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For years, she stood loyally by his side, serving as his most reliable protector and quiet secret lover. She devoted her heart, her strength, and her unwavering trust entirely to the man she believed would never hurt her. But in the end, his ruthless ambition outweighed every trace of their love and loyalty. He betrayed her without hesitation, leaving her helpless in the cruel grasp of his dangerous enemies. Cornered and desperate, she took a fatal leap that convinced the entire world she was gone forever—lost to the darkness he’d cast her into. Five years of silence pass. The girl who was abandoned and broken is no more. She returns from the shadows with a brand-new identity: a cold, powerful billionaire forged by pain and perseverance. Her only mission is clear—to expose every person who destroyed her past, unravel their hidden schemes, and reclaim the dignity and honor they once stripped ruthlessly from her. Her sudden reappearance sends explosive shockwaves through the elite world she once left behind. Old enemies tremble, and her former lover is forced to face the bitter, devastating consequences of his selfish choices. Desperate to atone for his unforgivable betrayal, the man who ruined her makes one last ultimate sacrifice to redeem his sins. Yet after years of suffering and loss, her heart has long grown immune to his remorse. She grants him peaceful closure to end their tangled fate—but she never offers forgiveness. She refuses to be trapped by the pain of her past or the regret of his mistakes. Choosing a brand-new future rooted in sincerity, freedom, and self-respect, she walks away for good, leaving the toxic memories and broken past exactly where they belong. Drop a 👇 if you stan this fierce female lead who chose healing over forgiveness and future over regret!
For years, she stood loyally by his side, serving as his most reliable protector and quiet secret lover. She devoted her heart, her strength, and her unwavering trust entirely to the man she believed would never hurt her. But in the end, his ruthless ambition outweighed every trace of their love and loyalty. He betrayed her without hesitation, leaving her helpless in the cruel grasp of his dangerous enemies. Cornered and desperate, she took a fatal leap that convinced the entire world she was gone forever—lost to the darkness he’d cast her into. Five years of silence pass. The girl who was abandoned and broken is no more. She returns from the shadows with a brand-new identity: a cold, powerful billionaire forged by pain and perseverance. Her only mission is clear—to expose every person who destroyed her past, unravel their hidden schemes, and reclaim the dignity and honor they once stripped ruthlessly from her. Her sudden reappearance sends explosive shockwaves through the elite world she once left behind. Old enemies tremble, and her former lover is forced to face the bitter, devastating consequences of his selfish choices. Desperate to atone for his unforgivable betrayal, the man who ruined her makes one last ultimate sacrifice to redeem his sins. Yet after years of suffering and loss, her heart has long grown immune to his remorse. She grants him peaceful closure to end their tangled fate—but she never offers forgiveness. She refuses to be trapped by the pain of her past or the regret of his mistakes. Choosing a brand-new future rooted in sincerity, freedom, and self-respect, she walks away for good, leaving the toxic memories and broken past exactly where they belong. Drop a 👇 if you stan this fierce female lead who chose healing over forgiveness and future over regret!
For years, she stood loyally by his side, serving as his most reliable protector and quiet secret lover. She devoted her heart, her strength, and her unwavering trust entirely to the man she believed would never hurt her. But in the end, his ruthless ambition outweighed every trace of their love and loyalty. He betrayed her without hesitation, leaving her helpless in the cruel grasp of his dangerous enemies. Cornered and desperate, she took a fatal leap that convinced the entire world she was gone forever—lost to the darkness he’d cast her into. Five years of silence pass. The girl who was abandoned and broken is no more. She returns from the shadows with a brand-new identity: a cold, powerful billionaire forged by pain and perseverance. Her only mission is clear—to expose every person who destroyed her past, unravel their hidden schemes, and reclaim the dignity and honor they once stripped ruthlessly from her. Her sudden reappearance sends explosive shockwaves through the elite world she once left behind. Old enemies tremble, and her former lover is forced to face the bitter, devastating consequences of his selfish choices. Desperate to atone for his unforgivable betrayal, the man who ruined her makes one last ultimate sacrifice to redeem his sins. Yet after years of suffering and loss, her heart has long grown immune to his remorse. She grants him peaceful closure to end their tangled fate—but she never offers forgiveness. She refuses to be trapped by the pain of her past or the regret of his mistakes. Choosing a brand-new future rooted in sincerity, freedom, and self-respect, she walks away for good, leaving the toxic memories and broken past exactly where they belong. Drop a 👇 if you stan this fierce female lead who chose healing over forgiveness and future over regret!
Are you tired of your videos getting lost in the endless sea of social media? 🚀 **It's Not Too Late - The Gap is Real, But So is the Solution!** I've been where you are - overwhelmed by the crowded social media landscape, thinking: - "Do I need expensive equipment or degrees?" - "Why isn't the algorithm on my side?" 🎬 **Why Trust Me?** With over 15 years in Hollywood, working with Disney, Marvel, and top celebrities, I've mastered the art of captivating content. More recently, I've skyrocketed my Instagram and TikTok to over 200,000 followers each in just 6 months. Now, I'm pouring all that experience into this course, tailored just for you! 📈 **What You'll Gain:** - Skills to create unique, standout videos - Time and money-saving strategies - Real-life assignments for rapid learning - Consistency in your content creation - Access to an exclusive community for support and accountability - A step-by-step blueprint to transform your online presence - Lifetime access to the course, including all future updates 🎉 **See Real Results!** Our students are already smashing it - with one gaining 1.2 million views and another nearly half a million from just one video effect taught in the course! 🚀 **Your Viral Future Awaits!** Why wait in uncertainty when a proven path to success is just a click away? In just 10 days, you could unlock a world of opportunities and master a new skill set. ✨ **Take the Leap!** Click the link below and start your journey to viral success today!
Motivation Isn’t What You Need. A Decision Is. Most leaders wait to feel ready. That’s the mistake. Motivation is emotional. It fluctuates with sleep, stress, conflict, and results. If you build your leadership on it, your consistency will always be unstable. Decisions, on the other hand, anchor behavior. From an I/O psychology standpoint, sustained performance is not driven by bursts of inspiration. It is driven by clarity, commitment, and environmental alignment. In other words, what you decide matters far more than what you feel. This week is not about getting motivated. It is about getting aligned. ✔ Decide what actually matters this week, not everything, the right things ✔ Decide what you will stop tolerating in yourself and your team ✔ Decide where you need to lead with courage instead of comfort ✔ Decide what conversations you’ve been delaying that are now costing you ✔ Decide how you will show up, even if your emotions don’t cooperate Here is the tension most leaders avoid: You don’t need a better mood. You need a stronger standard. Because your team is not built on your best days. It is built on your most consistent ones. If your leadership has felt scattered, reactive, or heavy lately, it is not a motivation problem. It is a decision gap. And decision gaps compound. The good news is this: They can be corrected just as quickly as they were created. Start your week there. 🔁 Repost if you agree: Leadership is about purpose, not position. ➡ Share this with a leader who needs to stop waiting and start deciding. ➡ Work with me — Where purpose leads and strategy follows.
"A year into my contract marriage with a billionaire, I'm somehow still a virgin😳 To fend off my grandma-in-law's baby demands, I lied—he's ""impotent""🤐 I always thought he avoided me because of his ex💔 The truth? He's loved me for three years❤️🔥 Watch FREE Now 👉 🔥From Gold Digger to His Lucky Charm🔥 #GoodShort #ContractMarriage #SecretLove #MisunderstoodBillionaire #LuckyCharm #VirginWife #ThreeYearCrush #HiddenHeart"
Delivery man by day. Flame King by night. 💥 Secret marriages. Deadly rivals. Global power. Are you ready to witness the legend?
For years, she stood loyally by his side, serving as his most reliable protector and quiet secret lover. She devoted her heart, her strength, and her unwavering trust entirely to the man she believed would never hurt her. But in the end, his ruthless ambition outweighed every trace of their love and loyalty. He betrayed her without hesitation, leaving her helpless in the cruel grasp of his dangerous enemies. Cornered and desperate, she took a fatal leap that convinced the entire world she was gone forever—lost to the darkness he’d cast her into. Five years of silence pass. The girl who was abandoned and broken is no more. She returns from the shadows with a brand-new identity: a cold, powerful billionaire forged by pain and perseverance. Her only mission is clear—to expose every person who destroyed her past, unravel their hidden schemes, and reclaim the dignity and honor they once stripped ruthlessly from her. Her sudden reappearance sends explosive shockwaves through the elite world she once left behind. Old enemies tremble, and her former lover is forced to face the bitter, devastating consequences of his selfish choices. Desperate to atone for his unforgivable betrayal, the man who ruined her makes one last ultimate sacrifice to redeem his sins. Yet after years of suffering and loss, her heart has long grown immune to his remorse. She grants him peaceful closure to end their tangled fate—but she never offers forgiveness. She refuses to be trapped by the pain of her past or the regret of his mistakes. Choosing a brand-new future rooted in sincerity, freedom, and self-respect, she walks away for good, leaving the toxic memories and broken past exactly where they belong. Drop a 👇 if you stan this fierce female lead who chose healing over forgiveness and future over regret!
"A year into my contract marriage with a billionaire, I'm somehow still a virgin😳 To fend off my grandma-in-law's baby demands, I lied—he's ""impotent""🤐 I always thought he avoided me because of his ex💔 The truth? He's loved me for three years❤️🔥 Watch FREE Now 👉 🔥From Gold Digger to His Lucky Charm🔥 #GoodShort #ContractMarriage #SecretLove #MisunderstoodBillionaire #LuckyCharm #VirginWife #ThreeYearCrush #HiddenHeart"
Chapter 1 Moving Out As Brianna Meyers headed upstairs, she spotted Kendra Levy with both hands clutched in front of her🤫, sneaking into the study like a little thief🐾. Brianna stayed quiet, documents in hand📄, and followed suit toward the study. Before she could even cross the threshold, she caught her daughter Kendra's childish voice, hushed low. "Dad, this is the gift I got for Darcy🎁. Hide it for me, don't let Mom see🙈." With that, Kendra fished a large box out from under her clothes. At six years old, she was pure innocence, convinced she could fool anyone. When Brianna walked in, Brandon Levy shot her a quick glance before looking away, the box dangling blatantly from his hand. Feeling guilty, Kendra cozied up to her dad Brandon, turning on the charm on purpose. "Mom, we'll bring you something back from Drokvine. What do you want?" Brianna just smiled, not the least bit fazed. "All I want is for you to have fun, sweetie. Enjoy yourself and mind your dad." She stepped closer, tousled Kendra's hair, then turned and passed the documents to Brandon. He eyed the cover without a flicker of change in his expression. It was the usual drill. With Kendra around, no matter how much he loathed her, he'd keep things civil. Brianna ignored it, grabbing Kendra's hand and guiding her out of the room. "Did you double-check your luggage? Remember everything I told you? You've got to start taking care of yourself." Her voice drifted back from the hallway. He thought it sounded off but shrugged it away. Glancing at the file in his grip, a divorce agreement. A cold sneer curled his lip. He didn't even crack it open, just jerked a drawer wide and chucked it in. The drawer was crammed a foot deep with similar agreements she'd dumped on him before. It was her signature move, one she'd trotted out endlessly over the last seven years. They'd covered everything from threats to terminate the pregnancy to demands that he forfeit custody and walk away penniless. Brandon had evolved from rage to wry amusement to barely glancing at them now, but she kept it up, tireless as ever. Each time, before he could put pen to paper, she'd dissolve into sobs, pleading with him, vowing she'd never go through with a divorce. As she handed over another one as leverage now, it was clear she knew the true reason behind this father-daughter jaunt to Drokvine. Brandon furrowed his brow. He thought she'd likely kick up a storm before they even left, just to vent. Irritated by the thought, he strode out of the study. He couldn't care less if she flipped out, but not in front of Kendra. Kendra was his absolute limit. Downstairs, Brianna was stuffing a jacket and water bottle into Kendra's backpack. Brandon halted a couple of steps back, hands shoved in his pockets, his face a blank slate of indifference. He braced for her to send Kendra off so she could tear into him. The agreement was delivered; next up would be branding him a scumbag and swearing she'd leave for good. Spotting him downstairs, Brianna took Kendra's hand and made for the door. On the way, she fired off a string of last-minute reminders. Kendra was antsy but bit her lip, knowing departure was imminent. The assistant hauled the luggage into the car. Brianna helped Kendra climb in and ran through one final checklist. "Baby, Dad's going to be tied up, so behave and do what he says. If anything happens, call me right away." She sealed it with a kiss on her forehead. Brandon lingered nearby. Brianna turned to him, her face serene and steady. "The regular meds are in her pink suitcase, labeled clearly, easy to spot." Brandon gave a noncommittal grunt. The pair fell silent. After an awkward beat, Brianna offered a small smile. "Better get going." Brandon blinked, caught off balance. He thought, 'That is all?' He didn't linger on her vibe, though. Relieved by the quiet, he pivoted and slid into the car. Perhaps it was that instinctive pull a daughter feels toward her mom, but Kendra cranked down the window. "Mom, next study trip, we'll take you for sure. Bye, Mom." "Bye, sweetie!" Brianna smiled thinly, head cocked, waving farewell. The instant the car pulled away, she spun on her heel and went back inside. She had work to do. Staring at Brianna's receding back, Brandon felt a flicker of surprise. No blowup, no meltdown, no rage-fueled scene, not even sticking around to watch them go. It was as casual as waving off a casual acquaintance. She was always either fawning over him desperately or flying into a rage, her eyes filled with raw, unwavering affection. But just moments ago, her stare had been as lifeless as a stagnant pond, remote and utterly detached. It threw him off. He spaced out for a second, then shrugged it away with cool indifference. This was actually perfect. He needed a wife, sure, but not her love. He felt nothing for Brianna. Without that freak accident years ago, marriage would've never crossed his mind. He'd never given her a second glance. Later, word got around that the whole thing might've been her scheme; she'd slipped him something because she'd been pining for him in secret for ages. That revelation only ramped up his disgust. Eventually, even that wore off, replaced by sheer apathy. As the car rolled out, Kendra chimed in with bubbly excitement, "Dad, can we see Darcy tonight?" "We've got a layover in Enslens. Won't hit Gurphis until tomorrow afternoon." Kendra scrunched up her face in a pout. "Dad, Darcy mentioned three shows, and once they're done, she'll take me touring all over Drokvine. You'll join us, right?" "I've got work stuff to deal with. I'll do my best!" Another pout. "Dad, you like Darcy, and she likes you. Come on, let's all go together!" Kendra thought, 'If only Mom liked Darcy too. But Mom always blows up whenever Darcy is around, even trying to stop me from hanging out with Darcy. Why doesn't Mom like her? 'Darcy is gorgeous, super talented, and always so kind to me. Mom is just being mean!' The mention of his sister-in-law Darcy Meyers left Brandon looking awkward. Out of nowhere, he grabbed his phone and wired 3 million dollars to Brianna. Back in the villa, Brianna was sorting through her art studio. There was a knock from the housekeeper. "Mrs. Levy, what do you fancy for dinner? Take a break. Vanessa can tidy up later." "No thanks. I'll handle it. Some of this stuff needs to go in the trash." "Well, dinner then?" "Doesn't matter." Brianna didn't bother looking up. The housekeeper assumed she was in a foul mood and wisely backed off without a word. From afternoon straight through to evening, Brianna tackled the art studio, then the coffee room, study, and bedroom, doing it all solo, no help needed. When the housekeeper dropped off her milk later, she nearly did a double-take: boxes everywhere, all packed up like a full-on move was underway. It was well past midnight by the time Brianna wrapped up, showered, and stepped out to eye her neatly prepped luggage. A wave of contentment washed over her. Checking the time, Kendra ought to be in Enslens now. That marathon flight had to be rough on a kid. Still, she thought, 'Catching Darcy's performance would make any hassle feel worth it, wouldn't it?' Brianna let out a rueful chuckle to herself. With the divorce set in stone and no plans to contest custody, she figured it was best to just let them be. She flicked off the light and drifted into a heavy sleep. Next day: Saturday. First thing in the morning, Patsy Sampson pulled up at Brianna's. Spotting the housekeeper, she flashed a megawatt grin, her tone over-the-top. "Ah, Anne! Ages since I saw you!" Anne said, "Ms. Sampson, long time indeed. Breakfast yet?" Patsy was buzzing with energy. "Nah! I held out for the Brandon special. Come on, rustle up his priciest grub. I'm here to indulge." Anne Zamora's lip quirked. Brianna burst out laughing at the display. "You're incorrigible." Post-breakfast, the moving van showed up. Brianna rounded up Anne and her husband to haul the bags aboard. The butler scratched his head, confused. "Mrs. Levy, where to?" "Brandon's in the loop." Brianna kept it at that, no more details. The butler gave a nod. He thought, 'Another ploy to rattle the cage, maybe?' Shifting from the city's south end to the north wrapped up by afternoon, once everything was unpacked and in place. This villa was a college gift from her mom Trina Harper. But fresh out of school, those messes hit, and she'd latched onto Brandon like a lifeline in her confusion. They'd shacked up at the Levy family before the ink was dry on the marriage papers. Now, as she gazed at the spotless rooms under the glow of the lights, it finally had that cozy, home-sweet-home vibe. Patsy whipped out her phone, snapped some pics of the setup, and tossed them up on her feed: [Cheers to my bestie ditching the drama!] Chapter 2 Her Resignation The day after moving in, Brianna wrapped up organizing her study and studio. With everything laid out exactly to her taste, she felt a real lift in her spirits. It was shaping up perfectly, just missing a touch of life. She'd always pictured her home overflowing with plants, like a cozy little jungle; that was her dream aesthetic. But in Brandon's villa, even a minor tweak would get shot down with "Mr. Levy wouldn't approve." Now, though? She didn't have to worry about anyone else's preferences. She'd just done a quick once-over and was about to step out when her phone buzzed. It was Brandon's grandma Josefina Levy. "Brianna, got any plans today?" Josefina asked. "Nope, Josefina, what's up?" "Then swing by for dinner. Everyone is on their way. We're having a proper family get-together tonight." Hearing her mother-in-law Gabrielle Levy would be there made Brianna massage her temples on reflex, but she couldn't say no to Josefina. She bit the bullet and agreed. In the Levy family, only Josefina and Brandon's younger twin siblings showed her any real warmth, and only Josefina truly thought she was worthy of him. She drove over to the Levy manor. Everyone had pulled up ahead of time. When Brianna strolled in solo, Gabrielle's face clouded over right away. "Where's Brandon and Kendra? Why are you flying solo?" "Kendra's off on that study trip in Drokvine, and he had some work stuff there anyway, so he tagged along." Gabrielle's expression soured, a hint of irritation flaring. She said, "Brandon's buried in work. How's he got time to play nanny? You never think about your husband, and now you're slacking on your own kid too? You're twiddling your thumbs all day; why didn't you go with them?" 'I would've loved to, but would they have wanted me there?' Brianna thought, though she kept it to herself. "Exactly! You're the most hands-off mom I've ever seen," her sister-in-law, Margo Levy, chimed in snidely. Back in the day, Brianna would've jumped through hoops explaining how vital Brandon and Kendra were to her, then sulked and killed the mood entirely. But now, she had zero interest in justifying herself. She just flashed a smile, nodded, and replied, "Fair point, Gabrielle. Won't happen again." Then she sidestepped them both and made a beeline for Josefina, diving into chit-chat with her and the others. Noticing the brush-off without any pushback, Gabrielle and Margo swapped surprised looks. Josefina and Brianna's grandmother were thick as thieves, lifelong pals who'd weathered hard times together back when bonds were straightforward and true. If you hit it off, it stuck for good. Even before that whole fiasco, Josefina had been rooting for Brianna to join the family as Brandon's wife. She hadn't seen it coming when the two young ones sparked things up on their own. Of course, she was over the moon and handled the wedding personally. But as the years ticked by, it was obvious Brandon and Brianna weren't clicking. They looked like an ideal match, sharp guy, stunning girl. So she wondered, 'What is the hang-up?' Brianna was solid gold; her steadfast love for Brandon hadn't escaped notice. But he was ice-cold. Josefina thought, 'What on earth is his gripe?' "You're too much of a pushover with Brandon! A woman needs to lay down the law sometimes, keep her guy in line." Josefina gave Brianna's hand a frustrated pat. She just smiled it off. She thought, 'The divorce news? Better let him spill that himself.' Over dinner, it was all mundane family chatter. Brianna ate quietly, only speaking up when spoken to, no more bending over backward to please. Gabrielle caught Margo's eye. "Probably stewing over them dashing off to Drokvine for Darcy's gig," Margo murmured with gleeful malice. Gabrielle shot her a withering stare, then whispered, "Darcy's in Drokvine now?" Margo threw Brianna a derisive glance. "Yep, it's her show, and Brandon and the kid are falling all over themselves to catch it." "Outrageous!" Gabrielle's face darkened. Still, she couldn't stomach scolding Brandon, so she pinned it all on the Meyers family side. "What's with those Meyers family girls, can't find their own men? Why keep foisting them on Brandon?" She spat it out, still fuming, and shot Brianna a vicious glare. "What an idiot. Her mom couldn't hold onto her man, got stolen by some old hag, and now her own husband's about to get swiped by a young vixen?" Even if she despised Brianna, at least Brianna had a clean pedigree. She thought, 'How could that trashy illegitimate kid ever be good enough for Brandon?' Margo's schadenfreude was even more obvious now. "Mom, stay out of it. It's their family mess. Let them sort it out." "As if I'd bother with her crap? If it didn't involve Brandon, I wouldn't touch their dirty laundry with a ten-foot pole." Brianna looked up, catching Gabrielle's full-on fury head-on. She blinked, thinking, 'What is she raging about this time?' But she just offered a gentle smile and shrugged it off. Back from the manor, Josefina had loaded her up with a pile of gifts. Brianna tossed them carelessly onto the coffee table. Fresh out of the shower and curled up on the sofa, she scrolled through her tablet, scrutinizing her design drafts. Those shelved dreams? Time to dust them off and get moving. Monday rolled around, and Brianna headed to the Levy Group HQ, Area A, 23rd floor. "Morning, Ms. Meyers!" Colleagues greeted her one by one. Once Kendra started kindergarten, Brianna had pleaded with Josefina for a spot at the Levy Group, just to stay closer to Brandon. He'd been totally against it, but Josefina twisted his arm, so he threw up his hands and let it be. Brianna had aimed to start from the ground up, but Margo, clocking that submissive wifey vibe and Brandon's clear irritation, decided to mess with her. She tricked Brianna into thinking she couldn't embarrass the big-shot Brandon, so they cooked up a brand-new department just for her: the Propaganda Division. Every other department head was a "manager", but hers? "Director". The oddball title made Brianna the butt of the company's behind-the-scenes jokes. It screamed "special treatment", and everyone knew exactly what flavor of "special" that meant. The division was supposed to handle group promotions, per the name. But there was already a slick PR powerhouse managing corporate image. Even knowing the score back then, Brianna had hustled hard, hoping one day Brandon might actually see her value. Now? It was past time to end this farce. She gathered her team, broke it down simply, and promised her staff that even if the department folded, no jobs would be cut. "Ms. Meyers, things are going great, why quit now?" "Yeah, Ms. Meyers, we're on a roll. Why stop?" She said, "It's personal. Thanks for all the hard work over the years." "Personal? Ms. Meyers, you prepping for baby number two or something?" She said, "Nah, don't read into it. I'll go submit my resignation first." She handed her notice to HR. The manager adjusted his glasses, unsure how to proceed. "Ms. Meyers, you're mid-level management. I need to clear this with the president's office." "Sure, follow the process." She turned and headed back to her office. Meanwhile, the HR manager snagged the form and zipped up to the executive suite on the top floor, handing it off to the chief of staff. This guy was Brandon's inner-circle trusty; over the years, he'd seen every ploy Brianna used to grab Brandon's attention, from fake threats to over-the-top dramatics. He thought, 'Is this just another setup to wave divorce in his face?' But the veteran was always buttoned-up. He said he'd check with Brandon and sent the HR guy packing. Checking the time, just after 9 p.m. in Drokvine, he dialed the number. "Mr. Levy, Mrs. Levy submitted her resignation today." Brandon said, "Whatever she wants." The other end was buzzing, like a fancy party in full swing. Since he and Kendra had split, Brianna hadn't called once. He'd even thought maybe she'd finally burned out and was ready for some quiet domestic bliss. He thought, 'Guess I've overestimated her! If she wants to kick up a fuss, go ahead. Using a resignation as blackmail? Does she seriously think she matters that much?' Chapter 3 The Birthday Party Over the next week, Brianna sliced through the bureaucracy, handling her work handover without waiting for her resignation to get approved. By Friday afternoon, she'd packed her stuff and walked out the door. It wasn't about flouting the rules. Brandon was still in Drokvine, and holding off would mean dragging things out for another month or more. After squandering seven years, she'd finally woken up. She wasn't wasting another second. As she headed down with her box in hand, she bumped right into Margo. Margo eyed her suspiciously, a touch of caution in her tone. "What's all this?" "Quitting." Brianna beamed, her smile as bright as the sunshine pouring in from outside the building. Margo sneered. "Does your big-shot hubby know?" She clearly had some issues with Brandon, but Brianna couldn't care less. "HR must've looped him in." He'd never given a damn about her business anyway. If anything, he'd probably be relieved to see her gone. Margo smirked, obviously gearing up for some fireworks, but she bit her tongue and sauntered off. Brianna hauled her box outside, pulled out of the underground garage, and drove into sunlight so intense it made her squint. Suddenly, her spirits lifted. She really ought to get more sun. It had a way of brightening everything up. That weekend, she kicked off her search for a studio. She'd majored in jewelry design in college and done a master's in historical artifact appraisal. Her big dream had always been starting a luxury jewelry brand. Now, it was time to chase it again, step by step. Top priority: finding the right workspace. A few places fell flat, so Patsy nudged her to hit up Tristan Pratt. She thought, 'Of course, how have I spaced on Tristan, the ultimate property mogul?' She rang him, and his warm, playful voice came through. "Hey there, gorgeous! What prompted this call?" Tristan had this infectious energy that could cheer anyone up; just his voice chased away half the clouds in Brianna's mind. "You around? Got something to ask, coffee?" He said, "For you? Always. Where? I'll swing by and grab you. I'm close to your office. Be there in ten to pick you up." Tristan, Brianna, and Patsy were old childhood friends. As grown-ups, Brianna had tied the knot and started a family early, Patsy launched her venture, and Tristan jumped into the family biz. Life got hectic, and they'd drifted apart a bit. When Brianna arrived, Tristan was already waiting curbside. Sharp slacks, crisp white shirt, Hermès belt, polished to a tee. With his wide eyes, strong nose, and slim lips, he exuded sunny vibes and boundless energy. Brianna kept it straightforward: she was diving into jewelry design and needed a studio spot. He said, "Piece of cake! I've got a building in Moonlight Breeze Town sitting empty. Scenic spot, lakeside, and a quick hop to the shopping area, ideal for a studio." "I've heard of it. Isn't that the one you earmarked for your own setup?" "Yep, saved it for moi. But you're such a underachiever, hitting your thirties without a 'real' gig, and me? I'm a sucker for loyalty." Brianna burst out laughing and fired back that she wasn't some stay-at-home stereotype. "Oh, right, does your better half sign off on you going solo?" Tristan mentioned Brandon with obvious distaste, though he reined it in. "We're divorcing." Brianna said it casually, taking a sip of coffee like it was small talk. "Oh?" Tristan's eyes bugged out as he leaned forward. "You're really pulling the plug?" "Yep, can't afford to waste any more time." She gave a resigned shrug. No drama, no tears. Tristan scanned her face until he was convinced she meant it, then ditched the banter and got real. "Seriously?" "Dead serious." "High time. That eternal poker face, only you could've stuck it out this long. I never thought he was in your league. Girl, you were bullheaded, leaping right into that mess..." Tristan went off, venting all his bottled-up beef with Brandon in a nonstop rant. The studio spot was killer, with killer views of the lake and wetlands from the office. Brianna was thrilled. She brainstormed reno ideas with the designer, picked out materials, and wrapped each day wiped out but totally content. It was just at nightfall, when she was solo at home, that doubt crept in. Any mom would fret over her child. Brianna pushed it down hard. All these days, she hadn't reached out to Kendra once. In those early days, thoughts of Kendra tore at her heart. She fretted over whether Kendra was eating or sleeping properly, and if Brandon could really take good care of her. Bit by bit, though, she started to let go. Kids grew up one way or another; smother them too much, and they'd drift away from you. Meanwhile, back at the hotel after the party, Kendra clutched her phone, a wave of sadness washing over her. The lavender fields in Eighburgh were breathtaking and magical, the estate soirée utterly romantic. She'd had the time of her life. Darcy had looked like a true princess in her pale purple gown. She'd even set aside a matching lilac princess dress for her, topped with a crystal crown, and encouraged her to make a wish. It was all perfect... except Brianna wasn't part of it. She thought, 'If only Mom could be as stunning as Darcy.' She longed for Brianna to be radiant and blissful, just like a fairy-tale princess. But Brianna only ever nagged and controlled her. Her friends at school were forever boasting about how great their relatives were and how tight their moms were with them. Darcy was incredible, but Brianna couldn't stand her. She just didn't get why Brianna kept her distance from Darcy. She thought, 'Could it be jealousy over how beautiful she is?' It had been two weeks on the road with Brandon; at first, she'd been anxious about Brianna calling and finding out she was there to visit Darcy. No calls came, and she'd felt a secret rush of relief. But now, with so much time passed and still nothing, she missed her terribly. Brandon stepped out of the bathroom and caught sight of Kendra's sulky pout. "What's wrong, my little princess?" "Dad, did Mom ever call?" She was hoping she'd dozed off and missed it. "Nope." "Dad, I'm done with all the fun. I want to go home." "All right, we will." Brandon was baffled too; since word of Brianna's resignation, she'd gone radio silent. Kendra was her everything; usually, the minute they hit the road, her endless stream of calls would start, more annoying than spam. This time? Not a peep. The puzzlement lasted only a second before he shoved it aside. A silent wife was exactly what he'd always wanted. Once he'd wrapped up his tasks—Kendra long since tucked in and snoring—he was slipping into bed when his phone buzzed. He furrowed his brow, thinking, 'Who the hell is calling this late?' It was the chief of staff. "Mr. Levy, domestic social media's blowing up with stories about you." He asked, "What kind?" "You and Kendra at that Eighburgh birthday bash, pics of you two, but her face is mosaiced out." "Oh?" He thought, 'Private party, how did the photos get out?' "Some spin it as a family vacation celebration with your wife and daughter," the director hesitated, sounding guilty, "others say it's you spoiling your side piece and love child..." Brandon couldn't care less; he thought, 'Is this worth dragging me out of bed?' "Have PR handle it." "Mr. Levy, they've been scrubbing posts left and right, but it's endless. Hired shills too, but it's just fanning the flames. The hashtags are off the charts." Brandon's patience thinned; he'd dealt with plenty of tabloid trash before, like alleged hookups with A-list actresses, and PR had always squashed it quick. He said, "What's the problem? They've nailed it every other time." The director paused awkwardly. "All your prior messes were cleaned up by Mrs. Levy's propaganda team." "Then loop her in!" "Mr. Levy, Mrs. Levy's already left the company." He went still. Seconds later, he barked at the director. This was peanuts, and if they couldn't manage it, the whole damn team could pack up and go. After hanging up, he stared into space, his expression darkening. He fired up social media, and yep, the trends were dominated by him. [Levy Group CEO Jets Abroad for Family Birthday Bash], [Levy Group CEO Lavishes Eighburgh Party on Mistress and Illegit Kid], and [Levy Group CEO: Ultimate Douchebag!] with that "viral" badge blazing. Brandon reached to loosen his tie on instinct, then remembered he was in PJs. A listed company's CEO going viral could be a boon, keeping the brand front and center. But a leader's rep was the company's rep; bad press needed savvy damage control, or stocks could take a nosedive. Public backlash might not kill the firm, but chipping away at credibility? That was no good. A flicker of annoyance hit Brandon; he hadn't pegged Brianna's little propaganda squad as actually competent. Chapter 4 Scumbag On Trending List Brandon got home with Kendra a little after 3 a.m. She'd conked out on his shoulder, so he carefully tucked her into bed before quietly slipping back to the master bedroom. Usually, no matter how late he rolled in, Brianna would hop up to help him strip off his clothes and draw a bath. Tonight? Dead silence. She was probably even more steamed after catching wind of the news. It was way too late, so out of politeness, he skipped the lights and went straight to the bathroom to freshen up. Only after he was done and slid under the covers did he notice the bed was completely empty. Brandon didn't bat an eye and drifted off into a heavy sleep. Come noon the next day, he dragged himself downstairs. The nanny was keeping Kendra entertained, but there was no sign of Brianna. "Dad, where's Mom? Why didn't she fix me breakfast?" Kendra had gotten up early and figured Brianna was hanging with Brandon, so she hadn't bothered checking. Now, with just him showing up, she felt totally slighted. Brandon shot a look at the butler. The butler blinked in surprise. "Right after you two left, Mrs. Levy took off the next day. She mentioned you were in the know." She thought, 'What?' Brandon thought, 'What?' He shrugged it off, assuming she was just pouting and pulling some new stunt. "Where'd Mom go?" Kendra turned to the butler. "I... honestly don't know." "I want Mom! I need her right now!" She threw a full-on tantrum. Brandon said, "Just give her a call and find out." Something about this felt different. Brandon furrowed his brow ever so slightly as he lifted Kendra and plopped her down at the table. Kendra hit dial, and it rang for ages before connecting. The line was chaotic, like she was at a job site. Kendra said, "Mom, we're home! Where are you?" Brianna said, "Oh, back already? Have a blast, baby?" "Totally! Dad and I picked out a gift for you. When are you heading back?" "Uh..." Brianna paused, hating the idea of breaking it to Kendra that she wasn't coming home. "Mom, it's super noisy there. Where exactly are you?" "I am dealing with some stuff right now, so I can't make it back just yet. Be good for me, okay?" "No way! I want Mom, now!" Kendra started bawling again. Brianna's head pounded. "Fine, fine, I'll swing by this afternoon. Dry those tears." The promise of her return cheered Kendra right up. Brandon eavesdropped, a seed of suspicion sprouting. He thought, 'Trouble with her grandma or uncle? Or is this some cat-and-mouse game?' Back in the office, Brandon exuded a bone-chilling vibe that could give anyone frostbite. Two whole days, and [Levy Group CEO: Total Scumbag] was still dominating the trends. Normally, crap like this got nuked in under thirty minutes. Hell, some scandals even got spun into glowing publicity. The chief of staff, PR manager, and lead assistant perched in his office, barely breathing. The PR manager laid out how the storm had brewed. He said, "It started with those leaked overseas birthday snaps, some traction, but nothing huge. Then outlets ran with [CEO celebrates abroad with wife and kid], and the tone was all positive. "But soon after, a handful of major influencers hinted the woman wasn't your wife, and the media jumped in, pulling up Mrs. Levy's pics for side-by-sides. "And from there... it just exploded." His voice faded to a whisper. Deep down, he felt hard done by. He thought, 'As the married CEO of the group, can't the guy keep things buttoned up?' "On the bright side, the leaked shots are all profiles or obscured faces, no solid ID on anyone," the assistant added. Brandon sat there with a poker face, not uttering a word. The chief of staff piped up with fixes, rattling off ideas. "We've boiled it down to two plays. One: get Mrs. Levy to go public and confirm it's her in the photos. Two: haul her back in and tap her for a solution." Brandon let out a bitter chuckle. More than 48 hours deep, the chaos still swirling, and this was their brainstorm, pie-in-the-sky nonsense. The chief squirmed inwardly, but with the frenzy still raging, someone had to be stirring the pot. Brandon's silence left the three fidgeting like they were on pins and needles, mentally prepping their goodbyes. Two days in, a clarification from Brianna now would ring hollow. And spotting Darcy in those pics? She might flat-out refuse. Reeling her back to sort it? Back in the day, she'd leap at it. But no hysterics this round. Brandon couldn't get a read on her. He said, "This is your grand plan?" The trio shrank back, eyes glued to the floor, lips sealed. Right then, Brandon's phone buzzed. "Mom." He took the earful on the line without a peep. "Got it. We'll come by after work." He hung up and leveled them with an arctic stare. "If that crap's still trending in two hours, drop your resignations on my desk." Ultimatum delivered, the three hightailed it out of there. Brandon thought, 'Who leaks the information?' Brandon had suspected Darcy and her mother, but probably no one would willingly brand themselves as a mistress and broadcast it to the world. Her goal was to break into show business. Even if she wanted publicity, she wouldn't promote herself as the other woman. He was still mulling it over when Darcy called. Her voice was choked with tears. "Brandon, I'm so sorry. If I'd known it would turn out like this, I never would've had that birthday party." He said, "It's okay. Don't pay attention to those online posts." "But... Brianna..." Darcy sounded utterly aggrieved. "What if I go public and clear things up? Say it was me. Don't let her get the wrong idea about you." "No need. Responding would just stir up more chaos." "Then Brianna... she already doesn't like me, and now this... she must hate my guts. It's all my fault. I'm the one to blame." "Don't overthink it. Just enjoy your time in Drokvine. No one's recognized you online anyway. As for Brianna... she won't hold it against you." "I've already flown back. With all this going on, I was worried about you, so I came home." Brandon stayed silent. She continued, "Brandon, where are you right now? Can I see you?" "Let's talk about it later. I've got stuff to handle this afternoon." ***** Brianna left the studio construction site, planning to stop by the building materials market before heading home to see Kendra that afternoon. Then her phone rang. "My dear Ms. Meyers, where are you?" The president's office director sounded downright fawning. She said, "Spit it out. What's up?" "Have you seen the trending topic?" the director asked tentatively. "I have." Her tone was even. "So, how should we handle it?" "I've resigned, remember?" "Yes, yes. But with Mr. Levy's name still dangling out there like this, it doesn't sit right." "Let the PR team take care of it. They know the drill." A brief silence followed. "After you left, Ms. Levy shut down the PR department and reassigned everyone." The Ms. Levy he meant was Margo. She said, "Oh." It had been dragging on for two days, time to shut it down. She added, "Set up a press conference. Confirm it's Brandon: say his daughter was on a study abroad trip, he went along to chaperone, and they dropped by a friend's birthday party while they were at it." The director waited, but when nothing else came, he asked, "That's all?" "What more do you want?" "How do we turn this into positive spin? Like we used to." "Just getting it off the trending list would be a win. Right after the conference, you can buy some online buzz to push the coverage up and drown out the 'scumbag' angle." The director didn't dare reply. It sounded an awful lot like she was calling someone out. He hung up and quickly followed Brianna's orders, pulling together the old PR staff to manage the crisis. Sure enough, half an hour after the press conference wrapped, the story rocketed up the trends, and that "scumbag" tag finally vanished. Staring at his phone, the director thought, 'Brianna really knows her stuff. I've underestimated her.' After wandering through the building materials market, Brianna picked up a toy for Kendra and drove home. Her phone rang. It was Brandon. They hadn't spoken once in the half-month since the Drokvine trip. She sighed and picked up. He said, "Mom wants us over for dinner this afternoon." She said, "Okay, I'll swing by and get Kendra." "No, just stay put at home. I'll pick you both up after work." "Don't bother. I've got plans tonight." "Okay." Brianna pulled into the driveway, and as soon as she parked, Kendra came bounding out, throwing herself happily into her arms. "Mommy!" Brianna knelt down, wrapping Kendra in a hug, her eyes brimming with affection. When she gave her the toy, though, Kendra's face showed no excitement. She even pouted a little. Another doll. She already had a ton of them. Darcy's gifts were always more fun. On this Drokvine trip, Darcy had gotten her a whole set of kid's makeup, complete with lipstick and eyeshadow. Brianna wasn't bothered that Kendra didn't like the gift. "Kendra, if there's something you really want, you need to tell Mommy, okay? That's the only way I can know what's on your mind." She was gently encouraging Kendra to open up. Kendra said, "I want makeup, and jewelry, and cute little dresses, and purses." "Kendra, those aren't right for you just yet. When you're older..." "Mommy, I got you a present too!" Kendra could tell Brianna was gearing up for another lecture, the usual nagging. She wished she hadn't said anything; Darcy would get her those things anyway. Brianna let out a helpless sigh and followed Kendra inside the villa. They'd only moved out half a month ago, but stepping back in now felt oddly foreign. Kendra fetched a rabbit stuffed animal that gave off a soft lavender scent. "Mommy, I bought this for you when we were in Eighburgh. Smell it. It's stuffed with lavender." Brianna brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. "Yeah, you're right. Thank you, sweetie." She let Kendra know they were heading to Gabrielle's, got her changed, and the two of them drove off. Chapter 5 Confronting Gabrielle Gabrielle scowled as the family of three walked through the door. She quickly made up an excuse to send Kendra outside to play in the yard, then dove right into scolding the couple. Her target? Brianna. She said, "A wise wife keeps her husband from disaster. Look at the mess you've dragged us into!" Brianna found it almost amusing and shrugged. "Gabrielle, what's the issue? Why are you so upset?" "Don't try to fool me. Others might be clueless, but I know exactly who that is." Since she was laying it all out, Brianna decided to be blunt too. "I have no connection to them, Gabrielle. You know that." Gabrielle faltered, words catching in her throat. After a beat, she pushed on, "If you knew that mother and daughter were trouble, why didn't you keep an eye on Brandon and stop him from messing around with them?" "If I'd known the Drokvine trip was to meet those two vixens, I would've never okayed it. But Brandon didn't bother telling me. He just jetted off to see them." Brianna grabbed a handful of cherries from the coffee table. They were deliciously sweet. Gabrielle went quiet again, glaring at Brandon. "You knew that little floozy has a terrible reputation, but you chased after her anyway. You're an adult. Show some damn sense!" "Exactly! And now you're labeled a 'scumbag.' How embarrassing!" Brianna chimed in, putting extra bite on "scumbag." Brandon shot her a look, his expression turning stormy. "Oh, now you want to sling mud? Where was this fire earlier?" Gabrielle redirected her anger back at Brianna. She could chew out Brandon, but not Brianna. Margo said, "Mom, this isn't on her. That press conference this afternoon that killed the trending story? It was her idea, credit to the PR folks." Margo jumped in to defend her, though she had her own ulterior motives, none of which involved actually helping Brianna. "It should've been dealt with way sooner. Why the delay?" "I've resigned, you know that." Brianna said it lightly. If chaos was brewing, she figured, why not crank it up? No one was escaping unscathed. Gabrielle, once a force in the business world, could see right through their little games. Gabrielle said, "The higher you rise, the farther you fall. Our company seems untouchable. Everyone admires it, but tons of people are rooting for our downfall just so they can step up. "An external attack won't finish it off fast, but destroying it from the inside? That's game over in an instant." She stopped there. Brianna knew the warning was for Brandon and Margo. Margo had started at the company before Brandon, with deeper experience and impressive results. But when their father stepped down, Brandon got the top job. Margo resented it deeply. Then, when Brandon discovered her husband was pocketing kickbacks through his role, he fired him immediately, no discussion. That only widened the gap between the siblings. They kept up appearances, but Margo would sabotage him here and there, quietly hoping he'd crash and burn. As she saw Brianna casually snacking on fruit like she was above it all, Gabrielle's frustration boiled over again. "Look at this mess your family's in!" "It's just a hot search, big whoop. Is it really worth all this rage?" Brandon brushed it off with a shrug. Brianna said, "Our family's scandals are filthy enough, but some folks are like flies on shit. They flock to it! If you don't protect your own image, who else is to blame?" Catching Brianna's subtle dig, Brandon gave her a few bitter glances. He thought, 'What has gotten into her? The woman who used to walk on eggshells around me has completely changed her tune.' Gabrielle was surprised by the shift but quietly appreciated it. "Stop pouting. Head back to the office and watch Brandon closely." She said that last bit with real emphasis. Brianna flashed back to her own mother and felt like the words carried extra weight. "No way. I'm done going back." "So you're giving up work entirely?" Margo'd just begun to admire her, and she thought, 'Now she is sliding back into full-time homemaker mode, orbiting Brandon?' "No! I'm going to do something for myself." No point holding back now. "I've dreamed of starting my own brand and designing jewelry for years. It's time to turn that into reality." Margo let out a snort of laughter, spraying out the coffee she'd just taken a sip of. Gabrielle shot her a disapproving frown and jumped in. "The Levy family isn't hurting for money. Just focus on keeping Brandon in line and looking after Kendra. That's all the thanks I need." Brianna straightened up, her voice firm and unwavering. "I've already decided. This isn't open for debate." Gabrielle started to protest, but Brandon interrupted. "Mom, that's the end of it. Let's just eat." Brianna glanced over at him. She thought, 'Is he actually taking my side? Pigs must be flying, for the first time in years, he is standing up for me.' She'd always gone out of her way to please him before, swallowing her pride just to get a scrap of attention, but it never paid off. Today, after she'd thrown shade at him left and right, here he was defending her. Men really did thrive on being treated like dirt. After dinner, as the three of them headed out, Kendra latched onto Brianna, pleading to come home with her. Brianna gently loosened Kendra's grip and explained softly, "Mommy's swamped right now. Head home with Daddy for a bit, and as soon as I free up, I'll come spend time with you." Kendra looked crushed. All her life, Brianna had always prioritized her. This was the first time she'd asked for Brianna's company and been shot down. A little miffed, she turned on her heel, climbed back into the car, and gave Brianna the cold shoulder. Brianna had planned to broach the divorce, but she didn't want Kendra overhearing. Better to wait, next time she had a quiet moment, she'd ease into the conversation. The hurt was unavoidable, but she'd minimize it as much as possible. She'd brought Kendra into the world, and even if Kendra leaned toward her enemy's camp, she'd still step up as a mother. She didn't bother saying more to Brandon and just drove off the other way. Tears of hurt brimmed in Kendra's eyes. "Daddy, is Mommy angry?" Brandon said, "Mommy's not angry. She's just tied up with stuff at the moment. Give it a couple days. She'll be back." Kendra opened her mouth to say something else when her phone pinged. A message from Darcy, asking if she wanted to hit up Disneyland tomorrow. Just like that, her sulk evaporated, and she bounced with excitement, telling Brandon she wanted to go to Disneyland with Darcy the next day. Brandon gave a nod of approval. Back home, Brandon walked into the bedroom and noticed the Hermès boxes he'd left on the sofa at the end of the bed. The ribbons were untouched. Obviously, she hadn't spotted the gifts he'd brought back. He furrowed his brow, an odd sensation bubbling up inside, something weird and new that he couldn't quite place. Stepping into the bathroom, he felt like something was amiss, though he couldn't put his finger on it. Right then, his phone rang. It was Darcy, asking if she could take Kendra out for some fun. Darcy was so vibrant and sunny, loaded with talents, innocent and sweet, nothing like Brianna. More time with her would be great for Kendra. "Brandon..." Darcy trailed off hesitantly. "Yeah?" "Forget it, we can chat tomorrow. You coming?" "Just got back to the office. Piles of work waiting." "Brandon..." "Yeah?" "I'm really scared..." "Of what?" "I'm terrified the tabloids will expose me, and people online will peg me as the other woman." "Don't worry. Brianna will sort it out." Darcy thought, 'Men! Mom nailed it. The more fragile you seem, the more you ignite their urge to protect.' The second the online chatter exploded, he'd hightailed it back with Kendra. She'd figured he was dodging drama with Brianna, rushing home to play innocent. But he hadn't outright nixed meeting up tomorrow, so no real need to steer clear, apparently. She knew Brandon didn't give a damn about Brianna. Their marriage was on shaky ground at best. She thought, 'Look at that: scandal hits tying me to him, and it's the wife who has to mop it up, just like her worthless late mom, desperately clutching that marriage license.' As she reflected on the whole mess, Darcy's brow creased. She'd leaked those party pics herself, aiming to spark rumors with Brandon and rub Brianna's nose in it. She never imagined it'd blow back on her. The backlash had snowballed. Lucky she'd been cautious and kept her face out of the shots. She thought, 'Who is orchestrating things from the shadows? Brianna?' Picturing her sour, bitter expression, Darcy brushed the thought aside. She thought, 'No way, she doesn't have the skills!' Chapter 6 Give The Villa To Darcy Brianna headed to the building materials market to lock in her orders, then stopped by the authority to file the paperwork. It had her running around for most of the day. Lately, while sorting through her design portfolio, she'd gotten a burst of new ideas and wanted to run them by someone, so she invited Patsy over to her place to review the drafts. As it happened, Tristan had invited Brianna out to dinner, and when he caught wind of the design session, he pestered her relentlessly to come along. Brianna picked them both up in her car, swung by for some coffees, and headed back to her villa up in the northern part of the city. As soon as they pulled up, they noticed a crowd gathered at the entrance, bickering loudly over something or other. The three of them walked over, and right in the center was a worked-up guy. Brianna's face darkened on the spot. The property manager was still trying to reason with him calmly. "I'm sorry, sir, but someone lives here. You can't have a locksmith force the door open. Why don't you call the owner?" "! This is clearly my house. If you're saying it's occupied, then who the hell is living in my property?" "Me!" Brianna stepped forward, stone-faced, positioning herself directly in front of Whitney with a cold glare. As for Blanca Delgado beside him, she didn't spare her a single look. Confronted by Brianna, Whitney seemed a little ashamed and tried to speak softly, "Brianna, if you wanted the house, why didn't you just tell me?" "Mom bought it for me. Why would I need to clear it with you?" Whitney's expression hardened, and he snapped at her. "What's with that tone? All these years, you won't even call me Dad. Do you even acknowledge me as your father?" "Oh, so you actually remember you're my father?" Brianna retorted with biting sarcasm. "Brianna, you two should hash this out calmly. If you want the place, your dad won't stand in your way," Blanca jumped in, acting like the gracious peacemaker between father and daughter. Only then did Brianna turn, regarding Blanca with open contempt and emphasizing every word. "This house was from my mom. The deed's in my name. Since when do you get to 'give' it to me?" "How dare you talk to Blanca that way?" Whitney was truly furious now. "You're exactly like your mother, always yelling. Don't you have any idea how a woman should act?" "Whitney, and how exactly should a woman act?" Patsy and the group knew the whole sordid Meyers family history and had no respect whatsoever for Whitney or Blanca. "You don't mean like old Blanca over here, do you?" Patsy had always had a wickedly sharp tongue. When she was little, Whitney would bring Blanca to events, and Blanca kept insisting on her status as the elder, so ever since, Patsy had mockingly dubbed her "old Blanca." Blanca couldn't maintain her composure, fighting to stay elegant as her rage built, contorting her face into an ugly grimace. Blanca said, "What 'old Blanca'? I've seen you grow up. You should be respecting me! You have no manners at all." The "old Blanca" label had nearly driven her crazy back in the day, but she'd had to grin and bear it then. Now, with the Sampson family's business tanking and her secure as the official wife, she no longer had to put up with it. "You want to lecture about manners? You, who spent over twenty years as a mistress?" Tristan said it with a lazy drawl. With that, all the bystanders' eyes shifted to Blanca. They thought, 'This poised, sophisticated woman is actually a homewrecker, and for more than two decades? 'Well, it figures. She is in her fifties but still has that allure, poured into form-fitting clothes that highlights every curve. She knows how to flaunt it.' Blanca was livid. But facing Tristan, she couldn't just let loose with curses, so her neck flushed crimson as she muttered, "I'm done with this," and marched off. Feeling guilty as sin, Whitney had longstanding ties with Patsy's parents, and the Pratt family were people they were keen to butter up, so he couldn't afford to tangle with a pair of youngsters. He changed his approach. He said, "Brianna, the house is yours. That's not changing! But you've got that massive place with the Levy family. How about letting Darcy stay in this little villa for a bit?" At those words, Brianna balled her fists, trembling with fury. She thought, 'How could he even suggest that?' When she stayed silent, Whitney assumed there was room to negotiate. He said, "Darcy's heading back to kick off her career here. Her dance troupe's based in the north district. It's perfect for her. She said she liked this spot before. Come on, you're the older sister, give her a break." Brianna's lips quivered with fury, her glare at Whitney sharp enough to draw blood. When she stayed silent for what felt like ages, Whitney lost his patience. "It's just a house. We're family. Don't be so nitpicky like your mom..." "Get out!" Brianna shrieked at him, completely losing her cool. If he mentioned her mother one more time, she'd snap. As he was stunned for a second by the outburst, Whitney's own anger boiled over. He started to fire back, but Tristan stepped between him and Brianna. "Whitney, if more of your family's skeletons come tumbling out, it's going to get really ugly." Patsy folded her arms, smirking. "Yeah, that bash in Eighburgh, don't think we don't know who's pulling the strings." It was an outright threat. Faced with their solid front and the onlookers starting to murmur and point, Whitney figured it wasn't worth the hassle and stormed off in a huff. Once they got home, Brianna collapsed into sobs. Those old wounds she'd buried so deep, they just kept tearing them open and rubbing salt in. She felt utterly trapped. Blanca strutting in to rub her face in it, and her stuck powerless to fight back. Patsy wrapped her arms around Brianna in comfort, while Tristan paced back and forth nearby, totally out of his depth. With friends around, Brianna shoved her pain aside for now. She let it out for a minute, then splashed water on her face, emerged acting like nothing had happened, and jumped right into chatting about the designs with them. Her low mood was obvious, though, and it left Tristan with a heavy knot in his chest. Later that afternoon, Tristan played it casual, suggesting they head out for some killer food to cheer things up. He thumped his chest with a grin. "Eating, drinking, good times, I'm your guy!" Tristan chose the Black Swan Restaurant in the lakeside scenic spot, fancy Drokvine fare perched right by the water. The place had its own little fenced-off patch of lake with a few swans swimming around, which explained the name. The entire commercial area there was under the Pratt Group's umbrella. He'd booked a prime table by the lake, and as the summer evening breeze skimmed across the water, rippling the surface, the dark clouds in their minds started to clear. Drokvine dining was all romance and leisure, with dishes trickling out slowly. A full meal could easily stretch three or four hours. The trio had barely dug in and were mid-chat about studio renos, staffing up, and all the little details when a familiar voice cut through, "Let's grab that spot over there. You can see the swans perfectly." Brianna didn't even need to look to know it was her daughter, Kendra. "Great pick, right there. Kendra's got a real eye for this stuff." Darcy heaped on the praise in her usual exaggerated way. Brianna sat facing the lake, her back to the newcomers, but the voices made her stiffen up instantly. Patsy gave her a concerned glance. "You alright?" Tristan's expression turned stormy. As the footsteps got closer, Brianna picked up on Brandon's presence too. Her spirits sank, and Tristan and Patsy traded uneasy looks. Kendra bounded ahead, smooshing her face against the glass and calling out excitedly for Darcy to join her in spotting the swans. The group drew near, clocking Tristan and Patsy, and recognizing Brianna from behind. Darcy acted oblivious, eagerly dropping down beside Kendra to join in the fun. Catching sight of Kendra's beaming face, complete with a Disney Mickey Mouse headband matching Darcy's, Brianna connected the dots. "Kendra." Patsy cut through the awkwardness, greeting Kendra. Kendra turned, and the second she spotted Brianna, her happiness faded. "Mommy." She mumbled it flatly. "Hey, Brianna, you're here too? Small world!" Darcy beamed her greeting. "Oh, Brianna, fancy seeing you again," Whitney jumped in. Brianna's face was like a storm cloud as she flat-out ignored them. Brandon stayed quiet, striding coolly to a table nearby and sliding into a seat. "Brianna, come join our table? More people, more fun." Darcy kept up her syrupy charm. "Quit the fake flattery. It's gross!" Brianna spun around, fixing Darcy with a scornful stare. "Mommy," Kendra stepped up with a frown, "don't be so rude to Darcy." Darcy arched a smug eyebrow at Brianna. Sensing the tension spiking, Whitney pulled Darcy toward the other table. "Let's sit, come on. Let's just sit." Kendra shot a look at Darcy, then stole a glance at Brianna before scampering over to Brandon. Even though she'd made up her mind to move on, Brianna's heart still ached fiercely. Blanca had already clued Darcy in on the afternoon drama. No luck snagging the villa, but it sure looked like Brianna and Brandon had split up.
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"A year into my contract marriage with a billionaire, I'm somehow still a virgin😳 To fend off my grandma-in-law's baby demands, I lied—he's ""impotent""🤐 I always thought he avoided me because of his ex💔 The truth? He's loved me for three years❤️🔥 Watch FREE Now 👉 🔥From Gold Digger to His Lucky Charm🔥 #GoodShort #ContractMarriage #SecretLove #MisunderstoodBillionaire #LuckyCharm #VirginWife #ThreeYearCrush #HiddenHeart"
Marianna Ferran was the laughingstock of Miami's high society. While other rich wives drove off mistresses, she went out of her way to please her husband Jeremy’s lovers. She chose their gifts carefully, tracked their cycles, and even arranged doctor to check on them. When Jeremy’s ex, Jayla, came to her in tears, complaining that he’d fallen for someone else, she only smiled. “When he chased me, he treated me better than you, and still cheated. You’re not the first or last. Let it go.” “Then why don’t you leave him?” Jayla demanded. Marianna’s smile didn’t waver as she pulled out divorce papers. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Marianna Ferran was the laughingstock of Miami's high society. While other wealthy wives spent their days driving off mistresses and guarding against illegitimate children, she went out of her way to keep her husband Jeremy Harlow's lovers happy. She carefully picked out gifts for holidays, anniversaries, and their birthdays. She was even more attentive than Jeremy—keeping track of the other women's cycles and arranging for the family doctor to check on them when their cramps hit. When Jeremy was caught on a date with his mistress, netizens rushed to Marianna's defense and trashed the other woman. Marianna, however, did the unthinkable: she called in the PR teams to delete the posts and even spoke in the woman's favor. Now, Jeremy was smitten with a college student named Loretta Macelyn, neglecting his former fling, Jayla Pherson, because of her. Jayla wasn't about to just take this lying down. She barged into the Harlow's estate with paparazzi in tow, smashing things as she cried over the way she'd been treated, then slit her wrist, determined to force Jeremy to come back to her. But Jeremy never showed up—it was Marianna who cleaned up the mess. In the VIP ward, Jayla, her wrist wrapped in bandages, cried pitifully as she clutched Marianna's hand tightly. "Anna, Jeremy used to treat me so well. I've been with him for so many years. How could he just fall out of love like that?" Marianna gently patted her hand, a faint smile on her li ps. "Cooking for you, checking in on you constantly, giving you whatever you want... I totally get why you're falling for it. It's quite the ego boost when a man like him humbles himself for you. But you should know—when he was pursuing me, he treated me far better than he ever treated you." She paused and let out a sigh. "When I found out he cheated, I cried, made a scene, and asked for a divorce. He even knelt by my hospital bed for an entire week, begging me for forgiveness. "Guess what happened? He continued to cheat. You're not the first, and Loretta won't be the last. Let it go. If you step aside now, you can at least leave with a handsome settlement." Jayla instinctively retorted, "I'm not after money. I truly love Jeremy—" But when she met Marianna's calm, knowing eyes, she faltered and looked away guiltily. After a moment, she gritted her teeth. "I want 8 million dollars, plus a house on North Bay Road." Marianna smiled and handed her a confidentiality agreement. Jayla signed it. "From what I heard, you demanded 8 million before agreeing to stay," she scoffed. "Over the years, women drifted in and out of Jeremy's life, yet you—the child of a hostess and a gambler—managed to remain as his wife. You must feel pretty proud of being favored, right?" Marianna put away the agreement, lowering her eyes to hide the bitterness in them. Her voice was soft. "I'm nothing special to Jeremy. I just happened to come first." After leaving the hospital, she headed back to the Harlow's estate. As soon as she entered the living room, Jeremy pressed himself against her from behind. Marianna turned and looked up. Jeremy's striking face bore a look of sensual contentment. His large hand rested on her waist as he murmured, his tone nonchalant, "Jayla acted out of line. "I'm sorry you had to deal with all that hassle on her account. I will make it up to you, I promise." Marianna gave no response. His idea of compensation was nothing more than expensive jewelry and luxury items. Everyone in Miami thought she stayed by his side for money. Jeremy also believed she would overlook any betrayal for money, so he'd grown increasingly brazen over the years—cheating on her without even trying to hide it. "As your wife, it's my duty to ease your troubles—no compensation necessary." She gently pushed his hand away and handed him a stack of documents. "But Jayla wants the house you used to live in on North Bay Road. The contract is ready—just sign it." Without even looking, Jeremy picked up a pen and signed his name swiftly. Once he was done, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer. "Don't you want to know how I intend to make it up to you?" Before Marianna could respond, he lowered his head slightly. "We've been married for seven years—it's time for a child," he said, his voice tinged with expectation. "Marianna, give me an heir." Marianna froze for a moment. Bearing an heir came with a promise—that Jeremy would give her full claim to his vast wealth. Actually, if she hadn't discovered his infidelity back then, their first child would've been five by now. She glanced meaningfully at the obvious hiickey on his neck, stepped back, and spoke stiffly. "It's late. Go shower and rest. The baby-making can wait." Following her gaze, Jeremy noticed the mark on himself and complained helplessly, "Loretta reminds me of you back then—poor, stubborn, possessive, and always leaving marks on me. I'll tell her to tone it down." He gently stroked Marianna's face, praising her with a smile. "You're the best—always mature, steady, graceful. It's rare to see you jealous again. I'll go wash off her scent right away, okay?" With that, he turned and headed upstairs. Marianna sighed softly. "It's fine. I don't mind." Jeremy had already gone upstairs—whether he heard her or not, no one knew. But Marianna truly didn't mind. This was the last time she would clean up his romantic mess—and the last time she would ever play his dignified wife. After Jeremy's second infidelity, her heart went cold. The eight million wasn't for luxury—it was to secure the international medical resources needed to keep her critically ill grandmother alive. A few days ago, her grandmother passed away, leaving her with no reason to stay. Marianna lowered her head, looking at the documents Jeremy had just signed, a relieved smile forming on her li ps. Hidden among the stack of documents was a divorce agreement. Chapter 2 The sound of running water filled the bathroom, blocking out all noise inside and out. Marianna quietly walked through the hallway and entered the study. To avoid complications, she made a copy of the divorce agreement and emailed it to her lawyer, then deliberately called Jeremy's mother. Henrietta Harlow was playing cards with her friends at the moment, and she sounded impatient when she answered. "What is it, Marianna? Make it quick." Marianna softened her voice, calm and steady. "I tricked Jeremy into signing the divorce agreement. I'm leaving with nothing. Please keep it from him and expedite the process as soon as possible." "Have you really thought this through?" Henrietta was surprised, falling silent for a few seconds before sighing. "Back then, I disliked your background and refused to let you marry into the family. Jeremy would rather fall out with us and move into a cramped rental just to marry you, which caused quite a stir. "In the end, you knelt in the church for days, passing my test before you could finally be together. "You endured such hardship back then. What's so bad about living comfortably as a rich wife now? If it's about his lovers, you should've known by now. Wealth and status matter more than love. At least you're still his only legal wife." Marianna lowered her eyes, letting out a silent, bitter smile. "But I married him for love. Once you've had something real, you can't tolerate betrayal and infidelity. "Also, marrying him meant I had to give up my career. I graduated top of my class from Miller School of Medicine. I didn't study so hard just to become a housewife." In the end, Henrietta stopped trying to persuade her and sighed softly. "Alright, I'll help you." "Thank you," Marianna said gratefully, a hint of long-lost relief in her voice. "Once the divorce is finalized, I'll be heading to Australia to further my studies, never coming back." Just as she finished speaking, faint footsteps sounded behind her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she quickly hung up. When she turned around, Jeremy was already behind her, his black robe loosely tied at the waist, droplets of water sliding down his jawline. His gaze darkened slightly. "Who were you talking to so late at night?" "Nobody," Marianna replied calmly, putting away her phone with a faint smile. "I was just discussing tomorrow's arrangements with housekeeping." Jeremy didn't suspect anything. He wrapped an arm around her waist, his damp warmth surrounding her. A strong possessiveness swirled in his eyes as he lowered his head to kiss her temple, his tone both gentle and commanding. "Didn't you say you'd give me an heir? You should save your voice—use it for me in bed." Marianna's body stiffened slightly. She thought having a child was just something he said casually, not realizing he actually meant it. The next moment, Jeremy lifted her into his arms and strode toward the bedroom. The large bed sank beneath them as he leaned over her, his hot breath overwhelming. It was as if he had found the pas sion of their early days again, holding her without stopping. But the closer their bodies were, the more detached she became. Marianna couldn't understand how he could be intimate with his lover during the day, then act so affectionate and lustful with her at night. It was laughably promiscuous and painfully hypocritical. In the early hours of the morning, Marianna quietly got up, went to the bathroom to clean herself, then took out a box of white pills from the bottom drawer and swallowed one with some cold water. The first and only child she had with Jeremy had died tragically. That day, she had just finished a prenatal checkup—their six-month-old baby's heartbeat had been detected for the first time. She went to his office to share the good news in person, only to catch him being intimate with his secretary in the office. The baby's heartbeat stopped immediately, and it couldn't be saved. Ever since then, she couldn't get pregnent again. She told Jeremy it was because her body hadn't recovered from the mis carriage, but in truth, she was emotionally detached, and her body rejected pregnency. Sometimes, when he forced too much on her, she would take contrraceptives just to be safe. With the divorce approaching, she had no plans of getting pregnent. Suddenly, the sound of the door opening came from behind. Marianna froze and turned around sharply. Jeremy stood at the doorway, his expression dark and terrifying, his eyes fixed on the pill box in her hand. "What's that, Marianna?" Chapter 3 Marianna quickly hid the pills behind her back and forced herself to stay calm. "They're just vitamins." "Vitamins?" Jeremy let out a cold laugh, strode forward, and took the pills from her hand. When he saw the label, his gaze turned icy. "Marianna, have you been taking birth control this whole time?" His voice was low, filled with the fury of being deceived. "You never wanted to have my child, did you?" Marianna lowered her eyes, her tone flat. "My body hasn't fully recovered yet—" "Enough!" Jeremy threw the box to the ground, and the pills scattered everywhere. Looking at her calm and indifferent face, a surge of anger rushed to his head, mixed with an unfamiliar sense of panic. It felt as if the woman who once laughed, cried, and got jealous easily had disappeared. "Very well," Jeremy said through gritted teeth, his eyes cold. "Marianna, you'll regret this." With that, he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him, the sharp "bang" reverberating through the room. Marianna stood still, her expression completely unmoved. In truth, she had long regretted meeting Jeremy and loving him with everything she had. At dawn, she went downstairs for breakfast. Because Jeremy disliked strangers in the house, the staff only came during the day. As usual, she directed the staff to clean the house and tend the garden, but declined all invitations to social gatherings. The housekeeper, Margaret Ryder, listened from the side, looking puzzled. "Mrs. Harlow, these events are tied to Mr. Harlow's business deals. Why are you declining all of them?" "I won't be going anymore," Marianna said calmly, closing her planner. "Also, Margaret, there are some things I need to go over with you." She listed them one by one, telling Margaret which detergent to use for Jeremy's shirts, how hot his morning coffee should be, where the hangover remedy was kept, what allergy medicine to prepare for seasonal changes... The more Margaret listened, the more uneasy she felt, and she interrupted, "Mr. Harlow has always insisted that only you handle these things, Mrs. Harlow. Why are you—" Marianna smiled faintly. "Soon, I won't be his wife anymore. You can either remind him to handle these things himself, or teach them to the new lady of the house." Margaret's expression changed, and just as she was about to speak, the sound of a car engine came from outside. Not long after, Jeremy walked in with a young woman on his arm. Marianna looked up and froze slightly. It turned out Jeremy hadn't exaggerated at all—Loretta really did look like her. The girl dressed simply, with a cold and stubborn aura—it was like seeing her younger self from her university days, before life had worn her down. In particular, the way Loretta looked at Jeremy mirrored all the love and devotion Marianna once had for the same man. Jeremy noticed her in a daze, and his smile deepened. "This is Loretta. From today on, she'll be living here," he announced to everyone, then added to the staff, "Treat Ms. Macelyn with the same respect as Mrs. Harlow." Although Jeremy had many lovers, it was his first time bringing one home. The staff exchanged uneasy glances—was Marianna about to be replaced by a mistress? Marianna, however, remained calm and gave instructions to Margaret. "Prepare the room next to Mr. Harlow's for Ms. Macelyn." "Wait." Jeremy's expression darkened briefly as he stopped Margaret and walked over to Marianna. He sighed, his tone indulgent yet resigned, though there was no warmth in his eyes. "Marianna, I truly love you. Since you refuse to have my child, I won't force you." He paused, tightening his arm slightly around Loretta. "Just as well. Lora is willing to carry a child for me. She resembles you enough that the child will, too. When it's born, we'll register it under your name. "It's already a disservice to her—loving me without asking for a title, and raising a child who won't even call her 'mother.' For now, the two of you will have to trade places." Marianna frowned slightly. "What do you mean?" Jeremy looked at her pointedly. "It means Lora will be my wife, and you'll move out to be my mistress." Chapter 4 After hearing Jeremy clearly, Marianna's first reaction was that he had gone mad. She looked at him carefully, as if trying to confirm whether he was joking. Jeremy held Loretta, his smile unchanged. "What's the matter? You don't want to?" Marianna opened her mouth, almost blurting out, "We're about to divorce, so there's no need for this." But the words lodged in her throat, and she forced them back down. The divorce wasn't finalized yet. If she revealed everything now, with Jeremy's temper, he would do everything in his power to stop it. Loretta leaned into Jeremy's embrace, her voice soft with concern. "Are you asking Anna to experience my life? But I've had it tough—someone as pampered as her wouldn't be able to handle it. She should continue staying here. I don't mind." Jeremy lowered his head and pinched Loretta's cheek, his tone teasing. "Don't worry, she can handle it. Her father was a gambler, her mother a hostess—she isn't as pristine as you think she is." He looked at Marianna, a trace of hidden expectation in his eyes. "Besides, if she really can't take it, she can just beg me. Do you think I wouldn't give in?" Marianna understood what was going on. His goal wasn't humiliation or punishment—it was control. She nodded calmly. "Alright, I'll pack my things." Jeremy froze for a moment, surprise flashing in his eyes before being replaced by deeper irritation. Half an hour later, Marianna walked out with a simple suitcase. The car drove across half the city before stopping in front of a rundown building in Overtown. It was a rental unit in the slums of Miami. The hallway was narrow, the walls peeling, and the air thick with damp mildew. Inside, everything looked the same—even the creaky metal bed hadn't been replaced. Marianna stood at the doorway and suddenly smiled to herself. Back then, Jeremy had broken ties with his family to marry her, and they lived in this exact apartment for three months. That had been the happiest time of her life. Back then, she was the only one in his eyes. Back then, she still believed true love could last forever. She set down her suitcase, walked to the window, and pushed it open, dust scattering everywhere. From downstairs came the calls of street vendors, children playing, and neighbors arguing loudly. She took a deep breath, as if she had truly gone back in time. But the old building was already in disrepair—no amount of careful upkeep could hold back the passage of time. It had only been a few days since Marianna moved in when a hurricane warning was issued. That night, just as she lay down, a loud "crash" rang out—the window was blown open, and glass shattered across the floor. The power short-circuited, and the lights went out. In the dark, she fumbled for something to block the window, stepping on broken glass and gasping in pain. Wind and rain poured in, knocking her off balance and soaking her completely. In the latter half of the night, she developed a fever. Marianna's head felt heavy, her body alternating between hot and cold. She curled up on the bed, her consciousness slowly fading. Half-asleep, she recalled what had happened seven years ago—a stormy night much like this one, when she and Jeremy had huddled together on this very bed. He had held her close, whispering for her not to be afraid, assuring her that he was there. Instinctively, she reached for her phone to call him. The signal was unstable. After several tries, the call finally connected. However, voices on the other end made her freeze. Loretta's voice was soft and breathy. "Be gentle with me, Mr. Harlow..." Jeremy's voice carried a lazy satisfaction. "What's wrong?" Loretta pouted. "You said it earlier—who's better, me or Anna?" Jeremy chuckled. "You're better than her." Loretta pressed on. "In what way?" "She fakes it, holds herself back, and can't let go," Jeremy said casually. "You're more obedient, understanding, and better at pleasing me." He paused, then added with a trace of contempt, "She's enjoyed seven years of comfort as my wife and has forgotten her roots. After a few days in the slums, she'll finally see how good I've been to her." The storm continued to rage outside. Marianna burned feverishly, her wound still bleeding, but the last bit of warmth in her heart faded away. She laughed at herself for being so foolish and still holding onto expectations of Jeremy. Marianna ended the call. In the darkness, she curled up alone on the bed, listening to the howling wind, unable to shed a single tear. Chapter 5 The typhoon swept across Miami, and violent winds drove heavy rain against the old buildings in Overtown, making the entire structure shake violently. Marianna forced her feverish, dazed body forward and had just reached the doorway when a deafening "crash" sounded behind her, and half of the old building collapsed. She used her last bit of strength to rush out, and the rain instantly soaked her through, stinging her wounds with sharp pain. When she ducked into a nearby small clinic, it was already packed with people taking shelter from the storm. Someone whispered that the elderly doctor had been struck on the head by falling debris during the typhoon and died. His body was still in the back room, and no one dared to go near it. Marianna suppressed the bitterness in her chest, then lifted a corner of the curtain to take a look. Guided by her duty as a medical student, she stepped forward to attend to the deceased doctor. After coming out, she searched the medicine cabinet for anti-inflammatory and fever-reducing pills and swallowed two, then found gauze and alcohol to bandage the wounds on her feet and hands. Then, she handed out medicine to the elderly and children around her and treated minor injuries and fevers. A young man had his arm cut by broken glass. Marianna lowered her head to disinfect and bandage it, her voice gentle. "Don't get it wet, and remember to change the dressing on time." The young man's ears turned red as he thanked her repeatedly, a hint of shyness in his eyes. Just then, a dark figure rushed in through the doorway with an umbrella. Jeremy was soaked through, his hair messy, and there was still a trace of lingering panic in his eyes. But when he saw that Marianna was safe and even smiling gently at another man, that bit of concern was instantly replaced by jealousy. He stepped forward, looking down at her, his tone sharp and arrogant. "I thought you'd be in a miserable state. Seems like I was worried for nothing. You adapt fast—flirting with men even in a place like this." Marianna paused while gathering the cotton pads, and when she looked up, there was only coldness in her eyes. The flirtation and contempt from last night's phone call still echoed in her ears, and she didn't even bother pretending anymore. "Thanks to you, I'm doing just fine," she said flatly, each word cutting. "Shouldn't you be trying for a baby with your new wife? How do you have time to look for me?" Jeremy gave her a half-smile and grabbed her wrist. "I'm here to have you fulfill your duties as a lover. Come with me." Marianna tried to pull free, but his grip left no room for refusal. People around them began to stare, and she didn't want to make a scene in front of everyone, so she silently got into his car. The car stopped at the entrance of a nightclub. Jeremy tossed her a red slip dress. "Put this on." "I'm not changing," Marianna refused. "You're not Mrs. Harlow anymore. You're just a little lover," Jeremy said coldly. "Do as I say." Marianna clenched the dress in her hands and eventually went into the changing room. After changing, Jeremy brought her into a private room on the top floor. Inside were four or five men, all well-known play boys among Miami's elite. One of them looked up, startled. "Mr. Harlow? Isn't that your wife?" Jeremy wrapped an arm around Marianna's waist and said casually, "You've got the wrong person. She's just my newest mistress." In the dim lighting, everyone mistook Marianna for Loretta, and their tone instantly became bold and teasing. "She's the one who looks like Mrs. Harlow! You used to treasure her so much and kept her hidden. Why are you bringing her along today?" one of them asked. "You know the rules—if you bring her, she plays with everyone." Glasses of alcohol were constantly pushed toward Marianna, and Jeremy watched the entire time coldly without any intention of stopping it. Marianna drank one glass after another. Her fever hadn't subsided, the alcohol burned her throat, and her stomach churned violently, but she clenched her teeth and endured it. When she truly couldn't hold on anymore, she stood up and said softly, "I need to go to the restroom." After fixing her makeup, she walked back and saw Jeremy taking a call at the door to the private room. When he saw her, he hurriedly said before hanging up, "I want tomorrow's arrangements to be perfect." His eyes lingered on her ashen face, and his throat moved hesitantly, as if he wanted to speak but stopped himself. Marianna lowered her eyes and asked casually, "What's so important about tomorrow?" Jeremy looked at her in disbelief. "You don't remember? Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary." Marianna froze for a moment. Of course, she remembered. That grand wedding seven years ago had shocked the entire city, and fireworks over Bayfront Park lit up the sky for her all night. Jeremy held her closely, claiming she was the only one in his life. Thinking back, it felt absurd and ironic. She lowered her eyes and said calmly, "Really? I forgot." Then, she looked up and forced a smile at Jeremy. "You should head back to be with Loretta. After all, she's your wife now." Chapter 6 Jeremy felt a stabbing pain in his chest from Marianna's remarks, yet he let out a low laugh and stepped closer to her. "You're right." He lifted his hand to pinch her chin, his fingers brushing her cheek as he spoke slowly. "Marianna, you're made to be a lover. You've got a face that draws men in. Just now, several of them said that if I got bored with you, they'd like to have you instead." He paused, then leaned close to her ear, his breath brushing against it. "One is willing to trade a piece of land on North Bay Road. Another offered a newly secured deal worth 15 million." Marianna calmly turned her head and freed herself from his grip, her tone casual. "Is that so? I didn't know I was worth so much." Jeremy's gaze darkened as he suddenly lowered his head and bit the corner of her li ps, making Marianna frown in pain. "Aren't you afraid I'll actually give you away? In our circle, lovers are shared around." He stared at her, his eyes filled with unreadable emotions, and sighed. "Marianna, you're counting on the fact that I love you and can't let you go." Marianna felt nausea churn in her stomach from the alcohol, and hearing his so-called love only filled her with exhaustion. "Do you actually love me?" She let out a soft laugh, full of mockery. "Jeremy, your love isn't worth much. You can give it to Jayla, to Loretta, to countless others. "Come to think of it, it's rather unfair. I was foolish back then, loving only you. Maybe I should try and see what it's like to be unfaithful." Jeremy's expression darkened, his eyes cold and threatening. "Are you serious?" Marianna nodded calmly. Jeremy stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. The next second, he yanked open the private room door and shoved her inside. His cold gaze swept over the wealthy young men inside as he spoke casually. "She's yours tonight. Do whatever you want with her." With that, the door slammed shut. Marianna stood there, stunned for a few seconds before realizing that Jeremy had really given her away. She turned to leave, but a hand pressed down on her shoulder. "Don't rush off just yet, Ms. Macelyn." Marianna shook off the hand and stepped back, her voice turning cold. "I'm not Loretta. I'm Marianna." The men froze, exchanging glances. The atmosphere stiffened for a few seconds before someone laughed awkwardly. "Is Mr. Harlow joking?" Marianna turned to leave again, but someone entered at the same time. Another rich young man walked in, muttering, "Guess what I just saw? "Mrs. Harlow came to pick him up herself. The way he was all over her—unbelievable. Also, it's their seventh anniversary tomorrow. He even booked the rooftop restaurant and refuses to see anyone else." The way they looked at Marianna changed. "Pretending to be Mrs. Harlow, eh? You've got guts." Someone sneered. "Let us teach this clueless little lover a lesson on Mr. Harlow's behalf." Marianna opened her mouth to explain, but she was already dragged back. She struggled desperately, slapping them, but it only led to harsher restraint. Someone gripped her chin and forced alcohol down her throat; she choked as she swallowed, her throat burning. The drink had been laced with something. As her consciousness began to fade, she saw the ceiling lights spinning. It was a chaotic night. She couldn't remember how many people there were or what she had shouted, only that everything hurt—her entire body ached. When she woke up the next day, it was already dusk outside. Marianna lifted herself up, her body feeling like it had been crushed. She washed her face, put on the torrn dress, and walked out the door. The nightclub hadn't opened yet, and the hallway was empty. She took out her phone and turned it on. The first notification was an article from a local tabloid. "Harlow Group's CEO celebrates his seventh wedding anniversary with his wife—enjoying a romantic dinner at a rooftop restaurant, with fireworks over Bayfront Park all night." In the photo, the way Jeremy looked at Loretta was gentle and doting—exactly how he had once looked at her. Marianna let out a scoff and simply deleted the notification. The next message was from her lawyer, Jack Bonham. "Ms. Ferran, your divorce has been finalized. Feel free to drop by anytime to pick up the documents." The tension in Marianna's shoulders, built up over days, finally eased as she let out a long sigh. After collecting the divorce certificate from the law firm, she returned to Overtown. She packed up her belongings and documents, then paused to look at the rundown rental on the verge of demolition, now cordoned off by barriers. Strange as it seemed, her heart remained utterly still. All the love, hate, and obsession had completely turned to ashes here. That evening, she boarded the earliest flight to Australia. As the plane slowly took off, dazzling fireworks suddenly burst outside the window, lighting up the entire night sky at Bayfront Park. Marianna pulled down the window shade expressionlessly and leaned back in her seat with her eyes closed. By the time she woke, she would be stepping into a new chapter of her life.
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In an age where everyone awakens a race in high school to harvest their faith and ascend to godhood, summoning stronger races naturally makes the path to divinity smoother. Ranked first in aptitude during the entrance test, I’m expected to summon a Tier Nine, Twelve-Winged Holy Seraph. Instead, I choose the rankless mushroom...
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In her second life, Luna Selene warns her husband, Alpha Kade, of an imminent Rogue attack. Blinded by his obsession with his childhood love Lola, Kade dismisses her and diverts the pack’s defenses to celebrate Lola’s birthday. While Rogues massacre the unprotected pack, Kade ignores desperate calls for help—even from his mother, Martha. Trying to reach him, Martha is brutally attacked and ultimately killed by Kade himself, who mistakes her for a fake sent by Selene. When the devastation is revealed, Kade realizes his fatal error. The truth surfaces: Lola had sabotaged the defenses. Amid the chaos, Lola is devoured by Rogues, while Kade, shattered by guilt and madness, wanders into the forest and meets the same fate. Selene survives and leads the pack’s rebuilding. She buries Martha with honor, ensuring her sacrifice is remembered, while Kade’s legacy ends in tragedy and ruin.
Chapter 1 My heart plummets. My fists clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I stare, frozen, at the scene before me. The room reeks of sweat and sex, I can’t help but tremble. And there he is. Dmitri. My fiancé. The man I was supposed to marry. Groveling at my feet, tangled in his own damn pants as he fumbles to cover himself. His face is pale, his hair disheveled, his lips—those same lips that whispered loving words into my ears—swollen from kissing someone else. A woman—a stranger—lays half-naked on the bed behind him, the silk sheets tangled around her body as she scrambles away like a cornered animal. Her eyes dart to mine in wide-eyed panic before she clutches the blanket to her chest and bolts toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Coward. Dmitri stares up at me, panic laced in his voice. "Elena—it's not what it looks like." A hollow laugh escapes me. Cold. Emotionless. Clearly the laugh of a woman who has lost everything. I take a step closer, my heels clicking against the polished hardwood floor. I feel detached from my own body, as if I'm watching this play out from somewhere far, far away. "Not what it looks like?" I repeat softly, tilting my head. Dmitri, the man who once promised me forever, dares to feed me that cliché excuse. A lump lodges in my throat, burning like acid. "Dmitri," my voice is eerily calm, my hands trembling with suppressed rage, "I just buried my father." His eyes flicker with guilt, but his lips part uselessly, searching for words. "I came here because I—I needed you." My voice cracks, raw with heartbreak. "And I find you like this?" I gesture to the bed—our bed—where another woman had just lain underneath him. The sheets I had picked out. The mattress we had chosen together. The room that was supposed to be ours. Dmitri pushes to his feet, his pants still unbuttoned, his entire existence suddenly repulsive. He reaches for me. "Please, I—" "Don't touch me." My voice is sharper than I intend, but the thought of his hands on me now makes my skin crawl. His face twists, desperation seeping into his features. "It was a mistake! I wasn’t thinking—" I scoff, my arms folding tightly over my chest. "Oh? Your dick just happened to slip into her?" Dmitri flinches. "Elena—" "Shut up." My breath is ragged. My vision blurs, but I refuse to cry. I refuse to break down in front of him. I should be screaming. I should be throwing things, clawing at him, making him bleed the way he's just made me bleed. But I can't. I'm too numb. Too shattered. A part of me—a stupid, naive, pathetic part—wants him to fight for me. To drop to his knees. To beg. To convince me that this isn’t real, that this is just some nightmare I’ll wake up from. But I don't wake up. I just stand there, breathing in the reality of it all. "You said you loved me." Dmitri swallows hard. "I do." My laugh is bitter. "You have a funny way of showing it." Silence. Maybe if this was the past me. Even the ‘me’ from yesterday, I would have screamed. I would have cursed him out. But now? I was already exhausted. Half my world had already shattered this morning. So, instead, I inhale sharply and turn on my heel, my heart pounding against my ribs. I need to leave. Now. "Elena, wait!" Dmitri grabs my wrist, his grip desperate, but I rip myself free with such force that he stumbles back. The love I had for him dies in that moment. I don’t even look back as I walk away. Leaving our apartment. I walk in a daze, my mind completely lost to mourning my step-father, mourning the marriage life that I knew wouldn’t happen anymore. My parent’s house is dark when I step inside. The funeral was in the morning. It felt like a lifetime ago. And now, it’s night. Everything feels different. Colder. Like the walls know what I’ve seen tonight, know that I am no longer the same woman who left this house earlier. I swallow the lump in my throat and walk deeper inside, my heels clicking against the wooden floor. "Mom?" I call softly. She must be sleeping. I had left her resting in her bedroom when I went to see Dmitri. God, I wish I hadn’t gone. I wipe at my eyes, barely aware of the way my body shakes. The exhaustion crashes into me like a freight train. One step. Then another. I reach the kitchen, my fingers gripping the doorframe, ready to head upstairs— Then I see her. A choked gasp rips from my throat. My mother. She’s on the floor. "Mom?" My voice trembles. She doesn’t move. The room spins. My breath catches. No. No, no, no. I stumble forward, collapsing onto my knees beside her. My hands shake violently as I reach for her, pressing my fingers to her neck, checking for breath, for warmth, for anything— She’s burning. Her skin is clammy, her forehead damp. And there—little red splotches marring her arm. Burns. What happened? "Mom!" I shake her. Hard. "Mom, wake up! Please!" She doesn’t stir. The air leaves my lungs. No. No. NO. Please, God. Not her. Not her too. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning everything else out as I grab my phone, my fingers fumbling, my vision blurring. My heart slams against my ribs. My throat tightens. Tears blind me. But there’s no time to panic. I dial. The ringing feels endless. Then— “911, what’s your emergency?” I swallow a sob. "My mother—she’s unconscious. Please. Please hurry." The operator starts talking, but I can barely hear. I press my forehead to my mother’s, my body trembling. “Stay with me,” I whisper. “Please, Mom. Stay with me.” Chapter 2 Elena’s POV: The sterile white halls of the emergency ward felt like they were closing in on me, the scent of antiseptic and fear thick in the air. My mother was wheeled in on a gurney, nurses shouting to each other in rushed, clipped voices as the emergency room doors swung open, then slammed shut, sealing her away from me. I stood frozen in the hallway, my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs. What do I do? What do I do? My hands trembled as I pressed them to my face, trying to steady my breath, but it was impossible. She was fine this morning. Weak, but alive. And now she was in there, fighting for her life. A nurse approached, her expression gentle. "Miss Kovalyova?" I turned, my throat too tight to respond. "The doctor will speak with you shortly." I nodded numbly, my nails digging into my palms. Minutes stretched into eternity. I had no idea how long I stood there, my body tense and aching. Then the doors swung open again, and a doctor stepped out, his face strained. I rushed forward. “Is she okay?” The doctor exhaled. "Your mother suffered a severe cardiac episode due to prolonged stress and underlying conditions. We need to perform an emergency bypass surgery to prevent further damage." My breath caught. "Okay," I said, too quickly. "Then do it." His face hardened. "The procedure costs fifty eight thousand dollars here." The number hit me like a punch to the gut. A sharp ringing filled my ears as my mind tried to process it. Fifty thousand dollars?! I didn't have that kind of money. Hell, I barely had enough to cover next month’s rent. We were already in deep shit with our previous debt. "You'll need to secure the payment within the next twenty-four hours so we can proceed," the doctor continued, oblivious to the way my world was crumbling beneath my feet. "Twenty-four hours?" My voice came out hollow. "Yes. If we delay any longer, her condition may worsen beyond what surgery can fix." I stared at him. Twenty-four hours. Fifty eight thousand dollars. "Do you have insurance?" the doctor asked, his voice impassive, like this was just another conversation for him. "No." My voice broke on the word. "Family who can assist?" I wanted to laugh. What family? He sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I suggest you find a solution quickly. We will keep her stable for now, but time is of the essence." With that, he nodded and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me standing in the wreckage of my life. I stumbled backward onto one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area, my vision swimming. I was alone. There was no one I could call, no one I could ask. And for one horrifying second, my mind drifted to Dmitri. Dmitri Vetrov. My ex-fiancé. Rich. Powerful. The youngest son of a multimillionaire. He could write a check for fifty thousand dollars without blinking. Would he help me? My stomach curled in disgust at the thought. I could see it now. His smug, self-satisfied smirk. The condescending tilt of his head as he crossed his arms and leaned back, acting as if I owed him something for his generosity after how I had left him begging on his knees just a while ago. No. If my mother found out I had lowered myself to begging my cheating ex for money, she wouldn’t accept it. She would rather die than have me throw away my dignity for her. And I wasn’t sure I could survive begging Dmitri either. Then who? My nails dug into my knees, my breath coming in short gasps. What do I do? What do I do? And then— A familiar name echoed from a nearby television. I lifted my head. The hospital’s mounted TV was tuned into a business channel, the news anchor’s voice crisp and professional. “—Vetrov Enterprises, owned by billionaire Nikolai Vetrov, announced a record-breaking deal today—” Nikolai Vetrov. The camera shifted to a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in a sharp black suit, his jawline like it was carved from stone. His dark brown hair gelled back to perfection. His cold, calculating dark eyes scanned the reporters, his smile hiding something dangerous. The most eligible bachelor in the whole of Alderidge. Nikolai Vetrov. Dmitri’s older stepbrother. And the man who hated Dmitri with every fiber of his being. The memory surfaced before I could stop it. Dmitri’s twenty-fifth birthday. Six months ago. A lavish party was held in a massive ballroom, filled with people who definitely didn’t belong in my world. I was from a lower class family, attending college with a scholarship. However, I had become Dmitri’s girlfriend and after four years, for the first time he had invited me to such an occasion. Introducing me to others like I was a trophy. I had actually been extremely happy that day. Because that was also the day Dmitri had proposed to me. I had just left the restroom, smoothing out my dress, when I nearly collided with Nikolai Vetrov. He had been leaning against the hallway wall, one hand in his pocket, a cigarette between his fingers. His onyx brown eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate. Then he exhaled, releasing a cloud of smoke. "My condolences." I frowned. "Excuse me?" "Your mind is sharp," he murmured, voice low, slightly slurred from alcohol. "But your taste in men is absolutely tragic." I had been dumbfounded. Like, who says that about their own brother? It was the first time I truly realized Nikolai didn’t just dislike Dmitri like a lot of siblings do. He despised him. "You have such a smart little mind," he mused, "but it’s wasted on a man like him." I scoffed. "And what makes you say that?" Nikolai took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he looked out into the city through the massive floor to ceiling windows in front of us. "He isn’t exactly husband material." I let out a sharp laugh. "Oh? And what do you think makes a man husband material?" It had truly been funny to me, that a ‘man’ was telling me what ‘husband material’ was supposed to be. But I didn’t defend Dmitri, I noticed the venom in Nikolai’s tone and knew it would be useless. I didn’t want to pick a fight with someone like him either. His gaze darkened, piercing straight into my soul. "He sucks at cooking." My brows lifted. "Seriously?" "You laugh, but a man who can’t even take care of himself can’t take care of you either." I rolled my eyes. "It’s fine. I can cook and I’m used to taking care of myself." Nikolai’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. "He’s shit with money. Spends it like water." "He’s rich. Why does it matter?" His gaze sharpened. "Are you marrying him for money, then?" I met his stare and tilted my head. "What if I am?" Of course I wasn’t. I hadn’t taken a dime from Dmitri. Not that I was against being treated like a princess. I was just not used to being indebted to anyone like this, it made my skin itch. However, instead of getting offended, Nikolai looked… satisfied. He straightened, flicking ash from his cigarette. "Good," he said. I frowned. That’s it? He studied me for a long moment, then murmured, "I’m richer than him, you know." I blinked. "What does that have to do with me?" Nikolai shrugged. Then he walked away. Only later on had I realized what he meant when he had said the last line, but I had tossed it to the back of my mind and assumed he was testing me for his little brother. That memory burned in my mind as I stared at his face on the TV screen. Nikolai Vetrov was richer than Dmitri. More powerful. More ruthless. And he hated his stepbrother. I sucked in a sharp breath. An idea began to take shape—insane, desperate, but my only option. I needed money. I wanted power. And there was a man who had both. I needed Nikolai Vetrov. Chapter 3 Elena’s POV: If I was wrong about Nikolai Vetrov’s intentions, the worst that could happen was that I would embarrass myself. That was nothing compared to what was at stake. But if I didn’t do anything—if I didn’t at least try to ask for his help—and my mother’s condition worsened, or worse… I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life. I exhaled sharply, forcing my shaky legs to push me upright. That’s it then. I had made my choice. Pulling out my phone, I searched for the address of Vetrov Enterprises. I had been there once or twice before, back when Dmitri would take me out for lunch at one of the high-end restaurants near his brother’s office. But I didn’t remember the exact address. At least I knew Nikolai wasn’t out of the country. I glanced down at my outfit—a simple black dress, the same one I had worn earlier at my dad’s funeral. My hair was still tied into a low bun, strands falling loose from hours of exhaustion. I looked like a grieving woman. Which, in many ways, I was. I was mourning the death of my father, the life I thought I would have, the man I thought loved me and the security I had believed in. Now, I had nothing. Except for this one insane, desperate plan. — 30 minutes later — The towering glass building of Vetrov Enterprises loomed before me, its sharp edges piercing the dawn sky. The city was still asleep, the streets nearly deserted, but this place—this empire Nikolai built with his own hands—was already awake at four o'clock in the morning. A few luxury cars lined the private parking area, their sleek exteriors gleaming under the streetlights. I inhaled deeply, steeling myself. I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to see him right away. CEOs don’t stroll into work at four in the morning. But I had no choice. I would leave my number with the receptionist and pray that Nikolai would agree to meet me. There was no way I could ask Dmitri for his brother’s number. Not when I was about to do this. I pushed through the heavy glass doors and stepped into the lobby. The receptionist at the front desk—a well-dressed woman in her late twenties— looked up from her computer screen, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw me. “Are you Miss Elena?” I frowned. “You know me?” She hesitated, then nodded. “Ah, yes. Sir told me to send you up.” My heart stopped. What? I stared at her, my pulse hammering in my ears. Had he… anticipated my arrival? No. That wasn’t possible. How would he know? My hands curled into fists, my heartbeat racing. The receptionist smiled and handed me a key card. “Take the elevator to the twenty-seventh floor. He’s expecting you.” I nodded slowly, forcing myself to act normal as I took the card and walked toward the elevator. My mind was spiraling. Was this just a coincidence? Had he expected me to come? Or… had he known all along that this day would come? No…that didn’t make sense. How would he know that I needed money for my mother’s bypass in advance? There was another more plausible reason that swirled in my mind…was he somehow stalking me? I swallowed hard, shaking off the thought as I stepped into the empty elevator. That was ridiculous though. Why would someone like him have a need to do that? The moment the doors slid shut, I let out a shaky breath and pressed my back against the cold metal wall. Calm down. Keep it together. I tapped the key card against the panel. The elevator hummed to life, carrying me higher and higher. Maybe it was just my imagination or nervousness but the air felt thinner the closer I got. Twenty-fifth floor. Twenty-sixth. Twenty-seventh. A soft chime echoed, and the doors glided open. There was only one office here. A massive, double-door entrance at the end of the dimly lit hallway. And sitting just outside it, a man—his posture straight as he typed away at his laptop. Nikolai’s secretary? As soon as he saw me, he stood up and gestured toward the doors. “Sir is waiting for you, Miss Kovalyova.” He smiled and moved to open the door for me. I nodded, thanking him as I stepped inside, my gaze immediately landing on the man behind the desk. Nikolai Vetrov sat in his massive leather chair, flipping through a file as if he hadn’t just called me here before I even made the decision to come. His dark eyes flicked up from his papers, locking onto me. The man was unfairly attractive. He looked unbothered, composed. His expensive suit was perfectly fitted, the top button of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of tattoos peeking from his collar. The picture-perfect CEO. And I was standing frozen in front of him. “Good morning,” he said smoothly, his voice deep. The last time we had talked, I had drank alcohol so it hadn’t felt like this, and before that, the couple of times we ran into each other we hadn’t conversed at all. I took a breath, forcing down my nerves. “Morning.” “Have a seat.” I did, trying to keep my posture straight and confident despite the storm raging inside me. “Tea or coffee?” he asked. “Neither. I’m fine.” Nikolai frowned slightly before picking up the telecom. “Send in a pumpkin spice latte.” My body went rigid. How… did he know my favorite drink? He leaned back, watching me with something close to amusement. "Don't think too much. Dmitri talks a lot about you." My stomach tightened. Hearing my ex-fiancé’s name out loud felt like a punch to the ribs. But I refused to show it. Instead, I kept my gaze trained on Nikolai. “You know what he did, don’t you?” He smirked. "I warned you, didn't I? He isn't husband material." I clenched my fists ignoring his remark for now. “Why do you hate Dmitri?” His smirk didn’t fade. "Hate? No, I don't hate him. But I dislike him." I narrowed my eyes. "He's spoiled. Daddy’s little treasure. He’s never suffered a day in his life. Never had to fight for anything. He thinks with his head, but not the one on his shoulders." Nikolai motioned toward his crotch. I bit down on my tongue, feeling the urge to refute him. But could I? I had seen it with my own two eyes. Dmitri was exactly what Nikolai described. "After all," Nikolai continued, "if he had any brains, he wouldn’t have fumbled someone like you." A sharp, hot sensation crawled up my spine. This was it. This was my opening. I lifted my chin. "I have an offer for you." His eyes flickered with interest. "Marry me. Give me enough money to save my mother. In return, I’ll give you a wife on paper. And a way to make your little brother a laughing stock." For the first time, Nikolai froze. I watched as he leaned back, studying me. Then, his lips curled. "You're pretty straightforward. I expected you to take more time to come around." My fingers dug into my lap. “I don’t have time for that. My mother needs emergency Bypass surgery. Are you willing to help me or not?” I was probably glaring at him now. A moment of silence stretched between us. Then— "If I say no… will you go back and ask Dmitri for money?" A wry smile spread across my face. “He isn’t the only member of the Vetrov family I can go to, you know,” I said, my voice laced with something dangerous. “After all, I know Daddy Vetrov has certain tendencies toward girls half his age.” I was pushing my limits. But I had a hunch. A dangerous, reckless hunch. That Nikolai Vetrov was interested in me. Chapter 4 Elena’s POV: As expected, Nikolai Vetrov went rigid. His sharp, composed expression didn’t falter, but something in his posture shifted. His dark eyes locked onto mine, piercing, calculating—assessing me. Then, he stood up. Slowly. “You really are something, you know that?” His voice was smooth, almost amused, but there was an underlying challenge in his tone. “Fine then.” He leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “But tell me, Elena—what else are you willing to give? Because making Dmitri a laughingstock? That’s not difficult for me.” He smirked. “I could do that without marrying you.” He was right. He truly didn’t need me for that. But I needed him. My wedding with Dmitri was set for three months from now. If I didn’t get married, I would be the one people laughed at. My friends, my classmates, the very people who had seen me flaunt my relationship on social media for years. The image of Dmitri’s betrayal and his pathetic excuses burned in my mind. My stomach twisted. I wanted him to suffer. That’s when I realized—this wasn’t just about saving my mother. If I only needed money for that I could just borrow it from him. Not just him, I could go back to the loan sharks and take more money from them. They wouldn’t decline me, in fact they would only be happy to see me paying back my debts for the rest of my life. So yes, I wanted to destroy Dmitri. I wanted to rip him apart from the inside. Make him feel even a fraction of what I had felt when I walked in on him with someone else. I inhaled deeply, staring at Nikolai. If he wasn’t going to marry me, he was useless to me. “I’ll give you a wife on paper and nothing more,” I said firmly. “I have nothing else to give.” That was the truth…or so I thought. Silence stretched between us. Then Nikolai got up, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes narrowed as he approached, his steps measured, predatory. The air between us grew heavy, thick with an intensity I wasn’t prepared for. I forced my body to stay still, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. "You want to marry me and have my name, Elena?" His breath grazed my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "Then you’ll take everything that comes with it." My eyes widened slightly. “What… do you mean?” He smiled, his fingers gripping the arms of my chair as he turned it to face him completely. Our noses almost touched. Our breaths almost intertwined. "Everything," he murmured. "My money. My fame. And even my body." My breath hitched. But I shook my head. No. No, I couldn’t do that. “I want a strictly contractual marriage. With a time limit,” I said, my voice steady, but my hands clenched into fists. His lips curled into a smirk. "And a contract marriage is what you’ll get. No feelings. No strings attached. One year.” I narrowed my eyes, “I won’t sleep with you.” I truly didn’t trust myself around a man like him. If I actually slept with him, what if I developed feelings? No…not again. Especially not a Vetrov. His next words however knocked the air right out of my lungs. "Oh, no, I need you to understand this, Malishka. There will be no sleeping. Only ." My entire body stiffened. He leaned closer, his voice smooth, teasing. "I will you. If you can accept that… then I will make sure Dmitri grovels at your feet. I’ll ensure your mother’s surgery is done by the world’s best surgeon. He straightened, studying my reaction before he delivered the final blow. "And I’ll make sure you never have to work a part-time job again. You’ll have all the time in the world to study—to build your dream of making cars." My pulse thundered. He listed everything I needed. Everything I ever wanted. If my mother fully recovered, she wouldn’t be upset with this decision. I could focus on my studies. Graduate without worrying about money. And all I had to do… was give myself to a man built like a Greek god? What other choice did I have? The loan sharks? Dmitri? Any other rich old guy, someone way worse than Nikolai? It would be stupid to decline. But my body was frozen. My mind was racing. Could I really do this? Could I really sell my body to this man for a year? I bit my lip, his unwavering stare making my heart pound. After what felt like forever, I inhaled deeply, forcing my thoughts to clear. Finally, I met his gaze head-on. "Fine. I accept your conditions." I squared my shoulders. "But if you go back on your word, Nikolai—I will ruin you." I didn’t know how I would do it. But I would find a way. I believed in myself. …At least, in my follicular phase. Nikolai chuckled, his smirk widening. "You have my permission to do so." Finally, he pulled away, straightening his suit as he glanced at his watch. Then, his gaze flickered back to me. "Shall we go then?" I frowned. “Go where?” “Well, there’s much to be done if we’re getting married today.” My eyes widened. "You mean… right now? Today?!" He smirked. "You know what they say, malishka. The early bird—” “I need to go to the hospital,” I cut his nonsense off. His smirk faded. I took a deep breath. "I need to be with my mom. I can’t just leave her like this." He sighed, studying me for a long moment. "Are you going to perform the surgery?" I blinked. "What?" "No?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then why do you need to be there?" I clenched my jaw. "Because she’s my mother. I’m her only immediate family. I need to be there for her." Nikolai rubbed his temple, exhaling sharply. “Fine. We’ll take care of her first. Give me a moment.” Then, right in front of me, he pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. "Prepare the operating room," he ordered. My breath caught. There was a pause, then a voice responded. "Sir?" "I'm sending you a patient. Her name is Beatrix Kovalyova. Make sure you’re prepared to perform a bypass procedure. You are to treat her as a V.I.P patient. Nothing but the best." I stared at him, stunned. The person on the line hesitated, then cleared their throat. "Understood, sir. May I ask who the patient is to you?" Nikolai's gaze flickered to me. Then, smoothly, he said, "My mother-in-law." My breath hitched. The doctor on the line hesitated—then let out a soft chuckle. "Congratulations on the marriage, Mr. Vetrov." Nikolai smiled. "Thank you." I looked at him, completely dumbfounded. What. The. Hell? Chapter 5 Elena’s POV: Nikolai buttoned his lapel with a smooth, practiced motion and strode toward the door. His movements were always so smooth, always composed, as if the world bent to his command without question. I hurried to follow him, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor. "Where are you going?" He barely glanced at me as he pressed the elevator button. "You wanted to see your mother, didn’t you?" I blinked, nodding. "Yes, but—" My brows furrowed. "You’re coming with me? Don’t you have work?" I cast a glance back at his secretary, who immediately looked away as if pretending not to eavesdrop. Nikolai smirked as the elevator doors slid open. "You know," he mused, stepping inside and waiting for me to follow, "there’s something my late mother used to say. Family always comes first." I hesitated before stepping in, standing a careful distance from him. Family. That word sat uncomfortably in my chest. Because everyone knew the story of the Vetrov family scandal—how Andrey Vetrov, one of the richest men in Alderidge, had cheated on his wife and brought home a pregnant mistress—Dmitri’s mother. Though that was decades ago. I gave him a sideways glance, unsure how to respond. As if sensing my thoughts, he continued, "Not that it helped her much. After all, her choice in men was just as bad as yours." My lips twitched. "Well, I’m marrying you now, aren’t I?" He turned his head and gave me a look. The kind that made me feel positively stupid. "Who said I was a good choice?" he murmured. I grinned. "Do you know how to cook?" I asked, remembering his remarks back at the birthday party. He raised a brow, clearly surprised by the question. "Of course I do. I’m not incompetent." "Do you manage your money well?" He scoffed. "Would I be a billionaire if I didn’t?" "That doesn’t make you a good man?" A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "No, it doesn’t." I huffed, crossing my arms. "Well, on the bright side, you're only going to be my husband for one year, right? So it doesn’t really matter to me whether you’re a good man or not." From the corner of my eye, I saw him tilt his head slightly, his gaze lingering on me for a second longer than necessary. Then he exhaled a quiet, almost amused, "Right." The Next Few Hours Felt Like a Storm. Nikolai didn’t talk much. He only did. His presence alone moved things faster than I could have ever imagined. The medical fees? Paid immediately. The transfer to the most elite hospital in the city? Handled without a single complication. The moment the new surgeon arrived, he greeted me with a professional nod and a calm reassurance, "Rest assured, Mrs. Vetrov. I will do my very best for your mother." I exhaled slowly, my chest loosening for the first time in what felt like ages. The relief was overwhelming. Then, as the surgeon disappeared behind the doors of the operating room, something inside me cracked. The view was so familiar. One that I had witnessed only a couple days ago. When Dad got into an accident. But he never made it out alive. George Anderson had been a foreigner, a tourist visiting Velhaven City when he met my mother thirteen years ago. And in just a year, they had married. He was the best father I could have ever asked for. I had been lucky—so incredibly lucky. When I was six, I was adopted by Beatrix Kovalyova after years in an orphanage that I barely remembered. My memories of that place had become hazy over time, like a bad dream I had long since tried to forget. But Mom and Dad? They were my reality. My safe haven. And now— Now I was alone. For the first time in my life after six, neither of them were beside me. The reality of it hit me hard. I was twenty-five. Not a child. Not young anymore. More than an adult. But I didn’t feel like one. I still felt small, still felt like a little girl reaching out for her mother’s hand. Please be okay, Mom. I didn't think I’d survive if she didn’t. I tried to push the thought away, but it settled in my chest like a weight I couldn't shake. Then— A deep voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "She’ll be okay. Don’t worry." I blinked, glancing to my side. Nikolai was sitting next to me, his expression solemn for the first time ever. I exhaled slowly, straightening my back. "Let’s sign the contract tonight." My voice was quieter than I intended. "We can hold an official wedding later if you want." After all, I owed it to him after he just paid all the bills. Not to mention that this surgeon would probably charge more than just fifty eight thousand. He nodded, his gaze still fixed ahead. "Alright. That works for me." "You should leave," I murmured. "I’ll come to your office by the evening." He raised a brow. "Trying to get rid of me?" I sighed. "I just need time to ask for a few days of extra leave from college. I also need to call my manager and let her know I won’t be covering my shifts tomorrow." His gaze darkened slightly at that. I hesitated before adding, "I should probably quit, but… I’m used to being independent. Besides, I still have other debts to pay off." Nikolai leaned back slightly. "I assumed those debts would be cleared once we’re married." "They will be," I admitted. "But still…" I trailed off, biting my lip. I didn’t mention the real reason I had been so obsessed with clearing those debts myself. Because I knew. I knew that the original loan—the principal amount—had been paid years ago. But the interest kept increasing. And the stress that came with it? That’s what killed George. A sixty-three-year-old man under that kind of pressure? I clenched my fists. Had I not been born with a heart condition… Had I not needed that transplant… Would he have to work so hard? Wouldn’t he still be alive? I swallowed the guilt lodged in my throat. "Earth to Elena." I snapped out of my daze as Nikolai snapped his fingers in front of me. I blinked. "What?" He frowned. "I’ll send the driver to pick you up by seven in the evening." I nodded absentmindedly, watching as he got up. But then— He paused. Turned around. And before I could react— He reached for my hand. I frowned, staring at him in confusion—until I felt it. A light tug. My breath caught in my throat. He had taken my engagement ring. Dmitri’s ring. Holding it between his fingers, Nikolai smirked. "I’ll be taking this now." I stared at him, stunned. "You don’t have any use for it, I’m sure," he murmured, eyes glinting with something dangerous. And then— He did something that made my heart nearly leap out of my chest. He bent down and kissed the inside of my wrist. Right over my pulse. Right over the spot where my heart beat the loudest. I could faintly hear the whispers in the waiting room. I was still frozen in place, my mind struggling to process what had just happened, when he lifted his head and smirked down at me. "See you tonight, Malishka." I swallowed hard, my face warm. "A—alright," I stammered, completely flustered. And just like that— He turned and walked away. Leaving me with a racing pulse and an empty ring finger. Chapter 6: Nikolai Vetrov: The first time I laid eyes on her, she was covered in mud. Literally. It had been a rainy afternoon, the kind that turned the sidewalks into slippery traps and made the city smell like wet asphalt and impending headaches. I was leaving my favorite coffee shop, the one with floor-to-ceiling windows and the best caramel frappuccino in the entire damn city—extra sugar, extra syrup, extra everything. I needed it that day. My father had come into town, and any time that man got within a ten-mile radius, my blood pressure doubled. I stepped out, half-lost in my thoughts, my drink in hand, when she collided into me. No warning. Just a flash of flailing arms, flying hair, and a breathless, "Oh crap!" The frappuccino exploded across my chest like a sugar bomb, soaking into my tailored coat. I stood there stunned, sticky, and now seething as she looked up at me from where she’d fallen on the wet pavement. “Oh my god! What the hell, dude?!" she barked, shielding a canvas bag like it held the holy grail. I blinked, trying to process the audacity. "Excuse me? You're the one who ran into me." She gave me a look like I was the idiot. "Because you showed up out of nowhere?! And why the hell wasn’t your drink covered while you were walking?" I scoffed. "BECAUSE I was drinking it." A blaring horn interrupted us. She let out a choked noise, scrambling to her feet. “Oh no. No, no. I’ll be late!” And then she took off running after the departing bus, her canvas bag bouncing against her hip, her shoes squelching in the puddles. She never even looked back. Not once. Not a single apology. I stared after her, my fists clenched at my sides, a string of unspoken curses hanging off my tongue. I was soaked, irritable, and now late for a meeting. The next time I saw her, she was in my father’s living room. Three months later. I froze the second I walked in. I expected her to recognize me immediately—to look away in embarrassment, to stammer out some awkward apology. Instead, she greeted me like I was a total stranger. “Hi there! I’m Elena.” She extended a hand, all dimples and warmth. “You’re Dmitri’s brother, right? So nice to meet you!” She didn’t remember me? ME?! Not even a flicker of recognition in her moss-green eyes. I didn’t take her hand. I just stared at her, feeling incredulous. Her hair was down that day—long, thick, cascading in waves past her waist. It should’ve looked ridiculous, like something out of a fairy tale, but on her? It worked. She was tall, maybe five-seven or five-eight, and she held herself like she was on the verge of conquering the world, even as she smiled like we were already friends. Those damn dimples. THIS was Dmitri’s girlfriend? I looked over at my very average little brother, whose smirk reminded me far too much of our father. That same smug glint, the kind that made you want to punch it right off. I didn’t hate Dmitri. I just hated what he represented. The byproduct of a man I despised and the woman who wrecked our home. A walking reminder that loyalty was just a word people liked to say but never meant. Men like my father, like Dmitri, they didn’t think twice before screwing over the women who loved them. And maybe I could’ve turned out like them too, if I hadn’t grown up watching my mother drink herself to death over a man who never once loved her back. She wasn’t perfect—far from it. She was selfish, destructive, and unreliable. I tried. God, I tried. Countless times I told her to leave him, begged her to get help, pleaded with her to put herself first. But she always repeated the same line like a mantra: "Family always comes first." Yeah, well. It did. And look where that got her. One day when things had gotten too much, I tried to take her drugs away but she lashed out without thinking. The scar on my back? That wasn’t from some playground accident. That was from the day she snapped—high out of her mind—and shattered a bottle on the counter.The jagged glass tore into me before she even realized what she’d done. Leaving a long ugly and jagged looking scar on my body. Which, even if I wanted to…I couldn’t forget. I stopped interfering after that. What the hell else was I supposed to do? Did I blame her? Maybe a little or maybe a lot. But it never would’ve gotten that bad if my father hadn’t been a shitty man in the first place. If he’d also put his family first. I snapped out of the memory as my phone buzzed. The surgeon called to confirm that the bypass surgery had gone well, but they’ll monitor Beatrix overnight to be safe. Good. That meant she would be okay. I stood by the large hospital windows, watching the sun bleed into the horizon, staining the city with gold and blood-red hues. The world outside never stopped moving. Even when yours did. Hours had passed. And I’d been lost in my head again. Sometimes I wondered how I’d managed to build an empire when my mind felt like a constant war zone. Too many thoughts, always so chaotic. It had been far too long since my mind had felt peaceful. Not in a calming sort of way at least. Because when it came down to it, I knew how to switch it off. I could be surgical when I needed to be. But that just left me feeling empty for hours. My therapist once told me my wandering thoughts were a defense mechanism. Something about my eidetic memory and unresolved trauma giving my brain a constant feed of distractions. I didn’t care about the science of it. I just knew it worked. I picked up my phone again. "Get me the legal team," I said into the receiver. "I want the marriage contract ready by six. One-year term. No extensions unless both parties agree. Full spousal protection clause. Medical and educational expenses handled. A cohabitation clause. Monthly allowance of ten thousand dollars to the wife, with flexibility for more if needed. All her current debts are to be cleared by me. She must accompany me to all public and social events deemed necessary. Five nights a week together are mandatory—the remaining two may not be consecutive. Exceptions apply only for illness or menstruation." My secretary confirmed everything. "And make sure there's champagne in the office," I added. "Nothing cheap." I ended the call, slipping the phone into my pocket as I headed to the changing room down the hall. I kept a wardrobe in nearly every place I frequented. A habit born from necessity. My life didn’t allow for delays. Tonight, I needed something sharp. I chose a black suit, tailored to precision, with a deep crimson pocket square. My watch, platinum. My cologne, subtle but intoxicating. I adjusted my cufflinks and stared at myself in the mirror. This wasn’t just business. It never had been. Even if I told myself otherwise. Because the truth was— The moment she spilled coffee on me and ran off like a chaotic storm, she hadn’t just knocked my drink out of my hand. She’d gotten under my skin. And I hadn’t been able to forget her since. Tonight, she would walk into my office not as Dmitri’s girlfriend. But as my wife. And I was excited.
Chapter 1 My heart plummets. My fists clench at my sides, nails biting into my palms as I stare, frozen, at the scene before me. The room reeks of sweat and sex, I can’t help but tremble. And there he is. Dmitri. My fiancé. The man I was supposed to marry. Groveling at my feet, tangled in his own damn pants as he fumbles to cover himself. His face is pale, his hair disheveled, his lips—those same lips that whispered loving words into my ears—swollen from kissing someone else. A woman—a stranger—lays half-naked on the bed behind him, the silk sheets tangled around her body as she scrambles away like a cornered animal. Her eyes dart to mine in wide-eyed panic before she clutches the blanket to her chest and bolts toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Coward. Dmitri stares up at me, panic laced in his voice. "Elena—it's not what it looks like." A hollow laugh escapes me. Cold. Emotionless. Clearly the laugh of a woman who has lost everything. I take a step closer, my heels clicking against the polished hardwood floor. I feel detached from my own body, as if I'm watching this play out from somewhere far, far away. "Not what it looks like?" I repeat softly, tilting my head. Dmitri, the man who once promised me forever, dares to feed me that cliché excuse. A lump lodges in my throat, burning like acid. "Dmitri," my voice is eerily calm, my hands trembling with suppressed rage, "I just buried my father." His eyes flicker with guilt, but his lips part uselessly, searching for words. "I came here because I—I needed you." My voice cracks, raw with heartbreak. "And I find you like this?" I gesture to the bed—our bed—where another woman had just lain underneath him. The sheets I had picked out. The mattress we had chosen together. The room that was supposed to be ours. Dmitri pushes to his feet, his pants still unbuttoned, his entire existence suddenly repulsive. He reaches for me. "Please, I—" "Don't touch me." My voice is sharper than I intend, but the thought of his hands on me now makes my skin crawl. His face twists, desperation seeping into his features. "It was a mistake! I wasn’t thinking—" I scoff, my arms folding tightly over my chest. "Oh? Your dick just happened to slip into her?" Dmitri flinches. "Elena—" "Shut up." My breath is ragged. My vision blurs, but I refuse to cry. I refuse to break down in front of him. I should be screaming. I should be throwing things, clawing at him, making him bleed the way he's just made me bleed. But I can't. I'm too numb. Too shattered. A part of me—a stupid, naive, pathetic part—wants him to fight for me. To drop to his knees. To beg. To convince me that this isn’t real, that this is just some nightmare I’ll wake up from. But I don't wake up. I just stand there, breathing in the reality of it all. "You said you loved me." Dmitri swallows hard. "I do." My laugh is bitter. "You have a funny way of showing it." Silence. Maybe if this was the past me. Even the ‘me’ from yesterday, I would have screamed. I would have cursed him out. But now? I was already exhausted. Half my world had already shattered this morning. So, instead, I inhale sharply and turn on my heel, my heart pounding against my ribs. I need to leave. Now. "Elena, wait!" Dmitri grabs my wrist, his grip desperate, but I rip myself free with such force that he stumbles back. The love I had for him dies in that moment. I don’t even look back as I walk away. Leaving our apartment. I walk in a daze, my mind completely lost to mourning my step-father, mourning the marriage life that I knew wouldn’t happen anymore. My parent’s house is dark when I step inside. The funeral was in the morning. It felt like a lifetime ago. And now, it’s night. Everything feels different. Colder. Like the walls know what I’ve seen tonight, know that I am no longer the same woman who left this house earlier. I swallow the lump in my throat and walk deeper inside, my heels clicking against the wooden floor. "Mom?" I call softly. She must be sleeping. I had left her resting in her bedroom when I went to see Dmitri. God, I wish I hadn’t gone. I wipe at my eyes, barely aware of the way my body shakes. The exhaustion crashes into me like a freight train. One step. Then another. I reach the kitchen, my fingers gripping the doorframe, ready to head upstairs— Then I see her. A choked gasp rips from my throat. My mother. She’s on the floor. "Mom?" My voice trembles. She doesn’t move. The room spins. My breath catches. No. No, no, no. I stumble forward, collapsing onto my knees beside her. My hands shake violently as I reach for her, pressing my fingers to her neck, checking for breath, for warmth, for anything— She’s burning. Her skin is clammy, her forehead damp. And there—little red splotches marring her arm. Burns. What happened? "Mom!" I shake her. Hard. "Mom, wake up! Please!" She doesn’t stir. The air leaves my lungs. No. No. NO. Please, God. Not her. Not her too. My pulse roars in my ears, drowning everything else out as I grab my phone, my fingers fumbling, my vision blurring. My heart slams against my ribs. My throat tightens. Tears blind me. But there’s no time to panic. I dial. The ringing feels endless. Then— “911, what’s your emergency?” I swallow a sob. "My mother—she’s unconscious. Please. Please hurry." The operator starts talking, but I can barely hear. I press my forehead to my mother’s, my body trembling. “Stay with me,” I whisper. “Please, Mom. Stay with me.” Chapter 2 Elena’s POV: The sterile white halls of the emergency ward felt like they were closing in on me, the scent of antiseptic and fear thick in the air. My mother was wheeled in on a gurney, nurses shouting to each other in rushed, clipped voices as the emergency room doors swung open, then slammed shut, sealing her away from me. I stood frozen in the hallway, my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs. What do I do? What do I do? My hands trembled as I pressed them to my face, trying to steady my breath, but it was impossible. She was fine this morning. Weak, but alive. And now she was in there, fighting for her life. A nurse approached, her expression gentle. "Miss Kovalyova?" I turned, my throat too tight to respond. "The doctor will speak with you shortly." I nodded numbly, my nails digging into my palms. Minutes stretched into eternity. I had no idea how long I stood there, my body tense and aching. Then the doors swung open again, and a doctor stepped out, his face strained. I rushed forward. “Is she okay?” The doctor exhaled. "Your mother suffered a severe cardiac episode due to prolonged stress and underlying conditions. We need to perform an emergency bypass surgery to prevent further damage." My breath caught. "Okay," I said, too quickly. "Then do it." His face hardened. "The procedure costs fifty eight thousand dollars here." The number hit me like a punch to the gut. A sharp ringing filled my ears as my mind tried to process it. Fifty thousand dollars?! I didn't have that kind of money. Hell, I barely had enough to cover next month’s rent. We were already in deep shit with our previous debt. "You'll need to secure the payment within the next twenty-four hours so we can proceed," the doctor continued, oblivious to the way my world was crumbling beneath my feet. "Twenty-four hours?" My voice came out hollow. "Yes. If we delay any longer, her condition may worsen beyond what surgery can fix." I stared at him. Twenty-four hours. Fifty eight thousand dollars. "Do you have insurance?" the doctor asked, his voice impassive, like this was just another conversation for him. "No." My voice broke on the word. "Family who can assist?" I wanted to laugh. What family? He sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "I suggest you find a solution quickly. We will keep her stable for now, but time is of the essence." With that, he nodded and disappeared down the hallway, leaving me standing in the wreckage of my life. I stumbled backward onto one of the plastic chairs in the waiting area, my vision swimming. I was alone. There was no one I could call, no one I could ask. And for one horrifying second, my mind drifted to Dmitri. Dmitri Vetrov. My ex-fiancé. Rich. Powerful. The youngest son of a multimillionaire. He could write a check for fifty thousand dollars without blinking. Would he help me? My stomach curled in disgust at the thought. I could see it now. His smug, self-satisfied smirk. The condescending tilt of his head as he crossed his arms and leaned back, acting as if I owed him something for his generosity after how I had left him begging on his knees just a while ago. No. If my mother found out I had lowered myself to begging my cheating ex for money, she wouldn’t accept it. She would rather die than have me throw away my dignity for her. And I wasn’t sure I could survive begging Dmitri either. Then who? My nails dug into my knees, my breath coming in short gasps. What do I do? What do I do? And then— A familiar name echoed from a nearby television. I lifted my head. The hospital’s mounted TV was tuned into a business channel, the news anchor’s voice crisp and professional. “—Vetrov Enterprises, owned by billionaire Nikolai Vetrov, announced a record-breaking deal today—” Nikolai Vetrov. The camera shifted to a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in a sharp black suit, his jawline like it was carved from stone. His dark brown hair gelled back to perfection. His cold, calculating dark eyes scanned the reporters, his smile hiding something dangerous. The most eligible bachelor in the whole of Alderidge. Nikolai Vetrov. Dmitri’s older stepbrother. And the man who hated Dmitri with every fiber of his being. The memory surfaced before I could stop it. Dmitri’s twenty-fifth birthday. Six months ago. A lavish party was held in a massive ballroom, filled with people who definitely didn’t belong in my world. I was from a lower class family, attending college with a scholarship. However, I had become Dmitri’s girlfriend and after four years, for the first time he had invited me to such an occasion. Introducing me to others like I was a trophy. I had actually been extremely happy that day. Because that was also the day Dmitri had proposed to me. I had just left the restroom, smoothing out my dress, when I nearly collided with Nikolai Vetrov. He had been leaning against the hallway wall, one hand in his pocket, a cigarette between his fingers. His onyx brown eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate. Then he exhaled, releasing a cloud of smoke. "My condolences." I frowned. "Excuse me?" "Your mind is sharp," he murmured, voice low, slightly slurred from alcohol. "But your taste in men is absolutely tragic." I had been dumbfounded. Like, who says that about their own brother? It was the first time I truly realized Nikolai didn’t just dislike Dmitri like a lot of siblings do. He despised him. "You have such a smart little mind," he mused, "but it’s wasted on a man like him." I scoffed. "And what makes you say that?" Nikolai took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he looked out into the city through the massive floor to ceiling windows in front of us. "He isn’t exactly husband material." I let out a sharp laugh. "Oh? And what do you think makes a man husband material?" It had truly been funny to me, that a ‘man’ was telling me what ‘husband material’ was supposed to be. But I didn’t defend Dmitri, I noticed the venom in Nikolai’s tone and knew it would be useless. I didn’t want to pick a fight with someone like him either. His gaze darkened, piercing straight into my soul. "He sucks at cooking." My brows lifted. "Seriously?" "You laugh, but a man who can’t even take care of himself can’t take care of you either." I rolled my eyes. "It’s fine. I can cook and I’m used to taking care of myself." Nikolai’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. "He’s shit with money. Spends it like water." "He’s rich. Why does it matter?" His gaze sharpened. "Are you marrying him for money, then?" I met his stare and tilted my head. "What if I am?" Of course I wasn’t. I hadn’t taken a dime from Dmitri. Not that I was against being treated like a princess. I was just not used to being indebted to anyone like this, it made my skin itch. However, instead of getting offended, Nikolai looked… satisfied. He straightened, flicking ash from his cigarette. "Good," he said. I frowned. That’s it? He studied me for a long moment, then murmured, "I’m richer than him, you know." I blinked. "What does that have to do with me?" Nikolai shrugged. Then he walked away. Only later on had I realized what he meant when he had said the last line, but I had tossed it to the back of my mind and assumed he was testing me for his little brother. That memory burned in my mind as I stared at his face on the TV screen. Nikolai Vetrov was richer than Dmitri. More powerful. More ruthless. And he hated his stepbrother. I sucked in a sharp breath. An idea began to take shape—insane, desperate, but my only option. I needed money. I wanted power. And there was a man who had both. I needed Nikolai Vetrov. Chapter 3 Elena’s POV: If I was wrong about Nikolai Vetrov’s intentions, the worst that could happen was that I would embarrass myself. That was nothing compared to what was at stake. But if I didn’t do anything—if I didn’t at least try to ask for his help—and my mother’s condition worsened, or worse… I knew I would regret it for the rest of my life. I exhaled sharply, forcing my shaky legs to push me upright. That’s it then. I had made my choice. Pulling out my phone, I searched for the address of Vetrov Enterprises. I had been there once or twice before, back when Dmitri would take me out for lunch at one of the high-end restaurants near his brother’s office. But I didn’t remember the exact address. At least I knew Nikolai wasn’t out of the country. I glanced down at my outfit—a simple black dress, the same one I had worn earlier at my dad’s funeral. My hair was still tied into a low bun, strands falling loose from hours of exhaustion. I looked like a grieving woman. Which, in many ways, I was. I was mourning the death of my father, the life I thought I would have, the man I thought loved me and the security I had believed in. Now, I had nothing. Except for this one insane, desperate plan. — 30 minutes later — The towering glass building of Vetrov Enterprises loomed before me, its sharp edges piercing the dawn sky. The city was still asleep, the streets nearly deserted, but this place—this empire Nikolai built with his own hands—was already awake at four o'clock in the morning. A few luxury cars lined the private parking area, their sleek exteriors gleaming under the streetlights. I inhaled deeply, steeling myself. I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to see him right away. CEOs don’t stroll into work at four in the morning. But I had no choice. I would leave my number with the receptionist and pray that Nikolai would agree to meet me. There was no way I could ask Dmitri for his brother’s number. Not when I was about to do this. I pushed through the heavy glass doors and stepped into the lobby. The receptionist at the front desk—a well-dressed woman in her late twenties— looked up from her computer screen, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw me. “Are you Miss Elena?” I frowned. “You know me?” She hesitated, then nodded. “Ah, yes. Sir told me to send you up.” My heart stopped. What? I stared at her, my pulse hammering in my ears. Had he… anticipated my arrival? No. That wasn’t possible. How would he know? My hands curled into fists, my heartbeat racing. The receptionist smiled and handed me a key card. “Take the elevator to the twenty-seventh floor. He’s expecting you.” I nodded slowly, forcing myself to act normal as I took the card and walked toward the elevator. My mind was spiraling. Was this just a coincidence? Had he expected me to come? Or… had he known all along that this day would come? No…that didn’t make sense. How would he know that I needed money for my mother’s bypass in advance? There was another more plausible reason that swirled in my mind…was he somehow stalking me? I swallowed hard, shaking off the thought as I stepped into the empty elevator. That was ridiculous though. Why would someone like him have a need to do that? The moment the doors slid shut, I let out a shaky breath and pressed my back against the cold metal wall. Calm down. Keep it together. I tapped the key card against the panel. The elevator hummed to life, carrying me higher and higher. Maybe it was just my imagination or nervousness but the air felt thinner the closer I got. Twenty-fifth floor. Twenty-sixth. Twenty-seventh. A soft chime echoed, and the doors glided open. There was only one office here. A massive, double-door entrance at the end of the dimly lit hallway. And sitting just outside it, a man—his posture straight as he typed away at his laptop. Nikolai’s secretary? As soon as he saw me, he stood up and gestured toward the doors. “Sir is waiting for you, Miss Kovalyova.” He smiled and moved to open the door for me. I nodded, thanking him as I stepped inside, my gaze immediately landing on the man behind the desk. Nikolai Vetrov sat in his massive leather chair, flipping through a file as if he hadn’t just called me here before I even made the decision to come. His dark eyes flicked up from his papers, locking onto me. The man was unfairly attractive. He looked unbothered, composed. His expensive suit was perfectly fitted, the top button of his shirt undone, revealing a glimpse of tattoos peeking from his collar. The picture-perfect CEO. And I was standing frozen in front of him. “Good morning,” he said smoothly, his voice deep. The last time we had talked, I had drank alcohol so it hadn’t felt like this, and before that, the couple of times we ran into each other we hadn’t conversed at all. I took a breath, forcing down my nerves. “Morning.” “Have a seat.” I did, trying to keep my posture straight and confident despite the storm raging inside me. “Tea or coffee?” he asked. “Neither. I’m fine.” Nikolai frowned slightly before picking up the telecom. “Send in a pumpkin spice latte.” My body went rigid. How… did he know my favorite drink? He leaned back, watching me with something close to amusement. "Don't think too much. Dmitri talks a lot about you." My stomach tightened. Hearing my ex-fiancé’s name out loud felt like a punch to the ribs. But I refused to show it. Instead, I kept my gaze trained on Nikolai. “You know what he did, don’t you?” He smirked. "I warned you, didn't I? He isn't husband material." I clenched my fists ignoring his remark for now. “Why do you hate Dmitri?” His smirk didn’t fade. "Hate? No, I don't hate him. But I dislike him." I narrowed my eyes. "He's spoiled. Daddy’s little treasure. He’s never suffered a day in his life. Never had to fight for anything. He thinks with his head, but not the one on his shoulders." Nikolai motioned toward his crotch. I bit down on my tongue, feeling the urge to refute him. But could I? I had seen it with my own two eyes. Dmitri was exactly what Nikolai described. "After all," Nikolai continued, "if he had any brains, he wouldn’t have fumbled someone like you." A sharp, hot sensation crawled up my spine. This was it. This was my opening. I lifted my chin. "I have an offer for you." His eyes flickered with interest. "Marry me. Give me enough money to save my mother. In return, I’ll give you a wife on paper. And a way to make your little brother a laughing stock." For the first time, Nikolai froze. I watched as he leaned back, studying me. Then, his lips curled. "You're pretty straightforward. I expected you to take more time to come around." My fingers dug into my lap. “I don’t have time for that. My mother needs emergency Bypass surgery. Are you willing to help me or not?” I was probably glaring at him now. A moment of silence stretched between us. Then— "If I say no… will you go back and ask Dmitri for money?" A wry smile spread across my face. “He isn’t the only member of the Vetrov family I can go to, you know,” I said, my voice laced with something dangerous. “After all, I know Daddy Vetrov has certain tendencies toward girls half his age.” I was pushing my limits. But I had a hunch. A dangerous, reckless hunch. That Nikolai Vetrov was interested in me. Chapter 4 Elena’s POV: As expected, Nikolai Vetrov went rigid. His sharp, composed expression didn’t falter, but something in his posture shifted. His dark eyes locked onto mine, piercing, calculating—assessing me. Then, he stood up. Slowly. “You really are something, you know that?” His voice was smooth, almost amused, but there was an underlying challenge in his tone. “Fine then.” He leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “But tell me, Elena—what else are you willing to give? Because making Dmitri a laughingstock? That’s not difficult for me.” He smirked. “I could do that without marrying you.” He was right. He truly didn’t need me for that. But I needed him. My wedding with Dmitri was set for three months from now. If I didn’t get married, I would be the one people laughed at. My friends, my classmates, the very people who had seen me flaunt my relationship on social media for years. The image of Dmitri’s betrayal and his pathetic excuses burned in my mind. My stomach twisted. I wanted him to suffer. That’s when I realized—this wasn’t just about saving my mother. If I only needed money for that I could just borrow it from him. Not just him, I could go back to the loan sharks and take more money from them. They wouldn’t decline me, in fact they would only be happy to see me paying back my debts for the rest of my life. So yes, I wanted to destroy Dmitri. I wanted to rip him apart from the inside. Make him feel even a fraction of what I had felt when I walked in on him with someone else. I inhaled deeply, staring at Nikolai. If he wasn’t going to marry me, he was useless to me. “I’ll give you a wife on paper and nothing more,” I said firmly. “I have nothing else to give.” That was the truth…or so I thought. Silence stretched between us. Then Nikolai got up, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes narrowed as he approached, his steps measured, predatory. The air between us grew heavy, thick with an intensity I wasn’t prepared for. I forced my body to stay still, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke. "You want to marry me and have my name, Elena?" His breath grazed my ear, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. "Then you’ll take everything that comes with it." My eyes widened slightly. “What… do you mean?” He smiled, his fingers gripping the arms of my chair as he turned it to face him completely. Our noses almost touched. Our breaths almost intertwined. "Everything," he murmured. "My money. My fame. And even my body." My breath hitched. But I shook my head. No. No, I couldn’t do that. “I want a strictly contractual marriage. With a time limit,” I said, my voice steady, but my hands clenched into fists. His lips curled into a smirk. "And a contract marriage is what you’ll get. No feelings. No strings attached. One year.” I narrowed my eyes, “I won’t sleep with you.” I truly didn’t trust myself around a man like him. If I actually slept with him, what if I developed feelings? No…not again. Especially not a Vetrov. His next words however knocked the air right out of my lungs. "Oh, no, I need you to understand this, Malishka. There will be no sleeping. Only ." My entire body stiffened. He leaned closer, his voice smooth, teasing. "I will you. If you can accept that… then I will make sure Dmitri grovels at your feet. I’ll ensure your mother’s surgery is done by the world’s best surgeon. He straightened, studying my reaction before he delivered the final blow. "And I’ll make sure you never have to work a part-time job again. You’ll have all the time in the world to study—to build your dream of making cars." My pulse thundered. He listed everything I needed. Everything I ever wanted. If my mother fully recovered, she wouldn’t be upset with this decision. I could focus on my studies. Graduate without worrying about money. And all I had to do… was give myself to a man built like a Greek god? What other choice did I have? The loan sharks? Dmitri? Any other rich old guy, someone way worse than Nikolai? It would be stupid to decline. But my body was frozen. My mind was racing. Could I really do this? Could I really sell my body to this man for a year? I bit my lip, his unwavering stare making my heart pound. After what felt like forever, I inhaled deeply, forcing my thoughts to clear. Finally, I met his gaze head-on. "Fine. I accept your conditions." I squared my shoulders. "But if you go back on your word, Nikolai—I will ruin you." I didn’t know how I would do it. But I would find a way. I believed in myself. …At least, in my follicular phase. Nikolai chuckled, his smirk widening. "You have my permission to do so." Finally, he pulled away, straightening his suit as he glanced at his watch. Then, his gaze flickered back to me. "Shall we go then?" I frowned. “Go where?” “Well, there’s much to be done if we’re getting married today.” My eyes widened. "You mean… right now? Today?!" He smirked. "You know what they say, malishka. The early bird—” “I need to go to the hospital,” I cut his nonsense off. His smirk faded. I took a deep breath. "I need to be with my mom. I can’t just leave her like this." He sighed, studying me for a long moment. "Are you going to perform the surgery?" I blinked. "What?" "No?" He raised an eyebrow. "Then why do you need to be there?" I clenched my jaw. "Because she’s my mother. I’m her only immediate family. I need to be there for her." Nikolai rubbed his temple, exhaling sharply. “Fine. We’ll take care of her first. Give me a moment.” Then, right in front of me, he pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and put it on speaker. "Prepare the operating room," he ordered. My breath caught. There was a pause, then a voice responded. "Sir?" "I'm sending you a patient. Her name is Beatrix Kovalyova. Make sure you’re prepared to perform a bypass procedure. You are to treat her as a V.I.P patient. Nothing but the best." I stared at him, stunned. The person on the line hesitated, then cleared their throat. "Understood, sir. May I ask who the patient is to you?" Nikolai's gaze flickered to me. Then, smoothly, he said, "My mother-in-law." My breath hitched. The doctor on the line hesitated—then let out a soft chuckle. "Congratulations on the marriage, Mr. Vetrov." Nikolai smiled. "Thank you." I looked at him, completely dumbfounded. What. The. Hell? Chapter 5 Elena’s POV: Nikolai buttoned his lapel with a smooth, practiced motion and strode toward the door. His movements were always so smooth, always composed, as if the world bent to his command without question. I hurried to follow him, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor. "Where are you going?" He barely glanced at me as he pressed the elevator button. "You wanted to see your mother, didn’t you?" I blinked, nodding. "Yes, but—" My brows furrowed. "You’re coming with me? Don’t you have work?" I cast a glance back at his secretary, who immediately looked away as if pretending not to eavesdrop. Nikolai smirked as the elevator doors slid open. "You know," he mused, stepping inside and waiting for me to follow, "there’s something my late mother used to say. Family always comes first." I hesitated before stepping in, standing a careful distance from him. Family. That word sat uncomfortably in my chest. Because everyone knew the story of the Vetrov family scandal—how Andrey Vetrov, one of the richest men in Alderidge, had cheated on his wife and brought home a pregnant mistress—Dmitri’s mother. Though that was decades ago. I gave him a sideways glance, unsure how to respond. As if sensing my thoughts, he continued, "Not that it helped her much. After all, her choice in men was just as bad as yours." My lips twitched. "Well, I’m marrying you now, aren’t I?" He turned his head and gave me a look. The kind that made me feel positively stupid. "Who said I was a good choice?" he murmured. I grinned. "Do you know how to cook?" I asked, remembering his remarks back at the birthday party. He raised a brow, clearly surprised by the question. "Of course I do. I’m not incompetent." "Do you manage your money well?" He scoffed. "Would I be a billionaire if I didn’t?" "That doesn’t make you a good man?" A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "No, it doesn’t." I huffed, crossing my arms. "Well, on the bright side, you're only going to be my husband for one year, right? So it doesn’t really matter to me whether you’re a good man or not." From the corner of my eye, I saw him tilt his head slightly, his gaze lingering on me for a second longer than necessary. Then he exhaled a quiet, almost amused, "Right." The Next Few Hours Felt Like a Storm. Nikolai didn’t talk much. He only did. His presence alone moved things faster than I could have ever imagined. The medical fees? Paid immediately. The transfer to the most elite hospital in the city? Handled without a single complication. The moment the new surgeon arrived, he greeted me with a professional nod and a calm reassurance, "Rest assured, Mrs. Vetrov. I will do my very best for your mother." I exhaled slowly, my chest loosening for the first time in what felt like ages. The relief was overwhelming. Then, as the surgeon disappeared behind the doors of the operating room, something inside me cracked. The view was so familiar. One that I had witnessed only a couple days ago. When Dad got into an accident. But he never made it out alive. George Anderson had been a foreigner, a tourist visiting Velhaven City when he met my mother thirteen years ago. And in just a year, they had married. He was the best father I could have ever asked for. I had been lucky—so incredibly lucky. When I was six, I was adopted by Beatrix Kovalyova after years in an orphanage that I barely remembered. My memories of that place had become hazy over time, like a bad dream I had long since tried to forget. But Mom and Dad? They were my reality. My safe haven. And now— Now I was alone. For the first time in my life after six, neither of them were beside me. The reality of it hit me hard. I was twenty-five. Not a child. Not young anymore. More than an adult. But I didn’t feel like one. I still felt small, still felt like a little girl reaching out for her mother’s hand. Please be okay, Mom. I didn't think I’d survive if she didn’t. I tried to push the thought away, but it settled in my chest like a weight I couldn't shake. Then— A deep voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "She’ll be okay. Don’t worry." I blinked, glancing to my side. Nikolai was sitting next to me, his expression solemn for the first time ever. I exhaled slowly, straightening my back. "Let’s sign the contract tonight." My voice was quieter than I intended. "We can hold an official wedding later if you want." After all, I owed it to him after he just paid all the bills. Not to mention that this surgeon would probably charge more than just fifty eight thousand. He nodded, his gaze still fixed ahead. "Alright. That works for me." "You should leave," I murmured. "I’ll come to your office by the evening." He raised a brow. "Trying to get rid of me?" I sighed. "I just need time to ask for a few days of extra leave from college. I also need to call my manager and let her know I won’t be covering my shifts tomorrow." His gaze darkened slightly at that. I hesitated before adding, "I should probably quit, but… I’m used to being independent. Besides, I still have other debts to pay off." Nikolai leaned back slightly. "I assumed those debts would be cleared once we’re married." "They will be," I admitted. "But still…" I trailed off, biting my lip. I didn’t mention the real reason I had been so obsessed with clearing those debts myself. Because I knew. I knew that the original loan—the principal amount—had been paid years ago. But the interest kept increasing. And the stress that came with it? That’s what killed George. A sixty-three-year-old man under that kind of pressure? I clenched my fists. Had I not been born with a heart condition… Had I not needed that transplant… Would he have to work so hard? Wouldn’t he still be alive? I swallowed the guilt lodged in my throat. "Earth to Elena." I snapped out of my daze as Nikolai snapped his fingers in front of me. I blinked. "What?" He frowned. "I’ll send the driver to pick you up by seven in the evening." I nodded absentmindedly, watching as he got up. But then— He paused. Turned around. And before I could react— He reached for my hand. I frowned, staring at him in confusion—until I felt it. A light tug. My breath caught in my throat. He had taken my engagement ring. Dmitri’s ring. Holding it between his fingers, Nikolai smirked. "I’ll be taking this now." I stared at him, stunned. "You don’t have any use for it, I’m sure," he murmured, eyes glinting with something dangerous. And then— He did something that made my heart nearly leap out of my chest. He bent down and kissed the inside of my wrist. Right over my pulse. Right over the spot where my heart beat the loudest. I could faintly hear the whispers in the waiting room. I was still frozen in place, my mind struggling to process what had just happened, when he lifted his head and smirked down at me. "See you tonight, Malishka." I swallowed hard, my face warm. "A—alright," I stammered, completely flustered. And just like that— He turned and walked away. Leaving me with a racing pulse and an empty ring finger. Chapter 6: Nikolai Vetrov: The first time I laid eyes on her, she was covered in mud. Literally. It had been a rainy afternoon, the kind that turned the sidewalks into slippery traps and made the city smell like wet asphalt and impending headaches. I was leaving my favorite coffee shop, the one with floor-to-ceiling windows and the best caramel frappuccino in the entire damn city—extra sugar, extra syrup, extra everything. I needed it that day. My father had come into town, and any time that man got within a ten-mile radius, my blood pressure doubled. I stepped out, half-lost in my thoughts, my drink in hand, when she collided into me. No warning. Just a flash of flailing arms, flying hair, and a breathless, "Oh crap!" The frappuccino exploded across my chest like a sugar bomb, soaking into my tailored coat. I stood there stunned, sticky, and now seething as she looked up at me from where she’d fallen on the wet pavement. “Oh my god! What the hell, dude?!" she barked, shielding a canvas bag like it held the holy grail. I blinked, trying to process the audacity. "Excuse me? You're the one who ran into me." She gave me a look like I was the idiot. "Because you showed up out of nowhere?! And why the hell wasn’t your drink covered while you were walking?" I scoffed. "BECAUSE I was drinking it." A blaring horn interrupted us. She let out a choked noise, scrambling to her feet. “Oh no. No, no. I’ll be late!” And then she took off running after the departing bus, her canvas bag bouncing against her hip, her shoes squelching in the puddles. She never even looked back. Not once. Not a single apology. I stared after her, my fists clenched at my sides, a string of unspoken curses hanging off my tongue. I was soaked, irritable, and now late for a meeting. The next time I saw her, she was in my father’s living room. Three months later. I froze the second I walked in. I expected her to recognize me immediately—to look away in embarrassment, to stammer out some awkward apology. Instead, she greeted me like I was a total stranger. “Hi there! I’m Elena.” She extended a hand, all dimples and warmth. “You’re Dmitri’s brother, right? So nice to meet you!” She didn’t remember me? ME?! Not even a flicker of recognition in her moss-green eyes. I didn’t take her hand. I just stared at her, feeling incredulous. Her hair was down that day—long, thick, cascading in waves past her waist. It should’ve looked ridiculous, like something out of a fairy tale, but on her? It worked. She was tall, maybe five-seven or five-eight, and she held herself like she was on the verge of conquering the world, even as she smiled like we were already friends. Those damn dimples. THIS was Dmitri’s girlfriend? I looked over at my very average little brother, whose smirk reminded me far too much of our father. That same smug glint, the kind that made you want to punch it right off. I didn’t hate Dmitri. I just hated what he represented. The byproduct of a man I despised and the woman who wrecked our home. A walking reminder that loyalty was just a word people liked to say but never meant. Men like my father, like Dmitri, they didn’t think twice before screwing over the women who loved them. And maybe I could’ve turned out like them too, if I hadn’t grown up watching my mother drink herself to death over a man who never once loved her back. She wasn’t perfect—far from it. She was selfish, destructive, and unreliable. I tried. God, I tried. Countless times I told her to leave him, begged her to get help, pleaded with her to put herself first. But she always repeated the same line like a mantra: "Family always comes first." Yeah, well. It did. And look where that got her. One day when things had gotten too much, I tried to take her drugs away but she lashed out without thinking. The scar on my back? That wasn’t from some playground accident. That was from the day she snapped—high out of her mind—and shattered a bottle on the counter.The jagged glass tore into me before she even realized what she’d done. Leaving a long ugly and jagged looking scar on my body. Which, even if I wanted to…I couldn’t forget. I stopped interfering after that. What the hell else was I supposed to do? Did I blame her? Maybe a little or maybe a lot. But it never would’ve gotten that bad if my father hadn’t been a shitty man in the first place. If he’d also put his family first. I snapped out of the memory as my phone buzzed. The surgeon called to confirm that the bypass surgery had gone well, but they’ll monitor Beatrix overnight to be safe. Good. That meant she would be okay. I stood by the large hospital windows, watching the sun bleed into the horizon, staining the city with gold and blood-red hues. The world outside never stopped moving. Even when yours did. Hours had passed. And I’d been lost in my head again. Sometimes I wondered how I’d managed to build an empire when my mind felt like a constant war zone. Too many thoughts, always so chaotic. It had been far too long since my mind had felt peaceful. Not in a calming sort of way at least. Because when it came down to it, I knew how to switch it off. I could be surgical when I needed to be. But that just left me feeling empty for hours. My therapist once told me my wandering thoughts were a defense mechanism. Something about my eidetic memory and unresolved trauma giving my brain a constant feed of distractions. I didn’t care about the science of it. I just knew it worked. I picked up my phone again. "Get me the legal team," I said into the receiver. "I want the marriage contract ready by six. One-year term. No extensions unless both parties agree. Full spousal protection clause. Medical and educational expenses handled. A cohabitation clause. Monthly allowance of ten thousand dollars to the wife, with flexibility for more if needed. All her current debts are to be cleared by me. She must accompany me to all public and social events deemed necessary. Five nights a week together are mandatory—the remaining two may not be consecutive. Exceptions apply only for illness or menstruation." My secretary confirmed everything. "And make sure there's champagne in the office," I added. "Nothing cheap." I ended the call, slipping the phone into my pocket as I headed to the changing room down the hall. I kept a wardrobe in nearly every place I frequented. A habit born from necessity. My life didn’t allow for delays. Tonight, I needed something sharp. I chose a black suit, tailored to precision, with a deep crimson pocket square. My watch, platinum. My cologne, subtle but intoxicating. I adjusted my cufflinks and stared at myself in the mirror. This wasn’t just business. It never had been. Even if I told myself otherwise. Because the truth was— The moment she spilled coffee on me and ran off like a chaotic storm, she hadn’t just knocked my drink out of my hand. She’d gotten under my skin. And I hadn’t been able to forget her since. Tonight, she would walk into my office not as Dmitri’s girlfriend. But as my wife. And I was excited.
Betrayed by her sister Ruby and left for dead, Julie loses her memory and becomes the mute "Jane," raising her daughter Lily alone. Years later, a school conflict with Victor—her long-lost son—forces Jane to leap from a building to protect Lily. Now, only her husband, William, can save her.
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Are you tired of your videos getting lost in the endless sea of social media? 🚀 **It's Not Too Late - The Gap is Real, But So is the Solution!** I've been where you are - overwhelmed by the crowded social media landscape, thinking: - "Do I need expensive equipment or degrees?" - "Why isn't the algorithm on my side?" 🎬 **Why Trust Me?** With over 15 years in Hollywood, working with Disney, Marvel, and top celebrities, I've mastered the art of captivating content. More recently, I've skyrocketed my Instagram and TikTok to over 200,000 followers each in just 6 months. Now, I'm pouring all that experience into this course, tailored just for you! 📈 **What You'll Gain:** - Skills to create unique, standout videos - Time and money-saving strategies - Real-life assignments for rapid learning - Consistency in your content creation - Access to an exclusive community for support and accountability - A step-by-step blueprint to transform your online presence - Lifetime access to the course, including all future updates 🎉 **See Real Results!** Our students are already smashing it - with one gaining 1.2 million views and another nearly half a million from just one video effect taught in the course! 🚀 **Your Viral Future Awaits!** Why wait in uncertainty when a proven path to success is just a click away? In just 10 days, you could unlock a world of opportunities and master a new skill set. ✨ **Take the Leap!** Click the link below and start your journey to viral success today!