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Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
Lorelei met up with her best friend, Julissa Hinchley, for coffee. The second Julissa slid into the car, she spotted a torn c0ndom wrapper wedged in the gap between the seats. "Dark chocolate mousse. This is from my company's line. Lora, are you seeing somebody?" Lorelei flushed instantly. "I am. It's still a secret right now, though, so please don't tell anyone." Julissa raised an eyebrow. "This isn't even on the market yet. Our company only sent samples to specific online influencers. Speaking of which, I've got some massive gossip." "What influencers?" Lorelei asked, confused. Draven was always the one who bought those things. "There's this mysterious, wealthy influencer making money by posting mosaicked sex tapes of himself and his girlfriend." Julissa pulled out her phone and showed her. Lorelei took one look, and her whole body went rigid. The guy in the video had a "D" tattooed on his lower abdomen, sitting right above a line of Latin cursive script. It was exactly the same as Draven's. --- Nobody in San Francisco knew that every night at ten o'clock, rich heiress Lorelei Bethell was sleeping with her father's bodyguard, Draven Grafton. They had kept their relationship a total secret from everyone for three solid years. Tonight, Draven showed no restraint. Pinning her against the backseat of the Maybach, he demanded that she make their relationship public, each word punctuated by deep, relentless thrusts. "Next month," Lorelei panted. "Just let me finish my master's degree first, okay?" "No," he said, driving into her again hard enough to make her voice tremble. "Next week, then. I'll announce it on my birthday. Drav, please be gentle," she sobbed. Satisfied at last, he leaned in and nibbled her earlobe. "Good girl, Lora," he murmured, his voice thick with gratification as he brought her to org@sm. 文案 Chapter 1 Nobody in San Francisco knew that every night at ten o'clock, rich heiress Lorelei Bethell was sleeping with her father's bodyguard, Draven Grafton. They had kept their relationship a total secret from everyone for three solid years. Tonight, Draven showed no restraint. Pinning her against the backseat of the Maybach, he demanded that she make their relationship public, each word punctuated by deep, relentless thrusts. "Next month," Lorelei panted. "Just let me finish my master's degree first, okay?" "No," he said, driving into her again hard enough to make her voice tremble. "Next week, then. I'll announce it on my birthday. Drav, please be gentle," she sobbed. Satisfied at last, he leaned in and nibbled her earlobe. "Good girl, Lora," he murmured, his voice thick with gratification as he brought her to orgasm. Over the past three years, Draven had coaxed Lorelei into being intimate all over the estate—the greenhouse, the storage room, the art studio, the garage—each place offering a different kind of thrill. Lorelei didn't actually want to keep him hidden. But her mother, Valery Kenward, a strict university professor, had explicitly forbidden her from dating before finishing her studies. Confessing that she'd fallen in love with the family bodyguard was completely out of the question. The next afternoon, Lorelei met up with her best friend, Julissa Hinchley, for coffee. The second Julissa slid into the car, she spotted a torn c0ndom wrapper wedged in the gap between the seats. "Dark chocolate mousse. This is from my company's line. Lora, are you seeing somebody?" Lorelei flushed instantly. "I am. It's still a secret right now, though, so please don't tell anyone." Julissa raised an eyebrow. "This isn't even on the market yet. Our company only sent samples to specific online influencers. Speaking of which, I've got some massive gossip." "What influencers?" Lorelei asked, confused. Draven was always the one who bought those things. "There's this mysterious, wealthy influencer making money by posting mosaicked sex tapes of himself and his girlfriend." Julissa pulled out her phone and showed her. Lorelei took one look, and her whole body went rigid. The guy in the video had a "D" tattooed on his lower abdomen, sitting right above a line of Latin cursive script. It was exactly the same as Draven's. Trembling, Lorelei asked, "How do you know he's wealthy?" Julissa let out a mocking laugh. "Because he has a dedicated secretary just to handle business inquiries. He never accepts promotional fees, only adult toys, and his shipping address is actually in Meadowlark Hills. "Think about it—the guy lives in an exclusive neighborhood like Meadowlark Hills, yet uses free promo c0ndoms on his girlfriend and posts their videos online for the whole world to see. Isn't that totally perverted?" Meadowlark Hills was a premier residential enclave right in the city center, where a single house went for upwards of 20 million dollars. An icy wave of shock washed over Lorelei, draining all the color from her face. With trembling fingertips, she tapped into the members-only group. It was loaded with categorized videos. "March 8th. Intense sex with my seemingly untouchable girlfriend in the greenhouse." "March 10th. Sex play in the art studio." "March 12th. High-definition sex in the storage room." Lorelei clicked on a video. The painfully familiar surroundings, the muffled growls, and her own unrestrained moans filled the quiet of the car. Sick with despair, she drove straight to the address Julissa had provided her—Villa No. 18, Meadowlark Hills. She stood outside the iron fence. The backyard pool area was packed with young models and rich heirs laughing and joking around. Draven was lounging back in a wicker chair, chatting with his friends. Lorelei could barely connect him with the gentle, considerate bodyguard she thought she knew. "Draven, if you want to ruin Valery Kenward, isn't there an easier way?" one of the men asked. "Just use your money to get her kicked out of Stanford, and be done with it." Draven scoffed. "Doesn't Valery treasure her highly educated, well-mannered daughter above everything else? I want to completely destroy her reputation. I want Valery to know exactly what it feels like to have a close family member publicly disgraced. "Years ago, as a Stanford professor, she carelessly accused my sister of plagiarizing others' theses, which drove my sister to suicide. She owes me a life. "What kind of look do you think Prof. Kenward will have on her face when she finds out her precious daughter is secretly slutty and has been getting screwed by a lowly bodyguard for the last three years? Honestly, I can't wait." "Man, you're brutal," one of his friends teased. "When are you gonna tell her the truth? Just don't let it blow up in your face." Draven laughed. "I'm just using Lorelei for sex. If Valery found out, she'd be begging me to marry her daughter. "Valery's retirement reception is this afternoon, actually. I had someone send my 'future mother-in-law' a special gift." Lorelei's mind went blank. Without even stopping to confront him, she sprinted to her car and peeled out, driving in a blind panic toward Stanford University. Valery was a fiercely proud woman. Lorelei couldn't let herself be the reason her mother's retirement reception was ruined. By the time Lorelei rushed into the venue, Valery was already stepping up to the podium to give her speech. "Mom, I need to tell you something," she urged. Valery's expression softened at the sight of her. She pulled Lorelei up onto the stage beside her, beaming at the crowd. "Everyone, this is my daughter, Lorelei. She's a grad student here in Stanford's physics department. I hope you'll all keep an eye out for her as she builds her career." Before Valery could even finish, the massive screen behind them flickered and changed. A montage of partially censored sex videos started playing. In every single frame, Lorelei's face was unmistakably clear. "Lora, call me honey," a digitally distorted male voice demanded. "Honey, be gentle..." Lorelei pleaded on screen, her eyes glassy and dazed. The audio echoed through the auditorium's speakers, painfully loud. Lorelei froze in shock. The room instantly erupted into gasps, shouts, and chaotic chatter. The collective noise from Stanford professors, deans, and students drowned out everything else. "You..." Valery stared at the screen, her face ghastly pale. She pointed a trembling finger at Lorelei, swaying on her feet before collapsing to the floor. "No!" Lorelei gasped, the reality finally crashing over her. "Mom!" Chapter 2 Later, in the sterile quiet of the hospital room, Valery lay pale and unconscious in her bed, having just been stabilized. Beside her, Lorelei stared at a text message from her father. "Lora, I heard what happened. Once your thesis defense is over next week, you need to go abroad for your PhD." Through her tears, Lorelei typed back. "Okay, Dad." Just then, another text chimed. It was Draven. "Lora, I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you. I can't believe someone was secretly recording us. I swear I'll find out who did this. Where are you? I'm coming to see you." If she hadn't overheard the truth straight from his mouth earlier at Meadowlark Hills, that sweet, concerned message might have actually fooled her again. Instead of replying, she went straight back to her Stanford lab and powered off her phone. She threw herself into her work non-stop—running experiments, calibrating data, and revising her thesis. Two days later, during her thesis defense, Lorelei noticed an unfamiliar face on the judging committee. A classmate leaned in and whispered, "That's Dr. Kailyn Johnson. She did her undergrad, master's, and PhD all right here at Stanford. She's supposed to be really down-to-earth." After Lorelei finished her presentation, the rest of the committee gave their initial approval, but Kailyn looked at her coldly and spoke up. "Lorelei, you plagiarized this thesis, didn't you? I saw a very similar experiment on a foreign site, and the data is identical." Instantly, the other professors' expressions shifted to suspicion. Lorelei scrambled to defend herself, pulling up her raw experiment videos to prove she'd done the work. But Kailyn was completely unfazed. "So what? Videos can be faked. How does that prove your thesis is original? "Three years ago, Prof. Kenward failed a student for plagiarism on just as little evidence. "Besides, Lorelei, given your recent scandalous behavior, it's pretty hard to take your word for anything." Right on cue, a familiar, breathy moan slipped from a male student's phone in the back of the room. "Daddy, be gentle." Lorelei started to shake uncontrollably. A wave of intense shame and nausea hit her, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, dry-heaving violently. "Lorelei, are you pregnant?" Kailyn asked, her voice dripping with disgust. Lorelei forced herself to swallow the bile, gathering every last ounce of strength to stand up straight. "Dr. Johnson, please don't make baseless assumptions about me. And as for my thesis, I will provide the evidence to prove it isn't plagiarized." Kailyn gave a thin, tight smile. "Fine. I'm a fair, objective person. I'd never make an arbitrary ruling like some other professors." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away. Lorelei had just found out from some classmates that Kailyn used to be Valery's student. Even worse, Kailyn was close friends with Janiya Morrice—Draven's older sister, the same girl who'd been caught plagiarizing her thesis years ago. Pulling up to the campus gates, she spotted Draven. He was gazing affectionately at a girl, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. That girl was Kailyn. Suddenly, it all clicked. Draven was actually in love with Janiya's best friend, and the two of them were working together to ruin Lorelei's life. The second Draven glanced her way, panic spiked in Lorelei's chest. She bolted, sprinting into a small cluster of trees just off campus. Footsteps pounded behind her. Throwing a look over her shoulder, she saw two strange men closing in. "Well, if it isn't the prettiest girl at Stanford," one of them sneered. "Come on, beautiful. Call me Daddy. Let me hear it." As he stepped closer, Lorelei slapped him hard across the face. "Back off!" Enraged, the guy shoved her violently against a tree trunk, pinning her down. "Why play hard to get?" he growled. "You're a slut. You clearly enjoyed yourself in those videos. Come here; we promise to make you feel even better." One of them grabbed her wrists in a vice grip while the other lunged at her. Lorelei screamed for help, but the woods were completely deserted. Out of nowhere, a heavy thud shattered the silence. The man pinning her was thrown backward, crashing into the dirt. "Lora, are you hurt? Why weren't you answering my calls?" Draven demanded, his brow furrowed as he pulled her to her feet. The second he realized she was uninjured, the worry vanished from his face. He was putting on a very convincing act. Lorelei shoved him away. Draven tensed, but quickly softened his features. "Lora, someone secretly recorded those videos on purpose. Don't worry. I'll go with you to talk to your parents and explain everything. It's the perfect time to make our relationship public anyway." Make it public? Lorelei felt deeply hurt. Did he want to announce to the world that she'd been sleeping with her family's bodyguard for the last three years? That someone had a stash of their intimate videos? Was this just another excuse to get revenge on her mother? But she couldn't openly call him out right now. What if he retaliated against her mother using even more extreme methods? While she was lost in thought, Draven pulled her into his arms. "Please forgive me, Lora," he murmured into her ear. "You've ignored me for two days, and I've been too upset to eat or sleep properly." "Let go of me!" she yelled, sinking her teeth hard into his shoulder. Draven frowned. He gripped her jaw—which now had traces of blood on it—and kissed her deeply. "Fine, you can bite me if it stops you from being angry," he breathed. "Lora, we haven't had sex in these woods yet." A wave of physical nausea washed over her. Had he hidden another camera nearby, prepping to record her again? She slapped him hard, the crack echoing loudly through the quiet trees. Forcing her voice steady, Lorelei offered a strained apology. "I'm sorry. I'm just very stressed out because of my period." "It's alright, Lora. Let's go home." She let Draven take her hand. She didn't let her guard down until they arrived back at the house and she saw her father, Gordon Bethell. Only then did she finally feel safe. "Dad, can we fire Draven?" "Why?" Gordon asked, completely confused. She scrambled for a quick excuse. "I'm moving abroad soon, so I won't need a bodyguard anymore." Gordon chuckled. "Drav is very reliable. What if he goes with you while you study overseas?" "No," Lorelei shot back immediately. "I don't want to be around men right now. Dad, please." Assuming she was just avoiding men because of the leaked intimate videos, Gordon agreed to let Draven go. Once Lorelei went abroad, Valery would move back to Chicago to stay with her mother. Since Gordon traveled internationally for business most of the year, Draven wouldn't be able to hurt her family anymore. Chapter 3 She quickly packed some clothes and headed back to campus. To her shock, Draven had taken a job as a security guard for the girls' dormitory, claiming he was there to protect her. It was clear—he was willing to take any job, no matter how demeaning, just to get his revenge. From a distance, she spotted a group of female students swarming Draven, asking for his number. Lorelei felt utterly exhausted just looking at the scene. "Sorry, I already like someone," Draven said. Tall and handsome, he pushed past the crowd and walked straight over to her. Acting as if nothing had happened between them, he grabbed her backpack. "Hey, she isn't worth your time!" one of the girls shouted after him. "She's slept with countless guys and recorded dirty videos." Draven whipped around. He glared at the girl so fiercely that she immediately snapped her mouth shut. "You can get disciplined for spreading rumors," he warned her, his voice cold. "Besides, I like her. I'll always like her, no matter what." After that day, Draven wouldn't leave her alone. He shadowed her everywhere, constantly following her into the dining hall and waiting for her outside the library. Meanwhile, Lorelei became public enemy number one among the other women on campus. Her lab equipment and chemical reagents were mysteriously trashed. Someone dumped water on her laptop and jammed her locker keyhole with glue. To top it all off, her thesis got kicked back three times in a row. Out of options, Lorelei went to track down Kailyn. But as she stood outside the lab, she caught the tail end of a conversation. People were gossiping about her mother, Valery. "Prof. Kenward's daughter sleeps around and films herself with guys," a voice sneered. "So Valery can't exactly be a good person, either. God knows what she actually did to get her professorship." "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," another voice chimed in. "Valery probably targeted Janiya on purpose years ago when she accused her of plagiarism." Lorelei shoved the door open. "Dr. Johnson, do you want to stand by those claims? Would you repeat them in front of the entire university and the police?" Kailyn stood up, flashing a dismissive smirk. "Relax, I was only joking. But that video you filmed is real, isn't it? Instead of eavesdropping, you should spend your time fixing your thesis." Lorelei gripped her thesis so tightly that the paper crumpled in her fists. She had already submitted the lab's security footage and provided a side-by-side comparison with the external publication to clear her name. Yet Kailyn kept forcing her to rewrite it, clearly trying to stonewall her graduation. "Dr. Johnson, apologize for what you just said," Lorelei demanded. Kailyn jabbed a finger hard into Lorelei's shoulder. "Lorelei, your mother caused someone's death. You sleep around, and you cheat your way through school. And you expect me to apologize to you?" Lorelei stumbled backward, the papers in her hand swatting a nearby rack of chemical reagents. She lunged to catch it, but someone shoved her hard from behind. She slammed into Kailyn, and they both went down hard into a mess of shattered glass. A scream rang out. A familiar guy burst through the door, stepped heavily right onto Lorelei's hand, and immediately scooped Kailyn into his arms. "Lynn!" A shard of glass had sliced into Lorelei's neck, pinning her down so badly she couldn't even lift her head. Draven carried Kailyn toward the exit to rush her to the hospital. As he passed Lorelei, he paused just to kick her forcefully in the chest. "I swear, I don't know how Stanford admits such an idiot like you," he snapped. "If Lynn gets a permanent scar from this, I'll make sure you get hurt a hell of a lot worse in return!" "It hurts..." Lorelei groaned out. Recognizing her voice, Draven froze. He hesitated, looking like he might actually check on her, but Kailyn immediately started sobbing. "Drav, my hand hurts so much. Are my tendons cut? Am I going to lose my hand?" "Hey, don't be scared, Lynn. I'm taking you to the hospital right now," he promised. By the time Lorelei managed to drag herself up, she only saw Draven's back as he rushed away—and Kailyn shooting her a mocking smirk over his shoulder. Lorelei's hands were slick with blood. A highly corrosive chemical had spilled directly onto her right hand. When Lorelei finally dragged herself into the hospital, disheveled and in absolute agony, she could hear Draven shouting right through the wall of the next ER bay. "What do you mean the other student is hurt worse than Lynn? You need to treat Lynn first!" "Sir, that young woman's hand has severe chemical burns," the doctor argued. "If they get infected, we may have to amputate." Completely unbothered, Draven yelled back, "Let her wait, even if she loses the arm! She hurt Lynn, and she deserves to suffer the consequences!" Because the Grafton Group owned the hospital, nobody had the guts to argue with him. Lorelei's arm was throbbing, but hearing his cruel words tore her apart way worse than the burns ever could. Taking pity on her, a nurse quietly patched her up with some basic first aid. Lorelei shoved herself up, fighting through the pain. She needed to grab a cab to a different hospital for proper treatment. She had barely made it two steps before someone clamped down hard on her injured arm. The sudden yank tore at her wounds, making her stumble. It was Kailyn. A smirk played on Kailyn's lips. She squeezed Lorelei's arm so tightly that fresh blood blossomed through the white bandages. "You heard him, right, Lorelei?" Kailyn whispered. "Drav isn't your protector. He only got close to you to mess with your head and take revenge on your mother." Lorelei ripped her arm away. Tuning out Kailyn's toxic taunts, she bolted outside and flagged down a cab. Later, as a doctor at the second hospital scraped the dead tissue away from her right arm, Lorelei went completely pale, biting her lip until she tasted blood. Yet, the physical torture was absolutely nothing compared to the gut punch of Draven's betrayal—and the lingering ache of that violent kick. After patching up her wound, Lorelei headed back to campus, only to find Draven waiting outside her dorm. "Lora," he said. "I got you a chocolate cupcake. It's still warm." The bakery across town was always packed, which usually meant at least a half-hour wait. Yet for the last three years, rain or shine, he'd always made sure to grab her one whenever she asked. Lorelei took a step back, dodging his hand while keeping her injured arm tucked safely beneath her long sleeve. "I don't eat those anymore." Draven froze. "Are you scared of me? Why?" She was too exhausted to invent an excuse. Then her phone buzzed. A text from a classmate drained the color straight from her face. Taniya, a younger girl in her project group, had formally accused her of fabricating data and bullying. She'd even attached photos of bruises and an audio recording of threats as proof. Chapter 4 Her advisor, Professor Zariah Nevill, summoned Lorelei to her office immediately. Draven shadowed her all the way there. Inside, Kailyn was standing next to a sobbing Taniya. The underclassman shrank back, looking terrified the second she saw Lorelei. Kailyn immediately laid into her. "Lorelei, plagiarizing your paper was bad enough, but bullying? Do you even want to graduate?" Lorelei kept her expression deadpan. "Prof. Nevill, just call the cops. I'm fully prepared to undergo a formal investigation and accept whatever consequences come with it." "No," Draven cut in. "Prof. Nevill, campus issues should be handled internally. Escalating this is only going to drag the university's reputation through the mud." Taniya jumped right in. "Exactly. Prof. Nevill, if Lorelei just apologizes publicly, I won't take this any further." Zariah clearly wanted to dodge a scandal. "Alright. Lorelei, you're going to issue a public apology at the university's anniversary event tomorrow." They were forcing her to take the fall for things she hadn't even done. "I'm not apologizing for things I didn't do," Lorelei said. Taniya shoved up her sleeve to reveal dark bruises. "Lorelei, you hit me and screamed at me just because I wouldn't fake the lab data for you." Kailyn turned to Draven. "I understand you work as Lorelei's bodyguard, Mr. Grafton. You must know her character better than anyone. Tell us—does Lorelei have a history of bullying?" Draven took a slow step forward. "Yes. Ms. Bethell has a history of mistreating the household staff, and she has never had any close friends." A violent jolt of shock hit Lorelei, her entire body going rigid. She realized he'd been waiting for this exact moment to stab her in the back. Zariah looked impatient. "Just apologize, and I'll have the post taken down from the campus forums. I'm sure you don't want to ruin Prof. Kenward's professional reputation." That final threat broke her. Lowering her eyes, she gave the apology, swallowing the false accusations purely to protect her mother. Draven had expected to feel triumphant in his revenge. But watching Lorelei walk away, looking utterly crushed, he felt a sudden, unexplained ache in his chest. He blew off Kailyn's invitation to celebrate and drove back to Meadowlark Hills. When he pulled up, an unexpected visitor was waiting at his door. "Draven, you were the guy in that video, weren't you?" Valery's face was deathly pale. "Draven Grafton. The sole heir to the Grafton Group. And you have a half-sister named Janiya Morrice." "You don't have the right to say her name!" Draven shouted. "I'm only here for Lora," Valery said. "What happened to Janiya has nothing to do with her. I'll do whatever you want, but please, stop hurting my daughter." Draven let out a harsh laugh. "Anything? Fine. Tomorrow is the anniversary of Janiya's death. I want you to kneel at her grave, press your head into the dirt, and confess your guilt." Valery just stared at him, wide-eyed. "What, you're not willing?" He raised an eyebrow. "Works for me. I haven't lost interest in Lora yet, anyway. You have no idea, Prof. Kenward, how your daughter acts when we sleep together—" "Stop!" Valery dug her fingernails into her palms. "I'll do it. Just keep your word and leave my daughter alone." "That depends entirely on your sincerity, Prof. Kenward." Meanwhile, Lorelei spent the next few days working around the clock on her thesis. Her committee finally approved it on the absolute last day of submissions. But before the relief could even set in, Gordon called in an absolute panic. "Lora! Come home right now. Something terrible has happened to your mom!" Lorelei rushed home, but froze in her tracks at the sight of the villa. Glaring red paint was smeared across the exterior walls, spelling out massive accusations, "Valery Kenward, Murderer!" and "Malicious Teacher!" A man stood by the front gate, his voice blaring through a megaphone. "The students of Stanford University are formally reporting her! Prof. Kenward bullied students and took bribes on multiple occasions. "Three years ago, when Janiya couldn't afford to give her a gift, Kenward framed her for plagiarism! "She insulted Janiya and drove her to jump off a building to her death!" A crowd of onlookers had already swarmed the entrance, flanked by news crews with their cameras rolling. Slipping in through the back door, Lorelei found Valery collapsed on the couch, her breathing shallow. "Mom! Are you okay?" Lorelei cried, tears welling in her eyes as she rushed over. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital." "Lora, I'm fine. I took my heart medication, I'm okay." Valery forced herself to sit up, her lips drained of color. "I have something important I need to do today. Lora, you have to come with me." The Maybach eventually pulled up to the cemetery. Lorelei held her mother's arm, supporting her weight as they walked the grounds. They stopped short when they saw a man standing in front of one of the headstones. It was Draven. Valery gently pulled Lorelei behind her. Her voice was surprisingly steady. "Draven, whatever bad blood exists between us, and whatever is going on between you and Lora, let's end it here today." Draven let out a bitter laugh. "End it? Prof. Kenward, do you seriously think getting on your knees, banging your head against the ground a few times, and saying sorry makes up for a human life?" He lunged forward and grabbed Lorelei. "I've changed my mind. I want you to give Lorelei to me for the rest of her life as compensation." "Don't even think about it!" Lorelei yanked her arm back and slapped him hard across the face. Draven dug his fingers into her shoulders and yelled, "Lorelei, that's the second time you've hit me. Let me tell you right now, you belong to me for the rest of your life. It's what the Bethell family owes me!" "Drav, why waste your breath on them?" Kailyn stepped up, her voice cold. "Make her bow her head and apologize!" She signaled two bodyguards to force Valery to her knees in front of the gravestone. "Mom!" Lorelei screamed. Valery's forehead slammed into the gravestone with a sickening thud. Lorelei's eyes burned with furious tears. "I hate you!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Draven, I hate you!" Draven grabbed her chin. "Lora, you can only love me. We've been sleeping together for three years; who else could you possibly marry?" "I'd marry anyone but you!" Her words made Draven completely lose it. "Fine. Then today you're going to face your mother's crimes head-on." He ordered the bodyguards to hold Lorelei in place and force her to watch Valery strike her head against the ground in apology. But before things went any further, his father, Mauricio Grafton, called him. Draven took the call and hurried off. After Valery had struck her head against the hard ground nine times, her forehead was gushing blood. The bodyguards hesitated, ready to let her go. Kailyn's face twisted into a vicious sneer. "She has to do it ninety-nine times, obviously. Mr. Grafton already gave the order. Why aren't you moving faster?" Lorelei was shaking with rage. "Draven never said that!" Kailyn slapped her. "My words are Drav's words. Are you really still holding out hope?" Dark red blood pooled on the paving stones, mixing with Lorelei's falling tears. The sound of her mother's head hitting the stone was agonizing, tearing at Lorelei's heart. By the time Valery hit her head for the ninety-ninth time, she had passed out cold. Lorelei threw herself onto the ground next to her, sobbing so hard she couldn't speak. Consumed by hatred, she truly wanted to kill Draven and Kailyn. At the hospital, Valery was rushed straight into surgery. The doctor explained that the severe blunt trauma had caused bleeding in her brain. Nine agonizing hours later, the surgery was declared a success. Lorelei let out a massive sigh of relief and decided to make a quick trip home to pack some clothes for her mother. The second she pushed through the hospital's doors, someone slapped her hard across the face. Chapter 5 Lorelei stumbled back and looked up to see Draven glaring at her, completely unhinged with fury. "Lorelei. If you want revenge, take it out on me, but how dare you touch Kailyn?" he spat. "You actually reported her for sleeping with male students, faked photos of her in bed, and pinned them to the Stanford bulletin board. "She was suspended, and now she's slit her wrists in a suicide attempt! Are you satisfied?" Draven lunged, seizing her by the throat. Lorelei choked, clawing at his hand. "Draven... you're insane," she gasped out. "I didn't do it." He sneered, tightening his grip. "You're coming with me right now to apologize to Kailyn." In the stark hospital room, Kailyn looked deathly pale. The second she saw Draven, she buried her face against his chest. "Drav, why did you save me? Just let me die so I can be with Jani! This whole world is completely corrupt!" Draven looked down at her, his eyes filled with deep pity. "Lynn, I've already paid people to kill the story. You don't need to be afraid anymore." He turned to Lorelei, his expression instantly hardening into a cold glare. "Apologize to her right now." Lorelei's eyes were red-rimmed, but she clung to whatever dignity she had left. "I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I apologize?" Tears streamed down Kailyn's cheeks. "Lorelei, those guys already confessed. You slept with them just to get them to frame me. I have the evidence right here." "What?" Draven's face flushed with sudden fury as he snatched the phone out of Lorelei's hand. "Are you really that easy?" His anger boiled over, and he shoved his hand up her skirt. "You even lied to me about being on your period." Before she could react, Draven hoisted her over his shoulder, kicked open the door to the adjoining room, and slammed her down onto the bed. Unbuttoning his shirt, he forced his heavy weight on top of her, crushing his mouth roughly against her neck. "Get off me!" she screamed, bringing a hand up to slap him hard across the face. Draven just sneered. "Not willing? I'll make you submit, Lora." He yanked off his belt, bound her wrists to the headboard, and forced a small vial of liquid down her throat. Within moments, her body flushed with an unnatural heat, and a sickening realization washed over her. She knew exactly what the drug was. She wept in helpless distress. The second he ripped her clothes open, absolute, suffocating despair took over. "Lora, you belong to me," Draven whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "Marry me, okay?" The next morning, Lorelei gathered her clothes off the cluttered floor and pulled them over her aching body. She slid the delicate diamond ring off her finger and dropped it straight into the trash. Draven's plan was obvious—he intended to humiliate her with intimate photos, trap her in a forced marriage, and abuse her for the rest of her life. But she was never going to let that happen. She powered on her phone to find over ninety-nine missed calls and texts. Julissa was calling again, her voice tight with panic. "Lora, you finally answered! Get online right now. Videos of you and your mom are trending." Lorelei opened the trending page. The number one search result was a video of her mother, Valery, kneeling and bowing in a cemetery. The second was a clip ripped from a live stream last night—it showed Lorelei, visibly drugged and aroused. Lorelei gripped the phone until her knuckles turned white. Draven hadn't just drugged her; he had actually live-streamed the assault. The internet was overflowing with vicious insults aimed at her and her mother. The comment section was an absolute warzone, branding Lorelei a slut and her mother a murderer. "Like mother, like daughter. The mom killed a student, and the daughter is a total whore!" "Valery kneeling to apologize is undeniable proof of her guilt. The justice system needs to lock them both away!" "Valery deserves the death penalty, and Lorelei needs to be expelled from Stanford!" Lorelei's fingertips trembled. Five minutes later, the original posts had vanished. Immediately, a new headline dominated the trending searches. "Grafton Heir Photographed with Girlfriend at Maternity Clinic—Expecting a Baby Soon." Even though the photo was blurry, she recognized Draven and Kailyn right away. Tears hit her screen. She felt completely numb to the pain. Her phone buzzed against her palm. It was Gordon. "Dad," she answered. "I'm heading to the hospital right now. Is Mom doing better?" She heard muffled crying on the other end of the line. "Lora, your mother passed away last night." Meanwhile, at Meadowlark Hills. Mauricio Grafton had seen the tabloids. He'd summoned his son, Draven, home for a family dinner, fully intending to arrange a marriage for him. Draven stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, nursing a glass of wine. He couldn't get Lorelei out of his head—specifically her stubborn, red-rimmed eyes from the night before. It left him tangled in a deep, undeniable mix of frustration and affection. When a wealthy guest asked him to dance, he turned her down. "I'm sorry, I have a girlfriend. I proposed to her last night, and she accepted." "Oh? Is it Kailyn? Your father said the rumors about the two of you weren't true." Draven thought of Lorelei and smiled. "It's not Kailyn. She comes from an educated family, and we plan to announce our relationship in a few days." Looking out the window, Draven spotted a neighbor's proposal setup, complete with a massive floral arrangement. The sight gave him an idea. He had to admit to himself that his recent behavior had been extreme. He'd leaked private videos, forced Valery to her knees to apologize, and drugged and sexually assaulted Lorelei. He knew he had put Lorelei through severe distress. Yet, somehow, those exact actions had made him absolutely certain of his feelings for her. The night before, he had dreamed of his sister, Janiya. In the dream, Janiya was crying. She told him to stop making himself miserable over revenge, that she wanted him to be happy, and that he shouldn't betray the people who loved him. His mind was finally clear. With graduation happening the very next day, he ordered his secretary to plan a proposal. "Have the school administration set it up tonight," he directed. "Lorelei likes pink roses, so order a huge amount. Also, retrieve the two-hundred-million-dollar crown I bought last month from the bank vault. I'll need it for tomorrow." His secretary offered a suggestion. "Mr. Grafton, should we invite the media? We could play the videos right as Ms. Bethell accepts the proposal to humiliate her." "What are you talking about?" Draven yelled. "I never said I wanted to embarrass her. I'm proposing to her. I plan to use this opportunity to tell the media directly that those videos were simply a record of a normal relationship."
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
My boyfriend Silas Peterson was dead broke that year. I was scared I’d drag him down, so I broke up with him. Years later, he became the youngest billionaire in Dallas. He chased me hard and finally made me his wife. Everyone says Aubrey is his first love, the wife he treasures most. But only I know the truth. For three years of marriage, he brought a different woman home almost every night. He did it to shatter my heart and turn me into the joke of our circle. I used to scream and fight. Now I just quietly tell the maids to clean up after him and his mistress. He lost it one night. He grabbed me, kissed me hard, and growled, “Aren’t you jealous?” He has no idea I’m dying. Every day he spends getting revenge on me, I’m counting down how many days I have left. Today, I only have seven days to live. … I walked past the master bedroom. From my own room down the hall, I could hear them. Loud. Wild. They weren’t even trying to hide it. I reached up and turned the photo on the wall face down. Brenda, the maid, came up beside me and held my arm. “Ma’am…” I let out a breath. “That picture is from our third year together. Before he made it big. It was my birthday.” “I saw this couple at a bakery sharing this huge, beautiful cake. I pointed them out to him. Silas said, ‘One day when I make it, Aubrey, I’ll bvy you the biggest cake in the world.’” “That winter, I scooped up a handful of fresh snow and smiled at him. ‘Si, doesn’t this look like cake?’” “I never needed him to be rich. I just wanted us to stay happy.” “I kept that photo because I thought it proved our love.” “Instead, it ended up watching him cheat on me over and over.” “You’ve been through too much, ma’am,” Brenda said, steadying me. My body was shaking now. “That Sasha has no shame.” Before Brenda could say more, the bedroom door flew open. Sasha stepped out wearing my robe. Fresh hiickeys on her neck. She looked at Brenda like she owned the place. “Get me some water. I’m exhausted.” Brenda had no choice but to let go of me. Today was our third wedding anniversary. And my birthday. The first time I’d ever come face to face with Sasha. I’d heard the rumors. Silas was keeping some young college girl. Sweet and innocent—his usual type. They’d been together six months. “He bought her three million in diamonds.” “She’s the longest one yet.” “People say Silas might actually love her this time.” I didn’t think much about it until today. When they were screwing in my bedroom. The thought made my head spin. I covered my nose. Blood again. “Oh my God,” Sasha smirked. “Is Mrs. Peterson bleeding because she’s jealous? You wish you had my body, don’t you?” I fought the nausea and ran out of the house. The truth is, six months ago the doctor told me I had brain cancer. I was dying. That’s why the nosebleeds wouldn’t stop. I swallowed a handful of pain pills and had the driver take me to my private clinic. “Your condition is very bad,” the doctor said carefully. I nodded. “Just tell me. I can take it.” “I’m not scared of dying. I’m just scared of the pain.” The doctor shook his head, his face full of pity. “Based on the tests, you have about one week left.” “There’s a new drvg. Ten thousand dollars a dose.” “It can help you feel better in this period.” Ten thousand dollars. Silas never let me work. He gave me gifts I couldn’t bring out of that house. And all I spend is under his control. I only had a card under his name. But now, I didn't want to use his card anymore. Over three years I’d saved about ten thousand of my own. That money was supposed to be for my dreams. Then it became funeral money. Now it had to bvy me a few days without pain. I nodded with tears rolling in my eyes. I handed my card to the doctor. I didn’t want pain anymore. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. Your card was declined.” “Probably not enough money. Or it’s frozen.” Chapter 2 Only my husband could freeze that card. I dragged my aching body to Silas’s office building. I knocked and walked in. Sasha was there too—she worked as his secretary now. They said he was in a meeting, so I sat outside on the cold leather chair and waited. Sasha kept staring at me. She acted like she hadn’t seen me at the house that morning. In her fake sweet voice she said to the other staff, “That’s the boss’s wife? She looks so vgly and dried up. Like she’s already dead.” “You all say I look like her. Where? I’m way prettier.” The glass wall showed my reflection. Pale face. Baggy coat. I hadn’t had the energy to dress up in months. The pain had made me thin and tired. Of course I looked bad. I was dying. One coworker pulled Sasha aside and whispered, “She just didn’t bother with makeup. If she did, ten of you couldn’t touch her. And stop messing with her. The boss loves her more than anything. You piiss her off and he’ll destroy you.” Sasha didn’t like hearing that Silas loved me. She rolled her eyes in my direction. She brought me a cup of tea and said in her little-girl voice, “Mrs. Peterson, how come the boss makes you wait so long? That’s weird. Every time I come, no matter how busy he is, he drops everything for me. He says I’m the most important person in his life.” “He cancels meetings and dinners just to take me shopping. Last time he bought me new heels.” “But he told me not to wear them too much. He said I look hot in them, but he doesn’t want me to get tired walking with him.” “Mr. Peterson is so sweet to me. I thought he was like that with everyone…” She smiled. Big and bright. She looked just like the young me. I thought about it. Silas really was different with Sasha. He used to bring home a new woman every night to test me. He got bored fast—two days, maybe two weeks. Then he moved on. But Sasha? He kept her in her own place. He took her to dinner, movies, shopping. He gave her money and real attention. They acted like a normal, happy couple. I smiled at her gently. “You’re so important to him. So how come he keeps you as his dirty little secret? You should tell him to divorce me and marry you.” Sasha’s face turned red. She hissed, “The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. You’re the extra!” “You only got him first by a few years. Now you’re old and vgly. What do you even have left?” Her coworker tried to pull her away. Sasha got so mad she tripped on purpose and fell hard. The teacup shattered. Blood poured from her hand. Silas saw it through the glass wall of the meeting room. He dropped everything, ran over, and scooped her up. The second he walked in he snarled, “Who the heell hurt her?” The nice coworker stepped back, scared. I smiled coldly. “I did. She deserved it.” Sasha cried and yelled, “Yes, it’s my fault! I fell in love with the wrong man and she called me a homewrecker!” “But Mr. Peterson, as long as you love me, I’ll stay by your side forever. No one can tear us apart.” Silas wiped her tears and cooed, “Aw, baby, you’re crying like a little kitten.” He really was different with her. I looked down. “You froze my card. I want my ten thousand back.” “Not just frozen,” he said with a nasty smile. “I emptied the account.” “Before we got married you promised me anything I wanted. Now you’re going back on it?” I laughed. “You said if I married you, money would never be a problem.” “Aubrey, you’re still so greedy,” he said, holding Sasha tighter. “You left me when I was poor. You came back when I got rich.” I almost cried. After all these years he still didn’t know I broke up with him so I wouldn’t ruin his future. He never knew how much I loved him. Silas ignored my tears. “You want money? Fine. Get on your knees and apologize to Sasha.” He wanted to bvy my dignity for ten thousand dollars. “You have a few bucks and you still act disgusting, Silas. You make me sick.” Sasha fake-cried, “You can curse me, but how dare you curse Mr. Peterson? He’s perfect.” I clenched my fists and smiled. Then the pain hit hard. I turned and walked out. “I don’t need your money anymore.” “Silas,” I said over my shoulder, “I’m really curious what your face will look like when you find out what that money was for.” “Stop acting,” he snapped. “How long do you think you can last without my card?” He laughed and carried Sasha away. I went home, threw out everything they had used in my room, took some sleeping pills, and passed out. For the next few days I either slept, popped pain pills, or erased every trace of myself from the house. I didn’t want to leave him anything. One night my phone rang. I answered, half asleep. “Aubrey,” Silas said. In my foggy dream I was back in our early days. I smiled sweetly. “Si, it’s snowing hard. I want cake.” I rolled over and fell back asleep before he could answer. Chapter 3 The teacup slipped from Sasha’s hand and shattered on the floor. Hot tea spilled over her skin and soaked her clothes. A sharp piece of glass cut deep into her palm. Blood poured out and pooled on the floor. Silas was still in the meeting room. Through the glass wall, he saw Sasha hurt. Everyone watched as he slammed the papers in his hands onto the table, shoved the door open, and rushed over. He scooped Sasha into his arms in one quick motion. The second he stepped into the office, he growled, “Who the fvck hurt her?” The kind coworker who had tried to stop the fight took two steps back, her face white with fear. I saw the look on his face and smiled coldly. “I did it. And she deserved it.” Sasha glared at me through her tears and cried out loud, “Yes, it’s my fault! I fell in love with the wrong man. She called me a homewrecker, a mistress.” “But Mr. Peterson, as long as you love me too, I’ll stay by your side forever. No one can tear us apart.” Her tears looked so pretty—clear drops like little pearls. Even her crazy words sounded brave and strong in Silas’s eyes. Silas smiled at her. He gently wiped the tears from her face and spoke softly, “There, there, baby. You’re crying like a little kitten.” I had to admit it—he really was different with her. I lowered my eyes. I didn’t want to watch anymore. I looked at Silas and said calmly, “You froze my bank card. I want my ten thousand dollars back.” “Not just frozen,” Silas said, staring at me with pure hate. “I emptied the whole account.” “Before we got married, we had a deeal. You wanted my body, I wanted your money. Changed your mind?” I laughed. “You said if I married you, I could have as much money as I wanted.” “Aubrey, you’re still so greedy,” Silas said, holding Sasha tighter. “You left me when I was broke. Then when I became a billionaire, you suddenly wanted me back.” I almost cried. After all these years, he still didn’t understand. I broke up with him back then because I didn’t want to hold him back. He never knew how much I truly loved him. He had let me down so many times. Silas ignored the tears in my eyes. He looked at me with a cold smile and said slowly, “You want money? Sure.” “But first, Aubrey, get on your knees and apologize to Sasha. Right here.” It was clear—he wanted to trade ten thousand dollars for my dignity, just to make Sasha feel better. “A few dirty dollars can’t change how disgusting you are, Silas. You make me sick.” “Ma’am, you can curse me all you want,” Sasha said, fake tears filling her eyes. “But how can you curse Mr. Peterson? He’s such a perfect man.” I slowly clenched my fists and gave a small smile. Then a wave of sharp pain hit me. I forced myself to ignore it, turned, and started to walk away. “I don’t need your money anymore.” “Silas.” “I’m suddenly really curious what your face will look like one day when you finally find out what that money was for.” “Stop the drama,” he snapped. “Let’s see how many days you can last without my card before you come begging.” Silas let out a cold laugh, picked up Sasha, and walked out. I went home alone. I threw out every single thing they had used in the master bedroom. Pain covered me in cold sweat. I barely managed to sit up, swallowed some sleeping pills, and passed out. For the next few days, I was either sleeping, popping pain pills, or wiping away every trace of myself from the house. I didn’t want to leave anything behind for Silas. One night, I was half asleep when my phone rang. I answered it. Silas’s voice came through. “Aubrey.” In my foggy mind, I slipped back to the winter when we first fell in love. Half dreaming, I smiled softly and whispered, “Baby, it’s snowing so hard. I want cake.” Before he could say anything, I rolled over and fell back into a deep sleep. Chapter 4 I slept straight through until the middle of the night, then woke up in pain. This time I got lucky. I touched my nose—no fresh blood, just the dried crust from before. But everything still hurt like heell. The pain pills in the bedroom were gone. Brenda had been fired, so I couldn’t even get basic help anymore. I didn’t know if Silas did it on purpose to hurt me for Sasha, or if he just didn’t care. At this point, I was too tired to figure it out. He had never cared about how I felt anyway. Silas was living his best life. He hadn’t come home in four days. I dragged myself to the living room to look for more pills. That’s when I saw him. He was back. My phone kept buzzing with messages from my friend. You know Silas bought Sasha a luxury penthouse in downtown Dallas? She’s been showing it off everywhere, saying she didn’t want to see your face anymore, so he got her the new place as a gift. She even said once you’re gone, nothing will stand in the way of their love. Yeah, of course Sasha didn’t want to see me. She wished I would just disappear from Silas’s world completely. She won’t have to wait long, I typed back. I could feel my body getting weaker every single day. After I replied, I finally looked up. Silas was leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window, a ciigarette hanging from his liips, staring right at me. I kept my eyes down and tried to walk past him. He grabbed my arm. His brow furrowed. In a soft voice he asked, “Why did you get so thin?” His tone was so gentle it sounded like he still loved me. Like he had never brought other women home. Like all the cheating, the coldness, and the pain he put me through was just a bad dream I couldn’t wake up from. His fake concern made me sick to my stomach. I froze for a second, then yanked my arm away with every bit of strength I had left. “Silas, what the heell is wrong with you?” I hissed. “Stay the fvck away from me.” He looked at his empty hand. His face slowly turned cold again. When I reached the dining table, I saw it—a beautiful cake covered in lit candles. That phone call in the middle of the night hadn’t been a dream after all. The cake looked expensive and perfect. Even nicer than the one I had seen through the bakery window. Even though I couldn’t clearly remember what it looked like anymore, memories always seemed sweeter than reality. I had said I wanted cake, so Silas went out and bought one. What was this supposed to be? Some kind of peace offering? Too bad I was almost dead. I had less than three daays left. I didn’t need a cake anymore. And I sure as heell didn’t need his late, half-assed love. I snattched the cake and slammed it into the trash can. Silas’s face changed instantly. He clenched his jaw, reached out, and shoved me hard against the wall. Blood rushed up my throat. I swallowed it back down. The ciigarette was still burning between his teeth as he snarled, “Aubrey, are you fvcking playing with me?” I smiled and admitted it. “Yeah, Silas. I’m playing you. So what?” “I said I wanted cake, so you ran out and bought one? You’re still so pathetic.” I said the words on purpose, the ones I knew would cut him deep. I watched his face turn ice-cold. He crushed the ciigarette out violently, grabbed my arm, dragged me into the bedroom, and threw me onto the bed. Silas had completely lost it. Like a wild animal, he ripped my nightgown open. I got scared. I swung my weak fists at him. “Silas, you basttard! Don’t touch me! You disgust me!” He pinned my legs down so I couldn’t move and bit hard into my neck. The pain made tears spill down my face. He pressed his mouth against my ear and growled, “Aubrey, would it kiill you to just give in?” “Do you know how many years I waited for you to come to me first?” “Do you know how happy I was when you said you wanted cake?” “And you threw it away just to humiliate me.” He lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, burning with rage. I held back my tears and glared right back at him. In the dark room, neither of us spoke. Neither of us wanted to lose first. Just like our whole broken marriage. Silas wouldn’t let me struggle. He leaned down closer and closer, his liips almost touching mine. Then his phone suddenly rang. It was Sasha. Chapter 5 Silas paused for a second, then answered the phone anyway. I heard Sasha crying on the other end. “Mr. Peterson, are you really throwing me away for your wife? I know you like me. I know you do.” “I’m at the bar right now. I drank too much, and some guy keeps bothering me…” “I’m really scared. Please come pick me up and take me home, okay?” Her fake crying was terrible. Even I could hear how phony it was. Silas didn’t say a word to her. He just stared at me, a cold smile on his liips, and whispered, “Beg me, Aubrey.” “Beg me to stay. If you do, I won’t leave.” It was like he had forgotten everything we once had. He forgot that I broke up with him because I didn’t want to drag him down. He forgot that I never came back just because he got rich. A long time ago, I had swallowed my pride more than once. I begged him in a small voice, trying to save us: “Silas, can we just talk calmly for once?” “Can we stop fighting?” “Can we try to be together like normal people?” “Can you please be a little kinder to me?” But all I ever got was cold silence, distance, and his endless cheating. Silas, the man who ruled our circle and got whatever he wanted, didn’t seem to care about anything. Not about me. Not about our relationship. Not about everything we used to have. I still remembered that day so clearly. He looked at me with cold eyes and said with a light laugh, “Aubrey, you don’t deserve it.” Those three words had stayed stuck in my heart like a knife. Today, I finally got to throw them right back at him. His cold heart, his broken promises, his lies and betrayal—they were all burned into me. I wanted to grab his collar with every bit of strength I had left and say each word clearly: “Silas, you don’t deserve it.” Silas stayed quiet for a moment, then laughed at himself. “Okay, Aubrey. I got it.” It sounded like I was the one who always disappointed him, not the other way around. He put the phone back to his ear and spoke softly to Sasha, “Wait for me. I’m coming to take you home.” After that, he didn’t look at me again. He stood up, straightened the collar I had wrinkled, and slammed the door behind him without turning back. When the loud bang finally faded in the empty room, I slowly came back to my senses. The sweet smell of the cream cake made me feel even sicker. My head throbbed so badly from Silas’s rough handling that it felt like it was about to split open. I rolled off the bed, crawled to the bathroom, and leaned over the edge of the tub. I threw up a lot of blood. I didn’t even dare look up at my own face in the mirror—nothing but skin and bones. I wasn’t sure if I would even make it to the seventh day. The next morning, photos of Silas fighting another man at the bar for Sasha spread all over our circle. I glanced at them quickly. In the dim bar lights, Silas had pulled Sasha behind him to protect her. I didn’t want to see any more, but it was everywhere—local trending topics, social media, even the front page of the entertainment section in the newspapers. All of them had Silas’s face. This was the first time his affair with another woman had become such public news. A few reporters were already waiting outside our house. The moment I stepped out, they surrounded me, throwing questions from every direction. Silas’s company had grown fast in the last few years. He had a lot of power in the business world. He was young, rich, and good-looking. He was famous online and ended up on trending lists all the time. As his wife in name only, I always got dragged into the mess whether I wanted to or not. I walked a little way from the house, but a few people still followed me. Cameras blocked my path and microphones were shoved right in my face. Their endless questions made it hard to breathe. I had no energy to answer any of them. Until a tall girl stepped forward and asked, “Mrs. Peterson, do you have anything to say about Mr. Peterson and Sasha?” Chapter 6 I stepped around the cameras and kept walking without looking back. Over my shoulder I asked her, “One is a married man who cheats. The other is a woman who sleeps with a married man knowing he has a wife. What else do you want me to say?” The girl stayed right on my heels and kept firing questions. “But I heard that back when Mr. Peterson was broke, you dumped him for money.” “Then when he got rich, you used guilt to trap him and forced him to marry you…” “Now he’s finally found real love. He and Sasha are perfect together. You’re the one refusing to let go of the Mrs. Peterson title and calling her a dirty secret. Don’t you think you’re the bully here?” “Don’t you think you’re the one stealing Mr. Peterson and Sasha’s happiness?” I stopped walking and turned around with a cold smile. Now I could see her face clearly. She was a social media influencer who spent every day digging up gossip in our circle. She even did live streams on location whenever she could pull strings. I stared straight at her familiar face and asked calmly, “You’re Sasha’s friend, aren’t you?” “Back then Silas did everything he could to marry me. You really think I wanted to marry him?” “Everyone in our circle knows the truth. You don’t? Or did you come here on purpose to throw dirt on me so your little friend can take my place?” Her face turned red. She quickly tried to hide behind something, then started defending herself in a righteous tone. “Yes, we’re friends, but my live streams are professional. I would never spread rumors for a friend. Everything I say is fair and objective.” “And why are you dodging my question? If you really didn’t want to marry Mr. Peterson, why don’t you just divorce him now that he’s in love with someone else?” Why I didn’t divorce Silas… I figured he had more right to answer that question than I did. I gave her a small smile and was about to speak when my nose started bleeding again. Warm blood ran into my palm. My body suddenly felt unsteady. I looked pathetic. Someone on the sidewalk shouted on purpose, “Mrs. Peterson says she doesn’t care and that she was forced to marry him. So why does she start bleeding the second someone asks a few questions? Guilty conscience much?” I calmly wiped the blood off my liips with my fingertip. I looked at them and said, “I’m not guilty. I’m sick. I’m dying. That’s why I keep bleeding lately.” The noisy crowd suddenly went quiet. No one was laughing anymore. Only that girl raised her voice even louder. “Stop acting! Bleeding a little and suddenly you’re dying? Playing the victim in front of people who don’t know anything. Don’t you feel ashamed?” “I can’t stand women like you. Doing anything to keep a man, faking sickness every day, using every dirty trick in the book. You’re an embarrassment to all women.” She flipped her ponytail and walked away. Her back looked just as disgusting as Sasha’s. I had never felt that the road to the hospital was so long. Besides the entertainment reporters and that influencer following me, a bunch of nosy strangers had joined in too. I hated being stared at by all these unfamiliar eyes, so I picked up my pace. I hadn’t gone far when something cold and wet splashed onto my clothes. Ice water soaked through my thin coat and sent a freezing chill across my shoulder. I stopped. Before I could turn around, something else hit me hard in the back. A plastic drink bottle rolled on the ground. There was still half a bottle of water left inside. My hair was wet at the ends. Everyone was staring at me. Water kept dripping down. I didn’t answer any more questions. I just walked straight to the hospital. I knew I couldn’t let these sttupid things delay my treatment. I only wanted to know how many hours I had left. While I waited for the doctor, I quietly took out my phone. There were dozens of unread messages, all from unknown numbers. I didn’t want to see them, so I deleted every single text in my inbox. I opened TikTok. The top trending video was from the same woman who had just mocked me in the crowd. I hated being talked about. I hated being the main character in gossip. When I tried to block her, my weak hand shook so badly I could barely lift it. Then I saw the comment section—tens of thousands of hateful messages, all aimed at me. “Slvt.” “Gold-digging biitch.” “She’s a parasite. I’m ashamed of her.” “If I were her mom, I’d be embarrassed to have a daughter like her.” “She’s faking illness, saying she’s dying. Why doesn’t she just go die already?” But I really was dying. I held back the sour ache in my chesst and closed my eyes. Chapter 7 The video of reporters surrounding me quickly went viral. Silas replied publicly. He posted on social media: “We will never get a divorce. Stop bothering my wife.” His post immediately started trending. That same afternoon, Sasha’s influencer friend got her account banned. A lot of people online still wouldn’t let it go. The comments kept coming: “This woman is disgusting. If she didn’t want to marry him, she shouldn’t have. Acting like someone forced her at gunpoint.” “They say she’s some kind of innocent angel? Looks more like a fake to me.” “Mr. Peterson defending her like that… I’m actually jealous.” “She dumped him when he was broke, then married him once he became a billionaire. All for money again.” “Saying she didn’t want to marry him is just pretending to be classy. She’s a slvt trying to act pure.” I had nothing left except a failed marriage and a body that was barely holding on through the pain. Even the gift my mom gave me before she died — Silas had taken it. He said the little doll with the red cheeks looked just like me. He said seeing it felt like seeing me. He liked looking at it. That doll was still sitting on Silas’s desk at the office. I was scared that once I was gone, he would throw it away like trash. It was something my mom bought for me. I needed to get it back and place it in front of her gravestone so it could keep her company for me. When I arrived at his company, Silas was watching the video from that morning — the one where I was bleeding from my nose and saying I was dying. He saw me, tossed his phone aside, and didn’t say a word. He didn’t ask anything. I noticed the spot on his desk where the doll used to sit was empty. I frowned and asked, “Where’s our doll?” Sasha had followed me in. When she heard me asking for it, she smiled sweetly and said, “A couple days ago I cut my hand. Mr. Peterson felt so bad for me. He said he couldn’t stand seeing me hurt, so he gave me the doll.” “He also said it looks just like me — kind of clumsy, but he really likes it.” “Aubrey, don’t you think he’s lying? I’m so pretty. There’s no way I look like that vgly doll…” I clenched my fists tight and glared hard at Silas. “How dare you give my things away to someone else?” He smiled like a total assshole and said, “Was that doll really yours? Sorry, I forgot. I thought it was just some cheap junk…” Before he could finish, I grabbed the crystal ashtray from the desk and smashed it at him. Silas didn’t dodge. The ashtray hit his forehead and cut it open. Blood started running down. Sasha screamed, “Are you crazy? Hitting him over a stupiid doll!” She ran out, then came back quickly holding my doll. She threw it at me and yelled, “Here’s your thing! Take it back!” “It’s cheap trash. No one would even care if you threw it away. You think I wanted it?” “Stop acting insane. Take your junk and get out!” The fragile doll hit the floor and shattered into pieces. It broke into several parts, just like my life — probably impossible to fix. My head buzzed. I slapped Sasha hard across the face and screamed like I had lost my mind, “That was my mom’s! It means everything to me! I care! I care so much!” Before I could finish, tears started pouring down. I reached out to grab Sasha, but Silas caught my wrist and stopped me. My eyes burned. I stared at him, crying and then laughing at the same time. I cursed him, “You know I’m dying, and you still treat me like this. Silas, you’re a real piiece of shiit.” He reached up and wiped my tears away, then asked, “First the cake, now you’re dying? Aubrey, do you think it’s fun to mess with me?” “You don’t have to cry in front of me. I won’t feel sorry for you anymore…” Before he could finish his sentence, a drop of blood fell and landed on the back of his hand. My nose was bleeding again. This time it was worse than ever. My legs went weak. The pain was so bad I couldn’t stand. I collapsed straight down. Silas caught me in his arms and shouted, “Call an ambulance!” He was helpless. He could only watch as more and more blood flowed, soaking his white shirt red. As I faded out of consciousness, I heard Silas crying. He kept asking over and over, “Why? Why won’t the blood stop? Please stop bleeding…” “Aubrey, please… don’t scare me like this.”
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
Hard work matters. So does being kind. But neither one protects you from being overlooked, pressured, or used by people who understand human nature better than you do. People Skills fills that gap. It's one of those books you open to a random page and immediately have to stop and think. Worth reading before life teaches you the same lesson the expensive way. Only 300 book printed every week, get yours here: https://theosli.com/products/people-skills-wisdom-for-navigating-breakdowns-practical-and-nuanced-strategies-for-dealing-with-people-social-skills
Grace ma 19 lat i dziecko Króla Alfy Teodora. Jedna noc zmieniła wszystko. Nie poznają się, lecz przyciąganie jest silne. Gdy grozi niebezpieczeństwo, on zawsze się pojawia. Gdy Teodor pozna prawdę – czy ją zażąda, czy ochroni?
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
After I caught my husband Clark having an affair with his secretary in the office, I filed for divorce. Unexpectedly, the only condition he proposed was to sleep with him... ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. "Mr. Damon, this is Nyla," she said when he answered. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my father is critically ill. He needs an ICU bed urgently, but the hospital says they don't have any available. I know this is a lot to ask..." "Send me the hospital address," Damon's voice cut through her rambling. It was sharp and authoritative. "I'll handle it. Ten minutes." The line went dead, but his words carried more reassurance than Clark's empty promises ever had. Exactly ten minutes later, the hospital director personally arrived at her father's ward. Behind him came a full medical team, including specialists Nyla recognized from medical journals. They moved with efficient precision. "Mr. Jayston will be transferred to our premium ICU immediately," the director told Nyla respectfully. "We're bringing in the city's leading kid-ney specialists for consultation. He'll receive the absolute best care available." Within an hour, her father was settled in a private ICU room with round-the-clock monitoring. That evening, after her father's condition had finally stabilized, Nyla returned to the house she had shared with Clark. She sat in their living room, surrounded by three years of memories that now felt like lies. She opened her phone and began forwarding every single message and photo Jordyn had sent her to Clark's email address. The videos of Jordyn showing off expensive jewelry. Photos of their intimate moments in the apartment Clark had bought her. Recordings of Jordyn rubbing her belly and cooing, "Daddy loves us so much. He's going to give us everything." After sending all these, Nyla typed a final message: "Clark, these are from your girlfriend Jordyn. Since you two love each other so much, I'll step aside and let you be together." Then she photographed the divorce papers Valarie had prepared and attached them to another email: "The divorce agreement is ready. Have your lawyer contact Valarie tomorrow to finalize everything." After hitting send, Nyla stood up and began dismantling their life together. She pulled their wedding photos off the walls and threw them directly into the trash. The jewelry Clark had given her, the clothes he had bought, the makeup he had surprised her with - everything went into garbage bags. She called a moving company and worked through the night to clear out her belongings. By dawn, the house looked exactly as it had before she had moved in - empty and cold. Nyla took one final look around the space that had once felt like home. She dragged her suitcase to the door and walked out without looking back.
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
My boss is handsome, wealthy, and has a huge d!ck. But no woman dares go near him. Because every girl who confessed had been shipped off to a mining operation in Africa. True story. So when he walked up to my narrow desk today and said, "Marry me, Ms. Morgan," I almost choked on air. "Is this a joke?" I thought I was dreaming. Alexander didn't blink. "I need to marry within three months to retain control of Carter Enterprises. You're smart. You're broke. You're perfect for being my wife." He slid a contract across the table. "One year. And I’ll give you five million dollars. Then we're done." I hesitated. But my dad's surgery bill wasn't going to pay itself, so I signed. Didn't read the fine print. Didn't see the clause buried on the last page: "Sexual relations as required to maintain the appearance of a normal marriage." Until the wedding night, Alexander broke into the guest room. He stood there in nothing but a bathrobe, his eyes dark, his d!ck already hard and pressing against my thigh before I could even move. "B-Boss?! What... what are you doing?!" He smiled. A low, throaty laugh escaped him. "My little wife..." His lips brushed my ear. "Time to fulfill your duties." ************* Chapter 1 Olivia's POV I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black c*cktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get your ass over here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigarette." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigarette, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the hell was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "f*ck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the f*ck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia's POV Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're f*cking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy f*cking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just sex. Great sex, but still just sex." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully f*cking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing bitch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two f*cking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d*ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two f*cking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "f*ck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tits. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia's POV My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and f*ck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty bitch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These bitches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "Bastard nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d*ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia's POV The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy f*ck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better f*cking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black c*cktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "f*ck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander f*cking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slutty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander's POV I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now."
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
*Ongoing*Dakota lives like a princess in the luxurious Slaybourne royal residence, protected and adored by her devoted husband Adrian. But blinded by vanity and temptation, she humiliates him while growing dangerously close to the arrogant Jonathan. After drunkenly signing divorce papers without realizing it, Dakota’s world slowly begins to collapse as Adrian finally walks away and rises to a destiny far greater than she ever imagined
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
"Be a good girl, Vivi. Open your legs for me..." He let out a low growl—power wrapped in tenderness. Before I could say a word, Julian had me pinned against the wall. He had come into the house smelling of strong alcohol, his eyes burning with a heat I had never seen before. I had been in love with Julian Vance from the first moment I saw him. It was hard not to be. He wasn't just any man—he was the powerful Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack and the CEO of Vance Enterprises. Six-foot-two, with broad shoulders and eyes as cold as a moonless night, he was every girl's dream. Because my father was the pack's most respected architect—and because I was only a wolfless human—Julian had always kept a polite distance between us. To him, I was just his mentor's daughter. Until tonight. His mouth came down hard on mine. He spread my legs and pushed inside me, filling me again and again, until my body belonged to him completely. From the living room to the bedroom, I didn't refuse a single one of his demands. I thought my years of silent, one-sided love had finally been answered. My body ached for days, but my heart soared. When he sobered up the next morning, he swore he would take responsibility. "Once the Pack Elders and my mother accept you," he would whisper against my skin, "I'll mark you. I'll make you my Luna." I believed him. God help me, I believed him. We were together for eight years. I grew from an innocent girl into a woman who blushed at the lightest brush of his fingers. In the boardroom and under the full moon, Alpha Julian Vance was feared by every man and wolf alive. But with me, he was gentleness itself. To pave the way for our future, I did everything to win over his mother, the former Luna. I took part-time jobs at her favorite stores, set up "accidental" meetings, and over the course of months, turned myself into her close friend. And today, sitting across from Mrs. Vance in a sunlit café, I thought my eight years of waiting were finally over. "My stubborn son has finally found his Luna!" Mrs. Vance’s joyous voice snapped me out of my thoughts. Joy crashed over me like a wave. I opened my mouth, a smile breaking across my face—but before I could get the words out, she slid a glossy photograph across the table. "Julian insisted on her," Mrs. Vance sighed, glowing. "He told the Elders it was her or no one. Tell me, Vivian—what do you think of her?" I looked down. The smile died on my face. The blood drained from my head, leaving a loud, hollow ringing in my ears. It wasn't me in the photo. In the picture, Julian was looking down at the woman in his arms with an expression I had never once seen on his face—pure, open love. She leaned into him, smiling like a woman who knew she was loved. Two powerful wolves. A perfect match. My fingers began to shake. No. This can't be real. Just this morning, Julian had held me close, kissed my neck, whispered sweet words into my skin. Mrs. Vance kept talking, not noticing a thing. "At first I was angry. Not a single woman for years, and then suddenly he drags one home and announces a Luna Ceremony? I nearly had a heart attack." "But then I found out—Vivienne and Julian were high school sweethearts. She's from one of the oldest, strongest wolf bloodlines. She left for Europe right after graduation to train, and all these years, Julian refused to date anyone because he was waiting for her." "The silly boy flew overseas every single month just to see her. He finally talked her into coming home, and the first thing he did was bring her to the Pack House. He's scared she'll slip away again." Photo after photo. Proof after proof. I stepped back, my face white as bone. Vivi… Vivienne… Who had Julian really been whispering to all those nights, his face buried in my neck? In eight years, Julian had never once posted me online. Never introduced me to his pack. Never to his friends. If I wanted to stop by his office, I had to book an appointment. I had cried, begged, shouted. And every time, Julian would cup my face in his hands, his voice soft. "I just don't like social media, sweetheart." "You know how wolves can be. Rough. Cruel to the wolfless. I won't have them disrespecting you." "And the company? We have to keep things professional, baby." Every single time, he calmed me down, and every single time, I let it go. For the last two years, I'd dropped hints about being marked. Julian's answer never changed. "My mother is a traditional Luna. She's picky. I won't let her hurt you. Just wait a little longer, okay?" So I waited. And waited. And waited. And now—he was making another woman his Luna. I had never felt more like a fool in my entire life. I didn't hear another word Mrs. Vance said. I made a quick excuse and ran. In the taxi, I pulled up Vivienne Cole's social media with shaking hands. Her top post was the announcement of the Luna Ceremony. Julian on one knee. A ring shining on her finger. Turns out he really was willing to wait eight years for me. I scrolled. And scrolled. Every post was a knife. Three months ago—my birthday—he was with Vivienne on a snowy mountain. Six months ago, while I lay burning with fever in a hospital bed, he was with her watching the sun set over the sea in Santorini. A year ago, as I lit the candles for our anniversary dinner, he was standing under the Northern Lights, pouring his heart out to her. And earlier still—when they were attacked by rogues in New York, Julian had thrown his body over hers to shield her from a silver bullet. I remembered the night they flew him home. His shirt soaked black with blood. I'd cried by his bedside for three days straight, begging him to be more careful. All this time, I thought he was just growing the pack. I thought his monthly trips abroad were official pack business. I thought he missed our anniversaries because the weight of the Blood Moon Pack rested on his shoulders. God, I had been pathetic. Tears blurred the streetlights into streaks of gold as I stepped out of the cab. I stared at the house that had once felt like home. I pushed the door open. Julian was in the kitchen. The air smelled of garlic and ginger. On the table sat a plate of roast beef—my favorite. "Sweetheart, you're home? Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready." I didn't move. He came out carrying another dish, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "What's wrong? Your eyes are red. Did someone upset you?" I lifted my phone. The proposal photo stared back at him. "Should I say congratulations, Alpha?" My voice broke on the last word. ###Chapter 2 The room fell into a heavy silence. Julian's eyes landed on the screen. Whatever warmth had been there a moment ago vanished in an instant. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face strangely calm. "So. You found out." I stared at him, not believing my own ears. "No explanation?" The words scraped out of my throat. "Nothing at all?" He pulled out a chair and sat, as calm as if we were talking about the weather. He poured soup into a bowl and pushed it toward me. "Yes. I'm taking her as my Luna." Flat. Simple. As though he were telling me he'd run out of coffee. Something inside me snapped. My hand flew out and smacked the bowl from his grip. It crashed across the floor. "Then what am I?" My voice shattered. "What were the last eight years of my life for?" His eyes flicked to the tears in mine, and he sighed—like I was the one being unreasonable. He stood and pulled me into his arms. "Vivi… I wasn't going to tell you yet. I knew it would hurt you." "But things are what they are. She's from a powerful bloodline. The pack needs her. You'll just have to accept it." "Don't worry. Nothing between us has to change. I'll buy you a villa outside pack territory. I'll hire the best staff. As long as you don't cause trouble for Vivienne, you can have anything you want." He spoke in that same gentle voice he'd used for eight years. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. "You want me to be your mistress? A wolfless girl you keep hidden in the shadows?" For wolves, a mate was sacred. What he was asking was the deepest insult of all. Julian frowned, stroking my hair as if I were a child having a fit. "With an Alpha's protection, no one would dare say a bad word about you." A chill crawled down my spine. My hand drifted to my flat stomach. My voice came out hollow, as if from far away. "Do you know why I've wanted to get married so badly?" Julian blinked, confused. His lips parted to ask— His phone rang. He answered. In one second, his spine went stiff. "Where are you? I'm on my way. Now." He moved so fast he knocked straight into me. I went down hard, and a piece of broken china cut deep into my calf. He didn't look back. The door slammed behind him. Blood soaked through my jeans. But the pain in my leg was nothing compared to what was tearing through my chest. In my pocket was the pregnancy test. Two pink lines. Four weeks along. I was carrying the Alpha's baby. I had planned to surprise him tonight. Now I understood just how pathetic that dream had been. *** I sat by the window until the sky turned gray. Vivienne Cole posted an update at 2 a.m.: *"Got into a minor car accident. Nothing serious, but Julian rushed over and held me all night. He's my whole world."* At dawn, I typed three words and hit send: [Let's break up.] Then I started packing. Five years in this house. Five years of memories. I took only what I needed. I was almost out the door when my phone rang. Mrs. Vance. Her voice bright as a bell. "Beautiful day! Come shopping with me. That new mall I told you about finally opened." My throat closed up. Over these past months, I had truly grown to care for her. If I was leaving, I owed her a proper goodbye. I agreed to meet. When I arrived at the mall, I saw two figures standing behind her. Julian. And Vivienne Cole. I turned to leave, but Mrs. Vance had already spotted me. "Vivian! Over here!" She waved, beaming. "This is the Vivian I've told you so much about. And Vivian, this is my son and his future Luna. Isn't it perfect that you can all meet?" Julian's eyes snapped to mine. A sharp warning flashed in their depths. I forced my lips into a smile, pushing down the pain crushing my ribs. "They're picking out a wedding dress today," Mrs. Vance said, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the bridal shop. "You have such an eye for design, sweetheart. Come help." Every step was like walking on glass. Inside, Vivienne came out in a flow of white silk. Julian stepped out in a black tuxedo that shaped his shoulders. Standing side by side, they were the perfect Alpha and Luna. Vivienne turned to me with a sweet, dimpled smile. "What do you think?" I swallowed the sharp pain in my throat. Nodded. "Beautiful," I whispered. "You two look perfect." Julian's brow creased. He searched my face for something—a tear, a flinch, anything—but I gave him nothing. Then his jaw tightened. He remembered the text. Something dark flickered in his eyes. He pulled Vivienne against his chest and, with slow, deliberate ownership, nuzzled his cheek along the line of her throat as he zipped her gown. A classic wolf move—marking her with his scent. She is mine. The shop attendants gasped and looked away, cheeks red. My face went bone-white. I couldn't watch another second. I pressed a hand to my mouth and ran for the restroom. I was hunched over the sink, throwing up, when an iron grip closed around my wrist. Pine. Cedar. Him. Julian pushed me back against the cold tile wall and forced my chin up. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" ###Chapter 3 I tried to twist free. He pinned me harder, his body trapping mine, forcing my eyes up to meet his. "Tell me." His voice was low, dangerous. "Why have you been getting close to my mother behind my back?" Tears blurred my vision. What was I supposed to say? That I'd wanted to be his Luna so badly I'd shamelessly chased his mother's friendship for months? That I'd embarrassed myself trying to earn a place in his pack? Too pathetic. I bit my lip and said nothing. He let out a sharp breath and let me go. "Always the same," he muttered, almost to himself. "You always go silent when you're hurt." His hand came up to my hair. His voice slipped back into that warm, familiar tone. "Stop overthinking. Even after Vivienne becomes Luna, nothing changes between us." "But Vivienne doesn't know about you. Keep your head down around her. Don't let her find out." It was the same voice I had loved for eight years. Now it made my skin crawl. "Julian?" Vivienne's sweet voice drifted down the hall. He dropped his hand at once and stepped back, putting a cold distance between us. Then he walked out as if nothing had happened. My stomach turned over again. I gripped the sink. Vivienne walked in. The moment she saw me hunched over, throwing up, her sweet smile vanished. What replaced it was raw, pure disgust. "Ms. Hayes." Her voice dripped poison. "Is being a secret mistress really that thrilling?" My head jerked up. Her smile returned, but this time it was sharp and cruel. "Did you honestly think I didn't know about you and Julian?" Ice flooded my veins. All this time, I'd wanted to believe Vivienne was innocent—that she didn't even know I existed. She knew. She'd always known. A bitter laugh escaped me. "If you know, then you know exactly who the real homewrecker is." Vivienne didn't even flinch. "The real mistress is the one he doesn't love." she said softly. "An Alpha needs a Luna with power. Julian only kept you around as a warm bed while I was gone. I'm the one he loves. He settled for a wolfless nobody because I was in Europe. You were a placeholder. A toy." "Now that I'm back, you're just a dirty little secret he needs to throw out with the trash." Her pride was so complete it was almost impressive. I had no energy left to argue. I turned to leave. She grabbed my arm. "If you don't believe me, let's put it to the test. Let's see who the Alpha comes for first." Before I could pull away, she pulled a lighter out of her purse and flicked it open. She touched the flame to the curtains, to a stack of hand towels on the counter. The fire leapt. Smoke filled the small space fast and thick. I stared at her, horrified. "You're insane!" Her eyes dropped to my stomach. Pure poison. "Unless I'm mistaken… you're pregnant, aren't you?" "I am not letting some wolfless little bitch give birth to the Alpha's heir—" With a sudden, violent shove, she threw me toward the growing fire. Heat burned my skin. I screamed. A heartbeat later, Julian burst through the smoke, tall and wild-eyed. His hand closed around my arm and pulled me forward. I clutched my stabbing stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him—our baby, Julian, our baby— "Julian! Save me!" Vivienne's cry rang out behind us. Julian dropped my hand like it had burned him. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look back. "Her wolf is still weak from her time abroad," he threw over his shoulder. "You've always been healthy. I have to save her first!" He scooped her up and disappeared into the smoke. The air burned in my lungs. My vision spun. A hot, sharp pain tore through my lower belly. Then I felt it—warm, sticky blood sliding down my thighs. I tried to scream. Nothing came out. I don't know how much later I opened my eyes in a hospital bed. The doctor looked at me with pity that hurt worse than any wound. "I'm so sorry. The baby... we couldn't save it." I stared at the ceiling. Tears slid silently into my hair. My chest felt like it was being cut open from the inside. Julian sat beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" "And why would you do something as reckless as starting a fire?" I turned my head sluggishly. "You think I started the fire?" His eyes were full of disappointment. Disappointment in me. "The pack guards already investigated. It was arson. Only you and Vivienne were in that bathroom." "Vivienne told me everything. You threatened her. You demanded she step down as Luna. When she refused, you lit the match." "Vivian. How did you become someone so cruel?" Every word hit my chest like a hammer. "You actually believe her?" I whispered. His voice turned to steel. "Vivienne is kind. She has burns up her whole arm and she didn't say a word about her own injuries—she was pleading with me not to punish you. Begging me." "I'm disappointed in you. Truly." He stood. He walked out of the room without looking back. I lay there in the silence, watching the door swing shut. I should have known. When it came down to life and death, the only person Alpha Julian Vance would ever save was the woman he'd chosen as Luna. He would never believe me. I pressed my palm against my empty, aching womb. And finally I broke. My sobs tore out of me and filled the empty room. I had loved the wrong man. ###Chapter 4 Julian never came back. The nurses watched me lie there day after day with no visitors, and pity crept into their eyes. I heard them whispering in the hall. "That wolfless girl and the future Luna came in on the same day. Alpha Julian is in Vivienne's room every hour—bringing her meals, feeding her by hand, treating her like she's made of glass." "Meanwhile, Vivian hasn't had one visitor. Not one. It's sad. A wolfless human could never match a true-blood wolf." Every word about how Julian doted on Vivienne chipped away another piece of me. Eventually, there was nothing left to chip. The day I was discharged, I walked out of the house we'd shared and never looked back. I left pack territory and rented a cheap little apartment in the city. Then I forced myself back to work. Seven years. I had spent seven years studying pack architecture and defense engineering. To finally make a name for myself—to make my father proud—I had entered the National Architectural Design Competition. The finals had come and gone. I was just waiting for the results to prove my worth. I opened the competition's official site. And froze. Below my design—The Eaves—was the name of the person who had submitted it. Vivienne Cole. She had used my design. To take first place. My head spun. I grabbed my phone and dialed the Competition Committee. The voice on the other end was ice. "We've checked the submission. The Eaves was submitted by Ms. Cole. As for your entry, the committee has ruled it a copy. You've been disqualified and banned from the industry for life." The design forums were on fire. A former colleague called me, panicked. "Vivian, what the hell is going on? Please tell me you didn't actually steal from the future Luna." "The business elite is talking. If you're innocent, you need to clear your name now, or you'll never work in this industry again." My hands were shaking too hard to hold the phone steady. Six months. I had poured six months of my life into The Eaves. It was a groundbreaking design for pack-house security. Every sketch, every blueprint, every measurement—Julian knew all of it. He was the only person with access to my private computer. Ice flooded my chest. I drove straight to his office and walked past his secretary. "Why did you give my work to her?" My voice shook with anger. Julian leaned back in his leather chair, unmoved. "Vivienne just came home from Europe. She needs a major achievement to prove herself to the Pack Elders." He said it like a man reading a grocery list. I couldn't breathe. "So you just... handed her my work? Julian, I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that! That competition was my life! What you did is stealing!" The word stealing struck a nerve. "The competition is over. The winner has been announced. Making a scene now changes nothing." His voice dropped colder still. "Besides—you nearly killed Vivienne in that fire. I only used some sketches. Call it your apology to her." A laugh broke out of me—ugly, jagged. "Apology? I didn't start that fire! Why would I apologize for something I never did?" "I'm not letting this go, Julian. I'll expose her. Every bit of it." I turned on my heel. Even if Julian had the digital files, he didn't have the years of preparation. He didn't have the hand-drawn originals with my pencil marks and coffee stains. He didn't have what lived in my head. I still had every original sketch at home. I would take them straight to the committee and demand a full investigation. I got into my car and pulled onto the road, my mind racing through everything I would say. I never saw the SUV coming. It shot out of a side street at full speed, and before I could even hit the brakes, it slammed into me. Metal screamed as my car flipped through the air. My body snapped hard against the seatbelt, and my head cracked against the window. The world broke apart into spinning shards of light, and something warm and thick began pouring into my eyes, turning everything red. In the last second before the darkness took me, I looked through the shattered windshield and saw Vivienne Cole sitting behind the wheel of the SUV. ###Chapter 5 Chaos. Sirens. Glass. Vivienne's fingers shook as she dialed Julian's number. "Julian— something happened. Come. Please come." He arrived in ten minutes flat. When he saw me crumpled inside the crushed car, covered in blood, the color drained from his face. His heart skipped a beat. "Vivi!" "How did this happen? Somebody call an ambulance—now!" Vivienne's voice cracked into sobs. "Julian, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just lost control of the wheel. Please don't blame me, please, please—" He pulled her into his arms and held her tight against his chest. "Shh. I'm here. I'll handle everything." He pressed her close but his eyes kept drifting back to my bleeding body. Guilt flickered there. Just for a moment. Then it was gone. *** I didn't wake up for a week. Broken bones. A clot in my brain. It took three surgeries just to keep me breathing. When my eyes finally cracked open, Julian was slumped at my bedside. Shadows under his eyes. Rough stubble along his jaw. When he saw me awake, relief washed across his face so completely that, for one crazy second, I almost believed he still loved me. "Vivi. You're awake. How do you feel?" He gripped my hand like I'd disappear if he let go. The pack doctor checked the monitors. "She's recovering well. With rest, she'll pull through." Julian breathed out like a man coming up from deep water. His thumb stroked my knuckles. I pulled my hand out of his. "It was Vivienne, wasn't it?" Dead silence. My lips trembled. Tears spilled over without my permission. "Where are my original sketches? Where's the evidence I was taking to the committee?" Something that looked like pity crossed his face. "Vivi, you just woke up. You're too weak for this. Don't worry about those things right now." I gathered every bit of strength I had and pushed him away from me. "Julian Vance— she almost killed me." "I almost died." I stared up at the Alpha I had loved for eight long years, and the pain and anger inside me were so huge they felt like drowning. "To protect her Luna title, you stole my life's work. And then you let her run me over." "Julian... how did I ever fall in love with you?" I sobbed until my chest locked up. The heart monitor beside me began to scream. "I'm not letting this go." "I will make her pay for what she did." He let out a long, deep sigh, and his eyes filled with something I could only call guilt but his voice, when it came, was steady as stone. "Vivi. It's no use. I won't let you hurt Vivienne." I searched his face. "What do you mean?" I whispered. "The original sketches you kept at home," he said quietly. "I burned them. All of them." "The ownership of The Eaves is no longer in question. Vivienne is the winner." "As for the driver who hit you—pack guards caught him. It was a drunk rogue. The accident has nothing to do with Vivienne." The room tilted. Every word was a silver blade sliding between my ribs. He had destroyed my only proof. He had made up a scapegoat for the crash. All of it to keep Vivienne's hands clean. Tears streamed down my face, but what came out of my mouth was broken laughter. "Julian Vance… I can't believe you went this far for her." I was a fool to think I ever mattered to him. The heart monitor kept screaming. My chest caved in on itself. Only then, at the sound of the alarms, did Julian look worried. He leaned in, his voice suddenly soft again. The voice he'd used on me for eight years. "Vivi, please. I know it feels unfair. Vivienne didn't mean to. She was just scared." "I'll make it up to you. We can go back to the way things were. I promise, I'll take care of you." I stopped laughing and closed my eyes. Something inside me quietly, finally, died. He took my silence as agreement. Then he stood up and turned to leave. That was when I spoke, my hands pressing against my flat stomach. "What if she kills our baby, Julian?" I saw his body freeze in the doorway. "Oh wait." A broken laugh tore out of me. "She already did." Slowly, in disbelief, Julian turned his head to look at me.
My boss is handsome, wealthy, and has a huge d!ck. But no woman dares go near him. Because every girl who confessed had been shipped off to a mining operation in Africa. True story. So when he walked up to my narrow desk today and said, "Marry me, Ms. Morgan," I almost choked on air. "Is this a joke?" I thought I was dreaming. Alexander didn't blink. "I need to marry within three months to retain control of Carter Enterprises. You're smart. You're broke. You're perfect for being my wife." He slid a contract across the table. "One year. And I’ll give you five million dollars. Then we're done." I hesitated. But my dad's surgery bill wasn't going to pay itself, so I signed. Didn't read the fine print. Didn't see the clause buried on the last page: "Sexual relations as required to maintain the appearance of a normal marriage." Until the wedding night, Alexander broke into the guest room. He stood there in nothing but a bathrobe, his eyes dark, his d!ck already hard and pressing against my thigh before I could even move. "B-Boss?! What... what are you doing?!" He smiled. A low, throaty laugh escaped him. "My little wife..." His lips brushed my ear. "Time to fulfill your duties." ************* Chapter 1 Olivia's POV I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black c*cktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get your ass over here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigarette." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigarette, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the hell was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "f*ck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the f*ck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia's POV Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're f*cking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy f*cking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just sex. Great sex, but still just sex." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully f*cking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing bitch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two f*cking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d*ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two f*cking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "f*ck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tits. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia's POV My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and f*ck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty bitch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These bitches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "Bastard nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d*ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia's POV The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy f*ck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better f*cking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black c*cktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "f*ck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander f*cking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slutty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander's POV I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now."
🏥 “Your appointment at the Men’s Clinic is confirmed, sir. He’s the cold, powerful CEO who thinks he can control everyone — especially his wife. She’s had enough of his lies, his affairs, and his ego. 💢 So she did something unthinkable. She booked him a very public, very embarrassing appointment at the Men’s Clinic. 🍆💀 Now the whole board is whispering. The media is laughing. And the mighty CEO? He just got a diagnosis he never saw coming. The Diagnosis of Heartbreak She didn’t break his heart. She broke his pride. 😈🔥
The ninth time my husband ditched our prenatal appointment, I caught him slipping my diamond ring on his mistress's finger, holding her in his office while they moaned like animals. "Nyla, it's only 5 million. If it makes you happy, I'd spend anything on you." I couldn't listen to it anymore. Trembling, I slapped the pre-signed divorce papers on him and announced to the room: "Listen, Clark. The baby isn't yours." "And if I'm lying, may your pen!s shrink by 4 inches and may you never be able to have kids!" He sneered, thinking I was just a bitter woman talking out of spite. Wrong. I tossed the marriage certificate signed with his uncle and a trust fund proof for 1,000 million. "See this? Your uncle's. And he is ten thousand times more generous than you." ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. ...
The ninth time my husband ditched our prenatal appointment, I caught him slipping my diamond ring on his mistress's finger, holding her in his office while they moaned like animals. "Nyla, it's only 5 million. If it makes you happy, I'd spend anything on you." I couldn't listen to it anymore. Trembling, I slapped the pre-signed divorce papers on him and announced to the room: "Listen, Clark. The baby isn't yours." "And if I'm lying, may your pen!s shrink by 4 inches and may you never be able to have kids!" He sneered, thinking I was just a bitter woman talking out of spite. Wrong. I tossed the marriage certificate signed with his uncle and a trust fund proof for 1,000 million. "See this? Your uncle's. And he is ten thousand times more generous than you." ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. ...
The ninth time my husband ditched our prenatal appointment, I caught him slipping my diamond ring on his mistress's finger, holding her in his office while they moaned like animals. "Nyla, it's only 5 million. If it makes you happy, I'd spend anything on you." I couldn't listen to it anymore. Trembling, I slapped the pre-signed divorce papers on him and announced to the room: "Listen, Clark. The baby isn't yours." "And if I'm lying, may your pen!s shrink by 4 inches and may you never be able to have kids!" He sneered, thinking I was just a bitter woman talking out of spite. Wrong. I tossed the marriage certificate signed with his uncle and a trust fund proof for 1,000 million. "See this? Your uncle's. And he is ten thousand times more generous than you." ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. ...
The ninth time my husband ditched our prenatal appointment, I caught him slipping my diamond ring on his mistress's finger, holding her in his office while they moaned like animals. "Nyla, it's only 5 million. If it makes you happy, I'd spend anything on you." I couldn't listen to it anymore. Trembling, I slapped the pre-signed divorce papers on him and announced to the room: "Listen, Clark. The baby isn't yours." "And if I'm lying, may your pen!s shrink by 4 inches and may you never be able to have kids!" He sneered, thinking I was just a bitter woman talking out of spite. Wrong. I tossed the marriage certificate signed with his uncle and a trust fund proof for 1,000 million. "See this? Your uncle's. And he is ten thousand times more generous than you." ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. ...
The ninth time my husband ditched our prenatal appointment, I caught him slipping my diamond ring on his mistress's finger, holding her in his office while they moaned like animals. "Nyla, it's only 5 million. If it makes you happy, I'd spend anything on you." I couldn't listen to it anymore. Trembling, I slapped the pre-signed divorce papers on him and announced to the room: "Listen, Clark. The baby isn't yours." "And if I'm lying, may your pen!s shrink by 4 inches and may you never be able to have kids!" He sneered, thinking I was just a bitter woman talking out of spite. Wrong. I tossed the marriage certificate signed with his uncle and a trust fund proof for 1,000 million. "See this? Your uncle's. And he is ten thousand times more generous than you." ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. ...
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.
After I caught my husband Clark having an affair with his secretary in the office, I filed for divorce. Unexpectedly, the only condition he proposed was to sleep with him... ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. "Mr. Damon, this is Nyla," she said when he answered. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my father is critically ill. He needs an ICU bed urgently, but the hospital says they don't have any available. I know this is a lot to ask..." "Send me the hospital address," Damon's voice cut through her rambling. It was sharp and authoritative. "I'll handle it. Ten minutes." The line went dead, but his words carried more reassurance than Clark's empty promises ever had. Exactly ten minutes later, the hospital director personally arrived at her father's ward. Behind him came a full medical team, including specialists Nyla recognized from medical journals. They moved with efficient precision. "Mr. Jayston will be transferred to our premium ICU immediately," the director told Nyla respectfully. "We're bringing in the city's leading kid-ney specialists for consultation. He'll receive the absolute best care available." Within an hour, her father was settled in a private ICU room with round-the-clock monitoring. That evening, after her father's condition had finally stabilized, Nyla returned to the house she had shared with Clark. She sat in their living room, surrounded by three years of memories that now felt like lies. She opened her phone and began forwarding every single message and photo Jordyn had sent her to Clark's email address. The videos of Jordyn showing off expensive jewelry. Photos of their intimate moments in the apartment Clark had bought her. Recordings of Jordyn rubbing her belly and cooing, "Daddy loves us so much. He's going to give us everything." After sending all these, Nyla typed a final message: "Clark, these are from your girlfriend Jordyn. Since you two love each other so much, I'll step aside and let you be together." Then she photographed the divorce papers Valarie had prepared and attached them to another email: "The divorce agreement is ready. Have your lawyer contact Valarie tomorrow to finalize everything." After hitting send, Nyla stood up and began dismantling their life together. She pulled their wedding photos off the walls and threw them directly into the trash. The jewelry Clark had given her, the clothes he had bought, the makeup he had surprised her with - everything went into garbage bags. She called a moving company and worked through the night to clear out her belongings. By dawn, the house looked exactly as it had before she had moved in - empty and cold. Nyla took one final look around the space that had once felt like home. She dragged her suitcase to the door and walked out without looking back.
After I caught my husband Clark having an affair with his secretary in the office, I filed for divorce. Unexpectedly, the only condition he proposed was to sleep with him... ** "Nyla, are you sure you want me to draft a divorce agreement?" Valarie's voice crackled through the phone, hesitant and worried. "Think about it. Once you sign this, you and Clark will have nothing to do with each other anymore." Nyla stared at the amber liquid in her glass. The whiskey burned her throat, but nothing could burn away the images from last night. Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Yes," she said finally. "I'm leaving him." "Why?" Valarie's confusion bled through the speaker. "Clark's been so good to you. He loves you so much..." Nyla almost laughed. Love. What a joke. She pressed her lips together, fighting back the bitter taste rising in her throat. After hanging up, Nyla looked out the window. The massive LED screen on the skyscraper across the street was still playing that press conference. Clark stood there in his perfect suit, holding up that ridiculous jewelry piece. Using the world's finest diamonds and gemstones, he had created a one-of-a-kind piece for his wife. It was named "Love Nyla." He named it after Nyla, declaring to the world his eternal love for her. Upon its release, "Love Nyla" instantly ignited social media discussion, remaining a hot topic. The world was buzzing about their enviable love. Outside, the LED screens continued to replay the video, but Nyla chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Love me?" she muttered to herself. "Love me enough to sleep with another woman on our anniversary night?" Last night was their third wedding anniversary. Clark had said he wanted to surprise her and asked her to wait for him at home. Nyla wore Clark's favorite white dress, lit candles, and prepared his favorite dinner, waiting eagerly until late at night. She had waited. And waited. Midnight came and went. At one in the morning, her phone suddenly buzzed with a Facebook friend request. A strange profile picture with the note "A surprise for you." Nyla was about to reject the message outright, but then the person sent another message: [Are you still awake? Is it because your husband isn't with you?] Nyla's alarm bells went off. How did this person know Clark wasn't home? She didn't accept the friend request, but the messages kept coming: [Stop pretending, I know you're reading this.] [Your husband is with me now.] [I was scared of thunder, so he worried about me and came to keep me company.] [What a good man, but it's a shame he's not good for you alone.] Each message stabbed Nyla like a knife in the heart. Her hands trembled. Her mind told her it might be a prank, but deep down, a voice frantically questioned it. The last message completely broke her defenses: [If you don't believe me, I'll send you the address. The door lock code is your wedding anniversary.] Nyla couldn't sit still any longer. With trembling fingers, she accepted the friend request. The other party immediately sent an address and a password: 0823. It was indeed their anniversary. Nyla rushed out of the house like a madman and drove to the address. It was an upscale apartment. She stood in front of the door, her finger hovering over the combination lock, her heart pounding. She entered 0823, and the lock clicked and the door opened. A men's suit jacket lay scattered in the hallway. She recognized it as the three-year anniversary gift she had given Clark, which Clark had worn when he left that morning. A pair of black lace paanties lay on the sofa in the living room, and a wine glass with a woman's lipstick stain on it lay on the coffee table. From the hallway to the bedroom, men's and women's clothing was scattered everywhere. The most striking thing was a red lace nightgown, torn to shreds, lying by the bedroom door. Nyla's legs were so weak she could barely stand, but she still trembled as she pushed open the half-open bedroom door. On the bed, Clark, na-ked, embraced another woman. The woman knelt on the bed, her head buried between Clark's legs, licking Clark's pen.is. Clark's eyes were closed, his face a look of enjoyment, m0-aning, "Yes, that's it, great..." The woman asked proudly, "Am I better, or is Nyla better?" Clark replied, "You think you can compare with Nyla?" Then he spun the woman around, grabbed her h1ps from behind, and thrust wildly. The woman's m0-ans mingled with Clark's heavy gasps. The scene completely devastated Nyla. Eight years had passed, from their innocent college romance to their current marriage. Everyone had envied their love, saying they were a match made in hea-ven. But now, it all seemed so absurd. She covered her mouth, resisting the urge to vomit, and fled the nauseating place. She drove to a bar downtown and sat alone in a corner, drinking furiously. The sharp taste of the whiskey stung her throat, but it couldn't numb the pain in her heart. When Valarie received her call and rushed to the bar, Nyla was already completely drunk. "Nyla!" Valarie's voice cut through her memories as she slid into the booth across from her, face etched with worry. "Why are you so drunk? What happened? Did Clark make you mad?" Drunk Nyla looked at her with red eyes. "Val, I don't want to hear that name right now." Nyla took another swig of the whiskey in front of her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "Val, I saw him hooking up with that woman right in front of me. It's definitely not a misunderstanding." Valarie saw her friend's pained expression and held her hand with a heartache. "Nyla, maybe you two can talk it out..." "There's nothing to talk about," Nyla interrupted decisively. "Divorce. Every time I think about him hooking up with that woman, I feel sick." Chapter 2 Nyla returned home and sat on the living room sofa, staring at her phone. The number she had just dialed glowed on the screen. After calming down from her anger and pain, she had to face reality. A divorce required financial independence. Clark was covering all of her father's monthly medical expenses. The bills reached a staggering $100,000 each month. She simply couldn't afford it. Her fingers trembled as she scrolled through her contacts. She stopped at a familiar name. Professor Anderson. Her former research supervisor from graduate school. "Professor Anderson? This is Nyla. Nyla Jayston." She tried to sound calm, but her voice cracked slightly. A surprised voice came from the other end. "Nyla! Oh my god, are you okay? I haven't been in touch since you got married three years ago." Nyla bit her lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. "Professor, I want to return to research. I know this sounds sudden, but I need a job." "Of course!" Professor Anderson agreed without hesitation. "You're one of the best students I've ever taught. Your thesis on molecular biology was groundbreaking. I can contact you right now with a company that's looking for a senior researcher position. The salary is excellent." "Thank you," Nyla whispered. Relief flooded through her chest. "I really appreciate this." "Don't mention it. You have incredible talent. It's a shame you left research when you got married. When can you start?" "As soon as possible." After hanging up, Nyla felt a small spark of hope. She could do this. She could leave Clark and rebuild her life. She walked into their bedroom and began packing. Her hands moved mechanically, folding clothes and placing them in a suitcase. Hanging in the closet were the matching pajamas they'd bought on their honeymoon in Paris. On the dresser sat a small angel figurine they'd brought back from Italy. On the wall were photos of them at the beach, laughing and kissing under the sunset. Each item silently spoke of past sweetness. Yet now they stabbed her heart like knives. How had she been so blind? How had she missed the signs? She opened the dresser drawer to retrieve some personal belongings. Her wedding ring caught the light, mocking her. Then she saw it. The marriage certificate. With trembling hands, Nyla picked it up. She flipped to the first page, revealing two young, radiant faces. Her own smile was so bright it hurt to look at. Clark's eyes shone with pure joy. It was August 23rd, three years ago. To become the first couple to receive their marriage certificate that day, they had woken up at four in the morning to queue at the registry office. Clark had been as excited as a child. He spoke nervously throughout the entire ride. "Nyla, we're really getting married," he had said, bouncing in the passenger seat. "I feel like I'm eighteen again. Like the first time I saw you in Professor Wilson's chemistry class." When the staff handed them the marriage certificate, Clark's hands had trembled violently. He took it carefully, as if it were made of glass. Tears welled in his eyes. "Nyla, we're finally husband and wife," he had whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I swear I'll love and protect you for the rest of my life. You're everything to me." Nyla had believed every word. She had thought they were soulmates. Forever. But now... She stared at her beaming smile in the photo. Before she could shed a tear, she heard the familiar sound of a car engine downstairs. Her heart stopped. The garage door rumbled open. Footsteps on the stairs. "Honey, I'm back!" Clark's voice echoed from downstairs, cheerful and casual. Panic seized Nyla's chest. She hurriedly shoved the marriage certificate back into the drawer. She wiped her eyes frantically and tried to appear normal. The bedroom door was still open. She couldn't let him see the suitcase. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Clark pushed the door open, his face lighting up when he saw her. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. His embrace had once been her safest haven. Now Nyla felt only nausea rising in her throat. She could smell an unfamiliar scent on his skin. Sweet vanilla shower gel. He had obviously showered somewhere else before coming home. "Did you miss me?" Clark whispered softly in her ear. His voice carried a lazy satisfaction, like a cat who'd just finished a meal. Nyla's muscles tensed. She resisted the urge to shove him away. Her body felt rigid as stone. "Where have you been?" "I'm sorry, babe." Clark's lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. "I was so busy at work yesterday that I fell asleep at the office. I completely missed our anniversary." He pulled an exquisite jewelry box from his jacket pocket. "But look what I got you to make up for it." He opened the box with a flourish. Inside lay an exquisite diamond necklace. The stones caught the bedroom light, throwing rainbow patterns on the walls. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" Clark's eyes sparkled with pride. "Turn around so I can put it on you." Nyla mechanically turned around. She felt like a puppet with cut strings. Clark's fingers traced her neck as he fastened the clasp. The cold metal pressed against her skin. The diamonds felt heavy. Suffocating. "Perfect," Clark stepped back to admire his handiwork. His satisfaction was obvious. "Tomorrow night is Grandpa's birthday party. The entire Summer family will be there. With this necklace, you'll definitely be the most beautiful woman in the room." "Do I need to go?" Nyla asked. Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She just wanted to escape. To get away from everything connected to the Summer family. "Of course you need to go. You're my wife." Clark looked at her with what seemed like genuine affection. He leaned in to kiss her, but Nyla quickly pushed him away. "You should shower first," she said, turning her face away. Clark nodded, seemingly unbothered. "Good idea. I've been working all day." He grabbed some clothes and headed to the bathroom. The shower turned on. Steam began seeping under the door. Nyla's phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. A Facebook message. Her blood turned to ice. On the screen was a photo. A woman wearing a necklace identical to the one around Nyla's neck. Hickeys and scratches covered the woman's pale skin. The photo was cropped to show only her slender neck and the curve of her breasts. Below the image was a message that made Nyla's world crumble: [Does the necklace look good? I picked it out especially for you. I wore it when we faking last night. Clark said it looked beautiful on me.] Chapter 3 Nyla felt a surge of nausea wash over her. She quickly removed the necklace from her neck. Without hesitation, she tossed it into the bedroom trash can. The diamonds clinked against the metal bin. She rushed into the guest bathroom and turned on the shower. The scalding water burned her skin, but she didn't care. She grabbed the shower gel and frantically scrubbed her neck and body. She needed to remove every trace of Clark. Every memory of his touch. Her skin turned red from the harsh scrubbing, but she still felt dirty. The thought of that necklace clinging to another woman's neck made her sick. She imagined it swaying as that woman moved beneath Clark. The mental image made her stomach lurch. The bathroom door suddenly opened. Clark stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Nyla through the glass shower door. His gaze traveled over her wet hair, down her shoulders, following the water droplets that traced her curves. Clark's breathing became heavy. His eyes burned with lust. "Nyla, you're so beautiful," he said, his voice thick with desire. Nyla heard his voice and immediately wrapped herself in a towel. She stepped out of the shower, but the thought that he might have looked at that other woman the same way made her nauseous. "Don't come near me." Nyla took several steps back, but Clark was already approaching. "Baby, what's wrong?" Clark reached out to touch her cheek, but Nyla quickly dodged his hand. Clark didn't give up. Instead, he pulled her into his arms. His hands began wandering over her body, caressing her back through the towel. Then they moved lower. "Nyla, I want you," he whispered in her ear. His breath was hot against her skin. Nyla's body went rigid. She tried to pull away, but Clark was much stronger. His hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. His other hand slid down toward her inner th1gh. "Let's have a baby, okay?" Clark's voice was filled with longing. "We could have a beautiful child. A little girl with your eyes." Nyla felt ice water flood her veins. She thought of the photo that woman had sent. The same hands that were touching her now had been all over another woman's body just hours ago. Anger and disgust exploded inside her chest. "Get away from me!" Nyla pushed Clark with all her strength. "Clark, I'm tired! I don't want to do this right now!" Clark stumbled backward, startled by her sudden fury. He stared at Nyla's face, confusion clouding his features. "Honey, I'm sorry." His voice immediately filled with guilt. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I just want you so badly. I love you so much." He paused, searching her face. "If you don't want a child right now, we can wait." Watching Clark's apologetic expression, Nyla felt a mixture of emotions churning in her stomach. This man had been gentle and caring toward her for three years. She couldn't reconcile this version of him with the man who had been with another woman last night. But the facts were undeniable. Those photos. Those messages. The necklace in the trash can. That night, Nyla lay awake staring at the ceiling. Clark's breathing was even beside her. The painful images replayed in her mind over and over. She didn't sleep until dawn. The next morning, Nyla woke with dark circles under her eyes. Her reflection in the mirror looked hollow and tired. "Honey, are you feeling okay?" Clark asked with concern. "You look exhausted. Maybe you should rest today." Nyla shook her head. "I'm fine. We need to get ready for your grandfather's birthday party." As they drove through the gates of the Summer family estate, a black car suddenly roared past them. It stopped directly in front of the main entrance. The license plate read "DAMON-1." Clark's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face darkened instantly. "Uncle Damon," he muttered under his breath. Damon Summer was Clark's uncle, Richard's youngest son. Despite being only six years older than Clark, Damon had always intimidated his nephew. He had refused to join the family business, starting his own company instead. That company was now worth five times more than Summer Group. Damon was known for being brilliant, ruthless, and vindictive. Last year, he had overheard Clark making disparaging comments about him at a business dinner. As punishment, Damon had refused a potential partnership that would have brought Summer Group hundreds of millions in revenue. Clark parked behind the car. As Nyla stepped out of the car, her high heel caught in the gravel driveway. She wobbled, about to fall backward. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands caught her waist, steadying her against a solid chest. Nyla looked up into a pair of deep, dark eyes. The man was tall and imposing, probably around twenty-nine. His features were sharp and perfectly sculpted. High cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jawline. He wore a tailored dark gray suit that emphasized his broad shoulders and lean build. This was Damon Summer. "Careful," Damon said. His voice was deep and magnetic, with a hint of genuine concern. For a moment, Nyla found herself caught in his gaze. Clark appeared beside them, his face flushed with jealousy. He roughly grabbed Nyla's hand and pulled her away from Damon. "Thank you, Uncle," Clark said tersely. His voice was tight with barely controlled anger. He dragged Nyla toward the manor entrance. After they'd walked a few steps, he leaned close to her ear. "Nyla, you know I don't like you getting too close to other men," he whispered harshly. "Not even my uncle." Nyla almost laughed at the irony. Here was Clark, who had been with another woman just last night, acting possessive about her talking to his uncle. "So you'd rather have your wife fall flat on her face in front of the Summer family estate?" she replied coldly. Clark immediately backed down. "Honey, that's not what I meant. I just don't want people to get the wrong idea." Nyla ignored him and continued walking toward the entrance. The Summer family manor was impressive, with its grand foyer and crystal chandeliers. But Nyla felt no joy at being here. In the living room, Clark's grandmother Marie immediately called out with a beaming smile. "Nyla, Clark, you're here! Come sit down!" Nyla took a deep breath and forced a polite smile. Whatever her feelings about Clark, she still respected his grandparents. Richard had always treated her kindly. "Hello, Grandpa. Hello, Grandma," she greeted them warmly. Marie's eyes lit up as she watched Clark and Nyla approach. She had been trying to convince Damon to settle down for years. "Come, sit here next to me," Marie patted the sofa beside her. As they settled in, Damon entered the living room. Marie's expression immediately shifted to disapproval. "Look at Clark," she said pointedly to Damon. "He's got his company running smoothly, and his wife is absolutely beautiful. They might be giving us a great-grandchild soon." Her voice grew stern. "And you? You're almost thirty and still single. If you don't bring a girlfriend to the next family gathering, don't bother coming at all!" Damon's gaze flicked to Clark, then settled on Nyla. His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes," he said quietly. "Really beautiful." Chapter 4 Marie's headache intensified at Damon's nonchalant attitude. She shook her head and turned her attention to Clark and Nyla. "You've been married for three years now. When are you planning on having kids? I'm looking forward to having great-grandchildren." The moment this topic came up, the atmosphere in the living room suddenly became tense. Nyla's fingers gripped her teacup so tightly her knuckles turned white. This was her most sensitive topic, the one that pierced her heart every time it was mentioned. Clark's aunt Anne immediately seized the opportunity. She leaned forward with a sneer. "Nyla, you and Clark have been married for three years. What will it look like if you don't have a child? What will others think of our Summer family?" She paused, malice glinting in her eyes. "And if Clark hadn't insisted on marrying you, do you think you could have married into our Summer family with your background? Don't be so ungrateful. You don't want to have children for Clark, but there are plenty of women out there who would." Anne spoke with mock concern, but her gaze was filled with contempt. She had always looked down on this niece-in-law. Talking about children made Nyla's chest tighten with pain. Of course she wanted a child. She had given up her promising career in scientific research to be a good wife. But she couldn't conceive. She had secretly visited doctors who said nothing was wrong with her body. Perhaps it was stress. But the Summer family often mocked her, calling her barren and useless. Just as Nyla was drowning in humiliation, Clark suddenly took her hand. He smiled at his grandmother. "Grandma, we're trying! There's no rushing these things. We have to let nature take its course." Then he turned to Anne, his voice stern. "Anne, watch your words. Nyla is my wife, and I won't tolerate anyone speaking to her like that." Anne's face flushed red at being publicly rebuked. "I'm doing this for your own good. You've been married for so long without any progress..." "That's enough," Clark interrupted sharply. "You don't need to worry about Nyla and me. And I want to make it clear that I'm honored to have Nyla as my wife. She didn't marry up." Nyla felt a confusing mix of emotions as she listened to Clark's defense. The love they had shared over the years was genuine. Clark's protection of her had always felt real. He consistently stood between her and his family's criticism. But at the same time, his betrayal was also real. Those photos, that necklace in the trash can, the woman's taunting messages. All of it reminded her that this man had deceived her completely. Anne was clearly unwilling to let this go. She continued with false sweetness. "I'm just telling the truth. No pre-gnancy in three years? Maybe there's something wrong with her body. With all the medical advances these days, she should get checked out. There are treatments for these things." "Anne!" Clark's voice turned dangerously cold. "I'm warning you for the last time. Whether or when we have children is between Nyla and me. It's not your business to interfere." In the past, Nyla would have been grateful for Clark's protection. She would have seen it as proof of his love. But today, hearing these words felt hollow. She knew that the moment Clark cheated, everything changed. No amount of public defense could erase what he had done in private. Midway through the banquet, Clark's phone suddenly rang. "Sorry, everyone," Clark said with an apologetic smile. "There's an emergency at work. I need to handle this right away." He turned to Nyla, his expression softening. "Honey, can you have Grandma's driver take you home? I'll be back as soon as I can." Marie waved dismissively. "Clark, go ahead. Don't worry about Nyla." Clark kissed Nyla's forehead quickly. "I'll make this up to you, I promise." As soon as Clark's car disappeared down the driveway, Marie's polite mask slipped completely. She looked at Nyla with open displeasure. "Well, now that Clark's gone," Marie said coolly, "I suppose you'll be wanting to leave too." The temperature in the room seemed to drop. "Nyla's not some delicate flower," Anne chimed in with renewed confidence. "She can find her own way home, can't she?" Nyla felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She had been dismissed like a servant. Without Clark's protection, she meant nothing to these people. "I think that's my cue to leave," Nyla said. She stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality." The butler, following Marie's subtle nod, escorted Nyla only to the manor gate. He immediately turned back toward the house, leaving her standing alone on the roadside. That's when the rain started. Fat droplets fell from the dark sky, quickly soaking through Nyla's silk dress. She pulled out her phone to call a taxi, but the app showed no available drivers in this remote area. The Summer estate was far from the city center. The rain intensified rapidly. Within minutes, Nyla was completely drenched. Her carefully styled hair hung in wet strands around her face. Her dress clung uncomfortably to her skin. Just when she thought things couldn't get worse, headlights cut through the darkness. A black car slowed to a stop beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Damon's sharp features. Chapter 5 As Damon prepared to leave the manor, he glanced out the car window. Through the rain, he could see Nyla huddled against the stone wall near the gate. Her dress was completely soaked, clinging to her body and outlining her curves. Her long hair hung in wet strands around her face, making her look fragile and abandoned. Damon understood immediately what had happened. He knew Marie and Anne's personalities well. They would never be kind enough to arrange transportation for the niece-in-law they had always disliked. He turned to his assistant Spencer, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Get out and hold an umbrella for her." Spencer immediately grabbed the black umbrella from the floor and stepped out into the rain. He walked quickly toward Nyla while Damon rolled down his window. "Get in," Damon said to Nyla. His voice was characteristically cold and commanding. "I'll take you home." Nyla looked up, startled to see it was Damon. She instinctively took a step back, shaking her head. "Uncle Damon, it's okay. The rain will stop soon. I can wait." She remembered Clark's warnings about how dangerous Damon could be. Clark had specifically told her to keep her distance from his uncle. She didn't want to cause herself any more trouble, especially not tonight. Damon's brow furrowed when he saw Nyla clearly trying to avoid him. His tone grew deeper and more commanding. "Get in the car. Don't make me repeat myself." His natural dominance was overwhelming. The way he spoke made it nearly impossible to refuse. Nyla felt her resolve weakening under his intense gaze. Before she could refuse again, Spencer appeared beside her with the umbrella. He gently took her damp clutch from her trembling hands. "Ms. Nyla, please get in the car," Spencer said kindly. "This rain will continue for at least another hour. It's very windy out here, and you're not dressed warmly enough. You'll catch pneumonia." Spencer's tone was gentle and concerned. Nyla glanced up at the dark storm clouds, then down at her completely soaked dress. Water was still dripping from her hair. She was starting to shiver uncontrollably. Finally, biting her lip, she opened the car door and slid inside. The interior of the car was warm and luxurious. Soft leather seats and the faint scent of expensive cologne filled the space. Nyla immediately felt the temperature difference. Damon glanced at her wet dress, which was now clinging even more tightly to her body. The fabric had become almost transparent. He could see the outline of her undergarments. His throat tightened involuntarily. Without a word, he took off his dark gray suit jacket and tossed it to her. "Thank you," Nyla murmured, quickly pulling the jacket around her shoulders. It was still warm from his body heat and smelled like his cologne. The scent was surprisingly comforting. "I'll have it cleaned and return it to you." "Just throw it away," Damon replied coldly. His tone carried casual arrogance, as if the expensive jacket meant nothing to him. The car pulled away from the manor and drove smoothly through the rainy night. Silence settled between them. Nyla huddled in the corner of the backseat, not daring to look at the powerful man beside her. She could feel an oppressive aura radiating from him. It made her unconsciously nervous. She stole a glance at his profile. His jaw was sharp and perfectly defined. His dark hair was styled impeccably despite the rain. Everything about him screamed wealth and power. He was nothing like Clark, who was gentle and approachable. Damon seemed dangerous. Twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of Nyla's house. She quickly gathered herself and reached for the door handle. "Thank you so much for the ride," she said hurriedly, leaving his jacket on the seat. "I really appreciate it." Damon watched her disappear inside the house. The faint scent of jasmine perfume still lingered in the car where she had been sitting. He found himself breathing it in deeply. His body reacted involuntarily to her proximity. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She's your nephew's wife," he warned himself silently. "Control yourself." As soon as Nyla entered her house, she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her body began to feel hot despite her wet clothes. Her head felt heavy and confused. Before she could even change out of her soaked dress, everything went black. She collapsed in the living room. When Nyla woke up, she found herself lying in a hospital bed. The room smelled strongly of disinfectant, but the bedside table was covered with familiar treats. Strawberry shortcake, colorful macarons, handmade chocolates, and a large bouquet of pink roses. "Ma'am, you're finally awake!" A nurse appeared beside her bed, looking relieved. "You've had a high fever for over twenty-four hours. Mr. Summer was so worried. He stayed by your bedside the entire time. He only left an hour ago because of an emergency call." The nurse checked Nyla's temperature with a digital thermometer. "Do you want me to call him? He'll be so happy to know you're conscious." Looking at the familiar arrangement of gifts, Nyla felt her heart soften despite everything. She had always been prone to illness and had a terrible fear of injections and medication. Whenever she was sick, Clark would do exactly this. He would buy all her favorite treats and flowers, hoping to cheer her up and speed her recovery. It had become their tradition over the years. These sweet memories made her chest ache with confusion. How could the man who cheated on her be the same person who spent the night worried beside her hospital bed? "Where is he now?" Nyla asked, pushing herself up in bed. "I want to find him myself." The nurse smiled. "He's somewhere in the hospital taking care of business." She left her room and walked down the sterile hospital corridor. As she rounded the corner, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Clark, coming out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. But he wasn't alone. A woman walked beside him, her hand resting protectively on her belly. Chapter 6 Clark gently helped the young woman out of the obstetrics clinic. Both of them were smiling, their faces glowing with happiness. Nyla immediately recognized her. This was the woman from the photos in those anonymous messages. Just then, the woman spotted Nyla standing frozen in the hallway. Her eyes lit up with surprise and something that looked like malicious delight. "Oh wow, isn't that Mrs. Summer?" she exclaimed loudly. "What a coincidence running into you at the hospital!" At the sound of her voice, Clark looked up. His eyes met Nyla's across the corridor. His entire body went rigid. He quickly dropped his hand from the woman's arm, panic flooding his features. "Nyla!" Clark hurried toward her, his voice high with nervousness. "Why are you here? You should be resting in your room!" He reached her side, speaking rapidly. "I was just downstairs getting your medicine when I accidentally bumped into Jordyn here. She's my new secretary, and she's pre-gnant. I was worried she might fall, so I helped steady her." His explanation tumbled out in a rush. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the air conditioning. Nyla's gaze moved to the woman's slightly swollen belly. She felt her breathing become shallow and labored. But she forced herself to remain outwardly calm. "Miss Jordyn," Nyla said slowly, "when did you get pre-gnant? Where's the father? Shouldn't he be here with you for such an important appointment?" Jordyn caressed her belly with obvious pride. A sweet, satisfied smile spread across her face. "I just found out I'm two months along. The father couldn't be here because he's so busy with work, but he was absolutely thrilled when I told him." She practically glowed as she spoke. "He said he wants to give me and the baby the best life possible. He's already bought me a beautiful apartment downtown and promised to make everything official after the baby arrives." Every word felt like a knife twisting in Nyla's chest. Jordyn continued, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Mrs. Summer, you're so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. But I think my boyfriend is just as amazing. He tells me I've become even more beautiful since getting pre-gnant. He can barely stand to leave my side." She paused, tilting her head with feigned innocence. "Mrs. Summer, do you have time? I'm free today. Would you like to have dinner together? I could invite the baby's father to join us." The challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Clark's expression darkened. He shot Jordyn a warning look. "My wife doesn't have time. Miss Jordyn, I'm sure your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don't keep him worried." His voice carried clear dismissal and irritation. Then he wrapped his arm around Nyla's shoulders, his touch gentle and concerned. "Honey, you're still recovering. You shouldn't be walking around the hospital. Let me take you back to your room." He spoke in the same caring tone. "She's just a secretary. Don't worry about her." Jordyn's face crumpled at the cold dismissal in Clark's voice. Her eyes filled with tears, making her look young and vulnerable. "You're right. I got too excited. I'm not worthy of having dinner with Mrs. Summer." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking genuinely hurt. "I should go. My boyfriend will be wondering where I am." With that, she turned and walked away, her shoulders shaking slightly. Clark's expression flickered. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to follow her. But when he noticed Nyla watching him carefully, he stayed put. He turned back to Nyla and patted her head affectionately. "Be good, okay? I have some urgent things to handle at the company. I'll have James drive you home. Get some rest, and I'll be back tonight to check on you." His voice was warm and loving, the same tone he had used for three years of marriage. As soon as Nyla returned to her hospital room, her phone buzzed with a new message. It was from Jordyn. The first image was a pre-gnancy test showing two clear pink lines. Then came a series of messages that made Nyla's hands shake: [Nyla, I know you figured it out today. The baby is Clark's. Don't think he loves you as much as you believe. If he truly loves you, then what am I doing in his life?] [Do you know how obsessed he is with me? Every year on your birthday and your anniversary, after he puts you to sleep, he comes to spend the night with me. He's so passionate with me, so wild. We go through boxes of c0n-doms, and I can barely walk the next day.] [We've faking in his car, his office, even in your bedroom when you were away. He's done things with me that I bet he's never done with you. Has he ever been truly passionate with you, Nyla? Or does he save all his fire for me?] Reading these brutal messages, Nyla felt something break inside her chest. Her hands trembled as she set down the phone. She took deep, measured breaths, trying to suppress the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. That evening, Clark returned with an elegant white box. Inside was a strawberry mousse cake from the city's most expensive French pastry shop. It had once been Nyla's absolute favorite dessert. "Baby, I brought your favorite cake," Clark said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "The doctor said you're still weak and need to eat more sweets to build up your energy." He opened the box with a flourish, revealing the delicate pink confection. In the past, Nyla would have clapped her hands with delight at seeing this cake. She used to say it was almost too beautiful to eat. But now, looking at it made her stomach turn. She picked up the small silver fork and took a mechanical bite. The overly sweet flavor sat in her mouth like paste. She couldn't swallow it. Without a word, Nyla stood up and threw the entire cake box into the trash can. The beautiful dessert landed with a dull thud. Clark stared at her in shock. "Nyla, what's wrong with you? " Chapter 7 Nyla turned to face Clark, her eyes completely devoid of their usual warmth. "It doesn't taste the same anymore." Her voice was eerily calm, but it sent a chill through Clark's entire body. He rushed to her side and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, maybe this bakery changed their recipe," he said. "I'll call them tomorrow and find out. No matter how much it costs, I'll make sure they get the taste exactly right again." Nyla's body remained rigid in his embrace. "Things change, Clark. Once they change, you can't go back." Her voice was still calm, but each word felt like an icicle piercing Clark's heart. He sensed she wasn't just talking about the cake anymore. She was talking about them. Clark felt panic rising in his chest. That was when his phone rang. The ringtone cut through the tension. Clark glanced at the caller ID and his face went pale. Nyla caught the shift in his expression, and her disappointment deepened. "I... I need to take this call," Clark stammered. "There's an emergency at work." Nyla turned away from him completely. "Go ahead. Work is important." Clark stood frozen for several seconds, torn between answering the phone and staying with his wife. Finally, he made his choice and headed for the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Nyla could hear his voice through the thin walls: "Jordyn, what's wrong? Are you feeling sick? I'll be right there..." His voice faded as he moved further away, leaving Nyla alone in their living room. The silence felt suffocating. Nyla stared at the white walls, feeling like they were closing in on her. Twenty minutes after Clark left, Nyla's phone buzzed with an incoming call. She didn't recognize the number, but she answered anyway. "Mrs. Summer, I hope I'm not interrupting," came Jordyn's sweet voice. "I'm not feeling well, so I borrowed Clark from you tonight. He came without hesitation when I called. He said nothing was more important than making sure I was okay." Nyla's grip tightened on the phone, but she said nothing. Jordyn continued with obvious satisfaction. "You know what Clark told me today? He said I'm younger and prettier than you. He said I can give him something you never could - a child. He mentioned that you haven't been able to conceive in three years. He's worried there might be something wrong with your body." "Oh, and that strawberry mousse cake you threw away today?" Jordyn's voice turned mocking. "Clark buys me that same cake all the time. He says sweet treats are perfect for sweet girls. Don't you think it tastes sweet, Mrs. Summer?" The call ended with Jordyn's cruel laughter. Nyla sat in the darkness, feeling something fundamental shift inside her. The pain was so intense it took her breath away. Then slowly, mercifully, numbness began to set in. From that day forward, Nyla began quietly packing her belongings. She folded her clothes carefully and placed them in suitcases. She packed her books, her makeup, her jewelry. Each item felt heavy with memories she no longer wanted to keep. Clark became even busier during this time. He came home later and later, sometimes not at all. When he did return, he was distant and distracted. Meanwhile, Jordyn's messages never stopped. Photos of her growing belly, pictures of expensive gifts, taunting words designed to twist the knife deeper. Nyla's best friend Valarie came over to help with the divorce paperwork. "Given that Clark committed adultery and got another woman pre-gnant, you could definitely ask for substantial compensation," Valarie said seriously. "Plus, you gave up your career for this marriage. That's worth a lot in court." Valarie spread the legal documents across the coffee table. "You sacrificed your research position at the university. You could have been earning six figures by now." But before proceeding with anything official, Nyla felt she should tell her father. She drove to the hospital where he was still recovering from his recent surgery. Her father looked better than he had in weeks. His color was returning, and he was sitting up reading the newspaper. "Dad," Nyla began carefully, "if... hypothetically... if I wanted to get divorced, what would you think?" Her father set down his newspaper and studied his daughter's face intently. "Nyla, is something wrong between you and Clark?" Nyla forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I'm just curious. If that day ever came..." "Absolutely not!" Her father's voice rose sharply. "Nyla, do you understand what the Summer family has done for us? When my factory had that terrible accident, they provided the money that saved us from bankruptcy. They've been paying my medical bills for three years. Without them, we would have lost everything." Her father's face was flushed with emotion. "Clark has been nothing but good to you. How could you even think such thoughts? Has someone been filling your head with ideas?" Nyla realized she couldn't continue this conversation. Her father had no idea about Clark's betrayal. She couldn't bear to put her sick father through that kind of shock and disappointment. She was about to change the subject when her father's phone chimed with a text message. He glanced at the screen and his face went completely white. The message was from Jordyn. It contained a photo of her and Clark kissing passionately in what looked like a hotel room. Below the image was a message that read: "Thought you should know - I'm pre-gnant with your son-in-law Clark's baby." Chapter 8 Harrison suddenly developed a violent coughing fit. His body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. His face turned an alarming shade of blue, and his hands clawed at his chest. The phone slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered to the floor. Nyla saw the message on the fallen phone and immediately understood what had triggered his condition. Rage flooded through her veins, but her father's health took priority over confronting Jordyn. She frantically pressed the call button for the nurses. "Help! I need a doctor now!" she shouted into the hallway. A team of medical staff rushed into the room. They immediately began checking her father's vital signs while Nyla stood helplessly in the corner, watching his condition deteriorate before her eyes. The lead doctor emerged from the examination looking grave. He pulled off his mask and shook his head slowly. "Mr. Jayston's condition has suddenly worsened," he said wearily. "His kid ney failure has progressed rapidly. We need to transfer him to the ICU immediately for intensive monitoring and treatment." Nyla felt her legs go weak. "How serious is this?" "It's critical," the doctor replied bluntly. "But I'm afraid we have a problem. Our ICU is completely full. Every bed is occupied, and there's a waiting list. All the hospitals in the city are experiencing the same shortage of resources." "Wait?" Nyla could barely comprehend what she was hearing. "Doctor, my father can't wait. Look at him!" Her father was still struggling to breathe normally. His skin had a grayish pallor that terrified her. "I understand your concern, Mrs. Summer, but we're doing everything we can," the doctor said helplessly. "All we can do right now is stabilize his condition with medication and hope a bed opens up soon." Desperation clawed at Nyla's chest. She thought immediately of Clark. As the heir to Summer Group, he had connections throughout the medical community. He could pull strings and get her father the care he needed. With shaking hands, she dialed Clark's number. After several rings, someone picked up. But it wasn't Clark's voice that greeted her. "Hello, who's calling?" came Jordyn's sickeningly sweet voice. Nyla's blood turned to ice. "This is Nyla. I need to speak to Clark immediately. It's an emergency." "Oh, Mrs. Summer!" Jordyn's voice was dripping with false concern. "Clark is in the shower right now. He's been taking such good care of me all day that he's completely exhausted. Poor thing needs to rest." Nyla bit back her fury and forced herself to stay focused. "This is about my father. He's dying and needs an ICU bed. Please put Clark on the phone right now." "Oh my, what terrible timing," Jordyn said with obvious fake sympathy. "I wasn't feeling well this afternoon either. Just some pre-gnancy nausea and dizziness, you know how it is. But Clark was so worried about me and the baby that he immediately called in the best medical team in the city. They're all on standby right now, just in case something happens to us." Nyla's hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the phone. Her father was dying, and her husband was playing house with his pre-gnant mistress. "Can you please just-" Nyla began, but Jordyn cut her off. "Oh, I hear the shower turning off. Clark will be so tired after everything we've been through today. I should probably let him rest. You understand, don't you?" The line went dead. Nyla stood in the hospital hallway, feeling like the world was collapsing around her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of alternatives. Then suddenly, an image flashed through her mind - a figure handing her a coat in the rain. Damon's cold but decisive voice echoing in the car. Without allowing herself to second-guess the decision, she dialed his number. "Mr. Damon, this is Nyla," she said when he answered. "I'm sorry to bother you, but my father is critically ill. He needs an ICU bed urgently, but the hospital says they don't have any available. I know this is a lot to ask..." "Send me the hospital address," Damon's voice cut through her rambling. It was sharp and authoritative. "I'll handle it. Ten minutes." The line went dead, but his words carried more reassurance than Clark's empty promises ever had. Exactly ten minutes later, the hospital director personally arrived at her father's ward. Behind him came a full medical team, including specialists Nyla recognized from medical journals. They moved with efficient precision. "Mr. Jayston will be transferred to our premium ICU immediately," the director told Nyla respectfully. "We're bringing in the city's leading kid-ney specialists for consultation. He'll receive the absolute best care available." Within an hour, her father was settled in a private ICU room with round-the-clock monitoring. That evening, after her father's condition had finally stabilized, Nyla returned to the house she had shared with Clark. She sat in their living room, surrounded by three years of memories that now felt like lies. She opened her phone and began forwarding every single message and photo Jordyn had sent her to Clark's email address. The videos of Jordyn showing off expensive jewelry. Photos of their intimate moments in the apartment Clark had bought her. Recordings of Jordyn rubbing her belly and cooing, "Daddy loves us so much. He's going to give us everything." After sending all these, Nyla typed a final message: "Clark, these are from your girlfriend Jordyn. Since you two love each other so much, I'll step aside and let you be together." Then she photographed the divorce papers Valarie had prepared and attached them to another email: "The divorce agreement is ready. Have your lawyer contact Valarie tomorrow to finalize everything." After hitting send, Nyla stood up and began dismantling their life together. She pulled their wedding photos off the walls and threw them directly into the trash. The jewelry Clark had given her, the clothes he had bought, the makeup he had surprised her with - everything went into garbage bags. She called a moving company and worked through the night to clear out her belongings. By dawn, the house looked exactly as it had before she had moved in - empty and cold. Nyla took one final look around the space that had once felt like home. She dragged her suitcase to the door and walked out without looking back.
Taylor is betrayed to death by his wife Scarlett and reborn five years earlier. He discovers her amnesia is fake, meant for her first love. He divorces her, leaving empty-handed, and refuses to help when her company faces disaster. Scarlett regrets her actions and suffers the consequences.