crazy. Was she trying to play hard to get by doing this? This wasn't even the first time she'd done something like this. Every other time, she'd come back after a few days to apologize to him. But today was his birthday, and she was embarrassing him in front of everyone. A prime mate? She was nothing more than a useless female with C-level spiritual power. Who would want to be her prime mate? Ricky had finally heard enough. He looked at Jonathan coldly and said, "Forget everyone else. You're not even qualified to stand among the candidates." Inside, he cursed Jonathan repeatedly for daring to speak to his sister so arrogantly. Jonathan froze immediately, his face turning dark. His lips twitched slightly, but in the end, he didn't dare argue with Ricky. Ella might indulge him, but Ricky absolutely wouldn't. Not only was Ricky a prince, but he also possessed enormous influence in the entertainment industry. He simply couldn't afford to offend someone like Ricky. Ella nearly applauded Ricky on the spot, cheering wildly for him in her heart. Below the terrace, the guests had already started whispering among themselves. "Exactly. A royal female choosing a prime mate is a serious matter. The Ford family's status is still too low, and Jonathan's background isn't nearly good enough for that..." "What happened to Her Royal Highness this year? Why did she suddenly fall out with Jonathan?" "Didn't you hear what she said? She's done playing around. Hey, do you think I'd have a chance if I tried becoming her prime mate?" "You? Forget it. The prime mate of a royal female has to come from a first-class noble family..." As those scattered conversations drifted upward, Jonathan's expression turned stormy. For years, he'd worked desperately to make people forget that his father had once been nothing more than a servant. But now, all those efforts had been ruined. Meanwhile, Ella's full attention was fixed on the crystal in her arms. After saying everything she needed to say, she linked arms with Ricky and prepared to leave, even politely saying goodbye to Jonathan before going. "Now that everything's settled, Ricky and I should head back. Goodbye." With that, the two of them left the banquet under the watchful eyes of the entire crowd. The moment she climbed into the hovercar, Ella hugged the gift box and patted it with relief. This was worth about one million coins. She'd almost handed it away for nothing. But in the next second, Ricky snatched the box straight out of her arms. A faint smile appeared on his face. "Alright. Start talking. What exactly is going on with you?" Ella immediately fell silent. She looked at Ricky's handsome face and quickly searched through the old Ella's memories. Fortunately, although the old Ella had spent the past few years in a rebellious phase, she'd always been extremely close to Ricky. He'd spoiled her almost without limits. So, Ella copied the attitude of the old Ella from her memories, straightening her back with stubbornness. "Everything I said was true. You don't believe me?" Ricky narrowed his eyes. "Weren't you completely obsessed with your Jonathan? Just last month, you got into a huge fight with Mom over him and refused to accept anyone else as your prime mate." Ella touched her nose awkwardly. That was true. Because of that matter, the old Ella had argued fiercely with her mother last month, then stormed out of the royal palace and moved into her current house. Ella let out a dry laugh. "I was just... a little resistant to marrying a total stranger." Ricky thought for a moment and replied, "So as long as the male isn't a stranger, you're willing to accept it?" Ella nodded so fast that it was almost frantic. "I'll fully cooperate with the arrangements!" Jonathan honestly wasn't wrong about one thing. There probably weren't many noble males willing to become her prime mate anyway. And even if there were, she'd only just reached the age for bonding. There was still plenty of time before she actually had to deal with the matter. Ricky stared at her for a while before muttering under his breath, "How did you suddenly become this sensible?" Then, he tossed the gift box back into her lap. Ella immediately hugged the box tightly like it was a treasure. Just as she finally relaxed, Ricky casually dropped a bombshell. "Perfect timing. You'd better behave yourself these next few days. Chris is being transferred back to Capital Star soon to report on his duties. Don't let him catch you causing trouble again." Ella instantly felt her scalp prickle with dread. "Soon? When exactly is he coming back?" she asked. "Probably in about three days. He'll stay in Capital Star for about half a month, so you'd better behave." Ricky paused when he noticed the panic written all over her face. "You already did something bad, didn't you?" Chapter 5 Kyson Is Having A Fever Ella immediately shook her head and repeatedly insisted that she'd been behaving perfectly well. Ricky still looked doubtful, but he only gave a casual nod. "Relax. Haven't I always cleaned up your messes for you? Even if something bad really happens, just push the blame onto me. I'll handle it." Ella was genuinely touched. She immediately wrapped herself around Ricky's arm and shook it lightly. "You're seriously the best brother in the world!" Ricky went still for a brief second. At some point, his sister had gradually become quieter and more distant. It had been a very long time since she'd acted this close to him. Now, with her hugging his arm and speaking to him in such a soft tone, she reminded him of the little girl who used to cling to him when they were children. The thought made the corners of Ricky's lips curve upward slightly, and his mood instantly improved. *** The hovercar slowly stopped in front of Ella's house. Still unwilling to give up completely, Ella climbed out while holding the gift box up toward Ricky. "Are you absolutely sure this crystal can't be returned?" "Something like this can't be returned. Just keep it for yourself." The moment Ricky finished speaking, he watched his sister's face visibly collapse in disappointment. Only then did he remember that, with how weak her spiritual power was, she probably wouldn't even be able to activate the crystal properly. "Well... you can at least keep it as decoration," he added sympathetically. Ella stood there and watched Ricky's hovercar disappear into the distance. Finally accepting reality, she turned and walked back to her house. It was already deep into the night, and the entire place was dark. She shut the door behind her and turned around, only to freeze in shock. Kyson was standing a short distance away, silently watching her with his gray-blue eyes. Ella stared at him in confusion, unable to understand why he was standing there instead of resting. Moonlight streamed through the window, and under the pale glow, she noticed a pair of wolf ears had appeared on top of Kyson's head. They twitched faintly. At that moment, Ella still saw him as the future loyal guard. It instinctively lowered her guard. She even stepped closer in concern. "Your ears... why are they-ah!" Before she could finish speaking, Kyson suddenly staggered forward and threw himself at her. Ella was too stunned to react in time. "What are you doing?" Only then did she slowly realize how st**id she had been. She had actually allowed an adult male to stay alone with her in the same room. To hide him and take care of him secretly, she'd even dismissed all the guards stationed around the house. She'd completely forgotten that Kyson was destined to become the heroine's loyal guard, not hers. "Kyson! What are you trying to do? Just let me go!" But no matter how loudly she shouted, Kyson gave no response. "Kyson, I saved you, and this is how you repay me?" She couldn't understand it at all. Perhaps because Ella struggled too hard, Kyson unconsciously used more strength to hug her. Ella shuddered at the scorching heat pouring off him. Why was his body so hot? Then, a terrible realization hit her-he was having a fever. This was a critical detail she'd completely forgotten. In this world, male spiritual power was naturally unstable. At certain periods, they would experience a fever due to hormone instability. The period could last anywhere from one to three days. If a male going through it didn't receive soothing from a female, his spiritual power could spiral completely out of control. Kyson was actually having a fever right now? Panic instantly flooded Ella. Her spiritual power was pitifully weak. There was no way she could soothe him. Kyson felt as though his entire body had been dragged into a raging storm of heat. He'd already exhausted nearly all his strength trying to hold onto the only thread of reason he had left. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely understood what he was doing, but he couldn't stop himself. The scent coming from the female before him was unbearably attractive. It made him want to get closer to her. Kyson lowered his head instinctively and rubbed against her cheek, using his face to wipe away the tears running down her skin. With trembling fingers, Ella reached for the communicator wrapped around her wrist. Right now, all she wanted was to eliminate the threat in front of her. Just as she was about to activate the sequence, a strained whimper sounded beside her ear. A moment later, something warm and wet landed on her neck. He was crying? Ella was stunned. Her eyes met Kyson's. Those gray-blue eyes were overflowing with tears, completely filled with despair. Ella froze. In the end, she still couldn't do it. Blaming herself for being too soft-hearted, she desperately tried to gather the tiny amount of spiritual power inside her body to soothe him. Kyson's body suddenly trembled violently. He panted a few times, his breathing rough and uneven, before gradually calming down. Then, almost unconsciously, he lowered his head and rubbed affectionately against the side of her neck. Ella's body slowly relaxed. After a long while, Kyson held the unconscious female in his arms, bewildered. He recalled the burst of fragrance that had suddenly spread through the air earlier... What exactly was that? Why had the spiritual power raging inside him calmed down just because of that scent alone? And why hadn't she ki**ed him? ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

When they met again, her ex-husband tearfully begged for remarriage. However, the wheelchair-bound tycoon of business lore, rumored to be unable to walk, rose to his feet, clasping her hands tightly, "You are worthy of pursuing her?!" ===== "I've filed for divorce. Four million should set you up for life." Colton Stevens impatiently walked over, his frustration almost palpable. "It's our third wedding anniversary today, can't we at least finish this meal together?" Allison Clarke's face froze for a heartbeat. Her nails dug painfully into her palm as she fought to keep her composure. Colton scoffed, his eyes cold and distant. "Even if we finish this meal together, I'll never love you. Besides, Melany's back. She's proud, and she won't stand for this whole situation." A flicker of softness crossed his face at the mention of Melany Johnson, a warmth that had never been reserved for Allison, no matter how hard she'd tried. She had bent over backward for him, cared for his parents, and sacrificed everything for years. But none of it had earned her more than a passing glance. Melany was the one who held his heart--had always held it. She had walked out on him three years ago, breaking off their engagement and leaving for abroad. Yet now, with a mere word from her, Colton had easily embraced her return and chosen to divorce Allison without a second thought. Allison gripped the table's edge as if trying to steady herself against a sudden gust of wind. "Does your grandpa know about this?" Colton let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Don't think you can hide behind Grandpa. He's in the hospital and can't handle any stress. My parents are on board with the divorce. In fact, Melany met with them just today." Allison's heart sank, an icy chill creeping through her veins. She had once been celebrated as a genius perfumer, renowned hacker. For three years, she'd buried every trace of that brilliance, molding herself into the perfect housewife. Just recently, she had secured a rare opportunity with Cobweb--the most elusive intelligence network--hoping to help the Stevens family clinch a crucial deal. A chance like that was nearly impossible to come by. Yet now, it all seemed like a cruel farce. "So, Melany's at your parents' place?" she asked, her voice brittle. "Naturally." Colton smiled, his features softening as if the thought of Melany made everything brighter. "They just had dinner. Melany's always gotten along with my parents. They've been singing her praises all evening -- saying how thoughtful and understanding she is." "And you all knew she was coming back," Allison murmured, her voice thick with disbelief, "but left me in the dark." Her eyes glistened, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. Thoughtful and understanding -- how ridiculous. His parents used to make the same comments about her. Colton shot her an impatient glare. "It wasn't on purpose. The butler just forgot to mention it. Don't start creating drama where there isn't any." He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and for a moment, his expression shifted to one of disdain. Allison had always been delicate, her skin flawless, and her features striking, especially her bright, clear eyes. But none of that mattered. She was boring, and that was all. The ideal housewife, yes--everything he could have wanted in a caretaker for his parents--but living with her was stifling. Allison ironed clothes and prepared meals with precision every day. Her routine was so predictable that Colton never had to wonder what she was doing. She was the picture-perfect housewife--dutiful and entirely devoted to staying home. But he was beyond tired of it. "And whether you accept the fact or not, you're leaving tonight." Colton hesitated, realizing how harsh he sounded. "You can move to Starfish Villas. Take the villa, it's yours." He had done his research on Allison. She came from a modest rural background, dropped out of school early, and hadn't seen much of the world. If it weren't for the fact that she had saved his grandfather's life, she would never have married into the Stevens family. In his mind, offering her the villa seemed more than generous for someone with her humble beginnings. But Allison's face didn't show gratitude. Instead, she offered him a thin, cold smile. "So, she's moving in now?" Allison didn't care about the villa or the four million he offered. She could make far more as a top-tier hacker. What hurt was being discarded after three years of loyalty. Colton sighed and said, "The room on the second floor was always hers. Melany's back and has nowhere else to stay, so I told her she could move in. If you're still here, she'll feel uncomfortable." Her silence was enough to annoy him, assuming she was unhappy with the deal. His frustration grew. "Don't push it. You need to know when enough is enough." He glanced at his watch, clearly counting down the time. "Now that I've lodged my divorce petition, we'll meet in the courthouse in a few days. You'd better make preparations and hire a lawyer..." He did not get to finish. "I know what to do," Allison cut him off, her voice laced with disgust. Her mind wandered back to a childhood memory--when she was blinded and in grave danger. A boy carried her on his back for three days and nights, saving her life. That boy had said his name was Colton Stevens. Now, three years after their marriage, that same boy was forcing her to leave. Time had an uncanny way of warping people into strangers. "I'll go," Allison said, snapping back to the moment. She stood up and looked at Colton firmly with detachment. "From now on, we owe each other nothing." Colton let out a breath, relieved. "Good." As if on cue, the housekeeper, Kaelyn Thorpe, appeared at the top of the stairs, struggling with a suitcase. "Sir, your parents called and said Ms. Clarke needs to leave right away, so I packed her things... Oh no!" Before she could finish, she dramatically yelped and pretended to twist her ankle. Allison's suitcase tumbled down the stairs, spilling her belongings everywhere. Chapter 2 Return "Ms. Clarke, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Kaelyn hurried down the stairs, her face a picture of exaggerated concern. "Maybe you can just toss everything in a bag for now?" she added, hiding her disdain behind a sweet smile. Kaelyn had always looked down on Allison, seeing her as nothing more than a poor country girl who'd shamelessly latched onto Colton for a better life. Colton frowned in frustration. "You're so clumsy!" he snapped, glancing at the scattered clothes. Allison's suitcase contained so little--a few clothes and hardly any jewelry. She hadn't even spent much of the money he had given her over the years. She lived simply, frugally, and it was a reflection of how she had never tried to take advantage of her status. But love couldn't be forced or faked. "Melany's luggage takes priority. Just toss Allison's things in a storage bag," Colton added dismissively, eyeing the broken suitcase. "I'll have the housekeeper buy you a new one tomorrow." Allison gave a faint, bitter smile. "That suitcase was the one I stole from the kidnappers when we were running for our lives. If it hadn't been for it, we would've drowned back then." For years, she had taken care of that suitcase--just as she had taken care of their marriage. And now, like their relationship, it lay shattered. Colton let out a cold laugh. "That story might fool my grandfather, but it doesn't work on me." The memory of being kidnapped as a child was too vague, and he always doubted that Allison had been with him during that time. Turning to Kaelyn, Colton raised his voice. "Hurry up and pack her things!" "Yes, sir," Kaelyn eagerly began to gather Allison's clothes, but she deliberately stepped on them, dirtying them in the process. With a sickly sweet tone, she mocked, "Ms. Clarke, Mr. Stevens' grandmother always says that people are like clothes. Once a person's clothes are stained, it doesn't matter how much you wash; the marks never truly fade." Allison had always been kind to Kaelyn, even when she didn't have to be. After all, Kaelyn was a distant relative of Colton's grandmother. Years ago, when Kaelyn had made a blunder that nearly put the Stevens family at odds with Kellan Lloyd, the eldest son of the Lloyd family, it was Allison who had smoothed the waters. She had negotiated a deal with Kellan, who was paralyzed, securing the critical land for the Stevens' commercial project. Back then, Kaelyn had been grateful, almost humbled. But now, emboldened by the winds of change within the Stevens family, Kaelyn acted as if she had never bent the knee. It all boiled down to one thing--Colton's grandmother's favor had drifted, and with it, so had the family's attitude. "If clothes get dirty, you're right," Allison said, her eyes flicking to Colton, "they're impossible to clean completely." She shrugged, a casual finality in her voice. "So, I won't be needing them anymore." She had never liked those bland, shapeless things anyway. They had never quite suited her. For the first time, Colton looked at Allison as if seeing her through a new lens--her usual softness was now replaced with a sharp edge. After saying that, Alison turned and walked away. Stepping out of the villa, Allison dialed a familiar number. When the call connected, her voice was calm, almost light. "Rebecca, I'm divorced, and I've moved out of his villa. My house and car are still in Vrining. Mind if I crash at your place for the night?" On the other end of the line, Rebecca Green went from silence to squealing joy within seconds. "Holy crap! You finally divorced that i**ot! Forget crashing--you're staying over for a party! A single's party!" Even from a distance, Allison could hear Rebecca's exaggerated laughter bubbling through the phone. "If the folks at Cobweb find out the founder is back, the servers will explode!" Chapter 3 Cruise Party Inside the villa, Colton's gaze falling on the dining table loaded with food. Frustration flared inside him, especially as his mind flashed back to the memory of Allison just left earlier. Allison had stayed composed, but something about her felt colder, harsher than before--far from the docile, compliant woman he once knew. But the thought slipped away quickly. To him, Allison would always be that dull, submissive housewife. Without him, she'd be nothing. Outside the villa, a sleek Lamborghini pulled up, and a woman stepped out. "Allison, darling!" Rebecca rushed over and wrapped Allison in a warm embrace. "You know, you could live at my place forever if you wanted to!" Rebecca, the only daughter of the Eternity Group's owners, practically owned half the city's skyline. A roof over Allison's head was hardly an issue. "So, what on earth happened tonight?" Rebecca asked, pressing close, her cheek resting against Allison's neck. "You still smell like cooking oil. Don't tell me you were cooking for that m**on again?" Allison felt the familiar tightness in her throat, emotions rising as Rebecca's hug warmed her. "Let's talk in the car," she said. Once inside the Lamborghini, Allison began to recount what had happened this whole day. Her voice remained steady, but Rebecca's temper flared like a spark igniting dry wood. "Can you believe this? Colton got dumped by Melany on their wedding day, and now he's trying to crawl back to her by divorcing you? They're made for each other--two peas in a rotten pod!" Rebecca raged. "And his parents!" Rebecca added, her anger rising like a storm. "You've been looking after them for three years, bending over backward for that family, and this is the thanks you get?" Rebecca continued her tirade, her words like b*llets. "Listen, he's lost his memory of that incident in his childhood, sure, but that doesn't excuse what he's done. You've more than paid your dues over the last three years. There's no point pretending to be the woman he wants anymore. You've wiped that slate clean." Allison slouched in the passenger seat, her gaze distant as the world blurred past her window. "It's done. We're even now." For three years, she'd molded herself into Colton's image of the perfect woman. She'd ditched her heels, pulled her hair back, and settled for modest, boring outfits--ones she didn't even like--all to mirror Melany. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't compete with the woman he truly loved. "Allison, the truth is, the Stevens family doesn't deserve someone like you." Rebecca's voice softened, thick with the weight of emotions as she sensed Allison's exhaustion. "Divorce is a process, but until it's settled, you'll stay with me. You're like a sister to me, anyway." Allison managed a small smile. "Okay." Growing up in an orphanage, Allison had never had any family members. But Rebecca had always treated her better than anyone ever had. Their conversation trailed off as they arrived at an exclusive makeup studio. Rebecca rolled down the window and waved enthusiastically at Mary Brown, a famous makeup artist. "Hey, Mary! Got a little project for you!" Allison rubbed her temples, g**aning softly, "Honestly, I'm wiped. I don't think I can handle makeup tonight." "Oh, come on! You're not planning to keep that whole tired, 'still-waiting-for-him' look, are you?" "Yeah... Definitely not." "Exactly!" Rebecca's face lit up. "Relax and let the pros do their magic. These are top-tier, international artists. Tonight, they're bringing out the version of you the world's been missing!" Thirty minutes later, the transformation was undeniable. Nearly everyone who saw her in the mirror was momentarily stunned. Allison's naturally striking features had always been overshadowed by exhaustion. But now, with just a touch of makeup, she was breathtaking. Her long, feline eyes, accentuated by just the right amount of shadow, were captivating without going overboard. A delicate beauty mark drawn near the corner of her eye added a hint of daring that felt almost rebellious. Even Rebecca couldn't contain her excitement. "This... this is the Allison I remember!" She gestured to a rack of dresses being brought in. "Sweetheart, pick any gown that calls to you. I pulled out all the stops for tonight. We're celebrating your freedom on a luxury yacht. I swear, it's going to be a night you won't forget!" Allison waved it off. "I'm not in the mood." Rebecca watched her closely, sensing she could still be holding onto the past. Time to pull out the big guns! "You know there are going to be international perfumers at this party, right? Including the brains behind Charisma Company! Don't tell me you're not curious to finally meet him." Charisma was the country's most prestigious perfume brand. Allison had crossed paths with the CEO at an international perfumery competition. His creations had been nothing short of art. For the first time in forever, they evoked a feeling of déjà vu, something about them reminding her of her mother's style. But like her, the CEO was an enigma. He'd never showed up in public, even as Charisma shot to global fame. No one knew what he looked like, not even now. "Alright, let's check it out." Allison finally relented, her curiosity piqued. After all, she'd once hacked into Charisma's database, coming up empty-handed. And something in her gut still whispered that this mysterious perfumer could be linked to her mother, somehow... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

Her stepsister stole her husband, just like her stepmother had once stolen her father. After learning she had stomach cancer, she found a way to get her husband to sign the divorce agreement. Thirty days later, they met again at a global technology conference. The arrogant man who had once looked down on her stood before her with bloodshot eyes. He desperately begged for another chance. Her brothers broke down in tears and pleaded for forgiveness. She simply turned around and walked away. ===== Stage II adenocarcinoma. The doctor slid the medical report across the polished mahogany desk. The diagnosis printed in black against the white page looked less like medical information and more like a death sentence. Roselyn Hudson watched the doctor's mouth move, yet none of his words seemed to reach her. Above them, the fluorescent lights hummed without pause, the sound pounding against her head. Breathing became difficult. The air around her felt scarce. Sweat gathered at the back of her neck before tracing a path down her spine. No tears came. Instead, she dug her nails into her palm until half-moon marks appeared in her skin, but even then, she felt nothing. What are the odds? Roselyn asked in an even voice. The doctor seemed taken aback by how calm she sounded. Patiently, he explained the treatments available to her. Targeted therapy. The possibility of surgery. The difficult months waiting ahead. Without any change in expression, Roselyn listened and nodded. Not long afterward, she left the hospital. As soon as the heavy glass door closed behind her, the strength left her legs. Down the cold tiled wall of the hallway she sank until her knees met the floor. The report remained locked against her ch**t. A sudden knot tightened in her stomach, and the tumor inside her made itself known again. Suddenly, her phone vibrated inside her purse. Her shaking fingers reached for it. The message was from her husband, Adrian Riley. Don't wait for me tonight. I have a business meeting. The text carried the same distance and indifference she had come to expect. As the successor of Riley Group, Adrian stood at the center of the city's largest real estate empire. For the past three years, Roselyn had quietly filled the role of the quiet wife behind him. She had given up a future in AI medical research. She had taken care of his home. She had tolerated the ridicule of the people around him. Through it all, she had loved him. Earlier that morning, however, a sweet unfamiliar perfume had lingered on his collar. Not long after that, his phone screen had lit up with a message from someone saved under a single name. Emma. Emma Hudson. Emma was Roselyn's half-sister. She was the daughter born from their father's af**ir with Sophia Grant. Sophia had once destroyed Roselyn's mother's marriage. Now it seemed the same story was beginning all over again. With those innocent eyes and that soft voice of hers, Emma had ended up in Adrian's bed. Roselyn's eyes remained fixed on the message. Another wave of pain tore through her stomach, spreading through her like fire. One tear slipped free. She brushed it away and her expression turned cold. Then she unlocked her phone and searched for two things. The rules for dividing assets after a divorce and the price of targeted treatment for stomach cancer. Forty minutes later, her car rolled into the garage at the Riley estate. Adrian's Aston Martin wasn't there. Good. He wasn't at home. Without hesitation, she headed for Adrian's study. The room carried the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather. Her destination was the safe concealed behind a painting. The code wasn't difficult to remember. It was Adrian's birthday. A click sounded from the lock. From inside, Roselyn removed a thick stack of contracts related to an acquisition Adrian was preparing for. After that, she located their prenuptial agreement. Carrying it to the shredder, she fed the document through one page at a time. Once it was gone, she printed a standard divorce agreement and carefully completed the asset division section using the information she had just researched. Afterward, she made a copy of the cancer diagnosis. The divorce agreement and medical report were then slipped into the middle of the contract stack. Next, she picked up her phone and called Jenifer Riley. Jenifer was Adrian's mother. She was also the person who controlled the Riley family's finances. For as long as Roselyn could remember, Jenifer had looked down on her and considered her nothing more than a woman after the Riley family's money. What do you want? Jenifer asked. Impatience filled her voice. Mrs. Riley, Roselyn said evenly. "I'm calling about my divorce with Adrian. I need him to sign the agreement tonight, and we need to discuss the settlement." Silence followed on the other end. A moment later, a quiet laugh escaped Jenifer. In her eyes, Roselyn had finally accepted reality and realized she would never truly fit into the Riley family. So you're finally showing your true colors, Jenifer said in a clipped tone. "Come to my place tomorrow morning. I'll handle everything from there." I'll be there, Roselyn replied before ending the call. Her eyes drifted to the documents spread across the table. A faint, bitter smile appeared on her lips. Only after midnight did the front door open. Loosening his tie, Adrian stepped into the living room. The scent of al**hol lingered on him, mixed with that familiar perfume. Roselyn remained seated on the couch. The stack of papers rested on the coffee table between them. Why haven't you gone to bed yet? Adrian asked with a frown as he ran a hand through his hair. There wasn't a trace of guilt on his face. What showed instead was irritation. These need your signature, Roselyn said as she pushed the documents toward him. "Your mother said they were related to the acquisition and needed to be handled right away." A long sigh escaped Adrian. He was well aware that his mother and Roselyn had never gotten along. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a pen and opened the thick file. Inside her ch**t, Roselyn's heart pounded relentlessly. Outwardly, however, she showed nothing. Using one finger, she indicated the last page. Sign here, and here. Tired and convinced Roselyn knew nothing about corporate matters, Adrian didn't waste time looking through the hundreds of pages. His signature quickly landed on every marked line. Without realizing it, he signed away his marriage together with the acquisition documents. Afterward, Adrian dropped the pen onto the floor. You don't look well, he said, his brow tightening further. The remark carried criticism, not concern or kindness. "Roselyn, don't start creating problems right now. I'm exhausted. Just let me get some rest." For three years, Roselyn had loved this man. Now, there was nothing left. Only an ending she could finally see clearly. It's nothing. My stomach's bothering me again, Roselyn said softly. "It's an old issue." Ask Donna to make you some soup tomorrow, Adrian said before walking toward the bedroom. Alone in the dim room, Roselyn tightened her grip on the folder. Then she took out her phone and sent a message to her best friend, Nina Parker. I have cancer. I'm divorcing Adrian. Nina replied, "What? I'm on my way!" I still need to deal with a few things. Come tomorrow, Roselyn responded. After getting to her feet, she headed upstairs. When she reached the master bedroom, she noticed the door hadn't been fully closed. A voice drifted from inside. It was Adrian. Emma, sl**p well. Roselyn stopped where she was. Pain churned through her stomach once again, but not a sound escaped her lips. Without looking inside, she continued past the room and entered the guest bedroom. They hadn't shared the same bedroom for months. After locking the door, she placed the signed documents inside the nightstand drawer. Under the faint light, she began writing. "Freedom Countdown. Sign the divorce agreement. Secure financial compensation. Return to my career. Keep the diagnosis secret." One final word was added. "Survive." Whatever happened, she had to survive. No one could know the truth. She would allow them to believe she was simply causing trouble. Without water, she swallowed two strong painkillers. Still wearing her clothes, she lay down on the bed and stared upward until daylight slipped through the curtains. By morning, Adrian was already standing near the front entrance, adjusting his watch. As Roselyn came downstairs, he glanced at her briefly. Then he walked out without another look. Soon, everything would be finished. The divorce agreement had already been signed. Drawing in a steady breath, Roselyn picked up her phone and called Jenifer. I'll arrive in thirty minutes. Chapter 2 You're A Snake Roselyn occupied a velvet armchair in the spacious living room. Across from her, Jenifer sat with a saucer in hand while her manicured nails struck against it at regular intervals. The gesture made her irritation obvious. Without a word, Roselyn pushed a document over the glass coffee table. Jenifer took the papers and looked through them. As soon as she reached the end of the document, her eyebrows shot up. She sl**ped it down onto the table. Thirty million dollars? Jenifer's sharp voice shattered the silence. "Have you completely lost your senses, Roselyn? What have you ever done for the Riley family that makes you think you're entitled to that amount? This is nothing but blackmail!" Not a single change appeared on Roselyn's face. She opened her designer handbag and removed a silver flash drive. Then she set it down in front of Jenifer. Every claim I've made can be verified, said Roselyn. "The drive contains records proving Adrian moved substantial marital assets into an offshore account under Emma's name. It also contains internal correspondence detailing how Riley Group dealt with tax issues connected to a major development project from last year." Jenifer's face immediately lost all color. Her grip tightened against the armrests. I'm only asking for what is legally mine. On top of that, I deserve compensation for the emotional harm I've endured. Roselyn settled back into her seat as she spoke. "If you choose not to agree, these documents will be submitted together with my divorce filing. The moment that happens, they'll become part of the public record. I imagine both the media and the IRS will be very interested in reviewing them." Jenifer stared at her, breathing hard. Only then did she understand how badly she had misjudged Roselyn. For years, she had seen Roselyn as someone weak and obedient. You're a snake, Jenifer spat through clenched teeth. You should know-I learned it from watching people like you, Roselyn retorted. Jenifer's expression hardened. If information like this ever got out, Riley Group could lose hundreds of millions in value. Compared to that, thirty million dollars was nothing. Fine. Jenifer gave in reluctantly. "But you're signing a nondisclosure agreement first. Then pack everything you own and leave Adrian's house." I have no problem with that, Roselyn agreed. Without hesitation, she accepted the NDA from Jenifer, signed it, and stood. You have three days to transfer the money into my account. If that deadline passes, the files will be released automatically. Leaving the house behind, Roselyn headed for the exit. The oak door shut behind her with a heavy sound. The moment she settled into her car, a slight tremor ran through her hands. She had succeeded. Instead of going home, she drove to her office. Long before she became Adrian's wife, Roselyn had helped establish a medical AI technology company as one of its founding engineers. After the marriage, however, fewer and fewer people viewed her the same way. She walked through the familiar hallways. The efficient, professional atmosphere felt completely different from the endless conflict surrounding the Riley family. Outside the office of Gerald Hardy, the company's operations director, she paused and knocked on the door. Surprise flashed across Gerald's face when he saw her. "Roselyn? I wasn't expecting you. Come in and have a seat." From her bag, Roselyn took out a white envelope and handed it over. "Gerald, I've decided to step down from my nonexecutive board position. For now, I'll also be transferring my voting rights." As Gerald reviewed the letter, a frown slowly appeared. "Does this have something to do with Mr. Riley's af**ir?" My health is the reason, Roselyn answered. She offered no further explanation. "Right now, I need time to rest." After signing the paperwork, Gerald let out a sigh. "No matter what happens, there'll always be a place for you here." Thank you. For the first time that day, Roselyn truly felt grateful. After leaving his office, she made her way toward the elevators. A hand suddenly caught the doors before they could shut completely. Nate Robinson stepped into the elevator. As Adrian's executive assistant, his arrogance rivaled that of his employer. Mrs. Riley, Nate sneered as his gaze swept over her. What brings you here? To see Mr. Riley? You know he can't stand it when you follow him around. Roselyn felt her stomach tighten. To steady herself, she rested a hand against her abdomen and kept her breathing under control. I'm here to complete the process of leaving the board, Roselyn replied calmly. "And from this point forward, you'll address me as Ms. Hudson." A moment of surprise crossed Nate's face before he burst out laughing. "Leaving the board? Is this another one of your attempts to get attention? Does Mr. Riley even know you're doing this?" Roselyn kept her eyes on the elevator doors and didn't look at him. "That's not something you need to concern yourself with." When the elevator reached the lobby, the doors opened. Without another word, Roselyn stepped out. Behind her, Nate remained where he was, still wearing that disdainful look. Once she returned to her car, Roselyn pulled out a notebook. She crossed off the second item on her list-secure financial compensation. Then she placed a check mark beside the first item-sign the divorce agreement. Below the four items, she wrote something new. "Freedom Countdown: 30 Days." A vibration came from her phone. A message appeared on her phone from her cousin, Stefan Hudson. Roselyn, there's a private dinner happening tonight. Would you like to come with me? For several seconds, Roselyn looked at the text. Exhaustion weighed on her. The stress and the tumor had left her body aching. Even so, she needed to start rebuilding her connections. She needed to find the version of herself that existed before Adrian became part of her life. Her fingers moved across the screen. "Where is it, and what time does it start?" Silence filled the house when Roselyn arrived home. In the hallway, Donna Flynn, the elderly housekeeper who had always been kind to her, was busy dusting. The moment Donna saw her, concern showed on her face. Roselyn's pale appearance was impossible to miss. Mrs. Riley, are you alright? Donna, I'd rather you call me Roselyn. I'm alright. Just a little tired. Actually, I'll be moving out soon. Shock spread across Donna's face. "Moving out? Oh dear... I'm sorry to hear that." Donna understood better than anyone how Roselyn had been treated under that roof. You don't need to be sorry. A smile appeared on Roselyn's lips. Though tired, it was genuine. "This is the right decision." Roselyn headed for the guest room upstairs. A suitcase came out, and she started packing her belongings. Everything Adrian had purchased for her remained exactly where it was. Her gaze settled on the closet after it had been emptied. At that moment, something she hadn't felt in years stirred inside her-anticipation. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she opened her laptop and began writing an email to the mentor who had guided her in the past. Is there still room for me on the new AI diagnostics project we talked about last year? The email was sent. Before two minutes had passed, a response arrived. Roselyn! We've been waiting for you. After closing the laptop, Roselyn sat quietly for a moment. Goodbye, Adrian, she whispered to the empty room. Chapter 3 I Owe Him My Life For the private dinner, Roselyn picked out a black dress with a clean, elegant design. Just as she prepared to head out, her phone started ringing. Roselyn, I owe you an apology. An inspection came up and delayed me. Stefan sounded rushed. "So I asked a friend to pick you up instead. He's already outside waiting." A frown crossed Roselyn's face. "Stefan, that's unnecessary. I can make it there myself." Relax, you'll be fine with him. I'll see you at the restaurant. Before she could respond, Stefan ended the call. With her clutch in hand, Roselyn took the elevator down to the first floor. At the curb, a black Maybach was already parked. When she neared the vehicle, the driver got out and opened the rear door. Roselyn stepped inside. Someone else was already seated on the opposite side. The light from a tablet cast a glow across his features. Sharp bone structure. A calm expression. An authority that didn't need to be announced. His presence alone was difficult to ignore. The man sitting there was Kevin Wheeler. Roselyn stopped cold. Kevin turned to look at her. For a split second, something intense flickered across his face before disappearing. The change vanished so quickly that she couldn't be certain she had seen it at all. Hello, Roselyn greeted with a courteous smile. My name is Roselyn Hudson. I'm Stefan's cousin. Thank you for coming to get me. Kevin Wheeler. His voice was low and steady. "Stefan talks about you often. From what I understand, you've had a difficult time recently." Roselyn immediately grew guarded. Without thinking, she closed her fingers into her palms. Why would Stefan tell him something so personal? There are a few things in my life that need to be dealt with, she said after a pause. Rather than questioning her further, Kevin offered, "If you find yourself needing assistance, you can reach out to me." His tone remained casual, yet the offer felt far more significant than it should have. Confusion flickered across Roselyn's face. She couldn't understand why someone she had only just met would extend that kind of offer. Soon afterward, the Maybach rolled into the underground parking area of an upscale restaurant. Kevin stepped out and opened the door for her. Standing next to him made most people feel diminished by comparison. Roselyn rarely experienced anything like that. Together, they made their way into a private dining room where Stefan was already seated and motioning for them to join him. As the dinner continued, Roselyn began to understand the extent of Kevin's influence. He wasn't simply a friend of Stefan's. He was one of the investment world's most influential figures, someone capable of shaping the future of countless companies with a single decision. Even so, he spent most of the evening listening rather than speaking. Stefan carried much of the conversation with one story after another. Several glasses of w**e later, Stefan started talking about their family's past. Roselyn's uncle, Arthur Cunningham, was a legend, Stefan said with a grin. Arthur Cunningham? Kevin repeated. The way he said the name was noticeably quieter. "He is your uncle?" A nod came from Roselyn as a familiar sadness surfaced inside her. "That's right. He passed away many years ago." Kevin didn't look away. Something about the way he watched her sent a sudden shock through Roselyn. I owe him my life, Kevin said. The amusement vanished from Stefan's face. Roselyn became completely still. Many years ago, he pulled me out of a situation that should have ki**ed me, Kevin continued. His gaze remained fixed on her. "Afterward, he never asked for anything in return." An old memory surfaced in Roselyn's mind. She remembered hearing that Arthur had once rescued a boy from a vehicle engulfed in flames. He had been so happy because of that, but he had never revealed who that boy was. Since then, I've never forgotten what I owe him, Kevin said. "Meeting you tonight finally gives me a chance to repay that debt." Roselyn thought of the uncle who had always shown her kindness. Her throat tightened as emotion rose inside her. "That's not necessary. My uncle would've done the same for anyone. You don't owe me anything." I disagree. I know exactly what I owe. Kevin's voice made it clear he wasn't open to debate. "If there's ever something you need, all you have to do is tell me." Sensing the atmosphere growing heavier, Stefan cut in, "Roselyn, do you realize how valuable that offer is? Getting a favor from Kevin is like hitting the jackpot." Roselyn turned her attention to Kevin. There was no trace of pity in his eyes. All she found there was sincerity. She needed support now more than ever. Even so, she wanted to hold on to what remained of her pride. Thank you, Kevin, Roselyn whispered. "If the day comes when I have nowhere else to turn, I'll remember what you've offered." The corner of Kevin's mouth lifted slightly. Once dinner ended, Kevin refused to let her find her own way home and arranged for the driver to take her back. The ride passed in silence. When the car finally arrived outside her apartment building, Roselyn stepped out onto the sidewalk. Roselyn. Kevin's voice stopped her before she could walk away. "Don't forget what I said." Roselyn caught her breath. Before any response could leave her lips, the darkened window rose, and the Maybach disappeared into the night. A cool breeze brushed against her coat while she remained standing on the sidewalk. Her arms folded across her body as one thought after another ran through her mind. There was no doubt that Kevin was a dangerous man. Yet after everything she had gone through, he was also the first person to offer her something completely genuine. Chapter 4 Stop Making A Scene The following day, Roselyn met Nina at the hotel cafe. Across the table, Nina used the edge of her fork to cut into a slice of red velvet cake. I still don't know how you pulled that off. Thirty million dollars from Jenifer? That's unbelievable. Disbelief filled Nina's face as she shook her head. "Once she saw those financial records, she didn't have anywhere to run." Only a small smile appeared on Roselyn's face. Beneath the table, she quietly pressed her fist against her abdomen as a sharp cramp tore through her stomach. I just had something valuable enough to negotiate with. The strain in Roselyn's voice was difficult to hide. Nina was too caught up in the conversation to notice how drained Roselyn looked. "Oh, right. I think I spotted Kevin upstairs earlier." A playful smile spread across her face. "The man who offered to help you." Getting to her feet, Roselyn moved quickly. "Excuse me. I need to go to the restroom." Leaving the cafe behind, she walked into the hotel's grand main corridor. Without warning, another surge of pain hit her. The pain became so severe that she had no choice but to stop beside a marble column and brace herself against it. Her eyes closed as she concentrated on the breathing techniques her doctor had taught her. Several moments later, the pain finally began to ease. Slowly, she opened her eyes again. Directly across the corridor stood a luxury jewelry boutique. Carefully arranged lighting reflected against rows of glass display cases. One particular piece drew Roselyn's attention. An extraordinary sapphire and diamond necklace occupied the center of the display. Its name was "True Love." Roselyn caught sight of it and froze for a moment. Six months ago, Adrian had brought her to this same boutique. Standing beside her, he had pointed at the necklace and spoken in a low voice. "That necklace belongs to you, Roselyn. No one else should wear it." Back then, she had accepted every word as truth. Looking back, she felt fo**ish. Roselyn was ready to leave when movement inside the boutique caught her attention. All the color vanished from her face. For a moment, she couldn't move. The two people entering the store were Adrian and Emma. Through the spotless glass, Roselyn watched Adrian speak with the store manager. With an eager nod, the manager unlocked the display at the center of the boutique. Carefully, he removed the necklace and handed it over to Adrian. Adrian turned toward Emma. Using his own hands, he secured the necklace around her neck. An exaggerated g**p escaped Emma. Without any hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Adrian and ki**ed him. As he drew her closer, his hand came to rest at her waist. Concealed behind the marble column, Roselyn didn't move. Her nails bit into her palms until pain spread through her hands. A metallic bitterness settled in her mouth. The pain in her stomach intensified. Soon, the burning sensation rose into her throat. Breath became difficult to draw, yet her eyes remained fixed on them. With a shopping bag, Adrian and Emma eventually left the boutique. Roselyn tried to retreat farther into the shadows, but it was too late. Emma's sharp gaze locked onto her. A victorious gleam flashed across her eyes. Roselyn! What a surprise. Her sweet voice echoed through the corridor. Holding tightly to Adrian's arm, she guided him straight toward Roselyn. The moment Adrian noticed her, he stopped walking. Look at this. Adrian bought it for me. Lifting her chin, Emma made sure the newly acquired necklace was impossible to miss. "He told me the sapphires made him think of me." Nausea churned inside Roselyn, but she refused to let it show. What are you doing here, Roselyn? The question came from Adrian, and his voice carried nothing but cold disapproval. Anyone listening would've thought he was confronting a stranger instead of speaking to his wife. Roselyn met his gaze. How disappointing. This was the man she had given up her career for. This was the man she had once imagined spending her future with. I stopped by for coffee. Though Roselyn's voice sounded strained, it didn't waver. "I didn't expect to see you two." A frown appeared on Adrian's face. For the first time, he seemed to register how pale and unwell she looked. "Stop making a scene, Roselyn." Making a scene? A humorless laugh slipped from Roselyn's lips. "All I'm doing is standing here." Leaning against Adrian, Emma rested her head on his shoulder. "Adrian, we should leave. We still have to pick up my gown." Without another look at Roselyn, Adrian turned away. "You're right. Let's go." Roselyn remained where she was and watched them disappear around the corner. The moment they were gone, the adrenaline left her. The pain came rushing back with even greater force. It ripped through her body and almost drove her to her knees. She reached toward the marble column for support, but her hand missed. A strong arm caught her around the waist before she could fall. In the next second, she found herself held firmly against a solid ch**t. I've got you. The quiet voice sounded near her ear. Struggling for breath, Roselyn lifted her head through blurred vision. Kevin. Without any effort, he steadied her and led her toward a velvet bench tucked away from the main corridor. Kevin asked, "That man... is he your husband?" Roselyn shut her eyes. At last, a tear slipped free. "Yes, and the woman beside him is my half-sister." Something changed in Kevin's expression. Anyone could tell he was angry. "He humiliated you for another woman." It doesn't matter anymore, Roselyn whispered. Kevin's gaze shifted to the arm she still kept pressed across her stomach. "You don't look well." It's just an ulcer. I'll be alright. The answer came naturally, but her uneven breathing exposed the lie. For a long moment, Kevin said nothing. He clearly didn't accept her explanation, yet he let it go. What I said before still stands. The edge in his voice softened. "Whenever you're ready to be honest with me, I'll listen." Footsteps suddenly echoed from around the corner. Moments later, Nina appeared, panic written across her face. "Roselyn! I've been looking everywhere for you! I saw Adrian and..." The rest of her sentence vanished when she noticed Kevin. With a brief nod, Kevin acknowledged her presence. Before leaving, he gave Roselyn one last look. "Take care of her," he said to Nina. Then he turned away and disappeared into the crowd without another word. Nina hurried over and took hold of Roselyn's hands. "Roselyn, your hands are freezing. What happened? And why was Kevin with you?" Drawing in a shaky breath, Roselyn tried to steady herself. "He helped me." Slowly, she rose from the bench. Her body still felt weak, but her thoughts had never been more certain. "Nina, please take me home. There's something I need to do first." ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &4&

As a substitute, she wanted to leave but was rejected. She thought her husband might start to have feelings for her, but as it turned out, he simply wanted to wait for his first love to return before getting rid of her. Faced with their intimacy, she taught the sc**bag and his mistress a good lesson and left without hesitation, focusing on her career. However, her unfaithful ex-husband actually began to pester her... ===== "We'll divorce on Monday. Aside from the compensation in the agreement, you may request anything else you need." Kristian Shaw, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, exuded an air of cold detachment. His voice firm and emotionless. His piercing gaze settled on the silent woman opposite him, his eyes inscrutable. "Why so sudden?" Freya Briggs asked, her voice quieter than usual. Kristian's answer was blunt. "Ashley is back." Freya knew exactly who Ashley was. After a brief pause, she replied, "Okay." Kristian hesitated, caught off guard by her immediate acceptance. Freya opened the divorce papers, her thoughts drifting to the past. Two years ago, they had met at a n**htclub. She had been weighed down by worries; he had been nursing a broken heart. A few drinks later, they found solace in each other's company, talking late into the night. There had been no impulsive o*e-n**ht st*nd--just a quiet parting afterward. Three days later, he had returned with his assistant to propose marriage. And she had agreed. After getting married, he had treated her well--tending to her needs, drying her hair with gentle hands, and solving her problems before she even voiced them. Their relationship had been perfect--until six months ago, when a single phone call changed everything. Overnight, he grew distant, his warmth replaced by icy indifference. That was when she learned the truth: Kristian had married her because she bore a faint resemblance to his lost love, Ashley Bradley. The memory made Freya press her lips together before she asked lightly, "You said I could ask for compensation, right?" "Yes," Kristian replied flatly. "Anything I want?" She lifted her gaze to him, her delicate face devoid of its usual brightness. For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in his ch*st. "Yes." He had already resolved to grant her reasonable demands. After all, she had been good to him all the time. Freya's voice was steady. "Then I want the most expensive car in your garage." "Fine," Kristian agreed. "A villa in the suburbs," she added. "Done," he said. Freya smiled. "And a share of the money you've earned in the last two years." For the first time, Kristian's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if questioning whether he'd heard correctly. "What did you say?" Freya, unfazed, repeated her demand. "Our earnings during the marriage count as marital property, don't they? Based on my calculations--excluding investments--your salary and dividends over the last two years amount to several billion. I don't want much--just 40%." A heavy silence settled between them. Then, she added, as if casually mentioning the weather, "Of course, you're welcome to take 40% of my income too." Kristian's patience finally snapped. "Freya!" His voice carried an edge of disbelief. Had he really felt guilty earlier? How had he never noticed her greed? Freya met his gaze evenly. "Is that not acceptable?" Absolutely not. Kristian dismissed the idea instantly. "Then forget it." Freya set down her pen. "Next time I see your family, I'll bring up your emotional infidelity. I'm sure they'll take my side." Kristian's expression darkened, his stare turning glacial. He hadn't anticipated this side of her--realizing now that her past docility had been an act. "Do you really want to negotiate with me like this?" he demanded. "Yes." Freya held his gaze without flinching. She knew he despised threats--but she despised infidelity more. "Fine." Kristian's eyes turned stormy, his voice glacial. "You'll get what you want. But if the divorce hits complications, you'll regret it." Freya leaned back in her chair, her tone razor-sharp. "Kristian Shaw, is that a threat?" This version of her was foreign to Kristian. For two years, she'd been the picture of compliance--gentle, accommodating, never defiant. Now, she met his anger with unshakable calm. "No." Already calculating countermeasures, he bit out, "You'll have the assets. We divorce on Monday." Freya's lashes lowered briefly before she added, "One more condition." "Speak." His patience frayed. "Take me shopping tomorrow." She ignored the frost radiating from him. "Afterward, we'll tell your family together that I ended things." "Deal," Kristian conceded. With that, he strode toward the door, unable to stomach another second in her presence. Earlier, he'd even considered granting her a grace period to process the divorce. How laughable. She couldn't wait to carve up his fortune and be rid of him. Had Freya been able to read his thoughts, she might have laughed and said, "That little money? Do you really think I care?" Kristian reached the door and halted. Without turning around, he said, "I won't be back tonight. I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. Make a list of the stores you want to visit." Freya's voice followed him, calm but laced with something sharp. "Are you going to see Ashley Bradley?" Kristian's jaw tightened. "That's none of your business." Freya let out a quiet breath, as if she had already expected that answer. "I don't tolerate cheating," she said plainly. "So before the divorce is finalized, you'd better not end up in b*d with her." Kristian whirled back, looming over her. Freya didn't blink. "What? Can't endure two more days?" "I understand your bitterness," he said, eerily composed, "but lashing out won't help. This is a divorce, not war." Freya blinked at him. For a moment, she was at a loss for words. This man was truly shameless. Kristian didn't wait for a response. "Good night." And with that, he turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him. Freya's gaze drifted down to the divorce papers still lying on the table. She stood there for a long time, unmoving. To say she felt nothing would have been a lie. She wasn't made of stone. The moment she discovered she was nothing more than a stand-in, the hurt had settled deep in her bones. Kristian had been her first love. In twenty-four years, no one else had breached her defenses. Before the betrayal, he'd been perfection itself--attentive, steady, silencing every doubt with his quiet devotion. So when she learned of Ashley, she'd offered to leave. To free him. But he'd refused. Chapter 2 Kristian Was Pure S**mbag The reason behind Kristian's refusal was simple. Before Ashley returned, he needed someone to manage his elders at home--and Freya, adored by his parents and grandpa, was the obvious choice. But sometimes, Freya couldn't help but wonder--did he really think she was a f*ol? Otherwise, why would he assume she'd play along in hiding his a**air? Now, with his sudden demand for divorce, frustration simmered inside her. Even after six months of steeling herself, a stubborn flicker of emotion remained. She let out a slow breath, crossed to the sofa, and grabbed her phone. She tapped the contact labeled "Fred"--untouched for two years--and typed, "Check if Shaw Group's facing any issues. And find out if Kristian's terminally ill." Fred's replies exploded onto the screen instantly. "Holy--Freya?!" "Never thought I'd hear from you again!" "Two years, Freya. TWO." "Where've you been?!" She didn't bother explaining. Mood sour, she fired back a single word, "Check." Fred caved. "On it!" She tossed the phone aside and waited. If Kristian was divorcing her to spare her some tragedy, she'd forgive him--maybe even help. But if he was just an unfaithful j**k? She'd drop him without a second thought. Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with Fred's verdict. "Zero troubles. No illness, no crisis. Why the h*ll are you asking? Kristian's loaded, hot, and sharp--you two are a match. Don't you like pretty boys? Give it a shot!" She ignored the jab and shot back, "You are so blind." Then she silenced her phone. No external factors meant only one thing--Kristian was pure s*um. Fred stared at his screen, baffled. Did Freya wake up in a mood today? Freya's gaze landed on the divorce papers. After a pause, she snatched a pen, scrawled her name, and shoved them into a drawer. Then she headed for the shower. When she emerged, her phone was a disaster--dozens of unread messages and 32 missed calls. No guessing needed. Frederick Price--aka Fred--had clearly blabbed about her resurrection to the entire world. Towel draped over her damp hair, she reached for her phone--only for it to ring again. The caller ID flashed; it was her father. Her ch*st tightened. Two years of silence, and now he called? She'd left Alerith City due to a situation involving her mother, and neither had she reached out to her father nor had he contacted her--until now. After a pause, she answered coolly. "Hello." Silence. Freya, never one for patience, was about to hang up when Hugh Briggs' raspy voice cut through. "Mina." That name clawed at buried memories. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. Hugh hesitated, guilt threading his words. "Frederick told me you reached out. Said you were digging into Kristian. Need help?" "No." Freya had no interest in his involvement. A beat passed before Hugh ventured, "What's your relationship with him?" "A couple." She let the word hang. "About to divorce." Hugh's breath hitched. She was married? "You--" he started. "If that's all, I'm done." Freya didn't want to waste any more breath on him. "Wait!" he rushed. She held her tongue. The line crackled with tension. Finally, he muttered, "When are you coming back? That woman's gone." Then, hastily, he added, "Your mom's belongings are untouched." Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a flicker, emotion crossed her face--then vanished. "Noted." She hung up before he could protest. Hugh stared at the dead line, frustration curdling in his ch*st. He hadn't even asked about her marriage. Freya didn't spare him another thought. She flicked her phone to airplane mode, towel-dried her hair, and collapsed into b*d. The night passed without dreams. By eight the next morning, she was up--dressed and breakfasted. Today, she'd taken care with her makeup. Her skin glowed; her lips, naturally full, needed no enhancement. But her eyes--sharp, luminous--were the real weapon. Her smile was bright, bringing a warmth that could instantly lift anyone's spirits. When Kristian arrived, she was already waiting on the sofa. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back, bangs swept up under a black beret. At the sight of him, she rose gracefully, reaching for a coat and draping it over her shoulder. "Let's go." She grabbed her purse, her tone composed and unbothered. Kristian didn't move. His tailored suit emphasized his height as he said, "Not today." Freya stilled. "I have other commitments." His voice was indifferent. His gaze lingered--too long--on her face. "Tomorrow." "Kristian Shaw." Her tone was a warning. He disliked it instantly. "I put on makeup today," she said, her voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "If you want our divorce to go smoothly on Monday, push aside whatever plans you have. I don't deal with people who break their promises." Kristian's eyes narrowed. After a silent calculation, he stepped out to make a call. Fragments floated back--Ashley... hospital... follow-up. Freya's grip on her purse turned white-knuckled. Inside, she seethed. Even now, Ashley occupied his thoughts completely. Kristian missed Freya's fury. All he saw was how she shone today--vibrant, untamed. Nothing like the subdued woman he knew. After hanging up, he inquired where she wanted to shop. Freya mentioned the largest luxury mall in town. This wasn't shopping. This was a spree. By 10 AM, the four bodyguards trailed behind her like pack mules--arms stacked with watches, jewels, designer bags. Kristian's phone chimed nonstop with alerts. As Freya strode into yet another jewelry boutique, his jaw hardened. This wasn't retail therapy; she was intentionally trying to irritate him. Chapter 3 Why Hurt Ashley? Gerard Todd, Kristian's ever-dutiful assistant, hesitated for a moment before asking, "Sir, should I go ahead and book a restaurant?" Kristian massaged his temples, irritation flashing across his face. "No need." He knew Freya was venting her frustration. If splurging eased her temper, so be it--he'd let her spend freely. The moment the words left his mouth, his phone vibrated. Another alert flashed--over thirty million had just vanished from his account. Gerard averted his eyes, while the four bodyguards stood stiffly, arms laden with shopping bags like silent, overburdened mules. Freya strode out of the jewelry boutique and casually handed her latest purchase to Gerard, whose hands were conspicuously empty. Just as she turned to continue her spree, Kristian's phone rang. His posture shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders eased, his frown softening as he glanced at the caller ID. Long fingers cradled the phone, his voice uncharacteristically tender as he answered. "Hello, Ashley." Gerard and the bodyguards exchanged startled glances. Had their boss forgotten Freya was standing right there? "Ashley was in a car accident on her way to a hospital follow-up. She's unconscious--still in surgery," the voice on the line blurted, frantic. "Please come. She kept calling your name before they took her in." "Send the address. I'm on my way." Kristian's ch*st constricted, the words sharp with urgency. He ended the call, his gaze flickering to Freya. An explanation hovered on his lips, but he swallowed it. Instead, he turned to Gerard and the bodyguards. "Stay with her. Buy whatever she wants. If it doesn't fit in the car, have it delivered by this afternoon." "Yes, sir," the five men chorused. Without another word, Kristian strode off, leaving Freya and the others in his wake. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Gerard adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, forcing a polished smile. "Mrs. Shaw, don't worry. Mr. Shaw will return once he handles matters." "What a loyal employee," Freya murmured, her tone laced with something unreadable. Gerard blinked, thrown by her response. Freya studied the mall's glittering chandeliers, her voice deliberate. "Being his assistant is one thing. But cleaning up his messes? Tell me, Gerard--have you ever seen a man ditch his wife mid-date to run to his mi**ress?" The bodyguards stiffened; Gerard's smile froze. For a heartbeat, all five men stared at her with something dangerously close to pity. This might be the price of marrying into wealth--knowing her husband had left her for another woman while she was expected to swallow the insult. "Save the sympathy." Freya scoffed, amused by their expressions. She gestured to the bags weighing them down. "A single one of those could cover your salary for a year. Maybe ten." The blow landed perfectly. She pressed, "Well, anything you'd like?" Five pairs of eyes widened in unison. Freya's mind worked in ways they couldn't follow. "Since he's off playing hero for his darling, let's put his money to better use." She twirled the black card between her fingers, her voice quieter now. The sting surprised her. She hadn't realized Kristian's departure would still claw at her. Right now, all she wanted was to drain his account dry. Gerard and the bodyguards gaped. Delighted by their shock, Freya resumed shopping, the card clutched like a weapon. She assumed Kristian would linger at the hospital all day. But as she sat down to eat, he appeared like a storm, his presence slicing through the restaurant's warmth. Before anyone could react, he seized Freya's wrist and hauled her toward the parking area, his grip ironclad. Her back slammed against the car door, pain radiating through her. She winced. What the hell was his problem? His accusation came like a whip crack, "Why hurt Ashley?" Kristian trembled with suppressed rage. "You hired that hit-and-run driver, didn't you? I gave you everything you wanted, the house, the car, the money. What more do you want? Why did you still hurt her?" He looked like vengeance personified, his eyes glacial. "When did I--" Freya's confusion was genuine. "Still lying?" His voice could've frosted glass. "You planned this. Picked today so I'd be distracted while your hired man ran her down. You know I'd die before letting her suffer." His voice was Arctic frost, the kind that seeped into bones and made spines stiffen. Freya's initial fury dissolved into something colder, sharper. His absurd accusation had an ironic effect--it drained her rage, leaving only icy clarity. She met his gaze, lips curling in derision. "How poetic. Turning betrayal into some grand romance." "Freya Briggs!" Kristian's control frayed, his shout raw with warning. "You're delusional." She didn't flinch, status be damned. "Think. Why would I trash my fresh start--my freedom--over someone like her?" "You know exactly why." His voice dropped lower, a bl**e pressed to her throat. A realization flickered. "Ah. You think I'm still obsessed with you?" Kristian said nothing, but his clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes were answer enough. "Why should I still want you?" Freya laughed, the sound brittle. "After being treated as a stand-in? After your infidelity? After watching you fawn over another woman?" The words landed like sl*ps. Kristian stiffened. "I didn't cheat," he ground out. "You handed her your heart while wearing my ring." Her smile was lethal. "That's cheating." "Enough deflection," he snapped. "You're the one hallucinating conspiracies!" Silence. Kristian studied her, as if peeling back layers for the first time. The weight of his scrutiny was suffocating. Freya refused to wilt. "So she claimed I hired a man to k*ll her, and you just... believed her?" "Yes." His anger faltered under her unwavering stare, but the frost remained. "Ashley didn't lie. And she has proof." Freya's brows arched. Her fingers dug into her bag strap, knuckles whitening. "Perfect. Let's go to the hospital. Right now." Kristian blinked. Her immediate agreement threw him. Guilty people didn't invite confrontation. Doubt slithered in. Was the evidence fabricated? "Move." Her command shattered his thoughts. He released her wrist, disconcerted by her detachment. Something ugly twisted in his ch*st--annoyance? Guilt? Before he could name it, he yanked out his keys and wrenched the car door open. Chapter 4 Are You Threatening Me? Gerard stepped forward swiftly to take the keys, assuming the role of driver without hesitation. Freya yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, her gaze fixed straight ahead--ignoring Kristian entirely. A knot of dread tightened in Gerard's ch*st. What if Freya said something outrageous? The thought made his fingers clench around the wheel. After a weighted pause, he ventured, "Mrs. Shaw, you--" "Drive." Her reply was a bl**e, sharp and final. Gerard flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Kristian's expression gave nothing away. Swallowing hard, he pulled out of the parking area. Silence smothered the car like a thick fog. The tension was unbearable. Gerard's shoulders tensed, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. Neither Kristian nor Freya spoke. Both radiated a frost so deep it could've cracked the windows. Gerard knew Kristian's moods well--but Freya? She'd been almost cheerful earlier. What the hell happened? He bit back a sigh. Questions wouldn't help now. In the back seat, Kristian's gaze drifted unbidden to Freya's profile. Something unfamiliar twisted in his ch*st--an emotion he refused to name. Thirty minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance. Kristian seized Freya's wrist, dragging her toward the VIP ward. His grip was iron, unyielding. She winced, her voice dripping with mockery. "At this rate, I won't be the one charged--you'll be arrested for assault first." He dropped her arm like it burned him. Angry red marks circled her skin. Freya shot him a look so scathing it could've melted steel. Guilt flickered in Kristian's ch*st--brief, unwelcome. It vanished the moment Ashley's bruised face flashed in his mind. "Follow me," he muttered, turning on his heel. He didn't wait to see if Freya obeyed. The door swung open. Ashley lay propped up in b*d, her face lighting up at the sight of Kristian. "Kristian," she breathed, voice sweet with devotion. He was at her side in an instant, fingers brushing hers in silent reassurance. Freya strode in, took one look at them, and smirked. "Should I leave? Give you two some privacy?" "Freya. Enough." Kristian's voice was winter itself. He didn't look at Freya, his hand still resting on Ashley's back. "You're here to apologize." Freya closed the distance to the b*d, studying Ashley properly for the first time--soft features, delicate frame, eyes wide with practiced innocence. Ah. Now she understood. This was the woman Kristian loved. "Miss Bradley." Freya laced her fingers together. "My darling tells me you've accused me of hiring your attacker--with evidence." She stressed the word, gaze locked on Kristian. "Care to share?" "Kristian..." Ashley's fingers tightened around his, her lower lip trembling... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

Letting my sister’s 18-year-old best friend live in my house was the biggest mistake of my life. I promised to protect her. But this morning, she stood in my kitchen wearing nothing but my oversized shirt. The collar slipped, exposing her bare shoulder and long legs. My body reacted instantly. She’s too young and completely off-limits. But watching her walk away, I threw my promise in the trash, grabbed her waist, and... ---------- Chapter 1: Rock Bottom The email came at 9:47 AM. *Subject: Termination of Employment - Effective Immediately* Leighton Hayes stared at her phone screen, reading the words three times before they actually sank in. Fired. They were letting her go. Budget cuts, the email said. Last hired, first fired. She'd only been at the startup for eight months. Her hands shook as she shoved her few personal items into her bag. A coffee mug Chloe had given her. The succulent plant was already half dead. Her backup phone charger. The other designers wouldn't even look at her as security walked her out. Twenty-three years old and unemployed. Great. She sat in her car in the parking lot for ten minutes, just breathing. Trying not to cry. Failing. Her phone buzzed. A text from her landlord. *The rent is 5 days late. Please make the payment by 5 PM today, or I will have to start the eviction process.* Leighton let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. Of course. Of course, this was happening on the same day. She checked her bank account. $847.32. Rent was $1,200. Even if she paid everything she had, she'd still be short. And she'd just lost her income. Her finger hovered over Chloe's contact for a full minute before she finally pressed call. "Leigh! I was just thinking about you. Want to grab lunch?" The sound of her best friend's cheerful voice made something crack open in Leighton's chest. "I got fired," she said, and then the tears came for real. "What? Those assholes! Leigh, oh my god. Where are you?" "In the parking lot. And my landlord just texted. I'm being evicted." "Today? Everything's happening today?" "Apparently the universe thinks I can handle it." Leighton wiped her face with the back of her hand. Her mascara was definitely everywhere. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called and dumped this on you." "Don't be stupid. I'm coming to get you. Where are you?" "Chloe, you're at work." "And? This is an emergency. Send me your location." Forty minutes later, Leighton was sitting in Chloe's car, clutching a coffee she couldn't afford but Chloe had insisted on buying anyway. "You're moving in with me," Chloe announced. "I can't ask you to do that." "You're not asking. I'm telling you." Chloe turned to face her, dark eyes serious. "You're my best friend. You've been my best friend since we were eight years old. You really think I'm going to let you be homeless?" "I'll figure something out. I just need a few days to..." "To what? Sleep in your car? Leigh, be real." Chloe grabbed her hand. "You're coming home with me. End of discussion." "But your place is tiny. Where would I even sleep?" Chloe bit her lip, a tell-tale sign she was about to say something Leighton wouldn't like. "Okay, so technically, I don't live in my apartment anymore." "What?" "I moved in with Noah two months ago." Leighton's stomach dropped. "Noah. Your brother Noah." "Do I have another brother I don't know about?" Noah Knight. Even thinking his name made her feel like she was sixteen again, watching him from across the room at Chloe's birthday party, too nervous to say more than two words to him. She'd had a crush on him since she was eight years old. The first time Chloe brought her home for a playdate, eleven-year-old Noah had helped her reach a glass from the top shelf. He'd smiled at her, and she'd been done for. Fifteen years later, and she still got butterflies thinking about him. Which was pathetic. He probably didn't even remember her. "I can't live with your brother." "Why not? The place is huge. Like, stupid huge. He won't even notice you're there." Chloe started the car. "He's barely home anyway. Always working or traveling or whatever billionaires do." "Chloe..." "Two weeks. Just give me two weeks to help you find a job and get back on your feet. Please?" Leighton closed her eyes. She had $847 to her name. No job. No apartment. Pride was a luxury she couldn't afford right now. "Two weeks," she agreed quietly. "Yes! Okay, we need to get your stuff from your apartment before your psycho landlord throws it all out." It took less than an hour to pack up Leighton's entire life. One suitcase of clothes. A box of art supplies. Her laptop. That was it. Everything she owned fit in Chloe's trunk with room to spare. "Travel light, live free," Chloe said cheerfully, but Leighton could see the pity in her eyes. The drive to Noah's house took thirty minutes, moving from the city into an area where the houses got bigger and farther apart. When Chloe finally turned through an iron gate, Leighton's mouth fell open. "This isn't a house. This is a compound." "I told you it was big." Big didn't cover it. The mansion was all modern lines and huge windows, surrounded by perfectly landscaped gardens. There was a fountain. An actual fountain in the driveway. "Chloe, I can't stay here." "Too late. We're already here." Chloe parked and popped the trunk. "Come on. I'll give you the tour." Leighton grabbed her suitcase with shaking hands. This was a mistake. A huge mistake. But what choice did she have? The inside was even more intimidating than the outside. Everything was white, chrome, and appeared very expensive. The kind of place where you were afraid to touch anything in case you broke it. "Noah?" Chloe called out. "You home?" Please say no, Leighton thought. Please don't be home. Footsteps on the stairs. And then there he was. Noah Knight looked exactly like she remembered, except somehow more. Taller. Broader. Those same dark eyes, sharp jawline, the kind of face that made you forget how to form sentences. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans, barefoot, his dark hair tousled as if he had been running his hands through it. He looked at Chloe first, then his gaze moved to Leighton. She waited for recognition. A smile. Something. His eyes passed over her like she was part of the furniture. "Who's this?" he asked Chloe. Something twisted in Leighton's chest. She'd known he probably wouldn't remember her. She'd been nobody. Just his little sister's friend. But it still hurt. "This is Leighton. My best friend? She's been over like a thousand times growing up?" "Right." Noah's expression didn't change. Still blank. Still uninterested. "And she's here because...?" "She's moving in for a bit. Just temporarily." "Excuse me?" The temperature in the room dropped about twenty degrees. "You're doing what?" "She lost her job and her apartment today. She needs a place to crash." Chloe's voice had that stubborn edge that Leighton knew well. "We have like fifteen guest rooms. She can take one." "Did it occur to you to ask me first?" "It's my house too." "That you live rent-free." Noah crossed his arms. "You can't just move people in without discussing it with me." Leighton wanted to disappear. To melt into the expensive floor and never exist again. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. Both of them looked at her like they'd forgotten she could speak. "Chloe, this was a bad idea. Can you just take me to a motel or something?" "No," Chloe said firmly. "Yes," Noah said at the same time. They glared at each other. Leighton had seen them do this a hundred times growing up. Knight sibling standoffs that could last for hours. "Two weeks," Chloe said. "That's all I'm asking. Two weeks for her to get back on her feet. Then she'll be gone." Noah's jaw clenched. He looked at Leighton again, really looked at her this time. She probably looked like a mess. Mascara-stained face. Wrinkled clothes. Holding a suitcase like a shield. "Two weeks," he said finally. "Maximum. And she stays out of my way." "Thank you," Leighton said, even though everything in her screamed to run. He didn't respond. Just turned and walked back up the stairs without another word. "Well," Chloe said brightly. "That went better than expected." "He hates me." "He doesn't hate you. He's just... Noah. He'll warm up." Chloe grabbed her suitcase. "Come on. Let me show you to your room." The guest room was bigger than Leighton's entire apartment had been. King-size bed. Private bathroom. A view of the gardens. It was beautiful. And it made her want to cry all over again. "I'm going to fix this," Chloe promised. "Two weeks from now, you'll have a new job and a new place, and this will all just be a bad memory." After Chloe left, Leighton sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. This morning she'd woken up with a job and an apartment. Now she had neither. Now she was living in Noah Knight's house. The boy she'd loved from a distance for fifteen years. The man who didn't even remember her name. Her phone buzzed. A notification from LinkedIn. Someone had viewed her profile. She opened it and started updating her resume. Two weeks. She could do this. She'd stay invisible. Stay out of Noah's way. Find a new job. Get out. She could definitely do this. Probably. Her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn't eaten since breakfast. She should probably find the kitchen. But that meant risking running into Noah again. Seeing that cold, blank expression when he looked at her. Later, she decided. She'd explore later. When she was sure he wasn't around. Leighton lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Day one in Noah Knight's house. This was going to be the longest two weeks of her life. Chapter 2: The Ice King Leighton spent the next morning hiding in her room like a coward. She updated her resume. Applied to twelve jobs. Scrolled through apartment listings she couldn't afford. Anything to avoid going downstairs and risking another encounter with Noah. Her phone rang just after noon. Chloe. "Hey, want to grab lunch? I'm off early today." "Sure. Where should I meet you?" "I'm literally downstairs. Come down." Right. Because Chloe lived here too. Leighton had almost forgotten in her panic to avoid Noah. She changed out of her pajamas into jeans and a sweater, then made her way downstairs. This time in daylight, the house was even more impressive. And intimidating. Huge windows let in natural light that made everything gleam. The art on the walls probably cost more than she'd make in a year. She found Chloe in the kitchen, rifling through the fridge. "Finally! I'm starving. Want to go to that Thai place you love?" "I can't really afford to eat out right now." "My treat. Don't argue." Chloe grabbed her purse. "Come on." They were halfway to the door when Noah appeared at the top of the stairs. He was on his phone, talking in a clipped tone about quarterly reports and market projections. He wore a suit today, all sharp lines and expensive fabric. He glanced down at them. His eyes passed over Leighton without a flicker of recognition. Again. "We're going out," Chloe called up. "Want anything?" He shook his head, already walking away, still talking into his phone. "See?" Chloe said once they were in her car. "He's barely aware you exist. This is going to be fine." Leighton forced a smile. "Yeah. Fine." Lunch helped. Chloe always knew how to make her laugh, and for an hour, she almost forgot about the disaster her life had become. Almost forgot about living in a mansion with a man who looked at her like she was invisible. When they got back, Chloe had to run to a meeting. "I'll be back around seven. We can watch a movie or something." She squeezed Leighton's hand. "It's going to work out. I promise." Leighton nodded and headed back to her room. But somewhere on the second floor, she took a wrong turn. The hallway looked the same as the one her room was in. Same carpet, same lights, same closed doors. But when she tried the door she thought was hers, it didn't open. She tried the handle again. Locked. Wait. Her door didn't lock from the outside. Did it? She stepped back and looked around. This wasn't the right hallway at all. Nothing looked familiar. "Great," she muttered. "Lost in a house. That's a new low." She backtracked, trying to retrace her steps. Took another turn. This hallway had different art on the walls. Still wrong. How did anyone navigate this place? She tried another direction. The hallway opened into a sitting area she didn't recognize. More wrong turns. A bathroom. A linen closet. Another locked door. Twenty minutes later, she was completely turned around. Nothing looked familiar. Every hallway seemed identical. She pulled out her phone to text Chloe, then remembered she was in her meeting. Leighton stared at her contacts. She could call someone. Except she didn't know anyone else here. Her only other option was... No. Absolutely not. She was not texting Noah Knight to ask for directions in his own house. She'd figure it out herself. Another wrong turn led her to a set of double doors. Maybe they led to a wing she recognized? She pushed one open carefully. It was an office. A massive office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens, a huge desk covered in monitors, and bookshelves lining the walls. And Noah, sitting at the desk, watching her. "I'm sorry," she said immediately. "I didn't mean to... I got lost." He leaned back in his chair. "Lost." "Your house is really big." "You've been here for less than twenty-four hours and you're already wandering into rooms you shouldn't be in." Her face burned. "I wasn't wandering. I was trying to find my room. All the hallways look the same." He stood up, and even from across the room, she could feel the weight of his irritation. He walked around the desk toward her, and she had to resist the urge to step back. Up close, he was even more overwhelming. Tall enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. Those dark eyes that were currently looking at her like she was the world's biggest inconvenience. "Which room did Chloe put you in?" "The one with the blue bedding? And the view of the gardens?" "East wing, third door on the right." "Okay. Thanks. I'll just..." She gestured vaguely behind her. "You're going the wrong way." Of course, she was. He moved past her into the hallway, and she had no choice but to follow. He walked quickly, taking turns without hesitation. She tried to memorize the route, but it was hopeless. Everything still looked identical to her. They passed a slightly open door. Through it, she glimpsed a huge bedroom. King-size bed, dark furniture, everything perfectly neat. His room, probably. "That's my room," he said without looking back, like he knew where her eyes had gone. "Don't go in there." "I wouldn't." "You got lost trying to find your own room. I'm not confident in your sense of direction." Was he making fun of her? She couldn't tell. His voice was flat, emotionless. He stopped at a door. "This one." It was her room. She recognized the blue bedding through the open door. "Thank you." He nodded once, already turning away. "Noah?" He stopped but didn't turn around. It was becoming a pattern with him. Never fully facing her. Always ready to leave. "I really am sorry. For being here. For being in the way. I know you didn't want me here." Now he did turn, his dark eyes meeting hers. "It's not personal." "It feels pretty personal." "I don't know you. You're Chloe's friend. That's all." The words shouldn't have stung. She barely knew him either. But they did. Because she'd spent fifteen years knowing exactly who he was. Watching him. Wanting him to look at her the way he was looking at her now. Except now that he was looking, there was nothing in his eyes but cold disinterest. "Two weeks," she said quietly. "Then I'll be gone and you can have your house back." Something flickered across his face. She couldn't read it. Then it was gone, and his expression was smooth again. "See that you do." He walked away, and this time she didn't call after him. She went into her room and closed the door, leaning against it. Her hands were shaking. From embarrassment, from anger, from something else she didn't want to name. This version of Noah was nothing like the one she'd built up in her head. That Noah had been kind. Warm. Someone who would smile at her and make her feel like she mattered. Real Noah was ice. Sharp edges and closed doors and eyes that looked through her instead of at her. She needed to let go of the fantasy. The childhood crush. All of it. He didn't want her here. He'd made that perfectly clear. Her phone buzzed. A text from Chloe. *Meeting ran late. Won't be back until 9. You okay?* *I'm fine. Got lost trying to find my room but I figured it out* *LOL this house is ridiculous. Noah gave me a map when I first moved in* *There's a MAP?* *I'll find it for you tomorrow. Hang in there* Leighton set her phone down and looked around the room. Beautiful. Perfect. Everything she'd never have on her own. And she'd never felt more out of place in her life. She pulled up her laptop and applied to more jobs. Anything to speed up her exit. Graphic designer positions. Junior art director roles. Even a few administrative jobs that had nothing to do with her degree. She didn't care. She just needed out. Two weeks felt like a lifetime. Later that night, her stomach growled. She'd skipped dinner, too anxious about navigating the house to risk going downstairs. But she couldn't hide in her room forever. It was past ten. Maybe Noah would be asleep. Or working in his office with the door closed. She crept downstairs, following the route he'd shown her earlier. Or what she thought was the route. Everything looked different in the dark. But she found the kitchen. Small victory. The fridge was still packed with food. She grabbed some leftover pasta from one of the containers and heated it up, eating quickly while standing at the counter. "You really like sneaking around at night." She jumped, nearly dropping her fork. Noah stood in the doorway. No shirt again. Just pajama pants riding low on his hips. Why did he keep doing this to her? "I'm not sneaking. I'm eating." "In the dark. In my kitchen." "I turned the light on." He moved into the room, and she tried very hard not to stare at his chest. In the muscles in his arms. At the tattoo she hadn't noticed before, black ink winding around his ribcage. "You should eat actual meals," he said. "Not just bread and leftovers." "I'm fine." "You're avoiding me." She set her fork down. "You told me to stay out of your way. That's what I'm doing." "By getting lost in my house and breaking into my office?" "I didn't break in. The door was open." "It was closed." "It was open a crack!" The corner of his mouth twitched. For a second, she thought he might smile. But then his expression went flat again. "Two weeks," he said. "Try to stay found until then." He left, taking all the oxygen in the room with him. Leighton dumped the rest of her pasta in the trash, her appetite gone. She trudged back upstairs, somehow finding her room on the first try. She climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Thirteen more days. She could do this. Probably. Chapter 3: Midnight Collision Day three, and Leighton still couldn't sleep. She'd applied to twenty-seven jobs. Had one phone screen scheduled for tomorrow. Spent most of her time in her room, venturing out only when she was certain Noah was locked in his office or gone entirely. The avoidance strategy was working. She'd barely seen him since the kitchen incident last night. But now it was 1 AM, and her stomach was staging a revolt. The protein bar she'd eaten for dinner wasn't cutting it. She pulled on her sleep shorts and a thin camisole, too tired to bother with the hoodie. The house was always warm anyway. Noah probably had some fancy heating system that cost more per month than her old rent. This time, she knew the way to the kitchen. Small victories. The house was dark and quiet. She padded down the stairs, her bare feet silent on the cool marble. She was getting used to the space now. Starting to memorize which hallways led where, which doors opened to what rooms. The kitchen light was on. She froze at the entrance. Noah sat at the kitchen island, laptop open in front of him, a glass of amber liquid next to his hand. He'd changed since earlier. No shirt, just gray sweatpants. His hair was messy, like he'd been running his hands through it. He looked up when she appeared. For a second, neither of them moved. His eyes traveled down from her face, taking in her pajamas. The thin straps of her camisole. Her bare legs. Then his jaw tightened, and his gaze snapped back to his laptop. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't know you were down here." "It's fine." She should leave. Go back upstairs. Eat the stale granola bar she'd stashed in her room. But she was so tired of hiding. And she was hungry. Really hungry. She moved into the kitchen, giving him a wide berth. She opened the fridge and studied its contents as if she were taking a test. "There's leftover lasagna," Noah said without looking up. "Second shelf." "Thanks." She found it and put some on a plate, then stuck it in the microwave. The hum of it filled the silence. She kept her back to him, hyperaware of how little she was wearing. The camisole had seemed fine in her room. Now she felt practically naked. The microwave beeped. She pulled out her plate, the smell making her mouth water. She grabbed a fork and turned to leave. "You can eat here." She looked at him. He was still focused on his laptop, his face lit by the blue glow of the screen. "I don't want to bother you." "You're already bothering me. Might as well commit." She couldn't tell if he was joking. His voice gave nothing away. Slowly, she walked to the island and sat on the stool across from him. Far enough that there was no chance of accidentally touching. Close enough that she could see what he was drinking. "Is that whiskey?" "Scotch. Macallan 25." She had no idea what that meant, but it sounded expensive. Everything in this house was expensive. She took a bite of lasagna. It was incredible. Homemade, with real mozzarella and herbs she couldn't name. Nothing like the frozen stuff she used to buy. "Did you make this?" "I have a chef who comes three times a week." Of course he did. "Must be nice." He glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. "Must be nice to have food?" "To have someone cook it for you. To live in a house with fifteen bedrooms. To not worry about rent or bills or getting evicted." His expression darkened. "You think I didn't work for this?" "I didn't mean..." "I started my company when I was twenty-four. Worked eighty-hour weeks for three years straight. Nearly went bankrupt twice. So yeah, now I have a chef. I earned it." "I wasn't attacking you." "Sounded like it." She set down her fork. "I'm sorry. You're right. That was rude." He studied her for a long moment, and she fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. Then he picked up his glass and took a drink. "Why graphic design?" he asked. The question surprised her. "What?" "Your degree. Chloe mentioned it. Why that?" "I like making things. Creating things that didn't exist before." She shrugged. "It's the only thing I've ever been good at." "You must be decent if you got hired out of college." "I was. Until they decided decent wasn't worth the salary." "Their loss." The words were casual, throwaway. But something in her chest warmed at them anyway. She took another bite of lasagna. He went back to his laptop, typing something, then frowning at the screen. "What are you working on?" she asked. "Contract negotiation. A company in Tokyo wants to license our software. They're being difficult about the terms." "At one in the morning?" "Tokyo is fourteen hours ahead. It's business hours there." She watched him work, fascinated despite herself. His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard. Every so often, he'd take a drink, his eyes never leaving the screen. This was Noah in his element. Focused. In control. Different from the cold, irritated version he'd been with her. "Can I ask you something?" she said. "You just did." "Can I ask you another something?" The corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Go ahead." "Do you remember me? From before. When I used to come over with Chloe." His hands stilled on the keyboard. He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time since she'd walked in. "Yes." "You acted like you didn't." "I know." "Why?" He was quiet for a moment. Then he closed his laptop and picked up his glass, swirling the scotch. "Because it was easier than acknowledging that Chloe's little friend grew up." Heat flooded her face. She didn't know what to say to that. Didn't know what it meant. He stood up, draining the rest of his scotch. "You should finish eating and get some sleep." "Okay," she said quietly. He moved to the sink with his glass. Leighton stood too, grabbing her plate. She turned toward the sink at the same time he turned back, and they collided. The plate slipped from her hands. She grabbed for it, overcorrected, and her elbow hit his glass instead. It shattered on the marble floor in an explosion of crystal and scotch. "Oh my god." She dropped to her knees immediately, reaching for the pieces. "I'm so sorry. I'm such a disaster. I'll pay for it. I'll..." "Don't touch it." She looked up at him. He was standing over her, his expression unreadable. "You'll cut yourself." He moved to the pantry and came back with a broom and dustpan. "Move back." "I can clean it. It's my fault." "Leighton. Move." She scrambled backward, pressing against the island. He swept up the glass efficiently, his movements quick and sure. When he was done, he dumped it in the trash, then grabbed paper towels and cleaned up the liquid. She stood there uselessly, her heart pounding. "I'm really sorry. That glass looked expensive." "It was." "How expensive?" "You don't want to know." She closed her eyes. Perfect. She'd destroyed something that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. "Send me the bill. I'll find a way to pay you back." "Forget it." "Noah..." "I said forget it." He threw away the paper towels and turned to face her. "It's just a glass." "A really expensive glass that I broke because I'm clumsy and stupid and..." "You're not stupid." "I can't even hold onto a plate without causing property damage." "It was an accident." "I keep saying that about a lot of things lately." She pressed her hands to her face. "I'm sorry. I should just go back to my room and stop breaking your stuff." She moved toward the door, but his voice stopped her. "Leighton." She turned. He was standing by the island, his hands braced on the counter, his dark eyes intense. "Stop apologizing for existing." "I'm not..." "You are. You've apologized about fifty times since you got here. For eating. For getting lost. For breathing. It's exhausting." Her throat tightened. "I'm taking up space in your house. The least I can do is..." "The least you can do is stop acting like you're not allowed to be human." He pushed off the counter. "You're Chloe's best friend. That means something to her. Which means you're not going anywhere for two weeks, whether I like it or not. So stop walking on eggshells." "Do you? Like it?" She blurted out, shocking herself. The question hung between them. She shouldn't have asked. It was too direct. Too honest. But she was tired of pretending. He moved closer, and her breath caught. He stopped a foot away, near enough that she could smell the scotch on his breath, see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. "I don't know yet," he said quietly. Then he walked past her out of the kitchen, leaving her standing there alone, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with breaking his glass. She touched her fingers to her lips. They were trembling. This was dangerous. The way he'd looked at her. The way her body had responded when he got close. The way she wanted him to come back. She was so screwed. She left her plate in the sink and went back to her room, but sleep was impossible. All she could see was the way his eyes had traced down her body. The almost-smile when she'd asked her question. The intensity in his voice when he'd told her to stop apologizing. *Chloe's little friend grew up.* What did that mean? Was he attracted to her? Annoyed by her? Both? She rolled over and grabbed her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Anything to stop thinking about Noah Knight standing shirtless in his kitchen, looking at her like maybe she wasn't invisible after all. Her alarm would go off in five hours. She needed sleep. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. And she wondered what would have happened if she hadn't dropped that glass. If they'd stood there, inches apart, for just a few seconds longer. Nothing good, probably. Noah Knight was off-limits for about a thousand reasons. She just needed to remember that. Chapter 4: Morning After Leighton's alarm went off at seven. She'd slept maybe three hours, total. Her phone interview was at nine. She needed coffee. Needed to pull herself together and sound competent and employable instead of like someone who'd spent half the night obsessing over her best friend's brother. She showered and changed into actual clothes. A blouse and jeans, since they couldn't see her bottom half on the video call anyway. Light makeup to hide the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. Professional. Put together. Definitely not thinking about Noah's eyes or his voice or the way he'd said *grew up*. She grabbed her laptop and crept downstairs. According to Chloe, Noah worked out every morning at six, then locked himself in his office until noon. Which meant the coast should be clear. The kitchen was empty. She made coffee, her hands still shaky from lack of sleep. The spot where the glass had shattered was spotless. Like it had never happened. She took her coffee and laptop to what Chloe had called the "morning room." Big windows, comfortable chairs, good lighting. Perfect for a video interview. She had an hour to prep. Review the company website, practice her answers, pretend her life wasn't a complete mess. At 8:45, her laptop pinged. The interview link was active. She took a deep breath and clicked join. The interview lasted thirty minutes. Standard questions about her experience, her design process, and why she wanted the job. She gave good answers. Smiled at the right times. Pretended she wasn't desperate. "We'll be in touch," the hiring manager said at the end. "Probably early next week." Translation: don't call us, we'll call you. Leighton closed her laptop and slumped in the chair. That had gone fine. Not great, not terrible. Fine. She needed more coffee. On her way back to the kitchen, she heard music. Something with a heavy beat coming from down the hall. She followed the sound to a door she hadn't noticed before, slightly open. Through the gap, she could see equipment. A treadmill. Weight racks. Punching bag. The gym. She should keep walking. Mind her own business. Get her coffee and go back to her room. Instead, she moved closer to the door. Noah was inside. She could see him through the opening, his back to her. He was on the weight bench, doing chest presses. No shirt, just shorts and sneakers. Sweat gleamed on his skin. His muscles flexed with each rep, controlled and precise. She knew she should look away. Knew she was being creepy, standing here watching him. But she couldn't move. He finished his set and sat up, reaching for a water bottle. His chest rose and fell with his breathing. There was a scar on his left shoulder, about three inches long. She wondered how he'd gotten it. Then he turned his head and looked directly at her. Their eyes locked. Leighton froze. Caught. Like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar. For a long moment, neither of them moved. The music pounded between them. She couldn't read his expression. Couldn't tell if he was angry or amused or something else entirely. Then he stood up and walked toward the door. She should run. Should apologize and leave and never speak of this again. But her feet wouldn't move. He pushed the door open wider. Up close, she could see the sweat on his skin, the way his chest still heaved slightly from exertion. He smelled like salt and something expensive. Cologne or body wash or just him. "Enjoying the show?" His voice was low. Dangerous. "I heard music. I was just..." "Watching me work out." Her face burned. "I wasn't... I mean, I was walking by and..." "And you stopped to stare." "I'm sorry." "You apologize a lot for someone who keeps doing things she shouldn't." "I know. I'll just..." She gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. "How'd your interview go?" The question threw her. "What?" "Your phone interview. This morning. How was it?" "How did you know about that?" "Chloe mentioned it yesterday." He took a drink of water, and she tried very hard not to watch his throat work as he swallowed. "So?" "It was fine. They said they'd call next week." "That's good." "Maybe. I don't know." She twisted her hands together. "I applied to like forty jobs. Only got one call back. The market is awful right now." "What kind of design do you do?" "Mostly branding. Logos, marketing materials. Some web design." He nodded slowly, like he was filing that information away. "You should eat breakfast. Low blood sugar makes interviews harder." "I had coffee." "Coffee isn't food." "It has calories." "Leighton." The way he said her name made her stomach flip. Like he was scolding her and testing how it sounded at the same time. "I'll eat something," she said. "Good." He stepped back into the gym. "And next time you want to watch me work out, you can just come in instead of lurking in the doorway." Before she could respond, he closed the door. She stood there for a full minute, her heart pounding. Had he just... was he flirting with her? Or making fun of her? She genuinely couldn't tell. She went to the kitchen and made toast she didn't want, eating it mechanically while staring at nothing. Her phone buzzed with a video call. Chloe. She answered, propping the phone against a fruit bowl. "Hey! How'd the interview go?" Chloe's face filled the screen, bright and cheerful. "Fine. I think." "That's great! See, I told you things would work out." Chloe shifted, and Leighton could see she was in a coffee shop. "How's everything there? Is Noah being decent?" Leighton thought about last night. The broken glass. His eyes on her pajamas. The way he'd told her to stop apologizing. "Yeah. He's been... fine." "Really? Because I know he can be kind of intense. If he's being an ass, you can tell me. I'll kick his ass for you." "No, seriously. It's fine. He's barely around." The lie tasted bitter. "I hardly see him." "Good. That's good." Chloe took a sip of her coffee. "I feel bad about just dumping you there and running to work every day. I should have taken time off." "Don't be ridiculous. You've done enough. More than enough." "You're my best friend. There's no such thing as enough." Chloe's expression softened. "I mean it, Leigh. If you need anything, or if Noah gives you any shit, just tell me." "I will. I promise." They talked for a few more minutes about nothing important. Chloe's work drama. The new restaurant she wanted to try. Normal things that made Leighton's chest ache with how much she missed her regular life. After they hung up, she sat in the empty kitchen and hated herself a little for lying. Chloe deserved the truth. But what would she even say? *Your brother looked at me in my pajamas and now I can't stop thinking about him? I watched him work out like a creep this morning.* Yeah. That would go over well. She cleaned up her breakfast mess and headed back upstairs. The gym door was closed now, the music silent. Noah was probably in the shower. She tried very hard not to picture that. Back in her room, she opened her laptop to apply to more jobs. But her email had a new message. From the company she'd interviewed with this morning. Her heart jumped. They'd said next week. It had only been an hour. She clicked it open. *Thank you for your time this morning. Unfortunately, we've decided to move forward with other candidates. We wish you the best in your job search.* She read it three times. Each time, the words felt sharper. Not even a full hour. They couldn't even wait a day to reject her. She closed the laptop and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. One week down. One week to go. And still no job prospects. No apartment leads. Nothing but a growing pile of rejections and a dangerous attraction to a completely off-limits man. Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. *Stop beating yourself up. One rejection isn't the end of the world. - N* She stared at the message. How did he even get her number? Chloe, probably. She typed back: *How did you know I got rejected?* *I didn't. But you had that look on your face after the interview. Like you were waiting for bad news.* *What looks?* *The same one you had when you showed up here with one suitcase.* She didn't know what to say to that. The fact that he'd noticed. That he'd been paying attention. Another text came through: *For what it's worth, they're idiots.* Despite everything, she smiled. *Thanks* She waited to see if he'd respond, but he didn't. She saved his number in her phone, staring at his name for longer than was probably healthy. This was bad. This whole situation was bad. But when her phone buzzed with another job listing Chloe had sent her, she felt just a little bit less alone. And that was the most dangerous thing of all. Chapter 5: House Rules Leighton spent the afternoon in her room, applying to more jobs and trying not to replay Noah's text message over and over in her head. *They're idiots.* Two words shouldn't matter this much. Around five, her stomach reminded her she'd only eaten toast all day. She ventured downstairs, hoping to grab something quick and escape back to her room before anyone noticed. The kitchen was occupied. Noah stood at the island, going through a stack of papers. He'd showered since this morning. His hair was still damp, pushed back from his face. He wore a black t-shirt and jeans, barefoot again. She was starting to think he never wore shoes in the house. He looked up when she entered. "Hey." "Hi." She moved toward the fridge, trying to act casual. Like this morning hadn't happened. Like she hadn't been caught watching him work out like some kind of stalker. "We need to talk." She froze, her hand on the fridge door. "About what?" "Ground rules." "Oh." She turned to face him. "Okay." He set down the papers and crossed his arms. "My office is off-limits. Always. Even if the door's open. Don't go in there unless I specifically invite you." "I already apologized for that." "I know. This is me making sure it doesn't happen again." His voice was firm. Professional. Like he was running a business meeting. "Second, the gym. Same rule. Don't come in while I'm working out." Her face heated. "I wasn't trying to..." "Third, my bedroom. That should be obvious, but I'm saying it anyway. Stay out." "Are you done?" The words came out sharper than she intended. His eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?" "Are you done treating me like a child who doesn't know how to respect boundaries?" "I'm establishing expectations." "You're making a list of all the ways I'm not allowed to exist in your space." She crossed her own arms, mirroring his stance. "I get it. You don't want me here. You've made that pretty clear. But I'm not eight years old anymore, Noah. You don't need to lecture me about not touching your stuff or wandering into rooms I shouldn't." Something flickered in his eyes. He pushed off the island and moved toward her, closing the distance between them. She held her ground, even though every instinct told her to step back. He stopped a foot away. Near enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze. "No," he said quietly. "You're not eight anymore." The way he said it made her breath catch. His eyes traveled down her face, lingering on her mouth, then lower. Taking in the curve of her neck. The way her t-shirt fit. How her jeans hugged her hips. When his gaze came back to hers, there was heat in it. Dark and dangerous. "That's the problem," he added. She couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. "What's the problem?" she managed. "You. Here. In my house." He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. "Chloe's best friend. Twenty-three years old. Completely off-limits." "I didn't ask to be here." "I know." "And I'm not trying to... I don't..." She struggled to find words. "I'm just trying to stay out of your way until I can leave." "That's another rule." His voice had an edge now. "Stop trying to be invisible. It's not working." "What do you want from me?" "I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. "That's the problem. I don't know what I want, and that's not something I'm used to." They stood there, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Leighton's skin felt too tight. Her mouth is too dry. She wanted to move closer and run away at the same time. "For what it's worth," she said quietly, "I don't know what I want either." His jaw clenched. "Yes, you do." "What's that supposed to mean?" "It means I see the way you look at me. Like I'm something you want but know you can't have." He leaned in slightly, and she caught the scent of his soap. "You've been looking at me like that since you were sixteen." Her face burned. "I wasn't..." "You were. At Chloe's birthday party. You wore a blue dress. You stood in the corner all night, watching me." She remembered that party. Remembered the dress. Remembered how she'd felt when Noah had walked in with some blonde model on his arm. Remembered spending the whole night wishing she was brave enough to talk to him. "I had a crush on you," she admitted. "So what? Half the girls in Chloe's school had crushes on you. It didn't mean anything." "Didn't it?" "No. I was a kid. Kids get crushes. They grow out of them." "Did you? Grow out of it?" The question hung between them. She should lie. Should tell him yes, of course, she was over it. That she didn't feel anything when he looked at her. That her heart didn't race when he got close. But she was tired of lying. "I don't know," she said. "Did you grow out of treating every woman like a temporary distraction?" His expression darkened. "That's not fair." "Neither is calling me out for how I look at you when you've been doing the same thing to me since I got here." "I haven't..." "You have. In the kitchen last night. In the gym this morning. Right now." She took a step closer, emboldened by her own anger. "So don't act like I'm the only one feeling something I shouldn't." His hand came up, catching her chin. Tilting her face up to his. "You're right. I have been looking. Want to know what I see?" She couldn't breathe. "What?" "Trouble. The kind I swore I was done with." His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, and she shivered. "The kind that makes me want to break every one of my own rules." "Then maybe you shouldn't make so many rules." For a second, she thought he might kiss her. His eyes dropped to her mouth. His hand tightened on her chin. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. Then he let go and stepped back, breaking the spell. "Two more rules," he said, his voice rough. "Stay out of trouble. And stay out of my head." "How am I supposed to do that?" "Figure it out." He grabbed his papers and walked out, leaving her standing alone in the kitchen, her whole body trembling. She touched her lips where his thumb had been. Her skin still tingled from his touch. This was bad. This was so much worse than a childhood crush. This was a real attraction. Real chemistry. The kind that could ruin everything. Her phone buzzed. Chloe. *Dinner tomorrow night? I'm bringing Thai food. Miss you!* Guilt crashed over her. Chloe. Her best friend. Who had specifically warned her years ago that Noah was off-limits. Who had saved her from being homeless? Who trusted her? She typed back quickly. *Miss you too. Can't wait.* She set the phone down and pressed her hands to her face. She needed to get it together. Needed to stop whatever this was before it went any further. But when she closed her eyes, all she could feel was his thumb on her lip. All she could hear was his voice saying *You're trouble*. And the worst part? She wanted to be. She wanted to be the kind of trouble that made Noah Knight break his own rules. She grabbed a protein bar from the pantry and headed back to her room. As she passed his office, she heard him inside. Talking on the phone. His voice was calm and controlled. Completely different from how he'd sounded in the kitchen. How many versions of himself did he have? The cold businessman who'd told her two weeks maximum. The gym rat who caught her watching. The man who texted her about rejections. The one who'd just touched her face like he wanted to do more. Which one was real? Maybe they all were. Maybe Noah Knight was just as complicated and messed up as she was. That should have been comforting. Instead, it just made her want him more. She locked her door and climbed into bed, even though it was barely six. Tomorrow Chloe would be here. Tomorrow she'd have to pretend everything was fine. That nothing had happened. That she and Noah were just two people sharing a house, nothing more. She could do that. She'd been pretending her whole life. What was one more lie? Chapter 6: The Shirt Incident Leighton woke up to her phone buzzing. A text from Chloe. *Emergency at work. Can't do dinner tonight. Rain check? I'm so sorry!* Disappointment settled in her chest, followed quickly by relief she didn't want to examine too closely. *No worries. We'll do it another time.* She set her phone down and stared at the ceiling. Another day in this house. Another day of avoiding Noah while simultaneously wanting to find him. This was getting ridiculous. She needed to do laundry. She'd been rewearing the same few outfits all week, and everything was starting to smell like desperation and bad decisions. The laundry room took twenty minutes to find. Of course it did. This house was designed to make her look stupid. She threw everything in. All her clothes, her sheets, towels. Might as well do it all at once. She added detergent and started the machine, then headed back upstairs in the tank top and shorts she'd slept in. An hour later, she went back down to move things to the dryer. The machine was still running. She stared at it. Checked the settings. Heavy wash cycle. Two hours total. Perfect. Just perfect. She trudged back upstairs. She could wait it out in her room. Except her room was freezing. The air conditioning had kicked into overdrive, and she was already shivering in her thin tank top. She needed something warm. A hoodie. A blanket. Anything. Her eyes landed on the door across the hall. Noah's room. Absolutely not. That was literally rule number three. Stay out of his bedroom. But he wasn't home. She'd heard him leave an hour ago, talking on the phone about meetings and contracts. He'd be gone for hours. He'd never know. Just in and out. Grab a sweatshirt or something. Put it back before he got home. She opened his door slowly, half expecting an alarm to go off. The room was immaculate. King-size bed with dark gray sheets, perfectly made. Modern furniture, all clean lines. The space smelled like him. That expensive cologne or body wash or whatever it was that made her brain go fuzzy. His closet was huge. Rows of suits, dress shirts, perfectly organized by color. She pushed past them to the casual section. Found a white button-down shirt that looked soft and worn. Perfect. She pulled it on over her tank top. It fell to mid-thigh, the sleeves hanging past her hands. She rolled them up and headed back to her room. Except her room was still freezing. The kitchen, she decided. She'd make tea. Wait down there until her clothes were done. She padded downstairs in Noah's shirt and her bare feet. The house was quiet. Peaceful, even. She could almost pretend it was hers. That she belonged here. She put the kettle on and rummaged through the tea selection. Someone had expensive taste. Everything was loose-leaf and imported and probably cost more than her old grocery budget. The front door opened. Her head snapped up. No. He wasn't supposed to be back yet. Footsteps in the hallway. Getting closer. Noah appeared in the kitchen doorway and stopped dead. His eyes traveled down her body. Slowly. Taking in the white shirt. Her bare legs. Her bare feet. His shirt, hanging off her shoulder where she'd apparently missed a button. "Hi," she said weakly. He didn't respond. Just stared at her, his jaw tight. "I can explain." "You're wearing my shirt." "My clothes are in the wash. Everything. I didn't have anything clean and I was cold, so I..." She trailed off. His expression hadn't changed. "I'm sorry. I know you said not to go in your room. I'll take it off right now." "Don't." The word came out rough. Almost harsh. She froze. "What?" "Don't take it off." He set his briefcase down by the door, his movements careful. Controlled. "Not here." "Oh." Her face burned. "Right. I'll just go upstairs and..." "How long until your clothes are done?" "An hour, maybe?" He nodded once. Then he moved into the kitchen, giving her a wide berth. Like he didn't trust himself to get too close. He went to the fridge and pulled out a water bottle. Drank half of it in one go. His hand gripped the bottle tight enough that his knuckles went white. The kettle whistled. Leighton jumped, then turned to grab it. She poured water over the tea bag, hyperaware of Noah behind her. Of the way his shirt shifted as she moved. Of how little she was wearing underneath it. "Why are you home early?" she asked, just to fill the silence. "Meeting got canceled." "Oh." More silence. She could feel his eyes on her back. Could practically feel the weight of his gaze. She turned around, holding her mug like a shield. He was leaning against the far counter, arms crossed. His eyes were dark. Intense. "Stop looking at me like that," she said. "Like what?" "Like you're thinking things you shouldn't be thinking." "I could say the same to you." "I'm not..." "You are." He pushed off the counter. "You've been looking at me like that since you got here. Like you want something from me." "I don't want anything from you." "Liar." The word hung between them. Challenge and accusation and something else she couldn't name. "Fine," she said. "Maybe I do. So what? Nothing's going to happen. You've made that clear." "Have I?" "You listed off your rules yesterday. Stay out of your space. Stay out of your head. Stay away from you." "I don't remember saying that last part." "It was implied." He moved closer. Not much. Just a step. But it felt like the distance between them had shrunk by miles. "You want to know what I was thinking?" he asked quietly. "No." "Liar," he said again. "You want to know. You're dying to know." She set down her mug before she dropped it. "Noah..." "I was thinking about how that's my favorite shirt. I've had it for five years. Worn it a hundred times." Another step closer. "And now I'm never going to be able to wear it again without thinking about this. About you in my kitchen, wearing nothing but my shirt, looking at me like you want me to break all my own rules." Her breath caught. "I'm not..." "Your clothes aren't in the wash." "What?" "You heard me." His eyes bore into hers. "You could have worn your tank top and shorts. Could have grabbed a blanket from the linen closet. Could have done a dozen other things. But you went into my room and took my shirt." "I was cold." "Bullshit. You wanted to see what I'd do if I found you wearing it." "That's not true." "Then why are you still standing here?" He took another step. Close enough now that she could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. "If you really didn't want this, you'd already be upstairs. But you're not moving. Because you want to know what happens next." "Nothing happens next." Her voice came out breathy. Unconvincing. "You're Chloe's brother. I'm her best friend. Nothing can happen." "I know." "So we should stop. Right now. Before we do something stupid." "I know," he said again. But neither of them moved. The air between them felt electric. Dangerous. Like one wrong move would make something explode. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Lingered there. She could see him fighting with himself. See the moment he decided to leave. He stepped back. Grabbed his briefcase. "Your clothes should be done soon. You should go check on them." "Noah..." "Go, Leighton." It wasn't a request. She went. She practically ran up the stairs, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. She could still feel his eyes on her. Could still hear the rough edge in his voice when he'd said *my favorite shirt*. She stopped outside his bedroom door. The shirt felt different now. Like it was touching her everywhere. Like he was touching her. She should take it off. Should put it back and pretend this never happened. Instead, she went to her room and sat on the bed, pulling the collar up to her face. It smelled like him. Like that expensive scent that made her head spin. She was in so much trouble. Her phone buzzed. Noah. *Keep the shirt.* She stared at the message. Typed back: *What?* *Keep it. I meant what I said. I can't wear it anymore without thinking about this. About you.* *Noah, we can't...* *I know. Trust me, I know. But I'm done pretending I don't notice you. Done pretending I don't want things I shouldn't want.* *What are we doing?* *I don't know. But I'm tired of lying about it.* She clutched the phone to her chest. This was a terrible idea. The worst idea. It would ruin everything with Chloe. Would blow up in both their faces. But god, she wanted it anyway. She wanted him anyway. *Me too,* she typed. Then, before she could overthink it: *I'm tired of pretending too.* His response came immediately. *Then stop.* Two words. Two words that felt like permission and warning all at once. She lay back on the bed, still wearing his shirt, and wondered how she'd gotten here. How she'd gone from fired and homeless to living in Noah Knight's house, texting him about things they shouldn't want. Her life was a mess. akinmutimi4 VIRBEY The Luna who was buried alive Exclusive contract 13/03/2026 But for the first time in weeks, she didn't want to be anywhere else.

As a substitute, she wanted to leave but was rejected. She thought her husband might start to have feelings for her, but as it turned out, he simply wanted to wait for his first love to return before getting rid of her. Faced with their intimacy, she taught the sc**bag and his mistress a good lesson and left without hesitation, focusing on her career. However, her unfaithful ex-husband actually began to pester her... ===== "We'll divorce on Monday. Aside from the compensation in the agreement, you may request anything else you need." Kristian Shaw, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, exuded an air of cold detachment. His voice firm and emotionless. His piercing gaze settled on the silent woman opposite him, his eyes inscrutable. "Why so sudden?" Freya Briggs asked, her voice quieter than usual. Kristian's answer was blunt. "Ashley is back." Freya knew exactly who Ashley was. After a brief pause, she replied, "Okay." Kristian hesitated, caught off guard by her immediate acceptance. Freya opened the divorce papers, her thoughts drifting to the past. Two years ago, they had met at a n**htclub. She had been weighed down by worries; he had been nursing a broken heart. A few drinks later, they found solace in each other's company, talking late into the night. There had been no impulsive o*e-n**ht st*nd--just a quiet parting afterward. Three days later, he had returned with his assistant to propose marriage. And she had agreed. After getting married, he had treated her well--tending to her needs, drying her hair with gentle hands, and solving her problems before she even voiced them. Their relationship had been perfect--until six months ago, when a single phone call changed everything. Overnight, he grew distant, his warmth replaced by icy indifference. That was when she learned the truth: Kristian had married her because she bore a faint resemblance to his lost love, Ashley Bradley. The memory made Freya press her lips together before she asked lightly, "You said I could ask for compensation, right?" "Yes," Kristian replied flatly. "Anything I want?" She lifted her gaze to him, her delicate face devoid of its usual brightness. For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in his ch*st. "Yes." He had already resolved to grant her reasonable demands. After all, she had been good to him all the time. Freya's voice was steady. "Then I want the most expensive car in your garage." "Fine," Kristian agreed. "A villa in the suburbs," she added. "Done," he said. Freya smiled. "And a share of the money you've earned in the last two years." For the first time, Kristian's composure cracked. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if questioning whether he'd heard correctly. "What did you say?" Freya, unfazed, repeated her demand. "Our earnings during the marriage count as marital property, don't they? Based on my calculations--excluding investments--your salary and dividends over the last two years amount to several billion. I don't want much--just 40%." A heavy silence settled between them. Then, she added, as if casually mentioning the weather, "Of course, you're welcome to take 40% of my income too." Kristian's patience finally snapped. "Freya!" His voice carried an edge of disbelief. Had he really felt guilty earlier? How had he never noticed her greed? Freya met his gaze evenly. "Is that not acceptable?" Absolutely not. Kristian dismissed the idea instantly. "Then forget it." Freya set down her pen. "Next time I see your family, I'll bring up your emotional infidelity. I'm sure they'll take my side." Kristian's expression darkened, his stare turning glacial. He hadn't anticipated this side of her--realizing now that her past docility had been an act. "Do you really want to negotiate with me like this?" he demanded. "Yes." Freya held his gaze without flinching. She knew he despised threats--but she despised infidelity more. "Fine." Kristian's eyes turned stormy, his voice glacial. "You'll get what you want. But if the divorce hits complications, you'll regret it." Freya leaned back in her chair, her tone razor-sharp. "Kristian Shaw, is that a threat?" This version of her was foreign to Kristian. For two years, she'd been the picture of compliance--gentle, accommodating, never defiant. Now, she met his anger with unshakable calm. "No." Already calculating countermeasures, he bit out, "You'll have the assets. We divorce on Monday." Freya's lashes lowered briefly before she added, "One more condition." "Speak." His patience frayed. "Take me shopping tomorrow." She ignored the frost radiating from him. "Afterward, we'll tell your family together that I ended things." "Deal," Kristian conceded. With that, he strode toward the door, unable to stomach another second in her presence. Earlier, he'd even considered granting her a grace period to process the divorce. How laughable. She couldn't wait to carve up his fortune and be rid of him. Had Freya been able to read his thoughts, she might have laughed and said, "That little money? Do you really think I care?" Kristian reached the door and halted. Without turning around, he said, "I won't be back tonight. I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning. Make a list of the stores you want to visit." Freya's voice followed him, calm but laced with something sharp. "Are you going to see Ashley Bradley?" Kristian's jaw tightened. "That's none of your business." Freya let out a quiet breath, as if she had already expected that answer. "I don't tolerate cheating," she said plainly. "So before the divorce is finalized, you'd better not end up in b*d with her." Kristian whirled back, looming over her. Freya didn't blink. "What? Can't endure two more days?" "I understand your bitterness," he said, eerily composed, "but lashing out won't help. This is a divorce, not war." Freya blinked at him. For a moment, she was at a loss for words. This man was truly shameless. Kristian didn't wait for a response. "Good night." And with that, he turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him. Freya's gaze drifted down to the divorce papers still lying on the table. She stood there for a long time, unmoving. To say she felt nothing would have been a lie. She wasn't made of stone. The moment she discovered she was nothing more than a stand-in, the hurt had settled deep in her bones. Kristian had been her first love. In twenty-four years, no one else had breached her defenses. Before the betrayal, he'd been perfection itself--attentive, steady, silencing every doubt with his quiet devotion. So when she learned of Ashley, she'd offered to leave. To free him. But he'd refused. Chapter 2 Kristian Was Pure S**mbag The reason behind Kristian's refusal was simple. Before Ashley returned, he needed someone to manage his elders at home--and Freya, adored by his parents and grandpa, was the obvious choice. But sometimes, Freya couldn't help but wonder--did he really think she was a f*ol? Otherwise, why would he assume she'd play along in hiding his a**air? Now, with his sudden demand for divorce, frustration simmered inside her. Even after six months of steeling herself, a stubborn flicker of emotion remained. She let out a slow breath, crossed to the sofa, and grabbed her phone. She tapped the contact labeled "Fred"--untouched for two years--and typed, "Check if Shaw Group's facing any issues. And find out if Kristian's terminally ill." Fred's replies exploded onto the screen instantly. "Holy--Freya?!" "Never thought I'd hear from you again!" "Two years, Freya. TWO." "Where've you been?!" She didn't bother explaining. Mood sour, she fired back a single word, "Check." Fred caved. "On it!" She tossed the phone aside and waited. If Kristian was divorcing her to spare her some tragedy, she'd forgive him--maybe even help. But if he was just an unfaithful j**k? She'd drop him without a second thought. Thirty minutes later, her phone buzzed with Fred's verdict. "Zero troubles. No illness, no crisis. Why the h*ll are you asking? Kristian's loaded, hot, and sharp--you two are a match. Don't you like pretty boys? Give it a shot!" She ignored the jab and shot back, "You are so blind." Then she silenced her phone. No external factors meant only one thing--Kristian was pure s*um. Fred stared at his screen, baffled. Did Freya wake up in a mood today? Freya's gaze landed on the divorce papers. After a pause, she snatched a pen, scrawled her name, and shoved them into a drawer. Then she headed for the shower. When she emerged, her phone was a disaster--dozens of unread messages and 32 missed calls. No guessing needed. Frederick Price--aka Fred--had clearly blabbed about her resurrection to the entire world. Towel draped over her damp hair, she reached for her phone--only for it to ring again. The caller ID flashed; it was her father. Her ch*st tightened. Two years of silence, and now he called? She'd left Alerith City due to a situation involving her mother, and neither had she reached out to her father nor had he contacted her--until now. After a pause, she answered coolly. "Hello." Silence. Freya, never one for patience, was about to hang up when Hugh Briggs' raspy voice cut through. "Mina." That name clawed at buried memories. "What do you want?" she asked flatly. Hugh hesitated, guilt threading his words. "Frederick told me you reached out. Said you were digging into Kristian. Need help?" "No." Freya had no interest in his involvement. A beat passed before Hugh ventured, "What's your relationship with him?" "A couple." She let the word hang. "About to divorce." Hugh's breath hitched. She was married? "You--" he started. "If that's all, I'm done." Freya didn't want to waste any more breath on him. "Wait!" he rushed. She held her tongue. The line crackled with tension. Finally, he muttered, "When are you coming back? That woman's gone." Then, hastily, he added, "Your mom's belongings are untouched." Her fingers tightened around the phone. For a flicker, emotion crossed her face--then vanished. "Noted." She hung up before he could protest. Hugh stared at the dead line, frustration curdling in his ch*st. He hadn't even asked about her marriage. Freya didn't spare him another thought. She flicked her phone to airplane mode, towel-dried her hair, and collapsed into b*d. The night passed without dreams. By eight the next morning, she was up--dressed and breakfasted. Today, she'd taken care with her makeup. Her skin glowed; her lips, naturally full, needed no enhancement. But her eyes--sharp, luminous--were the real weapon. Her smile was bright, bringing a warmth that could instantly lift anyone's spirits. When Kristian arrived, she was already waiting on the sofa. Her shoulder-length hair was pinned back, bangs swept up under a black beret. At the sight of him, she rose gracefully, reaching for a coat and draping it over her shoulder. "Let's go." She grabbed her purse, her tone composed and unbothered. Kristian didn't move. His tailored suit emphasized his height as he said, "Not today." Freya stilled. "I have other commitments." His voice was indifferent. His gaze lingered--too long--on her face. "Tomorrow." "Kristian Shaw." Her tone was a warning. He disliked it instantly. "I put on makeup today," she said, her voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "If you want our divorce to go smoothly on Monday, push aside whatever plans you have. I don't deal with people who break their promises." Kristian's eyes narrowed. After a silent calculation, he stepped out to make a call. Fragments floated back--Ashley... hospital... follow-up. Freya's grip on her purse turned white-knuckled. Inside, she seethed. Even now, Ashley occupied his thoughts completely. Kristian missed Freya's fury. All he saw was how she shone today--vibrant, untamed. Nothing like the subdued woman he knew. After hanging up, he inquired where she wanted to shop. Freya mentioned the largest luxury mall in town. This wasn't shopping. This was a spree. By 10 AM, the four bodyguards trailed behind her like pack mules--arms stacked with watches, jewels, designer bags. Kristian's phone chimed nonstop with alerts. As Freya strode into yet another jewelry boutique, his jaw hardened. This wasn't retail therapy; she was intentionally trying to irritate him. Chapter 3 Why Hurt Ashley? Gerard Todd, Kristian's ever-dutiful assistant, hesitated for a moment before asking, "Sir, should I go ahead and book a restaurant?" Kristian massaged his temples, irritation flashing across his face. "No need." He knew Freya was venting her frustration. If splurging eased her temper, so be it--he'd let her spend freely. The moment the words left his mouth, his phone vibrated. Another alert flashed--over thirty million had just vanished from his account. Gerard averted his eyes, while the four bodyguards stood stiffly, arms laden with shopping bags like silent, overburdened mules. Freya strode out of the jewelry boutique and casually handed her latest purchase to Gerard, whose hands were conspicuously empty. Just as she turned to continue her spree, Kristian's phone rang. His posture shifted instantly. The tension in his shoulders eased, his frown softening as he glanced at the caller ID. Long fingers cradled the phone, his voice uncharacteristically tender as he answered. "Hello, Ashley." Gerard and the bodyguards exchanged startled glances. Had their boss forgotten Freya was standing right there? "Ashley was in a car accident on her way to a hospital follow-up. She's unconscious--still in surgery," the voice on the line blurted, frantic. "Please come. She kept calling your name before they took her in." "Send the address. I'm on my way." Kristian's ch*st constricted, the words sharp with urgency. He ended the call, his gaze flickering to Freya. An explanation hovered on his lips, but he swallowed it. Instead, he turned to Gerard and the bodyguards. "Stay with her. Buy whatever she wants. If it doesn't fit in the car, have it delivered by this afternoon." "Yes, sir," the five men chorused. Without another word, Kristian strode off, leaving Freya and the others in his wake. An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Gerard adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, forcing a polished smile. "Mrs. Shaw, don't worry. Mr. Shaw will return once he handles matters." "What a loyal employee," Freya murmured, her tone laced with something unreadable. Gerard blinked, thrown by her response. Freya studied the mall's glittering chandeliers, her voice deliberate. "Being his assistant is one thing. But cleaning up his messes? Tell me, Gerard--have you ever seen a man ditch his wife mid-date to run to his mi**ress?" The bodyguards stiffened; Gerard's smile froze. For a heartbeat, all five men stared at her with something dangerously close to pity. This might be the price of marrying into wealth--knowing her husband had left her for another woman while she was expected to swallow the insult. "Save the sympathy." Freya scoffed, amused by their expressions. She gestured to the bags weighing them down. "A single one of those could cover your salary for a year. Maybe ten." The blow landed perfectly. She pressed, "Well, anything you'd like?" Five pairs of eyes widened in unison. Freya's mind worked in ways they couldn't follow. "Since he's off playing hero for his darling, let's put his money to better use." She twirled the black card between her fingers, her voice quieter now. The sting surprised her. She hadn't realized Kristian's departure would still claw at her. Right now, all she wanted was to drain his account dry. Gerard and the bodyguards gaped. Delighted by their shock, Freya resumed shopping, the card clutched like a weapon. She assumed Kristian would linger at the hospital all day. But as she sat down to eat, he appeared like a storm, his presence slicing through the restaurant's warmth. Before anyone could react, he seized Freya's wrist and hauled her toward the parking area, his grip ironclad. Her back slammed against the car door, pain radiating through her. She winced. What the hell was his problem? His accusation came like a whip crack, "Why hurt Ashley?" Kristian trembled with suppressed rage. "You hired that hit-and-run driver, didn't you? I gave you everything you wanted, the house, the car, the money. What more do you want? Why did you still hurt her?" He looked like vengeance personified, his eyes glacial. "When did I--" Freya's confusion was genuine. "Still lying?" His voice could've frosted glass. "You planned this. Picked today so I'd be distracted while your hired man ran her down. You know I'd die before letting her suffer." His voice was Arctic frost, the kind that seeped into bones and made spines stiffen. Freya's initial fury dissolved into something colder, sharper. His absurd accusation had an ironic effect--it drained her rage, leaving only icy clarity. She met his gaze, lips curling in derision. "How poetic. Turning betrayal into some grand romance." "Freya Briggs!" Kristian's control frayed, his shout raw with warning. "You're delusional." She didn't flinch, status be damned. "Think. Why would I trash my fresh start--my freedom--over someone like her?" "You know exactly why." His voice dropped lower, a bl**e pressed to her throat. A realization flickered. "Ah. You think I'm still obsessed with you?" Kristian said nothing, but his clenched jaw and the fire in his eyes were answer enough. "Why should I still want you?" Freya laughed, the sound brittle. "After being treated as a stand-in? After your infidelity? After watching you fawn over another woman?" The words landed like sl*ps. Kristian stiffened. "I didn't cheat," he ground out. "You handed her your heart while wearing my ring." Her smile was lethal. "That's cheating." "Enough deflection," he snapped. "You're the one hallucinating conspiracies!" Silence. Kristian studied her, as if peeling back layers for the first time. The weight of his scrutiny was suffocating. Freya refused to wilt. "So she claimed I hired a man to k*ll her, and you just... believed her?" "Yes." His anger faltered under her unwavering stare, but the frost remained. "Ashley didn't lie. And she has proof." Freya's brows arched. Her fingers dug into her bag strap, knuckles whitening. "Perfect. Let's go to the hospital. Right now." Kristian blinked. Her immediate agreement threw him. Guilty people didn't invite confrontation. Doubt slithered in. Was the evidence fabricated? "Move." Her command shattered his thoughts. He released her wrist, disconcerted by her detachment. Something ugly twisted in his ch*st--annoyance? Guilt? Before he could name it, he yanked out his keys and wrenched the car door open. Chapter 4 Are You Threatening Me? Gerard stepped forward swiftly to take the keys, assuming the role of driver without hesitation. Freya yanked the passenger door open and slid inside, her gaze fixed straight ahead--ignoring Kristian entirely. A knot of dread tightened in Gerard's ch*st. What if Freya said something outrageous? The thought made his fingers clench around the wheel. After a weighted pause, he ventured, "Mrs. Shaw, you--" "Drive." Her reply was a bl**e, sharp and final. Gerard flicked a glance at the rearview mirror. Kristian's expression gave nothing away. Swallowing hard, he pulled out of the parking area. Silence smothered the car like a thick fog. The tension was unbearable. Gerard's shoulders tensed, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. Neither Kristian nor Freya spoke. Both radiated a frost so deep it could've cracked the windows. Gerard knew Kristian's moods well--but Freya? She'd been almost cheerful earlier. What the hell happened? He bit back a sigh. Questions wouldn't help now. In the back seat, Kristian's gaze drifted unbidden to Freya's profile. Something unfamiliar twisted in his ch*st--an emotion he refused to name. Thirty minutes later, the car halted at the hospital entrance. Kristian seized Freya's wrist, dragging her toward the VIP ward. His grip was iron, unyielding. She winced, her voice dripping with mockery. "At this rate, I won't be the one charged--you'll be arrested for assault first." He dropped her arm like it burned him. Angry red marks circled her skin. Freya shot him a look so scathing it could've melted steel. Guilt flickered in Kristian's ch*st--brief, unwelcome. It vanished the moment Ashley's bruised face flashed in his mind. "Follow me," he muttered, turning on his heel. He didn't wait to see if Freya obeyed. The door swung open. Ashley lay propped up in b*d, her face lighting up at the sight of Kristian. "Kristian," she breathed, voice sweet with devotion. He was at her side in an instant, fingers brushing hers in silent reassurance. Freya strode in, took one look at them, and smirked. "Should I leave? Give you two some privacy?" "Freya. Enough." Kristian's voice was winter itself. He didn't look at Freya, his hand still resting on Ashley's back. "You're here to apologize." Freya closed the distance to the b*d, studying Ashley properly for the first time--soft features, delicate frame, eyes wide with practiced innocence. Ah. Now she understood. This was the woman Kristian loved. "Miss Bradley." Freya laced her fingers together. "My darling tells me you've accused me of hiring your attacker--with evidence." She stressed the word, gaze locked on Kristian. "Care to share?" "Kristian..." Ashley's fingers tightened around his, her lower lip trembling... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it. Chapter 1 When Adriano Morelli realized I hadn’t submitted a single household request in three days, he called me himself for the first time in months. “Serafina,” he said, his voice smooth and patient, “the clinic has been cleared. Your file is back on priority. See? When you stop making things difficult and learn how this family works, I make sure you’re taken care of.” He always sounded the gentlest when he was reminding me who held the power. What he didn’t know was that by the time his name lit up my screen, the divorce papers were already drafted. From the outside, I had everything a woman could want: a guarded penthouse, a driver on call, designer clothes, and the last name of one of the most feared men in the city. But almost none of it was mine. The cards were monitored. Cash had to be approved. Staff took Viviana Costa’s orders before they ever listened to me. Even the wardrobe budget, my schedule, and access to the family office all ran through her hands. Adriano called it convenience. Three days ago, I was rushed into a private clinic, blood soaking through my dress, while a doctor told me there was still a chance to save the baby if the emergency deposit was paid immediately. I called Adriano until my hands shook. Viviana stalled the transfer. First there was no direct authorization. Then the amount was too large. Then Adriano was in a meeting and could not be disturbed over something that might not be serious. By the time the money came through, it was too late. The baby was gone. I had stayed with Adriano for two reasons: I loved him, and I believed that when it truly mattered, he would choose me. I was wrong about both. Our child died first. My marriage died with it. ... When I walked out of Saint Mariel Women’s Center, the doctor’s words still rang in my ears. “We lost the last chance to keep the pregnancy. There’s no point coming back for this one.” By the time I arrived at Morelli Headquarters, Adriano was in his private office, signing a document Viviana Costa had just placed in front of him. When I told him I wanted a divorce, he didn’t even look up at first. He only let out a short laugh. “What is this now? Are you angry because I didn’t come home for dinner last night?” His tone turned faintly reproving. “Serafina, don’t say things like that. It’s childish.” “I’m not joking,” I said. “I want a divorce.” That finally made him lift his head. He rose and came toward me, calm, almost indulgent, as though I were simply being difficult again. When he reached for my hand, I stepped back before he could touch me. His hand lingered in the air for a moment; a frown flickered across his face, then disappeared. “I know you’re upset about the clinic,” he said. “But I stopped that because I didn’t want you jumping into every expensive procedure they suggested. Panic isn’t a plan.” He glanced at Viviana, who stood quietly by the desk, polished and composed, the picture of loyal efficiency. “She was following my instructions. How could you argue with her at the billing office in front of staff? I restored your access yesterday, so if this is about the money, it’s already resolved.” Before I could answer, he checked his watch. “I have people waiting on me. I run an entire organization, Serafina. I can’t keep wasting time on scenes like this.” “I’ll come by tonight. I’ll bring dessert from Belladonna. Be good and wait for me.” He was sure I would stay. Sure that a little tenderness would make me forgive everything. For three years, he had been right. Even when he left me standing in the rain because Viviana needed him somewhere else, all it took was one quiet line—She works for me. Don’t make this ugly—and I would swallow the hurt and pretend I understood. Now, dessert meant nothing. Whether he had reopened the transfer meant nothing. If Adriano had listened to me three days ago, I might still have been foolish enough to stay. That day, I had called him from the hospital corridor and begged him not to hang up before I finished speaking. But Viviana’s voice reached him first. “Boss, I think Mrs. Morelli misunderstood me. I only told the clinic the amount was too large to release without a full breakdown. If she truly needs it immediately, I can force it through, even if it breaks procedure. I’m only worried the finance board will start asking questions later. I was stricter because I thought she should learn how things are handled in this family.” That was enough for him. “Serafina,” Adriano had said, already impatient, “do you hear how considerate she’s being? Why can’t you learn from her instead of panicking every time something goes wrong? Do what Viviana says. Once the paperwork is complete, we’ll talk.” It was always the same whenever I needed anything. Talk to Viviana. Follow Viviana’s arrangements. Do whatever Viviana tells you. I was Adriano Morelli’s wife, yet I had less authority in that world than the woman who managed his schedule. Even for formal dinners, political fundraisers, and private family gatherings where I was expected to stand beside him, I had to request my dresses and jewelry through Viviana, and every time she found a reason to send me back empty-handed. The shade wasn’t Adriano’s preference. The necklace was too flashy. The request had come too late. The better pieces had already been allocated. So I would end up beside Adriano in something outdated or poorly fitted, while he leaned in close and murmured, almost gently, “Serafina, you represent me. Try not to embarrass the family.” As if the failure were mine. The truth was simpler: I could not even handle the smallest things because Adriano had placed everything in Viviana’s hands, then acted as though I was incompetent for depending on her. He knew the pregnancy had been unstable from the beginning. He knew the doctors had warned us that any delay could be dangerous. He knew I had been in and out of appointments for weeks. And still, when I needed him most, he gave me the same answer he always did: Go through Viviana. Chapter 2 Trying to get money through Viviana had been harder than getting past Adriano’s security. She looked over the clinic request, then set it aside. “Two hundred and eighty thousand for emergency fetal surgery?” she asked. “Do you understand what that is?” “I understand my baby still has a heartbeat,” I said. “They need the deposit now.” Viviana gave me the patient expression Adriano mistook for competence. “I’m not refusing you. I’m asking for the documents that justify moving that much from family reserves.” I told her the doctors were still stabilizing me and couldn’t finish the plan until I was in surgery. She nodded as if that proved her point. “Then you see the problem. No full plan, no itemized breakdown. If I force this through and the clinic exaggerated the risk, Adriano will answer for it.” When I said there wasn’t time, she lowered her voice. “I know you’re frightened. But being frightened doesn’t change procedure.” Then came the conditions: a written recommendation, a second doctor’s signature, a finance release form, confirmation from the family accountant. Every time I met one, she came up with another, all while reassuring Adriano she had everything under control. That was the cruelest part. He did care—but he had already decided I was panicking, that the doctors had frightened me, that I was making it worse. Viviana only had to feed that belief. By the time the money reached the hospital, the operating room no longer needed my answer. The child was already gone. I remember lying in recovery, one hand over my stomach, waiting to feel something sharp enough to break me. Instead, what came was silence. So when I saw the photo Viviana posted that night, I barely reacted. Her account was private, but Adriano’s circle all followed it. She was standing beside him at the shooting range, his hand over hers as he corrected her grip from behind. The caption was harmless. The image was not. I saved it and liked it. Adriano texted almost immediately. [What are you doing?] Before I could answer, another: [It was training. Don’t turn it into something it isn’t.] [Viviana told me what happened at the clinic. The doctor never said it was as final as you made it sound.] I stared until the words blurred. He cared. He still thought I was lying. Another: [You’re upset, I understand. But don’t do this online. Since you already liked it, leave it there. Removing it now will only make people talk. Say something gracious.] That was Adriano all over—concern wrapped around command, affection like a bandage over damage he wouldn’t face. So I did what he asked. Viviana is extraordinary,I typed. She manages the money, the schedule, the house, and apparently Adriano’s private training. At this point, she may as well take over the rest of my role too. I posted it, set my phone down, and went into the dressing room. Packing took almost no time. I had lived in Adriano’s penthouse for three years, but almost everything belonged to the Morelli family. The jewelry was logged, the gowns assigned, the safe codes not mine. Even the monthly cash was controlled by the office downstairs. In the end, the only things I could take without questions were a few clothes from before my marriage, my passport, and the folder of personal papers Adriano had never asked about. My phone began vibrating. Adriano. Then a voice note. I listened once. “Serafina.” His voice was tight, controlled. “Delete the comment. Then answer me.” A pause, then: “I’m trying to help you, but I can’t if you keep shutting me out.” I turned the phone off and dropped it into the suitcase. At last, the room was quiet. I stood in the middle of the bedroom and looked around. For years, I had called that place home. Now I saw it: a polished cage full of beautiful things that were never mine, a life arranged by other hands, a marriage where another woman approved what I could touch, spend, wear, and ask for. Only then did I understand how completely I had disappeared. Once I understood, leaving no longer felt impossible. It felt overdue. Chapter 3 Adriano came back fast. His gaze passed over the suitcase by the door without stopping. Then he came toward me, still in his evening coat, carrying the familiar scent of smoke and cologne, with the faint trace of Viviana’s perfume beneath both. “Serafina,” he said, lifting a hand toward my face. “Why did you turn your phone off?” I stepped away. “I wanted quiet.” His hand paused, then fell. A moment later he moved closer again and slid an arm around my shoulders as if this were still his to settle. “This is about the Instagram post, isn’t it?” I said nothing, and he took my silence for agreement. “Viviana works beside me every day,” he said, his voice calm and almost gentle. “She handles my schedule, the accounts, the political arrangements. Of course people see us together. That doesn’t mean what you’re making it mean.” “You already know how some of the old families talk about you. They think you don’t understand this life. Don’t hand them more gossip because you’re upset over something meaningless.” He kept going, explaining the world back to me in the shape he preferred. “What happened at the hospital was awful. I know you’re grieving. But humiliating Viviana in public won’t change any of it. She was in tears over that comment, and she was still trying to explain your side to me.” I looked at him then and realized, with a clarity that no longer hurt, that he believed every word of it. He believed the woman who delayed my surgery had spent the evening defending me. Most of all, he believed I had exaggerated the danger. “I give you a life where you never have to worry about anything,” he said, his expression tightening when I still did not speak. “If you keep treating Viviana like the enemy, I’m going to start thinking this has more to do with control than grief.” Then, softening his own accusation, he added, “You’ve been through a shock. Go rest. Let me handle the rest.” That was when I laughed. The sound was quiet, but it stopped him. I crossed the room, set the suitcase on the bed, and unzipped it. Inside were two sweaters, a pair of jeans, an old coat, my passport, and a folder of personal papers. Nothing else. Adriano frowned. “What is this supposed to prove?” I touched the sleeve of the coat. I had bought it before I met him. “You said I never had to worry about anything,” I replied. “And yet I’m leaving your penthouse with barely enough to get through a few days.” His face hardened. “That’s absurd.” “Is it?” I met his eyes. “If I need cash, it goes through Viviana. If I need my schedule changed, it goes through Viviana. If I need a car outside the usual hours, it goes through Viviana. If there’s a dinner, a fundraiser, or a family event, she decides what I wear and when I’m told about it.” I drew a breath and said the part that finally made him go still. “Your maids carry more money in their handbags than I do.” He started to interrupt, but I caught his sleeve and led him into the dressing room. Past the mirrors and the gowns, beyond the jewelry drawers, stood the inner vault where the family kept cash and anything valuable enough to monitor. I pointed to the security panel beside the steel door. “Go on,” I said. “Open it.” His gaze moved from the keypad to me and back again. “Code first. Then fingerprint. Then release from the family office downstairs. And whose clearance approves that final release?” He did not answer. “Viviana’s,” I said for him. For the first time, real confusion crossed his face. He looked at the vault, then at the room around us, as though seeing it from a new angle. But the moment passed quickly. Whenever truth threatened him, he reached for the explanation that protected his pride. “So that’s what this is really about,” he said at last. “Authority.” I felt whatever remained in me turn colder still. He still thought this was about jealousy. Not about the fact that when I needed him most, he had chosen to believe I was lying. I let go of his sleeve and stepped back. “It doesn’t matter what you think anymore,” I said. His eyes narrowed. “Serafina.” I picked up the divorce papers from the bed and held them out to him. “This marriage is over.” Chapter 4 For the first time that night, Adriano didn’t answer. He stood with the divorce papers in his hand, staring at me as though this could still be folded back into place if he chose the right words. “All right,” he said. “I should have handled this differently.” His voice was calm, gentle. Adriano was always most persuasive when he believed he was being generous. “Tomorrow I’ll give you direct authority over the residence office,” he said. “No more approvals, no more routing personal expenses through anyone else. If you want your own discretionary account, it’s yours. If you want the household staff answering to you, I’ll make that change.” He watched me carefully, certain he had finally found the wound. “And if this is about Viviana, then I’ll move her off the residential books. The estate manager, the drivers, the house staff will report to you.” Then his tone softened again. “And your care won’t be routed through anyone else again. I’ll cover the clinic retainer myself. Every doctor, every follow-up, every bill.” For three years, that pattern had worked. After every humiliation, he offered a concession. After every injury, he handed me something and called it protection. For a man like Adriano, that counted as apology. Once, it would have been enough. But he was too late. “Adriano,” I said, “I don’t want authority over your house. I don’t want your accounts. I don’t want the staff. I don’t want another promise that arrives after the damage is done.” I held his gaze. “I want a divorce.” The softness left him piece by piece. He stared at me, waiting for me to bend first. When I didn’t, something colder settled over his face. “Enough,” he said. “I know you’ve been on edge for weeks, but you are not making this decision in a clear state of mind.” He stepped closer, not touching me now. “You’re upset, you’re worn down, and you’re turning one bad day into something permanent.” There was no cruelty in his tone. That was what made it unbearable. He meant every word. “You are not walking out of here alone tonight,” he continued. “Without my name on your back, without my people watching the doors, you have no idea how exposed you are.” I said nothing. His jaw hardened. “I’m trying to stop you from doing something you’ll regret when you’ve calmed down. Don’t make me lock this floor down until you come to your senses.” Everything he took from me came dressed as protection. He had placed another woman between me and the life that was supposed to be mine because he said it made things easier. He had trusted that same woman over me while I was bleeding because he said he was preventing panic. And now he stood between me and the door, mistaking control for care. He still believed I was safest in a cage. I picked up my travel bag. “Then let me regret it,” I said. For the first time, disbelief crossed his face. He had expected tears, rage, bargaining. He had not expected me to walk past him as though he no longer had the power to stop me. But he didn’t follow. Pride held him where he stood. So did certainty. Adriano had spent too long believing I could not survive outside the life he had built around me. To him, this was still another emotional overreaction, the kind that burned hot and passed quickly, ending the way they always did. I would come back once the world outside frightened me enough. My hand closed around the door handle. Behind me, I heard him draw a breath, as though he might finally say something that mattered. He didn’t. I opened the door and stepped out. The sound of it shutting behind me cracked through the penthouse like a gunshot. Only then, alone in the silence, did Adriano seem to feel the first edge of something unfamiliar. He slipped a hand into his coat and touched the brass lighter engraved with his initials—the one I had commissioned for him after he mentioned missing his father’s old lighter. His phone lit up. Viviana. Don’t go after her, the message read. She’s upset, and she wants to force your hand. A second message followed. Let her cool off. Once she sees what life looks like without you, she’ll come back on her own. Adriano stared at the screen, then closed his hand around the lighter until the metal bit into his palm. Yes, he told himself. That was all this was. In a day or two, I would understand what I had walked away from. I would come back shaken, tired, and ready to be reasonable. And when I did, he would make sure I never spoke of divorce again. Chapter 5 The night I left Adriano, I didn’t check into a hotel. I went to my father. Leone Vesper opened the door to his apartment above an old records office, took one look at me and the bag in my hand, and stepped aside without a word. That silence hurt more than pity would have. My father was a forensic accountant who worked private fraud cases, untangling shell companies, port accounts, false invoices, and quiet disappearances buried inside respectable ledgers. He had hated my marriage from the beginning. When I chose Adriano over him, we stopped speaking for almost three years. On the day I married into the Morelli family, he sent me one message: If you build your life around a powerful man’s protection, don’t be surprised when he mistakes dependence for devotion. He had been right. At first, Adriano liked calling me clever. He liked introducing me as the wife who understood numbers better than half the men around him. Then Viviana arrived, and suddenly my judgment was too soft, my instincts too emotional, my skills too impractical for his world. By the end, I was no longer a woman with a future of her own. I was a woman who had to ask permission to touch one. My father handed me a glass of water and waited until I stopped shaking. Then he sat across from me and said, “I assume you didn’t come here for comfort.” His voice was dry, familiar, and steadier than kindness could have been. “No,” I said. “Good.” He slid a folder across the table. “I’m consulting on a freight investigation down by the south docks. Missing cargo, ghost vendors, port money disappearing into shell accounts. Long hours. Dirty places. Men who lie as naturally as they breathe. Interested?” I stared at him. He lifted a brow. “What? Too used to polished floors and drivers opening doors for you?” For the first time in days, I almost smiled. “No,” I said. “I’m interested.” He nodded once, as if that settled it. “Then shower, sleep a few hours, and be downstairs at six. I’m not delaying work because your marriage collapsed.” Under my father’s roof, there was no space for melodrama. By the end of the week, I was living out of a duffel bag and spending my days in container yards, customs offices, and temporary workrooms that smelled like diesel, paper dust, and bad coffee. The work was hard, exacting, and nothing like the life I had left behind. It was also the first thing that had felt real in years. I still knew how to follow altered books. I still knew how to spot staggered transfers, layered payments, and false vendor trails. I knew when a dock supervisor was stalling, when a clerk was frightened, and when numbers had been moved simply because someone assumed no one would notice. Bit by bit, the woman I had been before Adriano began to return. One afternoon, after I traced a missing shipment through three fake companies and a dead-end warehouse account, the team lead slapped the file shut and gave me a long look. “I thought Vesper dragged you in because he felt sorry for you,” he said. “Didn’t realize you were useful.” I wiped dust from my hands and smiled. “I’m starting to remember that myself.” That evening, the team ate takeout outside the temporary field office while forklifts moved under the floodlights beyond the fence. Someone told a bad joke. Someone else laughed. For the first time in a long while, I laughed too. Then a woman’s voice cut across the yard. “Well,” she said lightly, “this is unexpected.” Chapter 6 I turned and saw Viviana standing just inside the gate, one hand resting on the chain-link fence as if the whole dockyard amused her. She looked absurd there in a pale coat and narrow heels, all perfume and polish in a place that smelled of diesel, rain, and rust. Her gaze moved over me slowly, taking in the dust on my jeans, the clipboard in my hand, and the team behind me eating takeout beside stacked crates. “So this is where you ended up,” she said lightly. “I was wondering how long you’d last before finding somewhere more suited to you.” I looked at her shoes sinking into the gravel. “You always did look more comfortable in my life than I ever was.” Her smile tightened. Before she could answer, I added, “Watching you take over my schedule, my home, and my husband was educational. It’s impressive how far ambition can go when it calls itself loyalty.” A car door shut behind her. Adriano stepped out of a black sedan and crossed the yard. “What’s going on?” he asked. Viviana changed instantly. Her shoulders drew in, and her voice softened. “Nothing. I only told her you were worried. I thought if she saw you came all this way, she might stop being angry.” Then she lowered her eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset her.” My grip tightened on the clipboard. Adriano looked at me, and for a second something unreadable crossed his face. My hair was tied back badly, my hands were rough with paper cuts and dust, and there was nothing polished left about me. “Serafina,” he said, quieter now, “what are you doing here?” I almost laughed. He came closer. “You’ve barely recovered, and you’re working in a freight yard.” He reached for my arm, determined to yank me from the scene and force me back to the place he deemed rightfully mine. “Come home,” he said. “Whatever point you were trying to make, it’s enough.” I stepped away before he could touch me. The yard had gone quiet around us. Adriano lowered his voice. “Viviana was trying to help. You don’t need to keep punishing everyone because you’re hurting.” “Help?” I said. “If this is what help looks like, you should both be proud.” His expression tightened. He glanced over the floodlit yard, taking in the portable office, trucks and dust, his gaze sharpening in obvious distaste. “This is not where you belong,” he said. “Get your things. I’ll have the car brought around.” One of the women from the audit team leaned toward me and whispered, “Your husband?” I kept my eyes on Adriano. “My ex. He’s just behind on the paperwork.” Even Viviana’s face changed at that. Adriano stepped in front of me. “Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t talk about us like that in front of strangers.” “Then stop acting like I’m still yours to collect.” His jaw set. “I came because you walked out while you were still under post-op care,” he said. “You’re exhausted, emotional, and standing in the middle of a freight yard like this is normal. You don’t leave my protection in this condition and expect me not to come after you.” “There it is again,” I said. “You always are.” Something in my tone must have unsettled him, because his patience thinned. “Fine,” he said, pulling out his phone. “If you insist on acting like none of this matters, maybe you need to understand what life looks like without me fixing things behind you.” I knew exactly what he meant before he started dialing: the clinic, the specialists, the money he still thought gave him the final word. He put the call on speaker. “Dr. Salerno,” Adriano said, his gaze never leaving mine, “scale back the emergency interventions on Serafina’s file unless there’s an actual medical need. My child is not so fragile that every bout of anxiety becomes a crisis, and letting her spiral like this is worse for the baby than anything else.” He paused, waiting for fear. What came back was silence. Then the doctor spoke, his voice strained. “Mr. Morelli... what are you talking about?” Adriano’s expression sharpened. “Her treatment.” Dr. Salerno took a breath. “I assumed you’d been told. After the delay, there was no way to save the pregnancy...”

Demetra. I am Demetra, the girl whose mother slept with every gamma, beta, and zeta…trying to climb her way up, only to crash-land at the very bottom and leave me here to clean up her mess in the Black Covenant Pack. As the lowest-ranking omega in the pack house, my glorious destiny is to personally serve one of three sons of Alpha Kael. Emris. Emris. Emris. Emris. My world is the four walls of his penthouse bedroom. I’m the ghost who takes his designer clothes to the laundry. I scrub his desk. I pick up the condoms after he’s done with whatever girl he drags home from the club. I’m the one who patches up the cuts and bruises from fights he doesn’t want his parents to know about, dabbing at his knuckles while he stares straight through me. I even cut his hair when it gets too long cause he hates when it brushes his shoulders. And when his famous temper explodes, shattering a lamp or hurling it against the wall, I’m the one on my knees, picking up the pieces. Always on my knees. Because Emris runs on a fuel of rage. However, the day I turned eighteen, a mate bond snapped between us during one of my cleaning routines. Me, a nobody, became mated to the first son of the Alpha. The one everyone whispers will inherit everything, because while all two of brothers are hybrids, Emris is the strongest…he is a Trybrid werewolf. Emris, who has never looked at me twice, suddenly couldn’t stand for me to be out of his sight. Yet, despite his new possessiveness. He warned me never to tell a soul that we were mates. Afterall, I’m an orphaned omega, a high-school dropout because the pack’s "charity" didn't cover an actual education. My father isn’t some politician or business mogul; he’s probably one of the countless faceless men my mother entertained. I am the pack’s pity project, the girl they “saved,” and my lifelong repayment has been to scrub their floors and make their beds. He was ashamed of me. The first time Emris ever truly looked at me was the day the mate bond snapped into place. I remember how his uncovered eye, stared down at me while the other was hidden under the usual black patch. The next time I saw him without that black patch, it revealed his serpent-lined colored eyes as he took my virginity in his bed. And I love him. Goddess, I love him with my entire soul, a stupid, desperate love that lives in the deepest, most secret part of my heart. I loved him when he made me his dirty secret. I loved him through his coldness and the countless ways he shattered my heart, only to gather the pieces and hand them back to him all over again. I am the one who watches him sleep. I am the one rocked him back to reality when he woke up from the nightmares of the two years he spent as a kid, locked in an enemy’s pack dungeon. He was broken, far from perfect, but he was everything to me. “Where you going?” His rough voice makes me stop buttoning my stupid house help uniform. I see my reflection in his floor-length mirror, my doll like white hair is all ruffled from where he fisted his hands in it, arching me against me just minutes ago. “It’s almost time for breakfast.” I look around his bedroom for my bra. “Shit.” Emris runs a hand down his face. I see the forgotten cup of water on his nightstand. The one I brought him last night before he pulled me into his bed and made me forget my own name. “This what you’re looking for?” I see my light blue bra dangling from his finger. I march over and reach for it, but he lifts his hand higher. “I’m already late. Give it.” I hold my palm out and try to sound firm. He pushes his dark hair back and sits up. The sheets pools around his naked waist. I can’t help the quick swallow in my throat as I take in the hard planes of his ab muscles or his calloused hands that held my waist so tightly I couldn’t escape a thrust. “Did I say you could leave yet?” Emris’ voice is deceptively soft. “Keep it, then.” I frown and walk out. I can’t do this with him today. I hear his low chuckle behind me. “I don’t like your saltiness. Or is it moodiness? I don’t like your jealousy, either. I have so much to do today, the last thing I want is that attitude from you.” I do my best not to turn around and look at him. He knows exactly why I’m upset. The whole pack knows. The Alpha of the Mud Claw Pack’s daughter, Elena. Emris’s ex-girlfriend has just moved into the pack house. Luna Derisha is already parading her around, calling her his future Luna. And I’m here. His actual, true mate. His dirty little secret. “Demetra?” His tone shifts. It’s becoming a warning. “Don’t let me have to call you a second time!” When I turn, he’s out of bed in a loose pair of pants, walking towards the balcony where I’m standing at. “You know why I’m upset.” Emris rips off his black eye patch and tosses it aside. He usually covers that eye because his wolf gets agitated, and when it does, he can’t control the change. His left eye burns with a ring of gold, the pupil a terrifying thin slit. It scares people. But then, everything about Emris is designed to be scary. I’m just the idiot who’s in love with him, so I see past it. “You’re acting like I slept with Elena this morning!” “Wow.” I let out a scoff that’s designed to hide the hot press of tears in my throat. “So, you want to sleep with her? You can’t wait to have your ex-girlfriend back in your bed?” “Stop it. Her father is an Alpha. My mom is just securing my claim to the Alpha seat. It’s not personal—” “We are mates!” I yell and I’ve never yelled at him before. “You’re an omega.” Emris says it like it’s a disease. “That’s weak for a Trybrid like me. That’s a liability for the Alpha I’m becoming!” “You sleep with me! You claim me almost every night! But now, suddenly, I’m too weak for you because the Alpha seat is up for grabs?” In a second, he’s right in front of me. I watch the pupil in his left eye, “the serpent-like one” dilates. “Don’t you ever disrespect me. I paid for your high school. I offered to pay for college, but you were too proud to take it. I bought you a car you never drove! I give you a roof, my protection, and this is how you thank me?” Emris pulls me and I land against his bare chest, face inches from his. There, I force myself to go still so I won’t anger the beast further. I didn’t accept his gifts because I was sick of feeling like his charity case, a bill he had to pay for the mate he never wanted. “Once I'm Alpha, my pups will be in your belly. You'll... be under my protection for life." He roughs a brand across my waist before palming my back side. There comes the famous grab as he does a little tap-tap-tap taps with ownership. Usually, it would make me blush but this time, I just look at him with tears. However, Emris doesn’t see tears. He’s cold-blooded, and the worst part is, he’s proud of it. “As what?” I look up at him from what feels like a million miles below. The one thing I want is for him to claim me as his mate. To look at me and see his equal, his other half, not a constant reminder of how we’re opposites. Emris just stares back. Of course, he’s going to pretend he doesn’t understand what I’m asking. He’s an expert at that. “Change that jealous look on your face before I see you again.” I push his hand away from my waist and instantly feel cold. I walk out of his bedroom. The moment I step into the moving area of the pack house, I nearly collide with the head chef, whose face is twisted into a scowl that could curdle milk. “Where have you been?!” “I, uh… I woke up late.” I quickly answer. My job is only to maintain Emris’s private penthouse, so I have no idea why she’s so furious with me. “We’re short-staffed. Go help Miss Elena take her bags to her room.” Susan points and my stomach plummets. There she is. Elena Orient. Emris’ ex-girlfriend. 2 Demetra. Elena was a part-time cheerleading trainer at Magnus High for a year. It’s the high school I was able to attend because of Emris’s “charity.” She’s at least four years older than me, and she was that impossibly cool adult all the younger girls, including me, desperately wanted to be. The boys were all secretly in love with her. She had perfect, bouncy blonde waves. Back when I was a gawky, puberty-stricken freshman, I’d daydream about looking like her one day. So yeah, I’m jealous. Elena Orient comes from a rich family, a powerful pack, and everyone adores her. She’s everything I’m not. I remember the first time she saw Emris. It was Guardians’ Day. I didn't have anyone to come for me, but he showed up. He was there for his sister, Teddy but I’ll never forget the way everyone stared as he walked straight up to me in the crowded hallway. The next day, Elena actually sought me out to ask me who he was. It was the first time our cheer instructor had ever spoken directly to me. I gave her his name, never imagining that simple answer would lead to them dating. Back then, I didn't care. I wasn't eighteen; the mate bond was silent, and Emris's life was his own. Now, everything is different. "Morning.” I say. Elena finally looks up from her phone. Even at 7 a.m., her blonde hair is bouncy and shiny. Makeup. She’s dressed in designer clothes plus perfumes. She’s obviously hoping to run into Emris, but he’s probably in the middle of his brutal gym session, followed by a wild run through the woods. He won't be back for at least an hour. "OMG! Demetra, right?" "Yeah. I should take your bags up—" I reach for one of the bold pink suitcases, but when I try to lift it, it doesn't even budge. "Did Emris send you to help me?" What does she think I am, his personal messenger? "Does he know I'm here already?" "No, Miss Elena." I reposition myself to wrestle with the luggage again. "Where is he? Still sleeping? Is he awake?" I give the stubborn bag a hard yank. "Can you give me an answer!?" There comes her irritation. I’d almost forgotten that behind that smile, she wears a lot of masks and her true personality is just plain evil. "I'm not sure, Miss Elena—" "Then, what use are you?" I pull the bag with all my might, and this time, it sends me backward. I lose my balance and crash to the floor just as Luna Derisha walks in with another guest. Oh no. “Elena, why are your luggage not taken yet!?” Luna Derisha’s asks. I get up quickly. “This weak omega—” Luna Derisha’s eyes narrow on me but she forces a smile for the guest. Elena’s mother, who’s watching the entire scene. “I’m sorry, Luna.” I step back. I know better than to be within arm’s reach when she’s like this; her slaps are swift. “Wow, her hair is so beautiful. She is such a beautiful young woman.” I see the muscle in Luna Derisha’s jaw twitch as the woman complements me. She hates any reminder of my mother, and my looks are the biggest reminder of all. Thankfully, Luna Derisha’s drivers come in and effortlessly haul the luggage away. “Luna, the tables are ready.” the head housekeeper announces. The moment they’re out of earshot, Luna Derisha turns on me. “I don’t even know your use in this house. All you do is fatten yourself on our food, yet your strength stays the same.” I stare at the ground. It’s better not to look at her. “Because of us, the sickly thing your mother gave birth to is growing. Your cream-white hair is getting longer. Your uniform is getting tighter on your body. Your hips are fattening like a whore’s, your…” She shakes her head in disgust. “It’s those same things your mother used to attract the lowest of the lows. Tell me, are you heading down the same path?” “No, Luna.” I answer quickly. “Get out of my sight! And did I not ask you to dye that hair black?” Someone calls Luna Derisha so her attention finally goes away from me. The moment she looks away. I feel a violent surge in my throat and I throw my hand against it. I don’t know if it’s the humiliation, the stress of the morning, or something else entirely, but I don’t wait to find out. I turn and run across the marble floors until I burst into the empty staff bathroom. I barely make it to the stall before my insides seem to rupture. I vomit and vomit and vomit until my stomach is empty. Tears are streaming down my face as I stare at myself in the mirror. Why am I vomiting? Is it the oats I ate last night? And then my brain decides to gives me an answer. Hey, remember that little monthly thing that ghosted you last month? Oh no. Oh, Moon Goddess… am I pregnant? Pregnant with Emris’ child? ___________ I change out of my uniform, into a pair of jeans and a top. I need a pregnancy test. Now. I've been sitting in front of the desk for the past three hours, trying to count days on a calendar, but it's useless. The problem is Emris. Our schedule last month was basically, all sex. In his room, in mine, sometimes in a skyscraper hotel suite when his late-night meetings with the jet company ran long. Today is the 20th. No sign of my period. That can only mean one thing. We used protection… sometimes. When he remembered. Emris gets so lost in the claiming in a way that makes it impossible for either of us to think straight. I go out through the back kitchen, hoping to go unnoticed. "Where are you going?" Summer, my best friend blocks my path and shoves her hands into her flour-dusted apron, looking less like my ride-or-die and more like a very suspicious, pastry-based bouncer. "Luna Derisha is on a warpath today. So lucky you only answer to Emris. What's going on with you?" "Uh, I just have to run an errand—" "Ugh, don't even get me started. That Elena is such a snob. She brought thirty boxes of Louboutin, Chanel and had the nerve to ask if we'd ever touched anything like that. Please tell me a bitch like that isn't going to be our next Luna." "Summer, if anyone hears you, you're going to lose your job." Paxton warns, he’s the assistant chef. "She's not wrong. Riley is arranging Elena’s closet right now. There are, like, a hundred pairs." Someone else says. "Guys, I really have to go." I try to sidestep them. But Paxton places a hand around my stomach region to stop me. He's always been overly concerned about me. "Are you okay? You look a bit…pale." Before I can answer, my eyes do a casual sweep past his shoulder to the kitchen's large glass windows. And I freeze. Emris is there, a million-foot tall on the gravel, making a phone call in his stuntman stature. He’s staring straight at us. Specifically, at Paxton’s hand, which is currently resting on the exact location of his potential future heir. For his own safety, and to prevent a murder in the parking lot, I crank up a smile. "I'm fine, Pax! Really. Just a quick trip into town. I’ll be back soon.” I hurry out to the gardens but a text lights up my phone from Emris. Just one word: Garage. I knew he wouldn’t let what he saw slide. His private garage is dim and it’s the first time we'd met here. The car Emris is in is a black Bentley that cost more than my life. With blue interior lights that make him a villain of a sci-fi movie. Emris unfolds himself from the seat. “You’re gonna use that nobody to make me jealous!” He has the most devastatingly handsome face I’ve ever seen. Skin like rich gold, messy black hair that looks better the more he runs his hands through it. He’s taller and stronger than any man I’ve ever known. I’ve felt the raw power in his thighs when they move under me, I’ve listened to the steady beat of his heart against my chest. It’s the universe’s cruellest joke that a voice so rough and harsh comes attached to a mouth that gives the softest kisses. “That’s not what I was doing.” “What was he about to touch?” “Emris, Paxton is just my friend. I’ve told you this over and over… he’s just looking out for me.” He rises to his full, ridiculous height. A skyscraper of a jealous Alpha he will soon become. I am forced to step back until I bump into another of his cars. He’s jealous. And when he’s jealous, he’s less a man and more a walking, talking grenade with the pin already pulled. “Looking out for you?” He tilts his neck in that specific way he does, a gesture that shows the tattoos on his throat and across his collarbones. I know they travel all the way down to his waist. I’ve traced them with my fingers before. “Because I don’t do enough looking out for you already!?” “Someone could see us. I should go—” “Get in.” I just stare at him in surprise. Emris has never, ever let me in the same car as him before, especially not while we're on pack grounds. This is breaking like twelve of his own rules. “If someone sees—” He drags me to the passenger side and pushes me in. 3 Demetra. A moment later, he’s driving us smoothly away from the pack house, and I melt into the leather chair. “Where?” “Huh?” Emris hisses. “Where are you going? Don’t piss me off, Demetra.” “The, um… to the store.” “What could you possibly want from the store that you cannot get at the pack house!?” “Some hygiene products.” I squeakily lie. “And a new bra.” When we get to the shopping mall, his phone rings. Thank god, a distraction. He throws a black credit card at me without even looking, and I take it. I only accept because refusing would be a whole thing and I need him to be distracted. I go straight to the pharmacy section. My hands are literally shaking as I grab the test. I pay with my own cash and buy two, just to be sure. I also snag a random, overpriced bra I don’t need as my decoy. I lock myself in a bathroom stall and after ten minutes, my eyes instantly water when both tests show the result. Two pink lines. Two. I stare at myself in the mirror over the sink, looking again and again and again, as if my reflection will have a different answer. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with Emris’s child. I wipe the tears away, only for more to fall. It’s positive. Both tests are undeniably, life-falteringly positive. I stumble out of the stall and mumble an apology to the annoyed women waiting in line. I rush to the counter to pay for the bra, hastily wiping my cheeks and glancing out the mall to see if Emris is still in the car. My hands are shaking so badly I fumble the card, dropping it twice. As I turn from the counter, I bump hard into an older man and it sends my shopping bag and Emris's black credit card to the floor. "I'm so sorry!" I get to my knees to gather my things. The man bends down too and picks up the card. "Here you go—" "Thanks. I am so sorry, sir!" I repeat until he doesn't let go. I look up and see him staring at me with an expression of shock, so intense that the card in his hand actually trembles. "Sir…?" I try to pull it back. "What is your name?" he asks. "You look familiar. What pack are you from?" "Sir, please. I'm in a hurry." I finally manage to tug the card from his fingers but the encounter is far from over. "Alpha?" I look up to see a guy who must be a million inches tall, built like a valley, standing behind the older man. Did he just call him... Alpha? The older man ignores his guard or is it his Beta to continue staring at me. "You have white hair. You….you have white hair.” Why’s he looking at me like he's seen a ghost. Yes, I have white hair and so? My mind is reeling from the pregnancy tests, and now this? Will Emris accept the pregnancy? Will Emris be happy when I tell him? Will Luna Derisha kill me when she finds out I’ve been sleeping with her son? The future heir of the pack. The Beta speaks. "Alpha, you don't think she is—" “Please, have my business card.” The older man presses an embossed card into my hand but I don’t take it. “Sir, I don’t understand what you are saying or doing—” “I am searching for my daughter. She has white hair, just like…” “I am not your daughter!” A father is the last thing I have or need on this earth. “Dad?” Another young man, handsome and well-dressed, walks up, addressing the older man. The moment his eyes land on me, his jaw goes slack. While I’m distracted by the son’s stunned reaction, the older man quickly slips his business card into the palm of my hand and closes my fingers around it. And at that exact moment, Emris enters. One look at his eyes and I know I’m in deep, deep trouble. “You.” Emris voice makes everyone look in our direction. I rush to the side of the living temptress I call my mate, thinking he’s furious with me, but his eyes are on the group of men. “Emris, son of Alpha Kael.” the older man says. “I haven't seen you since your father’s death—” “Don’t start with me, old foolish man!” My mate hisses. The son of the older man comes close. “It’s me you hate, Emris. Leave my father out of it. After all, only one of us still has a father left.” The male insults the devastating storm that is my Alpha and walks out the door. The older man follows, and the hefty Beta is the last to exit. “Everyone. Leave.” Emris’s voice isn’t loud, but the store employees and customers run for the exits. Including the owner of the establishment. I don’t think there’s a soul in West Virginia who doesn’t know who Emris is, or the danger that radiates from him. As soon as everyone leaves, I start to explain. “I’m sorry I took so long. My… my stuff fell and—” “First, you throw that puppy, Paxton, in my face. And now I find you cozying up to that dying old man Ronin and his waste-of-space son, Slade. Are you seriously this desperate for attention, or just profoundly stupid?” My eyes widen in genuine shock. That was Slade? The rival Alpha Emris has hated since they were boys? The one from the Lion Pride pack? “I swear, Emris, I didn’t know—” I don’t get to finish when kicks a nearby display, sending a whole aisle of canned goods to the floor. “Why are you doing this!?” I clamp my hands over my ears. “Why am I doing this!?” He kicks another shelf which topples like dominoes, scattering products everywhere before he storms back to me. “I saw him slip you his card. What’s your price, Demetra? Huh? Was my bed not enough of a platform for you to audition for your next role? Are you planning to be Slade’s new step-mom or Slade’s little whore? After acting so damn pure with me, refusing the things I try to give you… you come here to meet with Slade? To become his whore, just like you are to me?” Emris’ words don’t just hurt. They dissolve me. The heat behind my eyes instantly melts into tears that stream down my face. “W-whore? You are the only person I have ever been with!” “Then what do you call a person who is available for me to use morning and night? A convenience. You clean up my messes and warm my bed. I didn't call you anything you haven't proven yourself to be. Now, take whatever pathetic offer that old man gave you and get the hell out of my life forever.” Emris turns to leave but I run after him, furious tears blinding me as I throw my arms around his back like an idiot. “How can you call me that!?” I weep on his shirt. Emris pries my hands off with cold strength. “I saw it with my own eyes. I saw the interaction—” “I tried so hard! I refused your gifts, your money… I did everything I could so you would never, ever look at me that way! But at the end of the day, this is what you think of me? You have no heart, Emris. You are dark. You are…” I gasp for air as the insult dies on my tongue. “I am Alpha! My father is dead and I will be Alpha soon. If you’re still in my territory when I formalize my title, I will personally escort you down the Walk of Judgment. I’ll make sure the entire pack knows exactly what you are.” The Walk of Judgment is a nightmare. A walk of shame where the pack forces you out while throwing filth at you, sometimes tearing the clothes from your back. It’s the ultimate disgrace before being cast out to become a rogue. And he just threatened me with it. I force Emris to face me again. “It’s me, Demetra! Why are you acting this way? It was a misunderstanding! I didn’t know that was Slade! I didn’t know who they were!” “And he gave you a card. You might be naive enough to believe that was a coincidence, but I’m not, Demetra. So much for loyalty. How long has this been going on? How long have you been spreading your legs for Slade? Or is the old man getting a turn, too?” Emris insults are too much so I slap him! His head snaps to the side. Once I do that, there is only the sound of his breathing. His chest begins to rise, and rise, and rise so I move away. “We’re done.” Emris storms out. I watch through the glassed door as he speaks to the mall owner before getting into his car and speeding away, leaving me in the wreckage. 4 Demetra. Slowly, I sink to my knees and weep from my lungs so deep it feels like it will break me. I am inconsolable, lost in a storm of tears when a timid voice speaks. “Miss? The… the man said you are the one to clean up the mess he made.” I look up at the mall owner and I frown into tears. How can we be over when I carry a new life, a part of him, inside my belly? ******** I get back to the pack house a little past midnight. My body aches everywhere…. like even my bones are tired. I don’t bother turning on the light; I just crawl into bed and start crying all over again. The kind of crying that makes your throat hurt. Slade. Of all people, it had to be him. Emris hates Slade more than he hates any other enemy. He’s the son of Alpha Ronni from the Lion Pride Pack. The Lion Pride Pack and the Black Covenant share a territory….joined by waters, separated by Alphas. They’re rich, powerful but Emris would rather die than be in the same room as them. I didn’t even recognize them! The older man just… he thought I was someone else. My phone glows in the dark: 2:17 AM. A part of me still wants to go to him, to tell him again that this is a mistake. Maybe if he just listens one more time, he’ll see it. Why does loving him make me feel like such an idiot? I know deep down he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve me. And yet… I still do. When I finally wake up, it’s because someone’s tapping my arm. “Demetra!” It’s the head chef’s voice. “Goodness, child, I thought you were dead for a second. Do you realize you’ve slept two hours past your shift? Emris’ suite—” Once I see it’s morning, I leap out of bed and dash into the bathroom. I’m so dead. I’m supposed to clean Emris’s room before he gets back from the gym. If even one of his stupid, expensive things is out of place, he throws a fit. Then he’s late for breakfast, and the whole pack knows it’s my fault. I shower and throw on my uniform then take the elevator straight up to the penthouse level. I start planning my apology in my head as I move into Emris’ floor. Suddenly, I stop because standing right in the middle of the living room are Elena and Luna Derisha. And Luna Derisha is holding something lacy and blue between her fingers. My bra. It’s the one Emris took yesterday. The one I told him, over and over, to give back. I forget how to breathe but I have to say something. “Lu… Luna.” Luna Derisha’s violet eyes look almost black. “Who owns this?” I rub my hands on my apron like that’ll make me look less guilty. “Um… I don’t know.” I lie. The door behind me swings open and Radu fills the threshold like a dark mountain. He is the Luna’s gamma, the wolf everyone hushes for in the halls. He’s the one who rescued Emris after he was kidnapped and caged for two years as a kid. Radu doesn’t waste words, he only growls and moves when the Luna says so. Seeing him here means this isn’t just a scolding; it’s an execution. “You fucking slut! You’re trying to seduce my son. You put your bra in my son’s closet.” Elena shakes her head. “How old are you to be acting so shameless? You’re at least seven years younger than Emris!?” “Luna, it’s not… it’s not mine.” “It smells like you. Filthy. My son, who is going to be Alpha, is the person you’re trying to seduce? You’re just like that maggot of a mother who gave birth to you! That bitch spread her legs for every man in the pack just to climb the ladder, and you ended up following the worst of her traits—” Her hot hand snatches my hair! Then, Luna Derisha uses it to bring to my knees. It’s so painful, so utterly painful and shocking that I taste metal and then white light. I see a bunch of my hair in her hands and then I feel blood coming from my scalp. I look up in tears. “It’s not yours. Fine. We’ll test it, then. Bring her downstairs where all the pack employees look. I will use this bitch as a lesson.” “Luna, please! Luna, please!” My screams are short as Radu’s massive hand closes around my ankle. He doesn’t even lift me; he just uses my own body to drag me across the floor. My uniform rides as I twist and kick, but it doesn’t matter. By the time we reach the hall downstairs, every pack employee is there. Cooks, cleaners, security, everyone is looking at me at the centre. I’m trembling on my knees. I’ve always feared Luna Derisha, but never like this. Never when Emris isn’t here to stop her. “I hope you’re all watching…” Elena says loudly. “This is what happens to anyone who thinks they can seduce the future Alpha. Your little colleague here hid her bra in his closet, and now she’s pretending it isn’t hers.” Luna Derisha tosses the fabric at my face. “If you say it’s not yours, prove it.” I am not able to stop shaking. “But Luna….” the head chef speaks up for me. “In front of everyone?” “Are you questioning me?” “Apologies, Luna! Apologies!” I crawl forward on my hands and knees in tears. I grab the hem of Luna Derisha’s designer dress. “Please. Forgive me. I’ll never do anything like this again. Please.” “Luna, I’m begging you. Pleaseee-“ “You should have thought of that before you tried to disgrace my family.” Luna Derisha looks at Radu and I hear his boots coming forward. I feel Radu’s hands on the back of my uniform and the fabric rips straight down my back. I scream, trying to cover myself. “Rip the bra, too so she can try this one.” Radu obeys. The straps of my own bra snap, and I sob, using my long white hair as a pathetic curtain to hide my body. Through the veil of my hair, I see some of the male employees turn their backs so they don’t watch. The girls just stare in horror. I am naked, on my knees, utterly broken. Through, my sobs, I hear the one sound that could make this worse. The sound of the Luna’s sons. Emris. Silver and Regan. I’m shivering, naked and exposed on my knees, when I look up and see them standing there. “What the hell is going on here!?” Emris yells, looking at me. Elena and Luna Derisha spin around. They hadn’t seen him come in. “Mom, what the hell.” Silver says. Regan, the other brother, just chuckles. “Isn’t she Emris’s pretty little housekeeper?” “No, she is her mother’s daughter!” Luna Derisha shrieks. “And I don’t care what you say today, I will punish her mercilessly! Put on the bra, now!” I squeeze my eyes shut. I will rather die right here than be humiliated any further. “Demetra!” I hear Paxton’s voice, and he’s already at my side. Before I can say anything, he uses his own chef’s coat as a wrap around my shoulders. “Paxton.” I shake my head. “She needs more cover!” He yells to anyone who’ll listen and for a second, I think he might fight them all. “Paxton!?” Susan, the head chef calls out to warn him but he doesn’t answer. Then I hear a rumbling growl from Radu. My eyes dart up just in time to see the massive Gamma take a step forward to make an example of Radu but Emris moves faster. He doesn’t go for Radu. He goes straight for Paxton, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and yanking him away from me. “The Luna gives an order and you bring yourself into the middle of it!” I can see it in Emris eyes. This isn’t just about the Luna’s command. This is all the jealousy he’s been holding for Paxton, finally finding a public excuse to explode. “Demetra would never try to seduce you! There has to be some mistake!” Paxton chokes in Emris’s grip. “We all know Demetra! She’s kind, she’s content, and she’s worked her entire life for this pack!” Emris’s eyes flash with a dark, wicked fire. “What are you… her little lover?” I watch, horrified, as his hand tightens around Paxton’s throat. Paxton’s face begins to turn a terrifying shade of purple. “Stop!” I yell. “If I were her lover, so what?” Paxton gasps. “Are we so little to you that we are not worth your love, too? If I were, what does it even matter to—” Emris hurls Paxton across the room into the bar cellar in an explosion of shattering glass and wood. The crowd screams, some scatter in fear, others rush to help him. I get up to see if he’s okay. But Emris has something to say to me. “Get out of my pack now!” The shout makes my whole wolf skitter and break in half. 5 Demetra. “But you know I have only you.” I whisper. I need him to remember. I need him to remember that in this entire, cruel world, he’s the only one I have. “What the hell do you mean by that!?” Elena inserts herself. Emris eyes are empty. “You have ten minutes to leave the pack house. If she doesn’t, Radu makes sure she leaves with a claw mark as a souvenir.” Then he walks away. Susan is the first to reach me. “Come on, sweetheart, quickly!” When we reach my room, she lets go so I can pack. I pull on a shirt with trembling hands. My fingers fumble with the zipper of an old bag I drag out from the closet. My chest hurts; my throat burns. I’m shaking so badly it’s hard to fold anything right. I keep thinking: I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and I have nowhere to go. No one to call family. My mate, the only person I ever thought I had just destroyed me. With five minutes left before Radu comes, I can’t breathe. That’s when I see the business card Alpha Ronni gave me, lying at the corner of my mirror table. His name, his number. I grab it. When I step out, Summer, Susan, and the others are waiting in the hallway. One by one, they hug me quickly, whispering goodbyes. I don’t trust myself to speak so I just keep moving before I fall apart. Downstairs, Luna Derisha is waiting. Silver and Regan step aside to let me through. “Elena?” Luna says lightly, “just promise me that right after you and Emris are married, you’ll give me a grandchild.” Elena smiles. “Of course, Mother-in-law.” I press a trembling hand to my stomach and swallow the scream sitting in my throat. Emris, I swear you’ll never know that I left with a part of you. I leave the Black Covenant Pack house and I don’t look back. Outside the gate, I just carry my light bag and think. Do I call? Do I not? Alpha Ronni barely knows me. No one outside this territory even knows me. I check my wallet and there’s a few bucks at most. Luna Derisha always said food and a bed were my payment so I can’t even afford a motel. I need help. I take out my phone, type in the number on the card, and call. “Hello?” I try not to cry. “Yes… um, I’m Demetra.” I stammer into the phone. “We met — at the store. I was with Emris that day. You are Alpha Ronni—” There’s a pause, then a deep, surprised voice. “Yes, you. I can’t believe you’re calling. Are you all right?” “I…I’m sorry to bother you, Alpha. I just… I have nowhere else to go. That’s why I called.” Silence. I hear my own heartbeat. My mind starts racing and I think what am I doing? He’s an Alpha. I shouldn’t even be calling him. “Never mind. I shouldn’t be calling you. You’re—” “Where are you right now?” “I’m just outside the Black Covenant gates.” I look around me. “I’ll send an escort. A convoy of cars. You’ll be brought to safety at once. Don’t move. Do you understand me?” “Yes…yes Alpha.” The line goes dead, and I clutch the phone to my chest. I look down at my belly and make a promise that Emris will never get to know of my child. He will search for me but he will never find. This heart will never forgive him. This heart will never forgive everyone in the Black covenant pack. ********** Five years later. West Virginia Airport. “Tired?” My dad, Alpha Ronin, wraps his hand around mine in the first-class seat. It’s warm. Six hours from Manila and my butt is sore. “I’m beyond tired.” I mumble through a yawn and glance sideways. “She’s still asleep?” Amira, my daughter is hugging Grandpa’s arms with her mouth slightly open after being a menace the entire flight. The air hostess approaches, politely informing us that the path is clear for us to leave the plane. I start gathering my laptop, my sketchbook, pens— “Mr. Pride, Miss. Pride, this way.” We don’t lift a finger. Not for the bags, not for anything. The moment our feet touch the ground, a black car is already waiting to take us straight from the plane One of the many, many perks of being the daughter of the Alpha of the Lion pack. It still feels a little like playing dress-up, like any minute someone’s going to tap me on the shoulder and say, “Okay, fun’s over. Back to being the Black covenant’s charity case.” Five years ago, I called the number on that business card, not knowing I was dialing my own future. Back then in that store, Alpha Ronin recognized me not because he knew me…but because he knew my mother. A one-night stand. A mistake. Or maybe fate being cruelly efficient. White hair is pretty rare for wolves. Most people bleach or dye it, trying to look cool or intimidating. So it’s hard to spot a true one in the wild. But Alpha Ronin said he saw her in my face and the shape of my eyes. He had to be sure if I was his. When I called him, a fleet of cars arrived like and I was taken to the Lion Pack estate. They didn’t treat me like a stray. They treated me like a person. Like family, even before we knew for sure. That was when I met Slade. My half-brother. Then Alpha Ronin said my mother’s name and suddenly, everything clicked. The Black Covenant Pack had told me the history of my mother and since Alpha Ronin claimed he had a one-night stand with her, I agreed for a DNA test. It proved that Alpha Ronin was my father. All that time, I’d been an Alpha’s daughter, living on my knees. All those years I spent surviving as a charity case, I was the daughter of an Alpha. I nursed my broken heart for a year straight. Some days it nearly kills me but I survived because I wasn’t not alone. Then I give birth to Amira. And somehow, I break all over again. She has Emris’ hair. His eyebrows. His face hiding in hers so clearly it hurts to look at her for too long. Every time I hold her, the truth settles deeper into my bones that she is going to grow up without knowing her father. He doesn’t know she exists. And even if he did… I’m not sure he would care. That thought almost destroyed me. But Amira also saves me. I find strength in her tiny hands, in the way she curls against my chest like I’m her entire world. My dad notices the way I’m fading so he makes the decision for me when I’m too weak to make it myself. I need to leave the country so I choose Paris without really thinking. It sounds far away enough. I don’t realize what it will become until I’m standing inside the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen…flowers everywhere, gardens and that’s where I begin to paint. I paint my pain. I paint my past. I paint my heartbreak. I put every ounce of "him" and every ounce of onto those canvases. I shut out the entire world, focused only on my little girl and the colors on my palette. I started going to art school, not to find myself, but to prove I could. And then I sold my first piece. The first bidder wanted it for hundreds of millions. Just like that, I wasn't just Demetra. I was Demetra Pride, the millionaire artist who came out of nowhere. That sale did something more than fill my bank account. It gave me a new bone structure, one made of confidence. I believed I could do anything. In Paris, dad retires from leading the pack just to be with me and his granddaughter. For a while, it’s just us but now… after five years, we are back. We’ve returned to support Slade as he fully takes the reins of the pack. And Dad… he says it’s my duty, too. To help run it alongside my brother. He doesn’t want Amira growing up away from her entire family, from her legacy. I’m ready. I no longer nurse a broken heart. I have nothing to run from anymore. When we arrive at the pack house, everyone is already waiting. Dad squeezes my hand as we walk toward the entrance. "Ready, cub?" That’s his nickname for me. I squeeze back. "Born ready."

His beloved woman suffered a terminal illness, and he indulged her repeated provocations against his wife. Heartbroken, his wife finally gave up, divorcing and vanishing, prompting him to block the whole city in a frantic search for her. ===== Leaving the hospital, Thea Dawson could barely contain her excitement as she clutched the test results and hurried to call her husband, Jerred Willis. "Jerred... I... I need to tell you something." Her voice trembled, her palms damp against the paper in her hand. On the other end of the line, Jerred's response carried an unexpected chill. "Interesting. I have something to say to you, too. Make sure you're back home by seven." Before Thea could reply, the line went dead, leaving her with the flat tone buzzing in her ear. A tightness spread through her ch**t. Something about Jerred's voice was amiss--it was far colder than usual. She drew in a steadying breath and patted her cheeks, forcing a small smile. She urged herself not to think too much about it. Jerred was the CEO of Braptin's largest multinational company; the weight of constant pressure was bound to make him feel frustrated sometimes. His cold tone didn't necessarily mean he was upset with her. When the clock struck seven, Thea was already seated at the perfectly set dining table, her eyes flicking to her watch as each minute dragged. Wanting to ease what she imagined might have been a grueling day for Jerred, she had carefully prepared all of his favorite dishes. Yet, to her surprise, the man who prided himself on punctuality was late today. An hour later, at last, the front door of the house opened. Jerred stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the space with authority. The evening chill clung to his coat as he shrugged it off and passed it to the waiting maid. Thea stood quickly, her smile soft and welcoming. "What kept you so late?" "Got held up with something," he answered curtly. With a folder in hand, he moved toward the table, his stride composed. He then lowered himself into a chair, legs crossing with casual elegance. "You said you wanted a word with me?" His unreadable eyes lingered on Thea, cold and probing, while the untouched food sat between them. His voice was cold as he said, "Go ahead; say it." His icy demeanor made her fingers curl against her lap, and the news of her pr**nancy stuck in her throat. Her lips twitched into a forced smile. "You also said you wanted to tell me something. Why don't you start first?" For a long beat, he didn't answer. His stare remained locked on her, steady and suffocating. Then, in a voice slow and deliberate, he said, "Jaylynn's back." Thea felt those words crash over her like an icy tide, leaving her stunned. The Jaylynn he mentioned was none other than her cousin, Jaylynn Dawson. Jaylynn had grown up alongside Jerred, their deep bond forged from childhood. A year ago, Jaylynn had been the one destined to become Jerred's bride. But for reasons unknown, Jaylynn had vanished the night before the wedding. To shield both families from scandal, the Dawson family had dragged Thea out of her quiet countryside life and thrust her into Jerred's arms instead. Thea had always known Jerred's heart belonged elsewhere. The moment Jaylynn returned, she'd be expected to step aside. She had just never imagined that day would come so abruptly. Her fingers curled around the crumpled pr**nancy test results hidden in her pocket. "So..." Her voice trembled as her eyes flicked to the document on the table. "Is that a divorce agreement you've brought?" "It isn't," Jerred replied, his tone flat. "I'm not filing for divorce--at least not yet." A faint breath escaped Thea's lips, but the brief relief tightened into dread just as quickly. His words carried the weight of inevitability, hinting that her marriage was already counting down to its end. With her ch**t tight, Thea let out a quiet sniffle. "Then what is this document..." "Jaylynn told me she disappeared because she thought she was dying," Jerred said evenly. "She didn't want to burden me with her illness. She didn't come back to rekindle anything between us this time." He then slid the document across the table toward Thea, unfolding it with deliberate precision. "She needs your help." Thea froze for a moment. Her gaze then dropped instinctively to the page. The bold heading made her pulse stutter--it was a bone marrow compatibility report. Her eyes traced the lines until the truth slammed into her ch**t: her bone marrow was a perfect match for Jaylynn's. As her eyes traced the words, a stab of pain shot through her ch**t. She racked her memory, unable to recall ever having such a test. Except... Her throat tightened as she pieced it together. Forcing down the rising pain, she lifted her eyes to Jerred, sorrow etched across her face. "Two months ago, when your assistant said I needed a check-up... was that test for this?" Jerred gave a clipped nod. "That's right. I kept it from you because Jaylynn's return had to remain confidential." Each word that left his lips struck her heart with brutal force. That check-up--the only time in over a year of marriage he had shown even a shred of concern toward her--hadn't been about her at all. She had been elated then, convinced it meant their relationship was finally moving forward. Now, in hindsight, she must've seemed both pathetic and laughable at that time. What she had once believed was a breakthrough in their relationship now revealed itself as nothing more than Jerred arranging a test for the woman he had truly cherished all along... Lifting her head, Thea locked eyes with Jerred across the table he hadn't even noticed she had painstakingly set. "I'm not doing it," she declared, her voice firm. Her fingers drifted protectively to her still-flat belly. The tiny life in there, just two months along, was too fragile and too precious to endure something like this. Jerred was caught off guard by her outright refusal, his expression hardening as his brow knitted together. "I'll arrange for the best medical team. Everything will be handled with precision. You won't be at risk. Jaylynn's situation can't wait." Thea held his gaze, her composure steady despite the storm gathering inside her. After a long, tense silence, she drew a breath and said slowly, "Jerred... I'm pr**nant." Chapter 2 Mommy Will Protect You Jerred's taunt sliced through the room like a bl**e. "You'd spin any excuse just to avoid donating bone marrow to Jaylynn." Silence lingered for a beat before he added with a mocking curl of his lips, "We've been using protection for an entire year. You can't possibly be pr**nant." Thea's face froze. Then, her expression turned into a strained, bitter smile. Her mind flitted back two months, to that day his assistant had dragged her out for the so-called check-up. That night, Jerred had shocked her by waiting for her at home with an extravagant bouquet of scarlet roses. He had dr**k a lot, and their in**macy had been wild. She had reminded him of using protection, but Jerred, reeking of al**hol and grinning wickedly, had leaned close to her ear and murmured, "Tonight, I want to be closer to you." Swept along in the deceptive haze, Thea had believed every gesture from him--the flowers, the sudden tenderness, even the in**mate recklessness--meant he was finally softening toward her. Only now did the truth hit like a bucket of ice water. All of it--the odd check-up, the roses, the intense pa**ion--hadn't been for her at all. It was because Jaylynn had returned. Only Jaylynn could unravel Jerred, the man who was usually so composed and reserved, driving him to act impulsively. He had forgotten about everything the next day because he had been too dr**k. Thea's silence only fed Jerred's conviction that her pr**nancy was nothing more than an excuse to dodge the bone marrow donation. "Thea," he called out, his brows drawing tight as his voice hardened. "I know you've never felt any real bond with Jaylynn, even though she is your cousin." While speaking, he set a sleek black card down on the table, the gold-embossed J gleaming under the light. "There's ten million on this card. Consider it compensation." Thea's eyes lingered on the glittering card, a self-mocking smile breaking across her face. In their year of marriage, every allowance, every so-called gift Jerred had ever offered her had barely amounted to a single million. Yet for the woman he truly cherished, he could toss away ten million as if it meant nothing. "If you want something else instead," he added, his tone flat. "Just name your terms." Jerred pressed on when Thea stayed silent. "If you agree to donate, I'll make sure you're compensated in every way I can." Lifting her gaze, Thea studied Jarred as if he were a stranger. His distant, businesslike tone reduced the moment to nothing more than a cold negotiation. Their shared year--the fleeting tenderness, the fragile warmth--suddenly felt like a story she had invented for herself. Yet the undeniable truth was that she carried his child. Bitterness welled in her ch**t when she thought about that, her lashes lowering as she shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, determination steadied her expression. Her voice came firm as she said, "I don't care how you think of me because of this. I'm not donating my bone marrow." Jerred's brows drew tight, but Thea's gaze only sharpened with a fierce resolve. "If you think I'm heartless or selfish, we can end this marriage." The title of Jerred's wife had never truly belonged to her--and neither had his love. The only thing she could claim without question was the fragile life growing inside her. She would never risk her child's safety for Jaylynn, a woman who meant nothing to her. The atmosphere in the dining room grew heavy, silence pressing down like a storm waiting to break. A sense of unease stirred in Jerred's ch**t; he had a nagging fear that something precious was slipping away from him. For a year, Thea had played the obedient wife--soft-spoken, accommodating, smiling as she accepted every request he tossed her way. Tonight, though, she was transformed into something fierce, bristling with defiance, challenging him at every step, and even daring to throw divorce in his face. Just then, the suffocating quiet was shattered by the abrupt ringing of Jarred's phone. "Jaylynn." He quickly answered the call, his voice shifting at once--gentler, almost tender. "What's wrong?" The house was so quiet that Thea, sitting rigid at the table, could hear the fragile, trembling voice on the other end of the line. "Jerred, I'm in so much pain..." Jaylynn sobbed, her voice breaking. "When I tried to stand, I banged my hand against the metal frame of the bed. The IV came loose, and bl**d's spilling everywhere. Am I not going to make it through the night..." "I'm coming over now." Jarred's reply was urgent. He stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor, and while murmuring words of comfort into the phone, he strode toward the door. As he reached the doorway, he paused, turning back to glance at Thea, who was still frozen in place. His voice stayed calm, but his words were edged in steel. "Marriage isn't some toy you toss around when you're upset. I'll pretend I didn't hear that talk about divorce. As for the bone marrow donation, I expect you to think it over seriously. I won't be back until later. Don't wait up; just get some rest on your own." With that, he strode out, the heavy door soon slamming shut behind him. The crash of wood meeting frame splintered Thea's ch**t, as if the sound itself had cracked her heart. Her eyes drifted closed, and her trembling hand moved protectively across her belly. "Baby," she whispered softly, voice quivering with fragile strength. "Don't be afraid. Mommy will protect you." Given that Jerred had chosen Jaylynn over her, she decided at that moment that she would never choose him again. Chapter 3 End Your Marriage To Her Now Outside, rain hammered the windows, the steady roar filling the night. Thea lay restless beneath the covers, her body shifting, sleep refusing to come. A year of memories with Jerred replayed in her mind, unbidden and relentless. Their grandfathers were close friends, binding the Dawson and Willis families together. That bond had placed Jerred in her life when she was very young. Even as a boy of eight, Jerred had carried himself with a solemn maturity, dressed sharply in a black suit, aloof and distant from the world around him. At five, Thea had been his opposite--bright, clingy, always tugging at his sleeve, desperate to pull his attention her way. Jerred's innate courtesy never let him brush her aside. He had stayed near, tolerating her chatter, even taking on the quiet role of her protector. One summer afternoon, her reckless play had ended in disaster when she tumbled into a lake, sinking under frigid water. Jerred had leapt in without hesitation, dragging her to shore and forcing breath back into her lungs. When her eyes finally fluttered open through the haze of cold and fear, she thought she was staring at an angel as her eyes landed on Jerred. After her parents' tragic accident, though, she was left in her grandparents' care, and the Dawson family came to see her as a burden. They carried her off to the countryside, and from then on, she had never again returned to Braptin nor crossed paths with Jerred. It wasn't until a year ago that her uncle finally tracked her down in the small, weathered cabin where she had been living all that time. People all assumed she had married Jerred to escape the hardships of life in the countryside and to claw her way into wealth and status. But only Thea knew the truth--how her heart had pounded with joy when she first learned she would become Jerred's bride. Even so, she understood the marriage for what it was: a fleeting dream granted by fate, fragile and short-lived. Now came the moment to wake up from that dream. Outside the house, the storm raged across the night sky, lightning splitting the darkness while thunder rolled like cannon fire. Curled beneath her blanket, Thea pulled the covers tighter around her, her heart gradually calming down. The next morning, it was the shrill buzz of her phone that pulled her from sleep. Jerred's mother's voice cut through Thea's drowsiness like a bl**e, dripping with disdain. "Still in bed at this hour? How did my son end up stuck with someone so lazy like you?" For a full year, Thea had endured Maggie Willis' barbed remarks without a word in return. Her silence had never come from weakness. She had held her tongue because clashing with Maggie would only make Jerred's life harder. As the head of Braptin's most powerful company, he already shouldered enough weight; she had never wanted to add family strife to his burdens. But today, something inside her shifted. She was done enduring something like this. Maggie's scorn only deepened. "If my family hadn't been desperate last year, I'd never have agreed to you marrying my son. You don't deserve to be with him. You'll never be good enough for him--" Thea sat up, her voice calm but edged with steel. "You're right. I've never been worthy of Jerred. But marriage isn't only about one person; it's about both of us." Drawing a steady breath, she continued, "If I'm such a disappointment, then tell your son to divorce me and marry someone you think is worthy. Jerred married me a year ago because he had to, but now, those problems your family was facing are gone, aren't they? He can divorce me." Maggie froze, her tongue knotted. She was stunned by Thea's retort. She couldn't believe that the woman who had always been submissive and quiet now had the guts to snap at her. Was Thea out of her mind? Just then, Thea's voice echoed again, sharp and unyielding. "Did you really call me just to scold me, Maggie? If you have that much free time, maybe use it to convince your son to divorce me. I'm not wasting another second on you. I'm going back to bed. Bye!" She ended the call in one decisive motion, leaving Maggie no chance to reply. Maggie's fury spiked when Thea ended the call, her ch**t heaving. Not only had Thea brushed off her scolding, but she'd also dared to show not the slightest shred of respect toward her. That insolence gnawed at Maggie until her temper boiled over. Seething, she dialed Jerred's number. The instant he answered, she unleashed her rage, exclaiming, "Has your wife lost her mind? I called to wake her up, but she snapped at me instead--told me to tell you to divorce her! Who does she think she is, acting so arrogantly?" In the hospital corridor, Jerred stood motionless, gaze drifting to the rain-washed leaves outside the window. A faint crease deepened between his brows as frustration pricked at him. "Thea really said that?" "She did!" Maggie spat the words like da**ers. "Jerred, I've told you over and over again this past year to divorce her, but you always make excuses to avoid it. Now that she's the one bringing it up, it's the perfect chance. I don't care what excuses you have; you need to end your marriage to her now! Do you have any idea how many people in high society laugh at our family behind our backs just because you married her? You--" "Mom," Jerred interjected, his frown remaining. "The storm last night probably kept Thea awake with all that thunder. She was probably just in a bad mood." He flicked his eyes to the glinting metal watch on his wrist, then added evenly, "It's only seven, and there's nothing urgent today. Why disturb her rest?" As the words left his mouth, his gaze shifted toward the ward's doorway, where a frail figure in a hospital gown stood leaning against the frame. His expression tightened, and he lowered his voice. "Something's come up. I'll hang up now." Sliding the phone into his pocket, he walked toward Jaylynn. "Why are you out of bed?" he asked, his voice edged with concern. Looking pale and weak, Jaylynn offered him a faint smile. "I overheard your mom saying Thea wants a divorce... Is it because of me?" Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked at him. "Jerred... Should I never have returned?" Chapter 4 It's Been Some Time Jerred cut Jaylynn off with furrowed brows, saying, "Don't read too much into it. Thea had a spat with my mother; she was just riled up and blurting out whatever came to her mind." He steadied Jaylynn with a firm hand as he guided her back to the hospital bed. His voice was resolute as he said, "I'm not divorcing her for now." At his unyielding tone, a faint shadow crossed Jaylynn's eyes. She lowered her head, her lashes trembling, her voice nasal from crying. "You've already been married for over a year. If word gets out that you divorce the moment I return, everyone will think that I ruined your marriage..." Jerred remained quiet for several seconds before giving a short, final nod. "Yeah. We can talk about that later." The heaviness in Jaylynn's expression lifted slightly at his reply. Once tucked beneath the sheets, she let her gaze drift to the horizon, where sunlight spilled into the room. "I've been trapped in here day after day..." Her eyes slid back to Jerred, her tone softening, almost coaxing. "Could you take me shopping today? I'm about to step back into the public eye; I need new clothes and jewelry." Her hand brushed the brim of her hat as she tilted it back to expose a small patch of newly shaved scalp. Her voice quivered slightly as she admitted, "I can't let anyone see me like this." The sight of her bare scalp softened Jerred's expression, a flicker of sympathy passing through his eyes. "Alright," he murmured, his tone unusually gentle. *** It was the weekend today. After ending her call with Maggie, Thea tried to sink back into sleep, but no matter how she shifted beneath the sheets, rest refused to come. Irritation mounting, she eventually rose, wandering through the house before distracting herself with chores and packing. She had spoken of divorce the night before. Jerred hadn't given her an answer, but she knew in her bones he'd agree to it eventually for Jaylynn. So, she needed to pack up her things and be prepared for it. Determined, she folded clothes neatly into her luggage, her movements sharp with purpose. While she was tidying the dining room, her eyes landed on the black card Jerred had left on the table. With the servants in the house at all hours, she didn't want to leave it there and lose it. Just as Thea slid the card safely into her bag, ready to give it back to Jerred later, her phone buzzed with a call. The name flashing on the screen made her ch**t loosen slightly--it was Brielle Dale, her close friend. "Thea, tell me everything!" Brielle's warm voice quickly came through the line. "Did your husband lose his mind with excitement when he found out about your pr**nancy?" Brielle and Thea had known each other since kindergarten, and after Thea's parents passed, Brielle and her family had been the ones making the long trips to the countryside to keep her from feeling alone. Thea had never kept any secret from Brielle. Thea kept her tone even as she muttered, "Brielle, I've decided to divorce Jerred." On the other end of the line, silence stretched until Brielle's stunned reply slipped out. "What happened? Why are you suddenly saying this?" Only yesterday afternoon, Thea had been humming with anticipation, filling her cart with fresh ingredients to cook Jerred's favorite dishes. Yet now, in less than a day, she wanted to divorce him? Thea sank into a chair, exhaustion pressing down on her. "Jaylynn's back." "Unbelievable!" Brielle's tone hardened, slicing through the air. "She really chose the exact day you find out you're pr**nant to come back?" "Not exactly," Thea said, pressing her fingertips against her throbbing temple. Her voice steadied as she explained the situation. "She's actually been back for two months. I just found out about her return yesterday." It almost felt like fate was giving her a sign. When Jaylynn came back, she co**eived Jerred's baby. And on the very day she learned of her pr**nancy and wanted to share the news with Jarred, she discovered Jaylynn's return. Fate offered her a real family just before her marriage would end. Brielle, unsure how else to console Thea, said in a low voice, "Thea, how about we hit the mall? Let's go shopping." Maybe wandering aisles and trying on clothes could lift Thea's mood. Thea agreed without hesitation. Yet she had never imagined she would run into Jerred and Jaylynn in the mall. When her eyes caught them, she happened to be standing in front of a mirror, trying on a beautiful dress. She had never dared wear something so form-fitting before, always thinking it too bold for her image as Jerred's wife. But Brielle had coaxed her, saying that with divorce around the corner, she no longer needed to play the dutiful wife; it was time for her to try something daring. "That figure of yours is truly gorgeous!" Brielle exclaimed, circling Thea with her phone and snapping photos. Heat rushed to Thea's cheeks at the blunt praise. She was about to laugh it off and tell Brielle to stop when her gaze lifted and landed on Jerred and Jaylynn walking side by side. Jerred cut a sharp figure in a long black coat, his polished demeanor radiating a cold, untouchable authority. At his side, Jaylynn clung to his arm, her frame delicate and frail. Illness had drained the color from her face, yet her every movement remained graceful. A small entourage trailed them--bodyguards laden with shopping bags. The sight stirred a bitter pang in Thea's heart. She couldn't help remembering the time she had asked Jerred to go shopping with her. It had been only a month into their marriage when Brielle had urged her to use the outing to draw closer to Jerred. But Jerred hadn't even paused before refusing, his voice firm, dismissing the idea as a waste of his valuable time. But with Jaylynn, his time seemed hers to use freely. "What's got you staring so hard?" Brielle asked, her brow arched. She caught Thea's lingering stare and followed her line of sight. Her lips then curled into a cold smile. "Talk about bad luck. We're just trying to shop, and we run into them." Her tone was edged with mockery, loud enough to draw curious glances from nearby shoppers. Both Jaylynn and Jerred turned at the sound. Jerred's gaze landed on Thea, and for a split second, his expression shifted. In the sleek, form-fitting dress, she looked breathtaking. He had known her body's every cu**e, ki**ed and to**hed every inch of her, but he had never expected her to look so radiant when she wore a dress cut to flatter her figure so perfectly. The subtle change in Jerred's look didn't escape Jaylynn's notice. A sting of jealousy flared inside her, but she smoothed it over with a practiced smile as she said to Thea, "Fancy seeing you here, Thea. It's been some time." Chapter 5 Her Sudden Defiance Thea's smile came tight and brittle as she focused on Jaylynn's forced warmth. "It really has been some time, Jaylynn." A decade had slipped by since their last meeting--when Jaylynn had dragged her into their aunt's new salon, insisting she be the practice model for erasing the butterfly-shaped birthmark on her ch**t. "So, are you two out shopping?" Jaylynn asked breezily, her arm still looped through Jerred's as if it belonged there. Her smile remained as she gave Thea a slow once-over. "That dress is too extravagant, too daring for someone like you." After a pause, she added with a tilt of her head, "Something simpler, more modest would suit you better." Then, angling her face up toward Jerred towering beside her, she inquired sweetly, "Jerred, don't you agree?" The sweet inflection in her voice made it feel as if she, not Thea, were Jerred's wife. Jerred's gaze traced Thea's b**e shoulders and collarbone, his brow knitting as if the sight unsettled him. "The dress indeed doesn't suit her." In his eyes, Thea--so often quiet and restrained--had no business standing out in something so bold. "Why not?" Brielle countered sharply. She hooked an arm around Thea's shoulders. "She's got the body for it. Why shouldn't she show it off in such a dress?" Her eyes then flicked to Jaylynn, cold and mocking. "Or maybe you'd rather she hide her great figure because you're jealous. After all, you have no cu**es." Jaylynn's face drained of color at that. Her fingers clamped tighter around Jerred's arm, her voice unsteady. "It's true. I've dropped so much weight this year. No matter what I do, I can't..." She faltered, her tone weakening into a whisper. "I can't compare with Thea's figure..." Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned toward Thea, her words breaking into a sob. "But I wasn't jealous, I swear. I just thought the dress didn't match your style. I only meant to give honest advice." Brielle snorted, folding her arms and saying, "What a performance, Jaylynn. Crying right on cue." Her gaze cut into Jaylynn with open disdain. "You know exactly whether that was advice or a smug little jab at Thea." Jaylynn's tears came down in torrents at Brielle's sharp words. "Thea." Jerred's frown deepened, his tone edged with ice. "Tell your friend to watch her mouth." Then, with a gentleness that made Thea's ch**t tighten, Jerred patted Jaylynn's trembling hand. He tried to comfort her, saying, "Don't cry. Don't let this upset you. Your health is already fragile." From where she stood, Thea caught the tender flicker in his eyes--an expression she had never once been on the receiving end of. A jagged stab of pain ripped straight through her ch**t. In the year they'd been married, whether she had been sick, exhausted, or quietly hurting, Jerred's gaze toward her had always been cool, distant, untouched by concern. She had once thought that it was just because of Jerred's reserved nature, that he wasn't good at expressing emotions. But now, seeing how he looked at Jaylynn, she understood everything. The contrast was brutal--love and indifference were separated by nothing more than a moment's gaze. Thea, after wasting a year bleeding love into their marriage, realized she'd been nothing but st**id before. A heat rose in her ch**t, burning away the silence she had usually clung to. She leveled Jerred with a frosty gaze, her voice cutting through the air. "Mr. Willis, you pride yourself on being a seasoned and perceptive businessman. Surely you can hear the contempt dripping from Jaylynn's tone when she speaks to me." Jerred's eyes narrowed, but he offered no reply. Thea continued, "When someone humiliates me and my husband keeps his mouth shut, why can't my friend say something? She's standing up for me. Tell me, why would I stop her?" Her words fell like stones into still water, stilling the murmurs of the onlookers. Brielle's shock froze her in place, her eyes wide. She looked as if she couldn't process what she had just heard. Thea, once as bold and spirited as Brielle, had lost her fire after her parents' deaths, becoming quiet and reserved. Whenever others mocked or bullied Thea and Brielle stood up for her, Thea used to tug at Brielle's sleeve, whispering for her to drop it. She had always claimed it was simpler to swallow her grievances than stir up trouble. But now, Thea stood her ground, her spine straight, her tone cutting through the tension as she voiced her frustration. And the person she confronted wasn't just anyone--it was Jerred, the man she had loved for years. Jerred clearly hadn't foreseen such defiance from Thea, either. He looked at her, irritation sharpening his tone. "Turns out my mother was right about you. You're nothing like yourself today." Before, Thea had always been compliant, taking every slight with quiet patience. Now, she wasn't like that anymore... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&

Chapter 1 Rejecting Me for His Ex's Photo Christina's POV Slap! My head snapped to the side, vision blurring, skin burning as if someone had pressed a brand into me. For a heartbeat, I couldn't even process it. My fated mate just hit me. Three minutes ago, I'd been stupidly daydreaming about curtains, rugs, chandeliers, wondering how I would make the ridiculously expensive pack house look less like a museum screaming I have more money than personality. Two minutes ago, I'd knocked over a framed photograph in his bedroom. Just an accident. A picture of my sister smiling like the golden saint she always was. Now, blood rushed in my ears as the sting on my face spread, sharp and humiliating. The boy I once believed was my forever had just turned me into the villain of his story. Akira roared inside me, claws scraping at the walls of my chest. Rage, betrayal, heartbreak swirled together until I could barely breathe. Niall's lips pressed into a tight line."You broke the only photo I had with Beatrice. Your jealousy makes me sick." "Are you fucking insane?" I gritted my teeth. "No, you're the insane one!" he roared."I already agreed to marry you,what more do you want? Beatrice had to leave because of you!Because you exposed our mate bond and forced me to accept you!" The hatred in his eyes cut deeper than the slap. "She was your sister! And now you're jealous? You won't rest until every trace of her is erased, will you?" He said in anger as he shoved me backward, into the coffee table. Sharp pain sliced through my palm as I landed on the shattered glass frame. Blood smeared across Beatrice's perfect smile. How poetic. My cheek throbbed. My hand was bleeding.But nothing hurt more than the realization that my so-called mate had never loved me. "It wasn't me," I said, one final attempt at reason."I never forced this mate bond on you. I never asked her to leave." Technically speaking, I understood why someone might blame me. On my eighteenth birthday, I shifted and realized Niall was my fated mate.Stupidly, I wrote it all down in my diary.I planned to tell him when he returned from his business trip. If he couldn't accept me, I was prepared for rejection. But Beatrice found my diary and made it public. Privacy was apparently a foreign concept to her. She told everyone in The Crescent pack about my diary. I was dragged out and shamed as the pathetic spare who dared reach above her station for her perfect sister's Alpha. Then Beatrice graciously left for abroad,leaving behind a letter saying she'd "discovered my secret" and decided to "let go," to "let him be mine." My sister was about as generous as a reality TV contestant with someone else's money. And I? I was the villain who drove away The Crescent Pack's perfect princess. To my family,I'd been bumped to the starting lineup after years on the bench,so I should've been grateful.My parents didn't truly care which daughter married Niall, only that the pack alliance was sealed.Even if Niall had literally ripped my heart out, my parents would've handed him napkins to clean up. It was as if my parents had always hated me. No matter how much I outperformed Beatrice in training, they always made excuses for her and found fault with me. I was bitter, ungrateful, someone who couldn't appreciate her dear sister. My fingers clenched around the engagement ring.This pathetic symbol of our joke mateship. Hot tears blurred my vision. I blinked them back fast. I bolted for the door.Had to get out before the tears came. Niall grabbed my wrist to stop me. "Clean it up." "What?"I stared him in disbelief, needing to confirm I'd heard him right. "You broke the photo frame. Clean up the pieces." Ice-cold command. Too bad I never was good at taking orders. "No." I lifted my chin. Zero compromise. His jaw clenched. "You sure you want to do this, Christina?" "Yes. I said no." I stared him down without flinching. If love meant grinding my self-respect into cigarette ash, then fuck love. The air between us snapped, tension rising like a storm. He leaned in, fury blazing. "Last chance. Disobey me, and I'll end this bond right here—" "We are over," I cut in. Shock froze his face. For a moment,the air went still. He hadn't expected me to actually say it. I yanked my arm free, breath hitching as hope for escape flared—only for him to seize me again, his grip bruising, his eyes burning with something close to hatred. "This is on you, Christina!" Niall snarled, his tone that of a sworn enemy rather than the mate fate had chained me to. "I, Niall Granger, Alpha of the Frostpelt Pack, reject—" "Shut the hell up!" I snapped. If anyone was ending this bond, it would be me. My gaze locked onto his, unflinching. "You don't get to reject me. I reject you, Niall. Now accept it." The world seemed to crack in half. Akira howled inside me, a keening wail of loss, while searing agony tore through my chest as the bond unraveled thread by thread. His jaw tightened,but he forced the words past clenched teeth. "I accept your rejection. Now clean up your mess and fix the damn photo." My hands shook as I picked up the shattered frame, shards biting into my skin, my blood smearing across the glass. I tore the picture down the middle, ripping his face away from my sister's, as if severing every last tie. Without hesitation,I swung my hand and slapped him hard across that infuriatingly handsome, arrogant face. The crack echoed between us. I leaned in, letting him see the fire in my eyes. "Now," I hissed, "we're done.." The silence was absolute. My palm stung, but oh, the satisfaction almost dulled the pain in my chest. Niall staggered back, shock flashing in his eyes. It wasn't from pain, but from realizing the docile girl he'd despised no longer existed. I smiled coldly. "Goodbye, Niall. Go worship your shrine to Beatrice." And I walked out of that suffocating hell, head high. I would rather drown in my own tears than let him see one more drop. When I reached the parking lot, the cold night air hit my face, but overwhelming pain crashed over me like a tidal wave. Fuck, no one ever told me that breaking the mate bond would be this excruciating. It felt like having my heart sliced up and served to Hannibal Lecter.He'd probably enjoy it with a nice chianti and some fava bean sauce. I curled up in the driver's seat, cold sweat streaming down my face. Akira lay weakly inside me,whimpering,"It's so fucking strange!Like someone reached into my gut and tore something out with their fist." I couldn't agree more. I wanted to find my mother,she would definitely know how to ease this kind of pain. Or maybe any creature in pain instinctively thinks of their mother. As I hesitated between sending a mind-link or making a call, my phone vibrated. My eyes were so blurry that I fumbled to swipe and answer. "Chrissy, you must be insane!" My mother screamed."How dare you humiliate Niall like this! The pack alliance is ruined!" "Mom, he rejected me," I said weakly. "As in, formally. Also, he hit me. So there's that fun detail." "He... what?" For once, she sounded stunned. My dad's voice cut in, "Don't be dramatic. After everything Beatrice sacrificed for you? You will apologize to Niall immediately and beg him to marry you, or you're no longer welcome in our territory!" He hung up before I could respond. I stared at my phone in bewilderment, my father's words echoing in my head. Not "Are you okay?" Not "We're coming to get you." Just threats about banishing me from the pack. Why was it that no matter how hard I tried, I still couldn't earn even a sliver of their approval? When I was rejected by my mate and dying from the pain, all my parents could think about was the pack alliance and my fucking sister who had disappeared God knows where! Beatrice never had to do anything, yet she was their precious jewel. So, this is it? On the day I severed the mate bond with my fated mate, I finally realized that my parents had never loved me. It shattered my last remaining, pathetic and pitiful longing for my parents' love. Enough. I was done trying to earn love that would never be given. I was done being the convenient backup daughter. I was taking back the self-respect I'd lost long ago, and I was breaking free of this engagement—no matter the consequences. Chapter 2 Stop the Mourning Christina's POV The drive to my rarely-used apartment was a blur. The one that had been gathering dust for months ever since Niall's mom invited me to live at their packhouse and plan the wedding. What a joke that turned out to be. As I reached my door, I fumbled with the security pad. Pain traveled through every inch of my body, and I gritted my teeth, refusing to faint pathetically on my doorstep. Wrong code. Again. And again. Frustration boiled over. I kicked the door with my heel, a pitiful gesture that accomplished nothing except sending pain shooting up my leg. Of course. The universe had declared today The Epic Humiliation of Christina Day. I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor as sobs tore from my throat. Why did everyone always choose and care about Beatrice?! Hadn't I suffered enough? Second place in my family, just a replacement in my own mate's heart? Just as I was nearly choking on my own cries, a deep voice came from behind me. "That's my door you're assaulting." Great. Another fucking problem. "What?" I snapped, turning to glare. The man standing there was... devastating. Not pretty-boy handsome like Niall, but ruggedly masculine. Tall and powerfully built, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and those piercing blue-gray eyes that seemed to see right through me. He looked like the kind of Alpha who didn't just win battles but erased his enemies from history entirely. "If you're planning to kick it in, I'll need your insurance information first," he said flatly. My throat went dry. "I—I'm so sorry. I thought this was my apartment." He tilted his head, gaze unreadable. "Rough day?" My face burned with awkwardness. Great. Rejected, injured, and now looking like a complete idiot in front of the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen. "You could say that." I muttered, hauling myself up and attempting dignity while looking like a raccoon caught in a dumpster fire. "Easy there, hurricane." He raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the door across the hall. "That would be yours, I believe." Hurricane? I should've been annoyed, but the way he said it made my stomach flutter strangely. "I know where I live." "Could've fooled me." "Fine," I mumbled, attempting to smooth down my wreck of a dress. "Thanks for the geography lesson." "Need help with your door code?" "What I need is for this day to reboot like a malfunctioning iPhone, but thanks for the offer." I walked toward my door, feigning composure and grace. As if the crazy woman who'd just had a breakdown wasn't me at all. While I punched in my door code, I could feel those intense eyes watching my every move. Come on, fingers, work faster. Beep—finally. I glanced back. He was still watching, arms crossed. "Sorry about your door," I muttered. "I'll survive." I closed my door and pressed my back against it. Well, that was humiliating. My devastatingly handsome neighbor probably thought I was a lunatic, and honestly? He wasn't wrong. Wait—devastatingly handsome?Fuck. I really was losing it. I dropped onto my bed, exhausted. Akira was barely alive inside me,hurt by rejection,her once-sharp senses now dulled. "We'll heal," I whispered to her. No response.Great. Even my own wolf was giving me the silent treatment. I don't even know when I started losing myself for him. Maybe it was the first time he looked at me like I wasn't enough. Maybe it was the day he compared me to my sister and I chose to believe him instead of myself. I bleached my hair until my scalp burned raw, just because he once told his friends, "Chrissy's pretty, but too boring. Look at that mousy brown hair—she dresses like a librarian." I shoved my feet into heels that carved blisters into my skin, he sneered, "Why are you walking like a newborn giraffe? Beatrice could run in heels." I dragged myself into the kitchen before dawn, cooking meals I never ate, ironing shirts that weren't mine, baking desserts I didn't taste—all because I believed, stupidly, that one day he'd look at me and finally see me. But no matter how much I changed, it was never enough. Even when I stood in front of the pack, humiliated and treated like entertainment, he didn't protect me. He only reminded me I should be grateful to "make do." I realize now—I was never his mate. I was his project. His servant. A placeholder until he found what he truly wanted. And I stayed. For four long years, I stayed. The weight of that truth crushed me. My chest ached as if every breath cost too much. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, but the tears wouldn't stop. How pathetic, that I poured everything I was into a man who never even tried to know me. The grief hollowed me out until there was nothing left but exhaustion. My body gave up before my mind did. I curled into the wet pillow, vision blurred, and let the darkness drag me under. Two days slipped away before I woke again. I called gently to Akira, "Are you okay, Akira? Can you hear me?" Akira stirred weakly in my mind, "Chrissy, I feel off. I can't smell anything anymore." I froze, trying to catch any scent. Nothing. "Maybe it's just temporary from all the pain," I said to Akira, not knowing if I was comforting her or myself. "It might come back later." Her tail drooped listlessly in my mind. Not being able to smell meant she couldn't identify potential mates—a devastating loss for any wolf. But there was nothing we could do about it right now. I let her rest and checked my messages. Oddly, my parents hadn't bombarded me with mind-links or calls since their initial outburst.This engagement had been their golden ticket to an alliance with The Frostpelt Pack. A marriage alliance with one of the North's top three packs wasn't something they'd abandon easily.Neither of us daughters could inherit leadership of The Crescent Pack, but marrying a powerful Alpha?That ensured our pack's future prosperity. Suspicious. Part of me wondered if Niall had said something to keep them at bay. Maybe even felt guilty? Unlikely. More probably planning his next move. The doorbell shattered my pity party.And it didn't stop ringing. For five minutes. I groaned. Horrible social interaction. Dragging my carcass to the door, I pulled it open. Ysolde Carlisle, who was my best friend and the only person with legal rights to yell at me, stood there with narrowed eyes and two bags of takeout.Then her gaze landed on my face. "What the absolute fuck happened to you?" "I'm redecorating my face. The symmetrical look was getting boring," I said casually. She wasn't buying it. She reached out, gently turning my face to examine my cheek. "Who hit you?" "Come inside," I muttered quickly. As soon as the door closed, I collapsed into her arms. Eventually, I forced out a single word. "Niall." Ysolde went completely still. Everyone knew that name.Niall Granger wasn't the type to throw punches because he was calculated and precise. He was the powerful Alpha who destroyed people with phone calls, not fists. "No fucking way,"she muttered. "Niall? Your mate Niall?The diplomatic poster boy?" I nodded. "Turns out the charming gentleman becomes a tyrant behind closed doors." "Tell me what happened. All of it." So I did. Beatrice's photo. The slap. The formal rejection. By the time I finished, Ysolde looked ready to commit murder. "That bastard," she hissed. "And over what? Your psycho sister who isn't even here? I swear to Goddess, Chrissy, Beatrice could be on another continent and she'd still find a way to ruin your life." "Maybe it's for the best. At least I found out what kind of mate he really is before we got married." My stomach growled loudly. Ysolde raised an eyebrow and lifted the takeout bags."Good thing I came prepared." Between bites, I frowned. "Don't you think it's weird my parents haven't called? They wanted this wedding so badly, but now... nothing." Ysolde shrugged."Maybe they're plotting. Your father isn't the type to give up his plan easily." After dinner, Ysolde pushed me into the bathroom to shower while she cleaned up. I stood under the hot water, trying to wash away four years of delusion. Through the bathroom door, I heard her on the phone. I caught bits and pieces. "Complete asshole." "What a dick." "You won't believe what he did to her—" She was probably talking to Zane Carlisle,her brother.Unlike Niall,Zane treated women with respect. The way Ysolde so instantly,so fiercely chose my side made my throat tight.She believed me without hesitation.When everyone else would side with Niall, she'd declared war on my behalf. This wasn't something small.Going against Niall's pack could create serious problems for her family's small pack. I wrapped myself in a towel and sighed. Why couldn't my parents love me like that? Suddenly,I was hit by waves of excruciating pain,each one stabbing through my abdomen. Each surge burned through my neck where Niall's mark still lingered. I collapsed on the bathroom floor with a scream. Ysolde burst through the door. "Chrissy! What happened?" I could barely form words. "Pain... killer... please..." Ysolde helped me up and rushed out to get medication. I clutched my stomach,biting my lip to keep from screaming again. This was different from rejection pain. Akira howled in anguish inside me. "It's mate betrayal," she whispered weakly. "What? But I already rejected him—" "The mark on your neck hasn't fully faded," Akira explained through our pain. Seriously? He rejected me and immediately ran off to fuck someone else? Couldn't even wait for our bond to completely break before shoving his dick into another woman? Ysolde returned with painkillers and water. After I swallowed them and the worst waves subsided, she sat beside me, fury blazing in her eyes. "That bastard," she snarled. I nodded weakly. "You know what?" Ysolde stood up. "Fuck him. You shouldn't have to suffer alone through this pain,he needs to get a taste of his own medicine." I stared at her in confusion. "Get dressed," she commanded."Niall's dick isn't made of diamonds, and it sure as hell isn't worth mourning.We're going out to find you someone who doesn't need his ex's photo to get it up." I blinked. "I've been rejected and your solution is... clubbing?" She threw clothes at my face."My solution is reminding you that you're Christina fucking Vance, and one Alpha's rejection doesn't break you." I stared at her. Every part of me wanted to crawl back into bed and disappear. But lying here wallowing while Niall was probably celebrating with someone else? Fuck that! "Fine," I said, dragging myself up."But if I collapse on the dance floor,you're carrying me home." Ysolde grinned wickedly. "Trust me, you won't need rescuing tonight." Chapter 3 The Sister He Really Wanted Christina's POV "Don't you think I look like a streetwalker?Is this really necessary?"I said, tugging at my extremely short skirt that would show my panties if I so much as sneezed. "Honey, have some taste. This is called sexy,"Ysolde said, dressed like a mafia queen and standing tall against the icy wind in her five-inch heels."Plus, don't cheapen yourself like that." "But isn't this a little too—" I didn't even finish before a brutal gust of wind slapped me across the face.I immediately wrapped my sinful fur coat tighter around myself and curled up like a frozen shrimp. Ysolde let out a groan."Chrissy,come on.We're going to Highrise City's most exclusive pack club, not an Arctic expedition." "I'm just glad I won't be hospitalized for hypothermia tonight, thanks," I snapped back. She rolled her eyes. "Don't you already have a fur coat? You know, the one that comes naturally?" she said, clearly questioning why a werewolf was complaining about the cold. I bit back, "Because I'm in human form right now!" I'd thought we'd have to wait in line like everyone else. That was the whole reason I wore this fur coat. But clearly, I had underestimated Ysolde. She had zero plans to follow the rules. With the ease of someone who'd done this a thousand times, she slipped a rolled-up bill into the bouncer's hand, her palm casually grazing his rock-hard chest like a Bond girl who'd forgotten her martini. Ten seconds. That's all it took. We were in. Ysolde was the kind of beautiful that made men forget their names and girlfriends in two seconds. We sailed into Luna's Eclipse.It was the most exclusive club in Highrise City where rich werewolves played politics over overpriced drinks. The place was thick with heat, perfume, and the effervescent scent of champagne. I ripped off my coat the second we stepped inside,only to be met with an are-you-trying-to-embarrass-me glare from Ysolde. She handed her coat off to a passing server with a flick of her fingers, like she'd personally hired the man. I tried to copy her moves. Failed miserably. Nearly dropped my purse. "Moon Goddess!" I gasped, eyes glued to the menu like it was robbing my credit card. Ysolde gave me a sideways glance and scoffed. "Wait, Niall never spent money on you? What a cheapskate." "Relax. Tonight's on me." I breathed a sigh of relief.Considering I'd been rejected by my mate, had my wedding canceled, and my parents were planning to banish me from the territory to become a rogue, I needed a fortune to buy scent-masking spray to prevent Niall from hiring someone to kill me. Price tags aside,the view was elite—rising young Gammas, handsome future Alphas, and a swarm of finance bros who looked like they gave TED talks on dominating Wall Street in custom suits. Honestly, it was a room full of show-offs and wannabe flirts, all hiding under the dim lighting. We found a table near the bar and a bartender locked eyes on us. Well. He was hard to miss—tall, sculpted features, sleeves rolled to the elbows just enough to show off well-trained forearms. He shouldn't be mixing drinks. He should be shooting Dior fragrance ads or modeling sexy men's underwear. Or at the very least starring on the shifter romance novel cover. Maybe that's why this club was so expensive,even the staff had to be perfect. "Two 75s, whiskey," Ysolde ordered before I could even find the cheapest drink on the menu. "Make it strong." And of course, she didn't forget to show her perfect smile,chin tilted just enough to say "Oops, didn't mean to flirt." The bartender reached effortlessly for the gin."Rough night?" "More like a rejection-level disaster,"she said,casually pointing her thumb at me. "And it's wrapping up real soon." I glanced at her. "Thrilled that my personal life is now public broadcast." She patted my hand."Sweetie, this place runs on romantic catastrophes. Without bad decisions, no one would be buying drinks." Then she turned away and melted into the crowd, flipping into Social Queen Mode like someone had hit a switch. In under ten seconds, she completed a visual sweep before spinning back around and pointing toward the edge of the dance floor. "Okay, listen. You need a rebound. Target A: Six-foot-two Manhattan finance bro, suit worth more than your monthly rent, haircut that speaks 'my therapist costs more than your car.' He'll wine and dine you, then ghost you for his stock portfolio." I shook my head. "Nope." Her eyes flicked to a new direction. "Target B: tortured Parisian artist type. Looks like he subsists entirely on cigarettes and existential dread. He'll write poetry about your eyes, then ask to 'borrow' money for art supplies that somehow always end up being weed and takeout.'" "Pass." She sighed, then pointed again."Fine. Target C: sensitive musician with a 'promising EP dropping next month.' Translation,you'll be supporting him financially while he finds himself through his craft for the next decade." I groaned into my hands. "Ysolde, please." She didn't back down."Chrissy, you cannot sit here like a decorative wall gecko. Tonight is about rebooting your life, not stitching up emotional wounds." Just as she geared up for a fourth round of rebound recommendations, she suddenly froze. It was like someone had hit mute on her entire system. Then, far too casually, she said, "Hey, want to hit the bathroom?" I narrowed my eyes. "No?" "...Or maybe let's move tables? The vibe here's weird." Her smile was tight. Weird vibe? We'd only been sitting for ten minutes, and we just ordered drinks.By Ysolde's standards, we were barely warming up. Then I followed her gaze. A half-private booth. Niall. He had his arm draped around a woman. Her head rested on his shoulder, makeup flawless, smile polished and effortless. But that wasn't the worst part. They were kissing. Deep, hungry kisses. The woman was perched on his lap, her dress riding up, their hands roaming each other's bodies as if they were seconds away from tearing each other's clothes off right there in the club. My stomach lurched. The sight was revolting, obscene. I didn't need more details about who she was. That face, I would never forget it. Four years ago, the woman generously "gifted" me her boyfriend as my fated mate, left a heartfelt letter, and disappeared overseas.Now here she was, brazenly draped across my mate's lap, turning the whole club into their personal cheating stage. I had told myself I was over it. We'd broken up. It was done. Time to move on. Until I heard what came next. "Honestly, I didn't think she'd fall apart over a picture frame." Beatrice's voice was full of false pity as she broke away from their kiss. "Of course I put that photo somewhere obvious. I wanted her to notice. After all, she still doesn't know you've been visiting me in Europe all those 'business trips.' It was time she caught a little hint, wasn't it?" She looked up at Niall adoringly."Darling, your performance was spot-on. Even I almost believed you were worried about the broken glass, instead of just helping me pull off the scene. She's so stupid.Of course she thought you were upset about the frame, not terrified of exposing our affair." Niall chuckled smugly. "I had to act like I cared. She spends every day trying to be my perfect mate. If she found out all her effort still couldn't compete with you, she'd lose it." Beatrice laughed under her breath and patted his chest. "Don't worry. Knowing Chrissy, she's probably still scrambling to fix things. She's the type who always believes that if she just tries hard enough, people will finally see her worth." "But the harder she tries, the more pathetic she looks. And me? I just 'happened' to return home. My parents don't know a thing yet. Tomorrow, I'll be seeing them in broad daylight—because she gave up the engagement herself, and you, sweetheart, are blameless." Niall nodded. "I already talked to your parents. The wedding won't be canceled, just a change of bride. It was always supposed to be your spot anyway." "Isn't this the best ending?" Beatrice smiled triumphantly. "I never gave up on you. I was just waiting for her to step aside." She leaned in closer. "You know how she tried to copy everything about me to make you love her? Bleaching her hair, changing her style, even the way she talks? God, it was hilarious watching her pathetic attempts." Niall snorted. "Like a discount knockoff trying to pass as the original." Beatrice giggled, "Though I thought fated mates were supposed to be deeply in love with each other? Aren't you two supposed to be…?" As she trailed off, Niall's face darkened momentarily. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold onto my drink. The pieces were finally falling into place, and Akira was whimpering. "I think... I think he's been cheating long before the rejection. That's why we're in such agony now," she whispered weakly. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. When there's infidelity after being marked, intimacy with another outside the mateship causes extreme pain to the partner. But distance can mask immediate betrayal pain,it festers in the bond instead. All those "business trips" abroad. All those times he visited Beatrice. The mate bond had been slowly deteriorating, accumulating damage we couldn't feel because of the distance. When Niall rejected me, that rejection pain combined with months of accumulated betrayal trauma. It was destroying us both. No wonder I felt like I was dying. I wasn't just dealing with rejection. I was dealing with months of hidden betrayal finally surfacing all at once. Beatrice noticed Niall's dark expression and quickly backpedaled. "I'm just teasing, silly. I know I'm the only one in your heart." The words stung like humiliation dressed up as banter. It was the kind of punchline you'd expect at a comedy club, not from your sister and your mate. Funny, isn't it? How the people who know you best are the ones who can cut the deepest. Akira stirred inside me, her growl low and hungry for payback. Ysolde was pleading with me to stay calm, to not do anything stupid. But her voice was nothing but background noise. I wasn't the same Christina who swallowed her pride for praise anymore. "Ysolde," I said quietly, never taking my eyes off them. "Hold my drink." Chapter 4 Mr. Helpful Neighbor Christina's POV I slipped free from Ysolde's grip and turned to the bartender."Your best champagne. Put it on Niall Granger's tab." The bartender handed me the bottle like I'd just ordered mineral water. With the bottle in hand, I had a mission. A burning purpose. One of Niall's Gamma guards noticed me closing in, stepping in front of my path with that watchful look.I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut, and recognition flickered across his face. Right, Niall's ex-fiancée.The guard wisely back off, hands raised in surrender. I strode straight toward Niall and Beatrice, who were tangled up in a ridiculously over-the-top, soap-opera-level make-out. I raised the bottle and smashed it, with all my strength. The glass shattered with a sharp crack.Niall's forehead split instantly,a thin line of blood tracing down between his brows. Beatrice screamed and leapt off his lap. "Christina?! Are you insane?! What are you doing here?!" She scrambled to find a lie,"You're misunderstanding, it's not what you think—" Niall cut her off, his hand gripping her arm."Don't bother explaining,Beatrice.It doesn't matter. Your parents will take our side. We're just correcting an old mistake." Beatrice's panic twisted into smugness in an instant.She curled into his side and cooed, "Oh, honey, your head's bleeding. We have to get to the hospital." Niall calmly took a tissue from one of his guards,dabbing at the blood on his forehead. "So now you know everything. The smart thing would be to cooperate and play along with this little charade." Before I could respond, Ysolde rushed forward, her hand raised to slap Beatrice. "You disgusting, two-faced—" Niall's hand shot out,gripping Ysolde's wrist brutally.His voice was ice-cold."My woman isn't someone a nobody from some backwater pack gets to touch or insult. Playing hero, are we?" My heart sank.Right.He was a powerful Alpha. I couldn't fight him head-on. But I still had the glass shard in my hand. I moved quickly, yanking Beatrice in front of me and pressing the jagged edge to her cheek."Let go of my friend,or I'll make sure your woman's face matches her personality. After all, even with werewolf healing, scars still show, don't they?" Niall's eyes flashed dangerously. "You wouldn't dare." "You've been having an affair with my sister for four years behind my back," I said calmly."How do you think it'll look when that story gets out? Not great for your reputation, I'd imagine." Niall hesitated, then slowly released Ysolde's wrist. The moment he let go, I sliced the glass across Beatrice's cheek. She screamed. "Now get your woman and get out." As soon as they were gone, Ysolde dragged me out of the club. Damn it.I hated how well Beatrice knew me.If it really came down to it,I would consider swallowing my pride and submitting to my parents and Niall. After all, I couldn't fight against his pack's power. But now?They'd been having an affair behind my back this whole time?And me? I was just the foolish, unnecessary third wheel in their twisted little story. So this was why Beatrice went abroad—they were fooling around in Europe where I couldn't sense my true mate's betrayal? But why? If they truly loved each other, they could have just talked to me honestly. I would have accepted Niall's rejection. What I couldn't figure out was—Why make me believe she disappeared for my sake? And why come back now? My eyes stung. I tilted my head toward the sky, forcing the tears back. Fine. Beatrice's back. Perfect. Now they could all reunite like a happy little four-piece family, and I... I was finally free. "Chrissy... I'm so sorry. I had no idea they'd be there tonight. I didn't even know Beatrice was back." Ysolde's eyes were full of regret. I gave a bitter laugh and shook my head."Neither did I. But I heard it loud and clear,they've been screwing around for a while. To them, I was just in the way." "Those goddamn assholes!" Ysolde hissed through clenched teeth. "You should tell your parents. Let them know Beatrice isn't the perfect angel they think she is. What about Niall's parents? No way they'll tolerate a scandal like this." I was quiet for a moment. Ysolde had a point—Niall's mother Louisa was the only person who had supported me. But he was her son. She wouldn't choose me over him. Not in the end. And my parents?I let out a breath."You know better than anyone,they only care about Beatrice. No matter what I do, I'll never replace her." Ysolde grabbed my shoulders, worry darkening her gaze. "So what now? You're just going to let them humiliate you?" "Maybe." My voice dropped to a whisper, a weariness weighing it down. "Maybe if I accept it, it'll finally be over." Suddenly, Ysolde's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, her brows knitting in frustration. "Chrissy, my agent just called. There's a last-minute ad shoot,I have to go now. Can you get home on your own?" I nodded, managing a faint smile. "Go. Don't worry about me. I'll call when I get back." After she left, I hailed a cab.Instinctively, I gave the driver my home address. But barely two minutes into the ride, a wave of suffocating pressure settled over me. "Actually," I said, "take me to any bar. Preferably one where people go to forget their names, not celebrate them." The driver barely shrugged.In Highrise City, heartbreak was just another traffic pattern. Ten minutes later, I was sitting at the bar, working on my third whiskey sour. Maybe fourth. I'd lost count. The bartender kept giving me that "you should probably slow down" look, which I was completely ignoring. "Another," I demanded, pushing my empty glass forward. "Ma'am, maybe—" the bartender started. "Did I stutter?" I cut him off, sliding my credit card across the counter like it was a weapon. "I'm trying to drown my sorrows, not baptize them." The bartender sighed but obliged. "That guy's right," a deep voice came from behind me. "Unless you want to wake up in a stranger's bed tonight?" I turned, ready to snap at whoever dared interrupt—then froze. It was him. The sexy neighbor.The one who'd helped me after I'd kicked his door by mistake, politely pointing out the right one. Tonight he was dressed in an expensive suit, his hair slicked back, revealing striking features that would make Michelangelo weep with envy and beg to sculpt him. "Well, look who it is," I slurred. "The Moon Goddess's envoy. Did she text you my GPS, or do you just have some built-in radar for women making terrible decisions?" He chuckled, the sound rich and warm like expensive brandy."Let's just call it a finely tuned savior complex." "You should've been Captain Rescue instead of an Alpha," I sighed dramatically. "Or maybe Don Juan, offering therapy sessions to every heartbroken woman in Highrise City." "And here I thought you'd be signing up for the therapy sessions yourself," he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You offer your services to every neighbor?" "Only to the ones who seem hell-bent on self-destruction at any given moment." "Well, I'm basically a pro at that," I said, lifting my glass."My life's basically glitter in a carpet—messy, impossible to clean up." He didn't laugh. He didn't rush to comfort me. He didn't even deny what I'd just said. He just watched me quietly, like a spectator observing a disaster movie. "You're not wrong," he finally said. "Your talent for chaos is impressive. I was right to call you hurricane. You can barely stand, yet here you are, drinking more wine." I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued,"But somehow you always seem to find someone who refuses to walk away...right when you're about to self-destruct completely." "Are you flirting with me, Big Bad Wolf? Or is this some kind of weird rescue mission?" I narrowed my eyes. His smile was slow,"Would either answer make you drink less?" "Probably not," I admitted. "But one might make the hangover worth it." Something flickered in his eyes—darker, sharper. I really looked at him then. He wasn't just good-looking. He was dangerous-looking. The kind that meant trouble and temptation, all wrapped in one.Not the pretty boys with trust funds and spray tans who populated most of Highrise's elite clubs.This was a man who knew exactly what he was and didn't need anyone's permission to be it. Maybe it was the alcohol or his devastatingly handsome face. Either way, the thought that had been haunting me since the moment I first saw him slipped into my head again. Before I could think better of it, my hand was on his arm. "So, Mr. Helpful Neighbor," I said huskily "since you're so dedicated to intervention, why not intervene all the way?" A flash of surprise, then he got serious. But he didn't pull away. Just held my gaze and said,"Only if you'll own this decision when you're sober." "Trust me," I said without hesitation. "This is the first clear thought I've had all night." Chapter 5 Best Sex Ever Christina's POV The suite door had barely shut when he kissed me, hard and needy. I kissed him back just as desperately, like we couldn't get enough of each other. Just from kissing him, I could feel myself getting wet. It wasn't just me—he was obviously hard too, his erection pressing against me through his pants. His hands were everywhere, burning hot against my skin. He pushed me back against the wall and lifted me up like I weighed nothing. I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him closer. I ground against him, the hard ridges of his muscles rubbing against my most sensitive spots, sending waves of pleasure through me. "Fuck," he growled against my neck. "I've wanted this since I first saw you." He kissed my neck, my earlobe. I gasped and pressed against him. We tore at each other's clothes. His jacket hit the floor, then my dress. When his shirt came off, I couldn't help but stare. I ran my hands down his chest, trailing lower to his sculpted abs. I worked his pants off completely, his hot length springing free and slapping against my face.His cock was flushed deep red, the head rounded and glistening with moisture. So thick, I thought, reaching to wrap my hand around it, barely able to encircle him completely. I flicked my tongue across the tip.His cock twitched in my hand immediately, burning hot and rock hard, almost like heated steel.More wetness leaked from me, the emptiness inside driving me nearly insane.I wanted nothing more than to sink down on him right then, to be filled completely in one deep thrust. He picked me up and carried me to the bed, setting me down gently despite the hunger in his eyes. But that didn't last long. He touched and kissed every part of me, making me moan in ways I never had before. He was incredible at foreplay, kissing my breasts, circling with his hands.He carefully stretched me with his fingers, but all I wanted was for him to get inside me already. When he finally pushed inside me, I moaned with satisfaction—it was so intense it almost hurt. "You feel so fucking perfect," he growled,"So tight around me." He started moving. His cock filled me completely while his head buried deep in my neck, each powerful thrust sending waves of intense pleasure through me, easily filling the bottomless emptiness in my heart. My walls clenched and spasmed around him, my whole body trembling with ecstasy, white light flashing behind my eyes. He pulled me tight against him and kissed me deeply. The kiss was messy and desperate, leaving me weak in his arms. On the bed our bodies were completely entwined, him pressing me down as his hips drove relentlessly, burying his thick length inside me again and again. We held each other without any space between us, our sweat-slicked chests pressed together. I lifted my legs, wrapping them around his waist so he could thrust even deeper and harder. He flipped me over, positioning me with my back to him. His frame was so much larger than mine, his workout-hardened muscles solid and strong, covering me like a mountain. In this position he barely needed to exert any force,just his body weight alone let him slide impossibly deep. "Fuck, you feel incredible like this," he groaned, his breath hot against my ear. I felt like he was going to split me in half, terrifying waves of pleasure crashing over me as every inch of my skin became saturated with his scent. That relentless cock was buried deep inside me, claiming me completely. I arched my neck to kiss him, trailing from his throat to his jaw to his lips, then pulled him into another deep, desperate kiss. He fucked me through another climax, but his cock remained hard, showing no signs of pulling out.My nails dug into his arms, but he seemed immune to pain, simply gripping my ass and shifting me to my side, keeping me locked in his embrace. "I can't... it's too much," I gasped, my words broken. "Yes you can, baby. You're being such a good girl." In this position he drove even deeper, his powerful thighs trapping me beneath him, my ass cheeks pressed together as his pelvis slammed against me, creating ripples across my flesh. I clawed at the sheets, wave after wave of pleasure pushing me far beyond my limits. My orgasms became short and continuous, my walls clenching nonstop, my vision blurring. "Please... I need..." I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for. "I know what you need," he whispered hotly against my ear. "And I'm going to give it all to you." He pressed against my back, his burning skin scorching mine as he held me close. Even though I was already overwhelmed,I still tried to lift my hips to meet his movements. He clearly wasn't ready to come yet, fucking me while lowering his head to capture my earlobe between his teeth. I was so fucked out I couldn't even form words,this was hands down the most incredible sex of my life.What the hell had I been doing with Niall all those years? That was nothing compared to this. In the moonlight, this made him look like some kind of large predator, and I was his prey for the night,a dying gazelle or doe about to have her throat torn out. Perhaps because his full weight was pressing down on me, his thrusts weren't large in scope, but each one was deep and heavy, as if he wanted to merge with me completely and thoroughly. He let out a muffled grunt, his cock growing even harder inside me. He nuzzled my neck, easing some of the pressure holding me down, and I turned to face him, looking into his eyes. "Look at you, so beautiful when you're fucked out," he murmured, his hand moving to my breast. His palm easily cupped my sweat-dampened breast, and with a forward thrust of his knee he spread my weak legs apart, sliding into me again. After what felt like my hundredth orgasm, this seemed like it would never end. By the time he finally came,I was so exhausted I was nearly unconscious, my strength completely depleted. He got up to clean me gently afterward, then pulled me into his arms, his breathing becoming steady and even. I drifted off to sleep too. The clock read 10:07 AM, way too bright for my eyes. I groaned as last night came flooding back. The bar. My neighbor. The hotel. The sex. My whole body ached in the best way possible. I sat up and started searching for my clothes, trying not to make my headache worse. I'd just pulled my skirt out from under the bed when a voice stopped me cold. "Leaving so soon?" I turned around slowly, partly from the hangover, partly from embarrassment, and saw him standing in the bathroom doorway with just a towel around his waist. He was still wet from the shower, water running down his chest. His hair was slicked back and damp. Somehow he looked even better in daylight. Images from last night hit me—his mouth on me, his hands all over me, the things he whispered in my ear. My throat went dry. "We need to talk," he said, and it wasn't really a question.

When they met again, her ex-husband tearfully begged for remarriage. However, the wheelchair-bound tycoon of business lore, rumored to be unable to walk, rose to his feet, clasping her hands tightly, "You are worthy of pursuing her?!" ===== "I've filed for divorce. Four million should set you up for life." Colton Stevens impatiently walked over, his frustration almost palpable. "It's our third wedding anniversary today, can't we at least finish this meal together?" Allison Clarke's face froze for a heartbeat. Her nails dug painfully into her palm as she fought to keep her composure. Colton scoffed, his eyes cold and distant. "Even if we finish this meal together, I'll never love you. Besides, Melany's back. She's proud, and she won't stand for this whole situation." A flicker of softness crossed his face at the mention of Melany Johnson, a warmth that had never been reserved for Allison, no matter how hard she'd tried. She had bent over backward for him, cared for his parents, and sacrificed everything for years. But none of it had earned her more than a passing glance. Melany was the one who held his heart--had always held it. She had walked out on him three years ago, breaking off their engagement and leaving for abroad. Yet now, with a mere word from her, Colton had easily embraced her return and chosen to divorce Allison without a second thought. Allison gripped the table's edge as if trying to steady herself against a sudden gust of wind. "Does your grandpa know about this?" Colton let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Don't think you can hide behind Grandpa. He's in the hospital and can't handle any stress. My parents are on board with the divorce. In fact, Melany met with them just today." Allison's heart sank, an icy chill creeping through her veins. She had once been celebrated as a genius perfumer, renowned hacker. For three years, she'd buried every trace of that brilliance, molding herself into the perfect housewife. Just recently, she had secured a rare opportunity with Cobweb--the most elusive intelligence network--hoping to help the Stevens family clinch a crucial deal. A chance like that was nearly impossible to come by. Yet now, it all seemed like a cruel farce. "So, Melany's at your parents' place?" she asked, her voice brittle. "Naturally." Colton smiled, his features softening as if the thought of Melany made everything brighter. "They just had dinner. Melany's always gotten along with my parents. They've been singing her praises all evening -- saying how thoughtful and understanding she is." "And you all knew she was coming back," Allison murmured, her voice thick with disbelief, "but left me in the dark." Her eyes glistened, the sting of betrayal cutting deep. Thoughtful and understanding -- how ridiculous. His parents used to make the same comments about her. Colton shot her an impatient glare. "It wasn't on purpose. The butler just forgot to mention it. Don't start creating drama where there isn't any." He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and for a moment, his expression shifted to one of disdain. Allison had always been delicate, her skin flawless, and her features striking, especially her bright, clear eyes. But none of that mattered. She was boring, and that was all. The ideal housewife, yes--everything he could have wanted in a caretaker for his parents--but living with her was stifling. Allison ironed clothes and prepared meals with precision every day. Her routine was so predictable that Colton never had to wonder what she was doing. She was the picture-perfect housewife--dutiful and entirely devoted to staying home. But he was beyond tired of it. "And whether you accept the fact or not, you're leaving tonight." Colton hesitated, realizing how harsh he sounded. "You can move to Starfish Villas. Take the villa, it's yours." He had done his research on Allison. She came from a modest rural background, dropped out of school early, and hadn't seen much of the world. If it weren't for the fact that she had saved his grandfather's life, she would never have married into the Stevens family. In his mind, offering her the villa seemed more than generous for someone with her humble beginnings. But Allison's face didn't show gratitude. Instead, she offered him a thin, cold smile. "So, she's moving in now?" Allison didn't care about the villa or the four million he offered. She could make far more as a top-tier hacker. What hurt was being discarded after three years of loyalty. Colton sighed and said, "The room on the second floor was always hers. Melany's back and has nowhere else to stay, so I told her she could move in. If you're still here, she'll feel uncomfortable." Her silence was enough to annoy him, assuming she was unhappy with the deal. His frustration grew. "Don't push it. You need to know when enough is enough." He glanced at his watch, clearly counting down the time. "Now that I've lodged my divorce petition, we'll meet in the courthouse in a few days. You'd better make preparations and hire a lawyer..." He did not get to finish. "I know what to do," Allison cut him off, her voice laced with disgust. Her mind wandered back to a childhood memory--when she was blinded and in grave danger. A boy carried her on his back for three days and nights, saving her life. That boy had said his name was Colton Stevens. Now, three years after their marriage, that same boy was forcing her to leave. Time had an uncanny way of warping people into strangers. "I'll go," Allison said, snapping back to the moment. She stood up and looked at Colton firmly with detachment. "From now on, we owe each other nothing." Colton let out a breath, relieved. "Good." As if on cue, the housekeeper, Kaelyn Thorpe, appeared at the top of the stairs, struggling with a suitcase. "Sir, your parents called and said Ms. Clarke needs to leave right away, so I packed her things... Oh no!" Before she could finish, she dramatically yelped and pretended to twist her ankle. Allison's suitcase tumbled down the stairs, spilling her belongings everywhere. Chapter 2 Return "Ms. Clarke, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!" Kaelyn hurried down the stairs, her face a picture of exaggerated concern. "Maybe you can just toss everything in a bag for now?" she added, hiding her disdain behind a sweet smile. Kaelyn had always looked down on Allison, seeing her as nothing more than a poor country girl who'd shamelessly latched onto Colton for a better life. Colton frowned in frustration. "You're so clumsy!" he snapped, glancing at the scattered clothes. Allison's suitcase contained so little--a few clothes and hardly any jewelry. She hadn't even spent much of the money he had given her over the years. She lived simply, frugally, and it was a reflection of how she had never tried to take advantage of her status. But love couldn't be forced or faked. "Melany's luggage takes priority. Just toss Allison's things in a storage bag," Colton added dismissively, eyeing the broken suitcase. "I'll have the housekeeper buy you a new one tomorrow." Allison gave a faint, bitter smile. "That suitcase was the one I stole from the kidnappers when we were running for our lives. If it hadn't been for it, we would've drowned back then." For years, she had taken care of that suitcase--just as she had taken care of their marriage. And now, like their relationship, it lay shattered. Colton let out a cold laugh. "That story might fool my grandfather, but it doesn't work on me." The memory of being kidnapped as a child was too vague, and he always doubted that Allison had been with him during that time. Turning to Kaelyn, Colton raised his voice. "Hurry up and pack her things!" "Yes, sir," Kaelyn eagerly began to gather Allison's clothes, but she deliberately stepped on them, dirtying them in the process. With a sickly sweet tone, she mocked, "Ms. Clarke, Mr. Stevens' grandmother always says that people are like clothes. Once a person's clothes are stained, it doesn't matter how much you wash; the marks never truly fade." Allison had always been kind to Kaelyn, even when she didn't have to be. After all, Kaelyn was a distant relative of Colton's grandmother. Years ago, when Kaelyn had made a blunder that nearly put the Stevens family at odds with Kellan Lloyd, the eldest son of the Lloyd family, it was Allison who had smoothed the waters. She had negotiated a deal with Kellan, who was paralyzed, securing the critical land for the Stevens' commercial project. Back then, Kaelyn had been grateful, almost humbled. But now, emboldened by the winds of change within the Stevens family, Kaelyn acted as if she had never bent the knee. It all boiled down to one thing--Colton's grandmother's favor had drifted, and with it, so had the family's attitude. "If clothes get dirty, you're right," Allison said, her eyes flicking to Colton, "they're impossible to clean completely." She shrugged, a casual finality in her voice. "So, I won't be needing them anymore." She had never liked those bland, shapeless things anyway. They had never quite suited her. For the first time, Colton looked at Allison as if seeing her through a new lens--her usual softness was now replaced with a sharp edge. After saying that, Alison turned and walked away. Stepping out of the villa, Allison dialed a familiar number. When the call connected, her voice was calm, almost light. "Rebecca, I'm divorced, and I've moved out of his villa. My house and car are still in Vrining. Mind if I crash at your place for the night?" On the other end of the line, Rebecca Green went from silence to squealing joy within seconds. "Holy crap! You finally divorced that i**ot! Forget crashing--you're staying over for a party! A single's party!" Even from a distance, Allison could hear Rebecca's exaggerated laughter bubbling through the phone. "If the folks at Cobweb find out the founder is back, the servers will explode!" Chapter 3 Cruise Party Inside the villa, Colton's gaze falling on the dining table loaded with food. Frustration flared inside him, especially as his mind flashed back to the memory of Allison just left earlier. Allison had stayed composed, but something about her felt colder, harsher than before--far from the docile, compliant woman he once knew. But the thought slipped away quickly. To him, Allison would always be that dull, submissive housewife. Without him, she'd be nothing. Outside the villa, a sleek Lamborghini pulled up, and a woman stepped out. "Allison, darling!" Rebecca rushed over and wrapped Allison in a warm embrace. "You know, you could live at my place forever if you wanted to!" Rebecca, the only daughter of the Eternity Group's owners, practically owned half the city's skyline. A roof over Allison's head was hardly an issue. "So, what on earth happened tonight?" Rebecca asked, pressing close, her cheek resting against Allison's neck. "You still smell like cooking oil. Don't tell me you were cooking for that m**on again?" Allison felt the familiar tightness in her throat, emotions rising as Rebecca's hug warmed her. "Let's talk in the car," she said. Once inside the Lamborghini, Allison began to recount what had happened this whole day. Her voice remained steady, but Rebecca's temper flared like a spark igniting dry wood. "Can you believe this? Colton got dumped by Melany on their wedding day, and now he's trying to crawl back to her by divorcing you? They're made for each other--two peas in a rotten pod!" Rebecca raged. "And his parents!" Rebecca added, her anger rising like a storm. "You've been looking after them for three years, bending over backward for that family, and this is the thanks you get?" Rebecca continued her tirade, her words like b*llets. "Listen, he's lost his memory of that incident in his childhood, sure, but that doesn't excuse what he's done. You've more than paid your dues over the last three years. There's no point pretending to be the woman he wants anymore. You've wiped that slate clean." Allison slouched in the passenger seat, her gaze distant as the world blurred past her window. "It's done. We're even now." For three years, she'd molded herself into Colton's image of the perfect woman. She'd ditched her heels, pulled her hair back, and settled for modest, boring outfits--ones she didn't even like--all to mirror Melany. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't compete with the woman he truly loved. "Allison, the truth is, the Stevens family doesn't deserve someone like you." Rebecca's voice softened, thick with the weight of emotions as she sensed Allison's exhaustion. "Divorce is a process, but until it's settled, you'll stay with me. You're like a sister to me, anyway." Allison managed a small smile. "Okay." Growing up in an orphanage, Allison had never had any family members. But Rebecca had always treated her better than anyone ever had. Their conversation trailed off as they arrived at an exclusive makeup studio. Rebecca rolled down the window and waved enthusiastically at Mary Brown, a famous makeup artist. "Hey, Mary! Got a little project for you!" Allison rubbed her temples, g**aning softly, "Honestly, I'm wiped. I don't think I can handle makeup tonight." "Oh, come on! You're not planning to keep that whole tired, 'still-waiting-for-him' look, are you?" "Yeah... Definitely not." "Exactly!" Rebecca's face lit up. "Relax and let the pros do their magic. These are top-tier, international artists. Tonight, they're bringing out the version of you the world's been missing!" Thirty minutes later, the transformation was undeniable. Nearly everyone who saw her in the mirror was momentarily stunned. Allison's naturally striking features had always been overshadowed by exhaustion. But now, with just a touch of makeup, she was breathtaking. Her long, feline eyes, accentuated by just the right amount of shadow, were captivating without going overboard. A delicate beauty mark drawn near the corner of her eye added a hint of daring that felt almost rebellious. Even Rebecca couldn't contain her excitement. "This... this is the Allison I remember!" She gestured to a rack of dresses being brought in. "Sweetheart, pick any gown that calls to you. I pulled out all the stops for tonight. We're celebrating your freedom on a luxury yacht. I swear, it's going to be a night you won't forget!" Allison waved it off. "I'm not in the mood." Rebecca watched her closely, sensing she could still be holding onto the past. Time to pull out the big guns! "You know there are going to be international perfumers at this party, right? Including the brains behind Charisma Company! Don't tell me you're not curious to finally meet him." Charisma was the country's most prestigious perfume brand. Allison had crossed paths with the CEO at an international perfumery competition. His creations had been nothing short of art. For the first time in forever, they evoked a feeling of déjà vu, something about them reminding her of her mother's style. But like her, the CEO was an enigma. He'd never showed up in public, even as Charisma shot to global fame. No one knew what he looked like, not even now. "Alright, let's check it out." Allison finally relented, her curiosity piqued. After all, she'd once hacked into Charisma's database, coming up empty-handed. And something in her gut still whispered that this mysterious perfumer could be linked to her mother, somehow... ...... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &5&