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2,525,054	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2524836}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:12	active	1919	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	At Grace Mansion, Carissa Sinclair stared at the man before her—her husband she had waited for a whole year. Barrett Warren, still in his battle armor, wore an expression of both determination and guilt. "Carissa, the king has issued a royal edict for my marriage with Aurora. She will be joining our household. There's no question about it," said Barrett. Carissa's eyes clouded with confusion. "The queen dowager has praised General Yates as a model for all women in the kingdom. Would she be willing to be a concubine?" Barrett's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance. "No, she won’t be a concubine. She’ll be my legal wife, equal to you." "But calling her equal doesn't change the fact that she’s still just a concubine," Carissa said, a soft smile playing on her lips. Barrett frowned. "Why can't you face the reality? Aurora and I fell in love with each other on the battlefield, and we earned this marriage with our glorified victory. In fact, I don’t really need your approval on it." Carissa smiled mockingly. "Fell in love, huh? Have you forgot what you promised me before you left for war?" On their wedding night a year ago, Barrett was called away to lead reinforcements on an expedition. Before he left, he lifted his wife’s veil and vowed, "Carrisa Sinclair, you're the only woman I'll ever love in my life. I will never take a concubine!" Embarrassed, Barrett avoided her eye contact. "Just forget what I said. Back then, I only considered you a suitable match for a wife. I knew nothing about love until I met Rory." When he spoke of the woman he loved, his eyes softened with deep affection. Turning back to Carissa, he added, "She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I love her deeply, and I hope you'll be generous enough to welcome her." Carissa felt a lump in her throat. Despite her disgust and reluctance, she asked, "What about your parents? Do they agree?" "They do. It was a royal edict, and mother liked her a lot upon seeing her." They agreed? Huh... How ironic! Seems like everything Carissa had done for this household had all been for nothing. "Is she currently in the mansion?" Carissa asked, lifting a brow. Barrett carried a softness in his voice, "Yes, she’s talking to my mother and making her very happy. Even mother's health seems to be improving." "Improving?" Carissa felt a whirlwind of emotions. "When you went to war, your mother was already gravely ill. I brought in the best physician, managed the estate’s affairs by day, and stayed up nights caring for her. That's how her condition started to improve." Carissa wasn’t seeking praise. She was just laying out the facts of her exhausting year. "But seeing Aurora has made my mother feel even better," Barrett said earnestly. "I know this is unfair to you, but for the greater good, please support Aurora and me." Carissa lowered her eyes, as if blinking away the tears. But inspected closely, that's actually her sharpened gaze. "Invite General Yates over. I have a few things to ask her." "There's no need," Barrett refused instantly. "Carissa, she’s different from any woman you know. As a general, she’s above household squabbles and wouldn’t want to meet you." Carissa retorted, "What are women I know like? Or tell me, what kind of woman am I to you? Have you forgotten? I'm also the daughter of the Marquis's family. My father and my six brothers sacrificed on the Southern Frontier three years ago-" "That’s them," Barrett interrupted. "you're still a delicate woman suited only for home comforts, while Aurora has no respect for that. Besides, she never holds back her true thoughts. Trust me, you won't want to hear it from her." As Carissa looked up, the striking beauty mark under her eye became more evident in the light. Calmly, she said, "It’s fine. If she says anything unpleasant, I’ll ignore it. A true matriarch must understand the bigger picture and act with dignity. Don’t you trust me?" Barrett sighed in frustration. “Why put yourself through this? The king has approved this marriage, and Aurora will never threaten your control of the household. Carissa, she couldn't care less about those things.” “Oh, you think that's what I fear? Losing the control of this household?” Carissa countered. Little did Barrett know his household had been reduced to a hollow shell - managing it was a hot potato no one else would bear. Over the past year, it was Carissa's dowry alone that kept the Warren family’s life respectable, and this was her reward. “Enough,” Barrett snapped, his patience running thin. “I’ve done my duty by informing you. Your opinion won’t change anything.” As Carissa watched hum storm out, her bitterness deepened. “My lady, my lord has really crossed the line!” Lulu, Carissa’s maid, said, wiping her tears. “Don’t call him that!” Carissa gave her a stern look. “We never consummated the marriage. He’s not your lord. Now go fetch my dowry list.” “Why the dowry list?” Lulu asked, puzzled. Carissa tapped her on the forehead. “Silly girl, we need to reckon everything before we leave.” Lulu gasped. “Leave? But where can we go? To the Northwatch Estate?” Suddenly Lulu held her tongue, aware that she had touched the sensitive subject. She spared Carissa a guilty look, "I'll get the list now, my lady." Upon the mention of Northwatch Estate, the always restrained Carissa finally let her tears fall. When she was fifteen, her father, the Marquis of Northwatch, had sacrificed his life on the battlefield. Then, just six months ago, her entire family at the Northwatch Estate was brutally slaughtered — assassins rumored to be spies from the enemy nation, Westhaven. She rushed back after getting the news, only to find the dismembered bodies of her mother and grandmother. Even her youngest nephew, two years old, didn't escape death, neither. Now, she was the lone survivor of the marquis' family, the idea of restoring her family’s former glory seemed impossible—at least to outsiders. After all, she was presented mostly as a delicate, fragile woman, while Aurora Taytes had just made herself the first female general in history. It's only natural that the Warren family was more than happy to agree to the marriage. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, Carissa's martial talent was never beneath her father and brothers. If given a chance on the battlefield, she would definitely outshine Aurora Taytes, perhaps a million times more... Just then, Lulu had brought over the dowry list, "My lady, this year alone, you've spent over six thousand silver coins supporting the household. However, the shops, houses, and estates remain untouched. All the bank savings, along with the property deeds and land titles your mother left, are locked up in the chest." "I see." Carisse's gaze lingered on the list with melancholy. Her mother had given her such a substantial dowry, fearing she might face hardship in her husband's home. Yet now here she was. The Warren family had disregarded all her effort, and Barrett had even broken his vow to take no concubine - the very promise that led her mother to choose him over more eligible suitors, despite the Warren family’s fall from grace. 'Was this really the life mother wanted me to have?' It took Carissa no time to made up her mind. “Lulu, get prepared. There's somewhere we need to go tomorrow.” ... Early the next morning, Carissa and Lulu boarded a carriage, heading straight for the royal palace. It was noon by the time they arrived. Under the scorching autumn sun, Carissa and Lulu stood like statues in front of the palace gates. They waited for a full hour, but no one came to let them in. In the palace's study, Derek Walker had already reported Carissa’s arrival to the king three times. “Your Majesty, Mrs. Warren is still waiting outside the palace gates,” he repeated. The king, Salvador Quinton, set aside the document he was reading and rubbed his temples. “I can’t summon her in. The edict has been issued, and can't be taken back. Tell her to go home.” “The guards tried to persuade her, but she refused to leave. She’s been standing there for over an hour without moving.” Salvador felt a pang of guilt. “Barrett requested the marriage as a reward for his military service. I didn’t want to agree, either, but not granting it would embarrass both him and General Yates. They have after all won a big war.” “Your Majesty, when it comes to military achievements, no one can compare to the Marquis of Northwatch,” Derek countered. Salvador thought of Hector Sinclair, the Marquis of Northwatch. When Salvador was a crown prince who had recently joined the military, it was Hector who had guided him. Back then, he had also known Carissa when she was only a cute kid. Salvador himself had fought a bloody path to the throne, paved with death. He understood the struggles of military officers, so when Barrett requested marriage as a reward, Salvador had hesitated but eventually agreed. But Derek was right. In terms of military merit, Barrett and Aurora were far inferior to Hector Sinclair. “Alright, let her in. If she agrees to this marriage, I’ll grant her whatever she wants, even if it's a noble title or an official rank,” said Salvador. Derek breathed a sigh of relief. “As always, you're wise, Your Majesty!” ... Carissa knelt in the study with her head bowed. Recalling that Carissa was now the only one left the Sinclair family, Salvador felt nothing but pity for her. "Rise and speak," he commanded. Carissa bowed deeply with her hands clasped. "Your Majesty, I know it's presumptuous of me to seek an audience today. But I also wish to implore for your grace." "Carissa Sinclair, I have already issued the edict of marriage. It's impossible to revoke it," Salvador said. Carissa shook her head gently. "Your Majesty, I'm not imploring you to reverse that edict, but imploring you for another edict - an amicable divorce with General Warren." The young king was taken aback. "Divorce? You want a divorce?" Carissa nodded her head firmly. She was never someone to pester some man. If Barret Warren loved Aurora Yates so much, then she would let him go. What she needed now was a single edict for an amicable divorce, so she could take away all her dowery and get rid of the despicable Warren family for good, dignified and head high...	LEARN_MORE	https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	320	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	shgjfh.com	DCO		https://shgjfh.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=13831&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/464828830_843144794562317_225584756959474354_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=jOdhy7M_AtUQ7kNvgEVv6iT&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=A6Wk4W6rSKexRJKU2T1fHMP&oh=00_AYA4SzncZInyEdLXeki0FvkBTWdmSFMwxt6JjiCzxkLuWQ&oe=6749A9CA	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,523,605	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2024-11-24 18:57	active	1919	Custom photo wooden clock	💘 Personalized photo wooden clock 😍 buy now 🎁 https://www.jacacas.com/SK276 💘😍 The perfect gift for your friends or family	SHOP_NOW	https://www.jacacas.com/SK276	jacacas.com	https://www.facebook.com/jacacascom/	62	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop now	jacacas.com	IMAGE	personalized photo wooden clock	https://www.jacacas.com/SK276	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/408788475_1319780915396070_750684217560799002_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=d7mj3JxZJKYQ7kNvgHfkr94&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AkWDRAzc9tbY5TJGtkmZc9N&oh=00_AYBC_tInzDP8U0_C_IveDQh-RL2FyH60izlqwlqPK0m8uw&oe=6749A9B8	PERSON_PROFILE	jacacas.com	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,208	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	No	2024-11-24 19:15	active	1919		En medio de la ruina económica de su familia, ella renunció a su preciado violín y se convirtió en la dócil mascota de su esposo, solo para encontrarse con el desprecio de este. Afortunadamente, ella por fin despertó, se divorció con valentía y reinició su carrera musical, alcanzando un gran éxito y provocando el remordimiento de su ex. ===== Joelle Miller examinó minuciosamente el feed de Twitter de Rebecca Lloyd, estudiando con mucha atención cada video, ansiosa por ver el rostro del novio de Rebecca. Rebecca, la protagonista de los videos, irradiaba ternura y delicadeza con su sencillo vestido blanco. Si bien no era tan bella, tenía una genuina sencillez y una sonrisa encantadora. Había descubierto que, en los días importantes, Nochebuena, San Valentín e incluso el cumpleaños de Joelle, Rebecca estaba con Adrian Miller, su supuesto esposo, quien se había ausentado de todos esos días durante los últimos tres años. Esas alegres narraciones sobre su vida con su novio fueron más que suficientes para hundirla en la tristeza. "¿Lo ven? Él siempre guarda para mí la parte más jugosa de una sandía". "Incluso cuando llega tarde a casa, siempre me trae algo". "¡Y miren esta sorpresa! Recogió de la iglesia un amuleto de bendición para mí". ...... El nombre de usuario era "Cuenta Regresiva Hacia la Muerte", la única cuenta a la que Joelle seguía. Justo cuando reflexionaba sobre el siniestro nombre, la puerta del baño se abrió. En la habitación poco iluminada apareció Adrian. Gotas de agua caían de su cabello. A pesar de la tenue iluminación, sus atractivos rasgos permanecían intactos. Joelle cerró instintivamente su celular y le dio una mirada reflexiva. Hacía mucho tiempo desde la última vez que lo vio. Esa noche él no estaba ahí por decisión propia. Su abuela, Irene Miller, estaba enferma y, como quería un bisnieto con desesperación, lo obligó a regresar. De lo contrario, tal vez nunca hubiera venido. Durante sus tres años de matrimonio, Adrian pasaba la mayor parte del tiempo en Villas Oak, por lo que rara vez estaba en casa. Todos sabían que en realidad no amaba a Joelle. Estaba atrapada en un matrimonio por conveniencia. "Solo te voy a dar una oportunidad. El destino dirá si quedas earazada o no", declaró Adrian con una voz resonante. ¿Qué quería decir? Antes de que Joelle pudiera seguir pensando, Adrian la agarró del tobillo y la atrajo hacia él. Joelle palideció ante su crueldad, su cuerpo se tensó de miedo. "¡Adrian! Basta, no quiero...". Empezó a luchar frenéticamente. Era una completa humillación verse obligada a vivir en esa situación con el hombre que amaba. Adrian hizo una mueca de desprecio. "Te atreviste a diseño una vez, así que debiste haberlo visto venir. Solo aguántalo". Ante esas duras palabras, los ojos de Joelle se llenaron de lágrimas y sus pestañas bailaron como mariposas heridas. Mirando su rostro severo, dijo con voz temblorosa: "Las cosas no fueron lo que imaginabas..." Pero sus protestas fueron interrumpidas. Su resistencia se desvaneció a medida que la desesperación se apoderaba de ella. "Has aprendido que hacerte la difícil es mucho más interesante que quedarse tirada como un pez muerto", comentó con rencor. Después de ducharse, se marchó sin mirar atrás, como si no quisiera quedarse más tiempo ahí. Joelle no entendía qué papel tenía en su vida. ¿Solo era un juguete para su placer? ¿O una herramienta para cumplir las expectativas de su familia de tener un heredero? La ventana estaba completamente abierta, por lo que entraba un gélido y cortante viento. A Joelle se le erizaron los pelos de la nuca y se arropó más con su manta. No solo temblaba de frío, sino que sentía su corazón desgarrado, ahora no conocía en absoluto al hombre que había adorado durante casi ocho años. Tres años atrás, en un lujoso banquete organizado por la familia Miller, Joelle bebió demasiado. Cuando se despertó, en la con Adrian. Antes de que pudiera asimilar lo que estaba pasando, su hermano y varios miembros de su familia irrumpieron. Ya no podía revertir lo sucedido. La abuela de Adrian tomó las riendas y organizó su matrimonio. Desde entonces, él estaba convencido de que Joelle lo había hecho a propósito. A ella le desconcertaba su profunda animosidad, por más que creyera que lo había dgado. Después de todo, habían crecido juntos. Pero ahora lo entendía todo. Para él, ella no era más que la nefasta mujer que había saboteado su relación con Rebecca. A menudo pensaba en lo perfecto que él se veía en los videos de Rebecca, siempre tan gentil y atento. Probablemente nunca le mostraría esa misma ternura. No pudo contener más las lágrimas y sucumbió a un ataque de sollozos. Esa noche no pudo dormir bien. Tuvo sueños sobre el pasado, cuando ella y Adrian no estaban en malos términos. Debido a su angustia, Joelle se levantó inusualmente temprano. Después de lavarse, se puso ropa de casa y bajó las escaleras. Leah Jenkins, la empleada doméstica con muchos años de servicio, la vio bajar y rápidamente puso la mesa con el desayuno, ya que conocía sus preferencias dietéticas. Joelle se tomó su tiempo para comer lentamente. "Señora Miller, ¿por qué anoche no convenció a su esposo para que se quedara? No viene a casa a menudo", comentó Leah con simpatía. Había sido sirvienta de la familia Miller durante muchos años, por lo que había visto cómo los dos se convertían de amigos de la infancia a enemigos. Joelle se mostró incómoda, pero lo ocultó con una sonrisa serena. "Lo intenté, pero no quiso quedarse". Incluso si pudiera mantener a Adrian cerca, él tenía el corazón en otra parte. Más concretamente, en Villas Oak, el hogar de la mujer que realmente amaba. Leah dudó y agregó con cautela: "Tal vez sea porque el señor Miller está muy ocupado con la empresa. Dirigir una compañía tan grande requiere mucho tiempo". Tres años atrás, le habían reasignado para cuidar de Joelle, así que entendía los entresijos de ese matrimonio mejor que nadie. Su perspicacia trajo consigo una sincera simpatía hacia ella. Las pestañas de Joelle temblaron mientras mordisqueaba su tostada. Sus ojos se llenaron de lágrimas debido a la tensión emocional. Sí, Adrian estaba muy ocupado, pero siempre tenía tiempo para Rebecca. Frecuentaba la Iglesia Redención en busca de un amuleto de bendición para ella. A pesar de su apretada agenda, siempre pasaba las vacaciones con ella. De repente, su celular rompió el silencio. Cuando Leah salió del comedor, Joelle agarró el dispositivo y vio que era una llamada de su mejor amiga, Katherine Nash. "Katherine, quiero el divorcio", confesó con voz ronca. Capítulo 2 En declive Joelle había tomado una decisión: quería el divorcio. No tenía sentido seguir alargándolo. Tras un silencio atónito, Katherine soltó una estridente carcajada. "¿Te quedarás con la mitad de los bienes de Adrian? ¡Oh, por Dios! ¡Joelle, te convertirás en una multimillonaria!". "No, no será así". Joelle había firmado un acuerdo cuando se casó con Adrian. Si se divorciaban, ella no recibiría nada. "Entonces, ¿por qué te estás divorciando? ¡Tienes que seguir siendo su esposa!". Joelle recordó la brutalidad de Adrian la noche anterior, así como la humillación posterior. Había sido muy ingenua al creer que su amor por él la ayudaría a soportar cualquier dificultad. Pero ahora sabía que había sido una completa tonta. ¿El sufrimiento hacía que Adrian la amara más? Claro que no. Para empezar, un hombre que realmente la amara nunca le haría sufrir. Joelle se rio de sí misma y cambió de tema: "Por cierto, ¿recuerdas el favor que te pedí?". "Sí, justo te iba a contar eso. Me pediste que estuviera atenta a un trabajo, y tengo algo para ti. Vas a enseñar a un estudiante a tocar el violín, aunque debo decir que será un desperdicio de tu talento". "Está bien", respondió Joelle con una leve sonrisa. "No será un desperdicio en absoluto. Llevo tres años siendo ama de casa. Es suficiente con que alguien quiera contratarme". "¿Cómo que no será un desperdicio? Casi formaste parte de una orquesta internacional. Si no fuera por el matrimonio…". Katherine se quedó en silencio, demasiado indignada por su amiga. Después de su boda, a Joelle ni siquiera le permitieron trabajar. Las familias adineradas se aferraban a esas reglas obsoletas. Era bastante ridículo. Hacía tres años, la carrera de Joelle como violinista despegaba. Pero las estrictas tradiciones de la familia Miller le prohibían tocar en público. El primer día de su matrimonio, la madre de Adrian le dijo: "No tienes que trabajar. Adrian te proveerá en todo lo que necesites. Tu único trabajo es tener bebés y cuidar a tu esposo". Una vez que terminó su llamada con Katherine, Joelle subió las escaleras y fue al estudio para agarrar su violín abandonado. Había sido un regalo especial de su padre en su decimoctavo cumpleaños. No obstante, poco después de recibirlo, este sufrió un derrame cerebral y cayó en coma. Su hermano mayor terminó asumiendo la responsabilidad de sustentar a la familia, así que la dejó perseguir su sueño de tocar el violín. Mientras recordaba el pasado, Joelle movió el arco sobre las cuerdas. Años atrás, un accidente le había lesionado la muñeca y desde entonces no había vuelto a tocar. A pesar del dolor agudo que sentía en esa zona mientras tocaba, no se detuvo y confió en su memoria muscular para tocar una pieza corta. Al final, soltó una risa amarga. Sonaba horrible. De repente, escuchó la alegre voz de Leah en la puerta. "¡Señor, ha regresado!". Estaba secretamente aliviada de ver a Adrian, ya que eso tal vez significaba que todavía se preocupaba por Joelle. Quizás si ella le decía algo amable, su relación podría mejorar. Por su parte, Joelle estaba sorprendida. Adrian rara vez venía a casa durante el día. Apenas había dejado el violín cuando se abrió la puerta. Ahí estaba la alta e imponente figura de su esposo. Sus ojos la recorrieron con el ceño fruncido. Recordaba que Joelle había aprendido a tocar el violín cuando era niña y que un reconocido profesor la había elogiado por su talento. Sin embargo, por alguna razón, había dejado de tocar. Hacía un momento, la había escuchado desde afuera y le pareció una interpretación mediocre. ¿Cómo era posible que la elogiara por su talento? Joelle lo miró y bajó la cabeza para volver a guardar el violín en su estuche. "¿Qué te trae por aquí?", murmuró. "¿Necesitas algo?". "Vine a recoger algo y recordarte que mañana tenemos que visitar a la abuela", respondió él fríamente. Era una regla familia visitar a su abuela al menos una vez al mes, y mañana era el día. De no ser por esa obligación, Adrian no habría regresado. Irene se enfadaría si no iban juntos. Joelle sonrió con amargura. Recordaba las normas de los Miller mejor que Adrian y siempre las cumplía. Ni siquiera Irene, tan estricta como siempre, podía encontrarle defectos. "No lo he olvidado, me alegra que tú tampoco lo hayas hecho", respondió. Su tono acusatorio hizo que Adrian pusiera una mueca. Una ira latente empezó a hervir dentro de él. Sin decir nada más, se dirigió al vestidor para buscar algo. Aunque él no solía estar en casa, Joelle aseaba meticulosamente su guardarropa, por lo que tenía la ropa lavada, planchada y ordenada. Era como si su papel se redujera a realizar las tareas del hogar, algo que Leah también podía hacer. Su única ventaja, tal vez, era ser más joven y más guapa que Leah. Sus ojos siguieron los movimientos de Adrian. Tenía el dedo anular desnudo, sin el anillo de bodas. Una punzada de dolor le atravesó el corazón. "Adrian, hay que divorciarnos", declaró con una voz tan suave como la brisa. Había agotado todas sus fuerzas al pronunciar esas palabras, pero se sintió extrañamente aliviada. Adrian se dio la vuelta y la miró con una sonrisa burlona. "Tienes que pensar muy bien antes de hablar. La familia Watson está en declive. Sin mi apoyo, ¿vas a dormir en la calle con tu hermano?". Desde la caída de la familia Watson, Joelle pasó de ser amada a quedar en ridículo. La familia Miller la despreciaba y la miraba por encima del hombro, como si ella y su hermano fueran sanguijuelas de las que no podían librarse. Incluso sus momentos íntimos con Adrian la hacían sentir degradada. Joelle se mordió el labio y se enderezó. "Ya he alquilado un apartamento. Incluso si terminara durmiendo en la calle, es asunto mío". Solo quería que su esposo la respetara, pero tres años de cautiverio la habían dejado sin orgullo ni dignidad. "¿Y de dónde sacaste el dinero para alquilar un apartamento? Si tanto querías ser independiente, no deberías haber gastado ni un solo centavo de mi familia". De espaldas a ella, Adrian encontró entre unos muebles el anillo de bodas perdido y lo sostuvo en la palma de su mano. Joelle no se dio cuenta. Las palabras de ese hombre la dejaron sin aliento. Sí, había utilizado sus escasos ahorros para alquilar el apartamento. Pero como estaba casada con Adrian, ¿lo que era suyo no era también de él? Además, el apoyo financiero que Adrian les había dado a los Watson durante todos esos años ascendía a una suma significativa. Joelle siempre había despreciado la idea de deberle algo, pero su deuda con él era infinita. Si se divorciaban, tal vez dejaría de darle apoyo financiero a la familia Watson. ¿Estaba sugiriendo que ella debía salir del matrimonio con las manos vacías? Cuando Adrian se dio la vuelta para irse, Joelle dijo con una dignidad apenas intacta: "Tengo derecho legítimo a este matrimonio y a reclamar lo que supuestamente es mío. Pero no te preocupes, no pediré mucho, solo lo suficiente para ayudar al Grupo Watson a superar esta crisis". Adrian se quedó paralizado y su mirada se agudizó. Sus labios formaron una fina línea mientras apretaba la mandíbula. Eran claras señales de su creciente furia. Aunque Joelle ya se había preparado mentalmente, no podía soportar su intensidad. Cada segundo bajo su mirada severa la ponía más ansiosa. De repente, sonó el celular de Adrian, quien lo sacó de su bolsillo y estuvo a punto de alejarse. "¡Adrian!". Capítulo 3 Siempre mantendré la cabeza en alto La frustración de Adrian crepitaba como estática. "Si tu hermano necesita dinero, dile que vaya al Grupo Miller". "¡No se trata de eso!", replicó Joelle. La había malinterpretado por completo. Con el corazón latiendo con urgencia, corrió tras él. "¡Adrian, quiero el divorcio!". Adrian dejó de subir las escaleras y giró la cabeza. El celular en su mano había dejado de sonar. Con un metro noventa de altura, se alzaba sobre ella. "Joelle, ¿no se te ocurre un mejor juego que este interminable tira y afloja?", preguntó burlonamente con una mirada gélida. "Si de verdad quieres divorciarte, ¿por qué no se lo dices tú misma a la abuela? ¡No quiero volver a escucharte pronunciar esa palabra!". La puerta se cerró de golpe detrás de él, haciendo eco a su irrevocable decisión. Joelle se apoyó contra la pared y sus piernas cedieron hasta que se deslizó al suelo. Una risa amarga emergió de sus labios. Irene había organizado su matrimonio. Adrian se había visto obligado a aceptar, y Joelle lo sabía muy bien. Si de verdad quería el divorcio, lo más efectivo sería hablar con Irene. Sin embargo, una pequeña y estúpida parte de ella se había aferrado a la esperanza de que ella y Adrian eran una verdadera pareja. Por eso se lo había mencionado primero a él, porque lo veía como su esposo. Sin embargo, olvidó un detalle crucial: Adrian nunca había querido casarse con ella. Su reticencia había sido evidente desde el principio, aunque ella había intentado pasarla por alto. Sus últimas palabras no solo fueron despectivas, sino una orden. Si de verdad quería el divorcio, debería enfrentarse a Irene. Joelle se dio una ducha, se puso ropa limpia y se preparó para visitar a la anciana. Irene era estricta, autoritaria y temida por toda la familia. Gobernaba con puño de hierro y no toleraba la desobediencia. Pero Joelle tenía un vínculo muy especial con ella. En parte, había aceptado casarse con Adrian para cumplir las expectativas de Irene. Quería cuidar de Adrian, construir un hogar y asegurarse de que la anciana falleciera sin remordimientos. Pero ahora ya no aguantaba más. Ver a Adrian tan preocupado por otra mujer le llenaba de una amargura que parecía consumirla. Era consciente de que él no la amaba. ¡Nunca lo hizo y nunca lo haría! Estaba a punto de irse cuando sonó su celular. Era su hermano, Shawn Watson. "¿Shawn? ¿Qué ocurre?". "¡Señora Miller!". Era el asistente de Shawn. Su voz sonaba muy asustada, algo que Joelle nunca había escuchado. Se le heló la s*gre y agarró el celular con más fuerza mientras permanecía en la escalera. "¿Dónde está mi hermano? ¿Qué le pasó?". "Anoche el señor Watson asistió a una reunión de negocios, donde lo presionaron para que biera. Supuestamente volvería a casa, pero Erick Lloyd insistió en llevarlo a unas aguas termales". Joelle se quedó congelada y la furia recorrió sus venas. "¿Erick no sabía que eso podría matarlo?". "¡Erick es un svergüenza! Se jacta de su poder desde que su padre y su hermano se volvieron chóferes de la familia Miller. ¡Señora Miller, tiene que venir rápido! El señor Watson está siendo operado y los médicos han emitido dos avisos de condición crítica. ¡No pude aguantar más, así que la llamé!". El asistente parecía estar al borde de las lágrimas. Joelle sabía que él no se habría puesto en contacto con ella a menos que la situación fuera bastante desesperada. Shawn siempre la había protegido de las malas noticias, sin importar lo sombrías que fueran las circunstancias. Si su asistente estaba tan conmocionado, la vida de su hermano debía estar en peligro. Joelle sintió como si el mundo se cerrara a su alrededor y un nudo se formó en su garganta. Al bajar del último escalón, tropezó y se cayó con fuerza, torciéndose bruscamente el tobillo. El dolor abrasador la devolvió a la realidad y las lágrimas brotaron de sus ojos. "¡Oh, no, señora Miller, tenga más cuidado cuando camina!". Leah corrió a ayudarla a levantarse. Joelle agarró el brazo de Leah con la visión borrosa a causa de las lágrimas. Intentó hablar, pero las palabras le salían entrecortadas porque estaba sollozando. "Mi hermano... ¡Tengo que ir al hospital para verlo!". Leah sintió su urgencia y respondió sin dudar: "De acuerdo, no se preocupe. ¡Le pediré al conductor que la lleve de inmediato!". Leah era una criada experimentada y confiable que llevaba años al servicio de la familia Miller. Cinco minutos después, el auto ya estaba aparcado delante de la villa. Joelle estaba a punto de subir cuando se volvió hacia Leah. "Por favor, no se lo cuentes a Irene. No quiero preocuparla". El corazón de la criada se ablandó. Incluso con el rostro pálido y surcado de lágrimas, Joelle se preocupaba por la salud de Irene. ¡Qué muchacha tan rara y extraordinaria! "No se preocupe, señora Miller. Yo sé qué hacer. Vaya a ver a su hermano". Cuando Joelle llegó al hospital, Shawn acababa de salir del quirófano. Al ver a su jefe conectado a tubos y cables, el asistente casi se desplomó. Joelle se acercó y lo encontró arrodillado contra la pared, con los ojos hundidos e inyectados en sgre. Tuvo que contener el impulso de regañarlo por no haber protegido mejor a su hermano. Más tarde habría tiempo para eso. Cuando la condición de Shawn fue más estable, Joelle llevó al asistente a un lado. "Cuéntamelo todo. ¿Cómo ocurrió esto?". El asistente vaciló, con el rostro desencajado. "Señora Miller, el señor Watson nos ordenó específicamente que no la involucremos en los asuntos comerciales". "Pero esto es una cuestión de vida o muerte. ¿Piensas que todavía es una opción no decirme nada?". Ya sin paciencia, Joelle se dio la vuelta para alejarse. "Señora Miller, eso no sirve de nada", respondió el asistente desesperadamente. "Usted sabe que desde la muerte de su padre, el Grupo Watson ha dependido por completo de su hermano. Ha estado luchando para defender la dignidad de la familia, porque quiere que su vida con los Miller sea más llevadera". Durante esos años, Shawn había luchado valientemente para mantener a la familia a flote. No obstante, sin el apoyo financiero de Adrian, sus esfuerzos se habrían desvanecido hacía mucho tiempo. Su deseo más profundo era que su hermana viviera cómodamente, pero a pesar de sus incansables esfuerzos, nunca pudo hacerle ganar el respeto que merecía por parte de su esposo. No importaba lo mucho que se sacrificara, ella seguiría siendo infravalorada en la familia Miller. Joelle estaba hirviendo de rabia, pero sabía que no podía cambiar su realidad. Entonces, inspiró profundamente y preguntó: "¿No mencionaron mi relación con Adrian?" Esperaba que alinearse con los Miller pudiera ayudar a Shawn a mantenerse firme en sus actividades sociales. "El señor Watson se niega a tocar ese tema, pues teme que eso le haga las cosas más difíciles a usted". Joelle soltó una risa amarga. Jamás había estado en igualdad de condiciones con Adrian. No le extrañaba que la despreciara, ya que apenas podía soportarse a sí misma. Solo hacía una hora que le había pedido el divorcio. Y ahora se aferraba al nombre de su esposo, desesperada por facilitarle la vida a su hermano. "Dile a Shawn que soy la esposa de Adrian Miller, Irene me eligió personalmente. ¡Mientras sea la señora Miller, mantendré la cabeza en alto dentro de la familia!". De repente, escucharon unos pasos detrás de ella. Joelle se dio la vuelta y vio a Adrian, que tenía una sonrisa fría en su rostro. A su lado, se encontraba una muchacha de aspecto frágil, con grandes ojos inocentes, aferrada a él. Adrian la miraba desdeñosamente, como si incluso le costara reconocer su presencia. Ya se había dado cuenta de que ella realmente no quería el divorcio. La mujer que había parecido tan decidida a irse, ahora estaba haciendo alarde de su título como la señora Miller. Su amenaza de divorcio no había sido más que una estrategia, como una pelea de amantes que terminaba en amenazas vacías. Era tan astuta que lo había d*gado para obligarlo a casarse. Con tácticas tan engañosas, ¿cómo podría irse tan fácilmente? Su matrimonio eran un salvavidas para las dificultades de su familia. Adrian le daba cien millones cada año al Grupo Watson. Joelle sería una tonta si se arriesgaba a perderlo divorciándose de él. Capítulo 4 Por fin se dio cuenta Hacía mucho que Joelle se había vuelto insensible ante la indiferencia de Adrian. Observó sin decir nada los brazos entrelazados de la pareja y recordó los dulces momentos capturados en los videos de Rebecca, que provocaban la envidia de mucha gente. ¡Qué pareja tan perfecta! Ese pensamiento la golpeó. "¡Joelle, por favor, no nos malinterpretes!", dijo Rebecca con urgencia mientras retiraba su mano del brazo de Adrian. "No me siento bien y no puedo caminar, así que Adie simplemente tuvo la amabilidad de sostenerme". Joelle esbozó una leve sonrisa. "¿Qué te trae al hospital?", preguntó mirando a Adrian, como si no hubiera escuchado la explicación de Rebecca. "Es por Erick", dijo Rebecca, con las manos entrelazadas como una niña arrepentida. "También vine a pedirte perdón, Joelle. Lamento que Erick haya sido tan descuidado para provocar que tu hermano terminara en el hospital". "¿Descuidado?", replicó ella. "Tu hermano casi mta al mío, ¿y crees que una disculpa bastará para arreglarlo?". Rebecca se estremeció y agarró la manga de Adrian en busca de apoyo. "Ya es suficiente, Joelle", respondió él con una voz tan gélida como el invierno. "No fue a propósito". Luego, se volvió hacia Rebecca y agregó suavemente: "Vamos, ¿no viniste para ver a Erick?". Fue entonces cuando Joelle lo entendió todo. Había esperado ingenuamente que Adrian viniera para ver a Shawn. Pero no, había venido con Rebecca para ver a Erick. Incluso si visitara a Shawn, sería por obligación, nada más. Pero sabía que no debía esperar que él la defendiera. "¡Rebecca, no olvidaré lo que hizo Erick!", espetó. Rebecca dobló las piernas y se desplomó sobre el pecho de Adrian, quien la atrapó justo a tiempo y la abrazó con fuerza. "Joelle, Erick no tenía malas intenciones. ¡También está en el hospital!". "¿Ya está muerto? ¡Si no, tendrá que pagar por lo que hizo!". Joelle no solía arremeter, pero esta vez era diferente. Shawn era la única familia que le quedaba. Su padre, incapacitado por un derrame cerebral, se encontraba en estado vegetativo con poca o ninguna esperanza de recuperación, y su madre había fallecido en un accidente de tráfico. Desde los dieciocho años, habían sido solo ella y Shawn, enfrentándose juntos a las dificultades del mundo. En sus momentos más oscuros, Shawn llevó sola la carga para dejar que Joelle persiguiera su pasión por el violín. Ahora la idea de perderlo también a él era insoportable. Su único deseo era que Erick muriera. "Joelle, ¿cómo puedes decir eso?", sollozó Rebecca con incredulidad. Ya sin paciencia, Adrian fijó su fría mirada en Joelle. "¿Qué deseas?". "Shawn recibió dos avisos de condición crítica. ¿Qué hay de Erick?". Rebecca jadeó, su frágil cuerpo estaba temblando como una hoja en el viento. "¡Joelle, por favor! Solo me queda un hermano. ¡Por favor, ten compasión!". Se desmayó antes de que la otra mujer pudiera responder. Adrian la levantó en sus brazos y le dio una última mirada de reproche a Joelle. Luego, se alejó y la dejó clavada en el mismo lugar, incapaz de moverse o incluso de pensar, lo que pareció una eternidad. Antes de su matrimonio, había sido una chica adinerada, pero luego se convirtió en la sirvienta de Adrian. Ahora se daba cuenta de lo ingenua que había sido. Ella solía ser una persona muy orgullosa, pero ahora soporta todo tipo de agravios sólo para complacer a su marido. ¡Qué patético! Han pasado tres años, es hora de divorciarnos y comenzar una nueva vida... ...... ¿Qué sucederá en adelante? Los capítulos disponibles son limitados aquí, haga click el botón abajo para instalar APP y disfrutar leyendo más contenidos maravillosos. (Al abrir el APP, directo accederá a este libro) &9&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.manobook.com/14484375-fb_contact-spa	Online Reading	https://www.facebook.com/100083320248142/	43,909	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.manobook.com	VIDEO		https://fbweb.manobook.com/14484375-fb_contact-spa220_2-1023-core2.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=1164004058227180&rawadid=120214339808850186	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/467650839_978428497452403_8062812160655673597_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=JG5gtACEkt0Q7kNvgFBeW2Q&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=Ablgng3NnGAEiKACZKBs8s_&oh=00_AYDF01MlbNK27XyKggUC56i-mWMEQTdywGWuNY6bl51qVA&oe=6749A269	PERSON_PROFILE	Online Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,199	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:14	active	1919	El regreso de la esposa no deseada	En su aniversario de boda, ella se vistió de gala para acudir a la cita, pero fue drogada por la amante de su esposo, y se enredó con un desconocido durante una noche, ¡sin darse cuenta de que ese era el hermanastro y rival en los negocios de su esposo! ===== En el opulento y poco iluminado cine privado, se transmitía en vivo la subasta de joyas más exclusiva. "Un millón a la una, un millón a las dos...". La fuerte voz del subastador resonó en la sala, el hombre apretó con más fuerza la cintura de Alicia Bennett... La intensidad entre ellos solo se hizo más feroz a medida que pasaba el tiempo... El subastador dejó caer su mazo. "¡Vendido por diez millones! ¡Démosle un aplauso al señor Joshua Yates!". Ese nombre impactó a Alicia como si fuera un rayo. Su cuerpo se puso rígido, por lo que el hombre no pudo evitar notarlo. Sus movimientos se detuvieron mientras sus ojos entrecerrados de satisfacción observaban perezosamente la pantalla. La cámara se acercó al rostro de Joshua Yates, por lo que cada detalle de sus conocidos rasgos se mostró con perfecta claridad. "Joshua, el segundo hijo de la familia Yates... ¿Es un conocido tuyo?", preguntó, arrastrando las palabras. Sus labios se curvaron en una sonrisa maliciosa mientras. La mujer frunció más el ceño, ya que lo último que quería era discutir ese asunto. Ella no respondió. Ver la situación, el hombre se rio por lo bajo, en cambio, agarró con más fuerza su cintura y se movió de manera más implacable... Cuando todo terminó, Alicia aprovechó que el hombre estaba en la ducha para escapar sigilosamente. Cuando Caden Ward finalmente salió del baño, sin ver la figura de la mujer. Una mirada divertida se apoderó de sus ojos y una sonrisa burlona apareció en sus labios. Después de un rato, Hank Ford, su asistente, irrumpió en la habitación con nerviosismo. "Eh, discúlpeme, señor Ward. Estaba distraído. Deme un momento y la traeré de vuelta ahora mismo". Acababan de regresar al país y habían tomado todas las precauciones. Pero aun así, una mujer había logrado burlar su seguridad. Caden exhaló una corriente, "No es necesario. Yo... lo hice voluntariamente". Hank abrió mucho los ojos. La cabeza de Hank empezó a dar vueltas. En todo el tiempo que lo conocía, nunca lo había visto acostarse con una mujer, ni siquiera había tenido una contacto fisico. Incluso había rumores de que sufría una enfermedad, y que por eso nunca había tenido sxo. Pero ahora, esos rumores se evaporaron ante ese giro inesperado. Antes de que Hank pudiera procesar todo, la profunda voz de Caden lo devolvió a la realidad. "Quiero que investigues la vida personal de Joshua. El informe debe estar en mi escritorio en media hora Esa noche, Alicia había entrado tambaleándose a su habitación, febril y desesperada. Obviamente, la habían dgado. Y entonces descubrió algo: Alicia era puro. Dos años de matrimonio con Joshua... ¿Y aun así, estaba intacta? Sus labios se curvaron en una sonrisa de satisfacción. Lo inesperado siempre lo intrigaba. Pero mientras reflexionaba, una cosa le quedó muy clara: Alicia no sabía con quién había estado debido a los efectos de la dga. Cuando la joven regresó a casa, la primera luz del amanecer se estaba filtrando por las ventanas. Solo entonces se dio cuenta de cuánto tiempo había estado fuera. Pero antes de que pudiera seguir pensando en eso, sonó su celular. Era una llamada de su mejor amiga, Monica Flynn. "¡Alicia!", gritó ella desde el otro extremo de la línea. Sonaba bastante preocupada. "¿Cómo estás ahora?". Alicia exhaló un profundo suspiro y se quitó los zapatos descuidadamente. "He estado mejor", susurró. Desbordada de rabia, Monica espetó implacablemente: "¡Joshua es un pedazo de mirda! ¡Es tan repugnante! ¡Si no quiere seguir casado, debería armarse de valor y divorciarse de ti! ¿Qué clase de enfermo conspira contra su propia esposa?". Alicia sintió el profundo dolor de la traición. Ayer había sido su segundo aniversario de matrimonio. Joshua le había enviado un mensaje sugiriendo que lo celebraran. Alicia pensó que él había cambiado, así que se vistió elegantemente. Pero solo se encontró con una decepción y una bebida con d*ga que le hizo tener una noche de confusión y caos. ¿De verdad Joshua había planeado todo eso? Tragándose su amargura, Alicia se obligó a subir lentamente las escaleras. "Está bien, Monica. Yo me encargaré de eso". Siempre protectora, la aludida no estaba convencida. "¿Piensas tomar medidas? ¿Cómo piensas hacerlo? Solo dime y estaré ahí ahora mismo!". Alicia no pudo evitar esbozar una pequeña y cansada sonrisa, luego colgó el teléfono. Repentino la puerta de su dormitorio se abrió con un crujido. Alicia alzó la mirada y sintió su corazón hundirse. Recién salido de la ducha, con una toalla enrollada alrededor de su cintura, estaba Joshua. Su cabello húmedo se le pegaba a la frente mientras la miraba fijamente. Capítulo 2 Divorciémonos Alicia salió de su aturdimiento en cuanto se encontró con la mirada gélida de Joshua, su supuesto esposo. El hombre tenía una expresión tan indiferente como siempre, como si estuviera mirando a una desconocida. Lo único fuera de lugar era el mordisco en sus labios. Estaba tan disgustada que tuvo que aguantar sus arcadas. Ella lo empujó y estaba a punto de entrar. Joshua frunció el ceño y agarró su muñeca. "Alicia, ¿por qué tienes esta actitud?". No parecía estar contento con ella, lo que era algo raro considerando lo poco que se molestaba en volver a casa. Normalmente, ella lo habría recibido con los brazos abiertos y una mirada alegre en su cansado rostro, pero hoy parecía agotada, casi vacía. No se resistió a su agarre y lo miró a los ojos con una calma que lo puso nervioso. "¿No he sido siempre así? He sido obediente y sensata, he cuidado de la casa para que esté en orden, para que estés cómodo y puedas dar lo mejor en el trabajo". Una pequeña y amarga sonrisa se dibujó en sus labios. "¿No es eso lo que más te gusta de mí? Te facilito las cosas, ¿no? Te dejo tiempo para que se lo dediques... a alguien especial". Los ojos de Joshua se oscurecieron ante esa acusación. Quería negarlo, pero no le importó. ¿Por qué haría eso? Le soltó la mano y dijo bruscamente: "En realidad, por eso estoy aquí. Tenemos que hablar". Alicia se frotó vigorosamente la muñeca, como si quisiera limpiarse donde la tocó. "¿Finalmente piensas hacer pública tu relación con ella?". El rostro de Joshua se contrajo al instante. "¿Qué sabes tú? ¿Le pediste a un detective privado que me persiguiera o algo así?", preguntó el hombre. Alicia soltó una risa amarga. "¿Es necesario? Anoche no escatimaste en gastos para complacerla. Incluso un ciego podría darse cuenta de que estás loco por ella". Joshua la miró fijamente, inquieto por su frialdad. Era su misma voz y era la misma Alicia, pero había algo diferente... Por alguna razón, se sintió herido, como una espina que se clavaba en su corazón. Tal vez se debía a la forma en que lo miraba ahora: sus antes cálidos y amorosos ojos ahora estaban completamente vacíos. No había rabia ni dolor, solo...nada. Era un marcado contraste con la mujer que lo miraba como si él fuera su mundo entero. No sabía por qué, pero verla así despertó algo en él, un descontento desconocido. Molesto por su propia reacción, Joshua decidió contraatacar con mayor dureza: "Está embarazada. Es un embarazo delicado, así que le compré algo para animarla". Alicia apretó los puños. ¿Ebarazada? Todas las noches que ella se quedó despierta esperando su regreso, ¿él estuvo intentando formar una nueva familia con otra mujer? Al verla estremecerse, Joshua sintió una ligera satisfacción. "No es que no quiera dormir contigo", dijo con condescendencia. "Eres tan simple que aburres. Ningún hombre quiere algo así". Sus crueles palabras atravesaron a Alicia, pero aun así, logró mantener la compostura. No es que evitara la intimidad, simplemente no solía tomar la iniciativa. ¿Eso la volvía tan indeseable? ¿Era un pecado no ser lo suficientemente suctora? Alicia respiró profundamente para obligarse a mantener la calma. "Está bien", murmuró. "Divorciémonos. Puedes darle el título que ella quiere". El párpado de Joshua tembló involuntariamente. Entrecerrando los ojos con sospecha, resopló: "¿Es este otro de tus juegos?". Su voz se volvió más mordaz mientras hablaba con certeza: "Alicia, durante dos años has hecho de todo para llamar mi atención. ¿No te cansas? Porque yo estoy cansado". Hizo una pausa para que ella sintiera su desdén. "Dices amarme mucho. ¿De verdad podrías alejarte de mí?". Alicia no pudo evitar lanzar una risa amarga. ¿Amarlo? ¿Siquiera entendía lo que eso significab Cuando el negocio de Joshua se derrumbó, y solo tuvo deudas y sueños destrozados, Alicia puso sus ahorros para rescatarlo de los escombros. Por gratitud, o tal vez por obligación, Joshua se había casado con ella. Durante dos largos años, ella fue la esposa obediente que lo apoyaba mientras se abría camino hacia el éxito. ¿Y qué había recibido a cambio? Fue abandonada como una reliquia inútil, mientras que otra mujer llevaba un hijo de él. Su amor y su lealtad habían sido destrozados bajo sus pies. "Redacta el acuerdo de divorcio", declaró Alicia firmemente. "Aceptaré los términos que gustes". Luego, se dio la vuelta y salió del lugar, dejando a Joshua solo en el pasillo. El joven la miró enojado durante unos segundos, pero luego una sonrisa burlona tiró de sus labios. Se había vuelto más intrigante. Pero dudaba que fuera capaz de mantener esa máscara por mucho tiempo. Joshua salió furioso de la casa y se dirigió al apartamento donde lo esperaba su amte, Lilliana Green. "Bueno, eso fue rápido", bromeó ella con una ceja alzada cuando Joshua le contó que se iba a divorciar. "Parece que no fue tan difícil convencerla como decías". Joshua la atrajo a sus brazos. "Es astuta", murmuró con sospecha. "No sé si de verdad está aceptando el divorcio o solo está jugando conmigo". Lilliana abrazó perezosamente su cuello. Su mirada ardía con s*uctora picardía. "Relájate, Joshua", ronroneó. "Incluso si cambia de opinión, ya será demasiado tarde". Joshua frunció el ceño. "¿Qué quieres decir?". Capítulo 3 Olvidarlo‘’ Los ojos de Lilliana se volvieron sombríos y sus labios se curvaron en una leve sonrisa. No era tan tonta como para mostrar sus cartas en ese momento, así que le dio una excusa sencilla. "Durante estos años que llevan casados, ella ha vivido tranquilamente en las sombras, como una simple ama de casa apartada del mundo. ¿Se atrevería a decir algo si tomas una decisión?". Joshua apretó los labios. Durante esos dos años, Alicia había hecho todo por él, le había dado apoyo y consuelo. Lo había amado intensamente, pero al fin y al cabo, ¿qué valor tenía el amor? Contra todo pronóstico, Joshua se abrió camino hasta la cima y finalmente logró alcanzar el poder que tanto ansiaba. Pero ese éxito no había sido fácil. No era el amor lo que aseguraba su posición, sino las alianzas con los poderosos. El prestigio de la hija de la familia Green valía mucho más que el amor devoto de Alicia. Mientras esos pensamientos llenaban su mente. "Joshua, felicitaciones por escapar de la rutina", Lilliana murmuró con voz aterciopelada. "¿Lo celebramos?". Joshua se quedó mirándola, pero de repente, el rostro indiferente de Alicia apareció ante sus ojos. Desde que salió de casa, ella no lo había llamado ni una vez para preguntarle dónde estaba. Antes, cuando él se enojaba, siempre lo llamaba con ansiedad. Una inexplicable irritación surgió en su interior. Sin pensarlo, empujó a Lilliana para alejarla. "Solo tienes unas pocas semanas de embarazo", murmuró con voz ronca. "Debes tener cuidado". Pero ella era astuta y no tardó en darse cuenta de que estaba distraído. "Joshua, ¿qué pasa?", preguntó suavemente. "¿No quieres divorciarte?". "Por supuesto que quiero divorciarme de ella", respondió él al instante. Liliana entrecerró los ojos mientras lo estudiaba. "Entonces, ¿por qué no te ves feliz?". Joshua ofreció una excusa rápida. "La condición de mi padre ha empeorado", respondió con cierto distanciamiento. "No le queda mucho tiempo y Caden regresó anoche. Tal vez vino para reclamar su herencia, así que debo saber cómo manejarlo". Lilliana parpadeó con desconcierto. "¿Caden? ¿El hijo del primer matrimonio de tu padre? Ni siquiera lleva el apellido Yates. ¿Qué derecho tiene para pelear contigo por la herencia?". El rostro de Joshua se oscureció. Era cierto, pero al fin y al cabo, seguía siendo el hijo de una rompe hogares. En todos esos años, se había esforzado incansablemente no solo para alcanzar una posición en la familia Yates, sino para empujar a Caden a las sombras, el lugar donde pertenecía. De una forma u otra, estaba decidido a ganar. Mientras tanto, Alicia se despertó con las extremidades fatigadas. Ya había oscurecido, pero se sentía más cansada que antes. Y era porque sus sueños giraban en torno a ese desconocido. Solo salió de su aturdimiento cuando su celular vibró con una llamada de Monica. "Alicia, tengo los resultados de tu análisis de sngre. Se los pasé a un amigo mío que tiene buenos contactos. Está investigando quién compró esa dga". Alicia se incorporó y su mente se agudizó. "Gracias, Monica. Lo aprecio mucho". "Si de verdad quieres agradecerme, hazme un favor: deja de estar obsesionada con ese iota. Y después del divorcio, solo concéntrate en tu carrera. Me lo debes". Alicia se sintió conmovida y bajó la cabeza en silenciosa gratitud. "Lo sé, lo sé". Ahora que lo pensaba, sus sentimientos por Joshua nunca habían sido de amor verdadero, ya que todo era porque se sentía en deuda, un sentido de obligación. Las expectativas de su familia siempre habían pesado sobre ella, y en esa infancia solitaria y sofocada, fue Joshua quien estuvo a su lado. Su compañía había alimentado un vago afecto que había confundido con el amor. "Es una suerte que nunca me haya aferrado con fuerza al amor", murmuró. "Estos dos últimos años... solo los veré como una forma de devolverle su bondad". Monica hizo una pausa para darle cierta consideración. Sabía mejor que nadie que, en algún momento, Joshua había amado a Alicia. Pero el amor podía ser muy fugaz. "Alicia, realmente espero que lo hayas olvidado para siempre", declaró con un suspiro de convicción. Alicia sintió un dolor en el pecho. Sus ojos ardían mientras intentaba contener las ganas de llorar. Rápidamente presionó una mano sobre sus párpados, negándose a derramar lágrimas. Fue entonces cuando se quedó congelada. Miró fijamente su mano. El anillo de bodas, algo que había conservado con tanto fervor, había desaparecido. No lo había llevado durante todo un día y una noche, y ella ni siquiera se había dado cuenta. Su corazón se sintió más ligero y el peso de todo lo que había estado cargando empezó a desvanecerse. "Sí, realmente lo he olvidado", susurró más para sí misma. No pasó mucho tiempo para que Joshua se diera cuenta de la pérdida del anillo. Había regresado para recoger algo cuando sus ojos se posaron en su mano. "¿Dónde está tu anillo de bodas?", preguntó con el ceño fruncido. Capítulo 4 Su némesis Ahora todo lo que Alicia quería era dejar a Joshua, así que ignoró su pregunta y espetó: "¿Ya están listos los papeles del divorcio?". Otra vez esa palabra. El hombre se mostró irritado. "¿Por qué tanta prisa?", siseó con un tono cortante. "Mi padre está ultimando su testamento, y si se sabe que me divorciaré, mi reputación estará arruinada. Ahora alista tus cosas, esta tarde cenaremos en la mansión Yates". Debido al regreso de Caden, la familia le organizó una cena de bienvenida. Esperaban que eso animara a Jerald Yates, el padre de Joshua. Pero lo último que quería Alicie era mantener la farsa de un matrimonio feliz. "No iré", respondió secamente. "Solo tramita el divorcio y deja de hacerme perder el tiempo". Joshua se rio, pero era un sonido que no contenía calidez. "Oh, vamos, Alicia. No finjas más. Escondiste el anillo porque en realidad no quieres dejarme, ¿cierto? No soportas la idea de estar sin mí". Con una sonrisa, se inclinó y agregó: "Te has esforzando mucho durante estos últimos dos años. Incluso si nos divorciamos, te seguiré cuidando, siempre y cuando me mantengas feliz". Alicia abrió mucho los ojos. Su incredulidad se convirtió en rabia. ¿Esconder el anillo? ¿No soportar estar sin él? Sus arrogantes palabras eran demasiado chirriantes. "Oh, señor Yates, ¿cómo podría hacerle feliz?", respondió con una mueca despectiva. "No te preocupes, te devolveré el anillo. No querrás que esta humilde mujer te moleste, ¿verdad? Una vez que lo tengas, finalizaremos el divorcio". Pero él no se inmutó ante sus palabras. Pensaba conocerla demasiado bien, así que estaba convencido de que era otra estrategia para llamar su atención. Sin pensarlo mucho, le arrojó una bolsa. "Hoy tenemos invitados. Vístete apropiadamente, no quiero que me hagas quedar mal". Alicia miró la bolsa y recordó las innumerables veces que había ido a la mansión vestida con ropa modesta y sin pretensiones, ya que quería hacer todo lo posible para integrarse y complacerlos a él y a su familia. Pero ahora que su divorcio se acercaba, ya no le interesaba desempeñar el papel de esposa obediente. Tras ponerse el atuendo, se aplicó cuidadosamente el maquillaje, justo lo suficiente para resaltar la vitalidad de su impecable cutis. Esas mejoras sutiles acentuaron su piel suave y sus delicados rasgos, dándoles un cierto brillo. Cuando Joshua la vio bajar las escaleras, se quedó paralizado, con la mirada perdida. Alicia se veía más atractiva de lo habitual, tal vez por la forma en que el vestido acentuaba sus elegantes curvas. En la entrada de la mansión Yates, los dos asumieron sus roles de esposos perfectos, enmascarando su tensión con aparente facilidad. Alicia entrelazó su brazo con el de Joshua. Sus movimientos se sincronizaron mientras se acercaban al patio. Aunque Jerald estaba demasiado enfermo para recibir visitas, el amplio salón estaba lleno de gente. Los familiares llenaban el espacio mientras charlaban. El ruido zumbaba en todo el lugar. Sin embargo, por alguna razón, en cuanto Alicia cruzó el umbral, sintió un escalofrío agudo. Instintivamente alzó la mirada y se vio inmediatamente atraída por la figura que descansaba en el otro extremo. El hombre rezumaba elegancia e imponencia. Tenía las piernas cruzadas y la camisa oscura desabotonada lo suficiente para revelar una franja de su clavícula. Cuando los ojos de Alicia se encontraron con los de él, una mirada familiar y autoritaria que la dejó congelada, su mente se aceleró mientras las emociones la embargaban incontrolablemente. Joshua notó su cambio y frunció el ceño. "¿Qué te pasa?". Alicia sentía que su respiración se agitaba. Una palabra apenas audible escapó de sus labios. "¿Caden?". Con solo mencionar su nombre, sintió un escalofrío en la columna vertebral. Caden era la encarnación de sus pesadillas. Debido a la amistad de sus familias, sus caminos se cruzaron por primera vez cuando solo tenía diez años. Después de tomarse un año sabático, este se transfirió a su escuela y, a partir de ese momento, el mundo perfecto de Alicia empezó a desmoronarse. Ya no podía reclamar el primer puesto. No importaba lo mucho que se esforzaba ni cuán tarde se quedara estudiando, Caden siempre estaba un paso por delante. La superaba por un margen mínimo, un punto o tal vez dos, dejándola perpetuamente estancada en el segundo lugar. Cualquier otra persona podría haber aceptado la derrota y resignado a ser el subcampeón. Pero Alicia no era así. Había nacido en la otrora prestigiosa familia Bennett, y fue criada con el peso sofocante de honrar su apellido. La excelencia no era solo un objetivo, era la moneda con la que podía ganarse el afecto de sus padres. No podía fracasar, pero Caden tuvo la audacia de arrebatarle sin esfuerzo todo por lo que había trabajado. Era como si la hubiera tenido en el punto de mira desde el principio, y Alicia era tan testaruda que se negaba a dar marcha atrás. Su rivalidad duró más de una década. Era una implacable batalla librada tanto abiertamente como en las sombras. Su último enfrentamiento tuvo lugar en la universidad, justo antes de su graduación, en la competencia nacional. Alicia puso todo su empeño, concentrándose al máximo, porque no aspiraba a nada menos que la perfección. Y así logró una puntuación perfecta. Pero Caden sobornó a los jueces y cambió los resultados a su favor. Una vez más, Alicia se vio obligada a aceptar el segundo lugar. El dolor de la injusticia era profundo, pero el golpe más duro vino de su padre, Phil Bennett. Al otro lado de la línea, su voz destilaba decepción debido a su clasificación. Alicia estaba acostumbrada a sus diatribas, así que no dijo nada. Solo esperó a que su enojo disminuyera para decir en voz baja: "Me graduaré pronto. ¿Van a volver?". Su madre Donna siempre había sido su más tierno consuelo. Ese día, la consoló y le prometió que estarían ahí para su graduación. Pero la vida tuvo otros planes. Phil y Donna estaban regresando desde Itrubisite para asistir a la graduación cuando fallecieron en un trágico accidente aéreo. De la noche a la mañana, el mundo de Alicia se derrumbó y se quedó sola en ese mundo tan cruel. Desde ese día, no volvió a desafiar a Caden. Luego, él se fue de Warrington para construir su carrera en el extranjero. "Ha vuelto por la herencia", murmuró Joshua con una voz apenas audible. Alicia lo miró de reojo mientras él agregaba: "Con un imperio familiar tan grande como el nuestro, un hijo mayor no se rendiría tan fácilmente". Ella frunció ligeramente el ceño. Era cierto que el imperio Yates era enorme, un legado por el que muchos matarían. Pero Caden había acumulado su propia fortuna, tanta que superaba incluso la vasta riqueza de esa familia. ¿De verdad le importaba la herencia? Pero así era él. Llevaba las ganas de competir en su s*ngre. Incluso si no le importaba la fortuna, lucharía con uñas y dientes solo para ganar, solo para jugar con los demás. Ese hombre se divertía creando el caos. Alicia había sido su rival desde que tenía memoria, e incluso ahora la idea de solo mirarlo le parecía un desperdicio de energía. Por lo tanto, se dio la vuelta para alejarse. Pero Joshua le agarró la muñeca con firmeza y tensión. "Ya sé que ustedes dos no se llevan bien, pero sigue siendo mi hermano mayor. Tenemos que mantener las apariencias". El cuerpo de Alicia se puso rígido e intentó liberar su mano, ya que su piel se erizó bajo su agarre. Joshua frunció más el ceño. "Alicia, compórtate", susurró. Pero ella solo se sintió más irritada. "No me voy a ir, pero suéltame. No quiero que me toques con tus manos sucias". El rostro de Joshua se volvió sombrío, y en lugar de soltarla, entrelazó sus dedos con fuerza. Alicia se mordió la lengua e hirvió de rabia en silencio. A medida que se acercaban, Caden alzó lentamente la mirada y entrecerró los ojos mientras los evaluaba de una manera casi aburrida. "Caden", saludó Joshua, mirándolo con forzada cordialidad. Este observó sus manos entrelazadas y una sonrisa burlona se dibujó en sus labios. "¿Tu novia?", preguntó con indiferencia, como si no la reconociera. Capítulo 5 Nos volvemos a encontrar muy pronto Los nervios Alicia se tensaron. Esa voz... Sus pensamientos confusos se convirtieron en un caos, pero entonces la tranquila declaración de Joshua la trajo a la realidad. "Alicia y yo llevamos dos años de casados. Como se preocupa por mí, mantuvimos un perfil bajo. Solo fuimos directo al Registro Civil, ni siquiera tuvimos ceremonia. Tú estabas ocupado en el extranjero y no quisimos molestarte". Caden arqueó una ceja. "Oh, entonces es mi cuñada", se burló. La forma en que escupió esa palabra parecía más una bofetada que un honor, dejando muy en claro su desprecio por ella. Alicia sentía su mofa en cada sílaba. Y todo era gracias a su supuesto esposo, Joshua. Su mano tembló cuando agarró un pañuelo y se limpió vigorosamente la mano, como si quisiera quitarse un rastro de suciedad. "Parece que Alicia es un poco escrupulosa", observó Caden. El rostro de Joshua se oscureció y la tensión aumentó entre ellos. No esperaba que ella lo humillara así. "Parece que la he consentido demasiado", murmuró irritado. Los ojos de Caden mostraron un destello peligroso. "Si es grave, debería recibir tratamiento. Podría poner en peligro su papel como madre. Ya sabes lo mucho que nuestro padre desea un nieto". Una emoción apareció en los ojos de Joshua. A pesar de que su esposa estaba a su lado, mintió descaradamente. "Gracias por tu preocupación, Caden, pero ya tengo buenas noticias para papá. Es solo que aún no he tenido tiempo para decírselo". Caden amplió su sonrisa y se volvió hacia Alicia, quien estaba harta de esa farsa y se disculpó para alejarse. El balanceo de sus caderas llamó la atención de Caden. "¿Cuánto tiempo lleva de embarazo?", preguntó. "No lo parece". "Solo un mes", respondió Joshua. Su respuesta era tanto una amenaza como un anuncio. Ahora que las apuestas de la herencia acababan de aumentar, y con Jerald siempre entusiasmado en continuar la línea familiar, tomaría en consideración a un posible nieto. La sonrisa de Caden se volvió forzada. Con cierta petulancia, Joshua asestó el golpe final. "Será mejor que te pongas al día, Caden. No siempre puedo estar un paso delante de ti". Imperturbable, él agitó la mano perezosamente. "No hay prisa", dijo. Alicia salió a la terraza y la fresca brisa nocturna acarició su piel. Sus nervios se calmaron mientras respiraba ávidamente. Luego, sacó su celular y volvió a marcar el número del gerente del cine privado. "¿Han encontrado el anillo?", preguntó ansiosamente. El gerente vaciló. "Señora Bennett, hemos buscado en todas partes y hemos interrogado a todo el personal, pero no encontramos ningún anillo", respondió con angustia. "Entonces...". Alicia apretó el puño mientras su mente se aceleraba. "¿Tiene el número del huésped que reservó la habitación ese día?". "Lo siento, pero debido a nuestra política de privacidad, no podemos revelar ninguna información de nuestros clientes". Alicia sintió su corazón hundirse. "Entiendo", respondió con un suspiro de resignación. "Por favor, avíseme en cuanto sepa algo, ¿sí?". En un mundo perfecto, podría haber comprado un anillo idéntico para hacerlo pasar por el original. Pero Joshua había mandado hacer ese anillo a medida, y no era tan fácil replicarlo. Después de cenar, comenzó a llover. Los familiares empezaron a irse. Joshua estaba a su lado mientras se dirigían al auto, observando su muñeca desnuda. "Si te gustó la pulsera de la subasta, puedo comprarte algo parecido". Alicia tuvo que resistirse a poner los ojos en blanco. No creía ni por un segundo que él hubiera cambiado de opinión sobre ella. "Quieres comprar mi silencio, ¿no?". Sus duras palabras quebraron la tierna fachada de Joshua. "No es necesario. No me interesa enredarme en tus asuntos". Joshua no había dicho eso con mala intención, pero el tono burlón de su esposa tocó una fibra sensible. Con la mandíbula tensa, una sonrisa amarga se dibujó en sus labios. "Muy bien, no te regalaré nada. De todos modos, el dinero que gasto en ti es un desperdicio". Alicia se mordió el labio: "Joshua, ya te lo dije. Estoy dispuesta a finalizar este matrimonio con las manos vacías. Mañana en la mañana firmemos los papeles del divorcio y terminemos con esto de una vez por todas". Joshie esbozó una sonrisa oscura y peligrosa. "¿Y el anillo?". "Lo perdí". Él entrecerró los ojos. "No me importa nada más, solo quiero el anillo". Alice apenas podía contener su frustración. Tenía la respiración entrecortada cuando él le dio el golpe final. "Si no puedes encontrarlo, asumiré que lo conservas porque todavía me quieres". De repente, sonó el celular de Joshua. Era una llamada de Lilliana. "Joshua", murmuró esta lastimosamente. "Los truenos suenan muy fuertes. Me da miedo dormir sola... ¿Puedes venir?". No estaban yendo por la ruta que daba a la casa Lilliana, pero como Joshua estaba furioso con Alicia, la dejó bajo la lluvia sin pensarlo dos veces y se fue a toda velocidad. Ni siquiera le dio un paraguas. Alicia se quedó congelada al costado de la carretera, mientras el aguacero empapaba su ropa. La fría lluvia se filtró por las prendas y caló hasta los huesos. Apretando los dientes que castañeaban, se tragó su amargura y empezó a caminar con dificultad por el empapado pavimento. Detrás de ella, escuchó el suave zumbido de un motor que se acercaba. Un Maybach elegante se detuvo a su lado, con sus faros atravesando la lluvia. "Señor Ward", dijo el conductor mirando hacia atrás. "Me parece que es la señorita Bennett". El vehículo redujo la velocidad hasta casi detenerse. Caden miró por la ventana y sus penetrantes ojos se entrecerraron cuando vio la solitaria figura de Alicia. Acababa de detenerse. Sus dedos apretaron la tela de su vestido empapado y lo ató para facilitar sus pasos. Sus delgadas piernas resplandecían bajo la lluvia. A pesar de que se veían delicadas, tenían una fuerza notable. No pudo evitar recordar tan solo noches atrás. Sus labios se curvaron en una leve sonrisa cómplice ante ese recuerdo. "Dile que suba", ordenó arrastrando las palabras. El auto se detuvo junto a Alicia. El conductor salió con un gran paraguas sobre su cabeza. "Señorita Bennett, es difícil encontrar un taxi a estas horas", dijo educadamente. "¿Puedo llevarla a casa?". Alicia alzó la mirada y vio que era el chofer de la familia Yates. Dudó por un momento antes de asentir. "Gracias, y disculpe por los inconvenientes ocasionados", murmuró con firmeza. Sin embargo, en cuanto se acomodó en el asiento trasero del auto, se encontró con otro pasajero. "Volvemos a encontrarnos tan pronto, cuñada", comentó Caden. Su voz era tan suave como el terciopelo, con un ápice de picardía. ...... ¿Qué sucederá en adelante? Los capítulos disponibles son limitados aquí, haga click el botón abajo para instalar APP y disfrutar leyendo más contenidos maravillosos. (Al abrir el APP, directo accederá a este libro) &3&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.manobook.com/14726375-fb_contact-spa	Love Novel Town	https://www.facebook.com/100090721815926/	301	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.manobook.com	IMAGE		https://fbweb.manobook.com/14726375-fb_contact-spa265_2-1116-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=256775013418311&rawadid=120216020920290131	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/467313506_530927716440536_3803271102559872440_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=eHw0NVFf-cwQ7kNvgGAZfej&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ablgng3NnGAEiKACZKBs8s_&oh=00_AYAkWcN1Sju-A1hrOxDn7stsSL6j6N02fTml30VH4aUKVg&oe=67499A19	PERSON_PROFILE	Love Novel Town	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,255	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:16	active	1919	Continuer la lecture	"« Si tu acceptes d'être ma maîtresse pendant cinq ans, je peux garantir la sûreté de ton père. » Se faisant trahir par son ex-petit ami, Rena ne s'attend pas à ce qu'il lui demande de devenir sa maîtresse. === === === Chapitre 1 Un gros bonnet Dans une chambre d'hôtel faiblement éclairée, Rena Gordon embrassait passionnément un bel inconnu. Plus tôt dans la soirée, l'ex-petit ami de Rena, Harold Moore, avait annoncé ses fiançailles avec une autre femme. Rena avait été tellement bouleversée qu'elle s'était retrouvée, d’une marnière ou d’une autre, dans la chambre d’un inconnu. À présent qu'Harold était sur le point d'épouser une fille riche sans tenir compte de ses quatre années de relation avec Rena, celle-ci pouvait se permettre de se faire plaisir, n'est-ce pas ? Au moment où l'homme lui a retiré ses vêtements, Rena s'est appuyée sur l'épaule de l'homme et s'est laissée aller en murmurant : « Harold ! » L'homme s'est brusquement arrêté, quelques secondes plus tard, les lumières se sont allumées. La lumière vive a provoqué un plissement des yeux de Rena. Mais lorsque ses yeux se sont enfin adaptés à la lumière, elle a vu clairement le visage de l'homme. C'était Waylen Fowler, l'avocat le plus recherché du pays. Il était très célèbre dans les milieux juridiques, et il était une élite avec d'innombrables propriétés. Mais le plus important, Waylen Fowler était le futur beau-frère d'Harold. Rena a dégrisé instantanément. Adossé au mur, Waylen lui a demandé avec un léger sourire : « À quoi pensais-tu tout à l'heure ? Voulais-tu le faire pour rendre Harold jaloux ? » Manifestement, Waylen venait aussi de la reconnaître. Rena ne pouvait pas faire semblant de ne pas connaître cet homme. Waylen était célèbre, après tout. Rena ne l'avait pas reconnu tout à l'heure simplement à cause de l'alcool. Comme Rena savait qu'elle ne pouvait pas se permettre d'offenser un tel personnage, elle a baissé la tête et a présenté ses excuses docilement. « Je suis désolée, M. Fowler. Je ne savais pas ce que je faisais. » Heureusement que M. Fowler ne lui a pas compliqué les choses. Après la conversation, Waylen s'est redressé et lui a lancé un manteau. « Mets-le, je te ramène. » Rena l'a remercié doucement. Dans la Bentley de Waylen, bien qu'aucun des deux n'ait parlé pendant tout le trajet, Rena jetait de temps en temps un coup d'œil à l'homme. L'homme avait un visage anguleux et une mâchoire parfaite. Bien que Rena ne connaisse pas la marque de la chemise qu'il portait, elle pouvait constater qu'elle était très chère. Après quelques minutes de silence, Waylen a arrêté la voiture devant leur destination. Il a tourné légèrement la tête et a regardé les jambes fines et droites de la jeune femme pendant quelques secondes avant de lui tendre sa carte de visite. Rena comprenait ce que cela signifiait. Elle était surprise que Waylen veuille encore garder le contact avec elle après avoir découvert son identité. Malgré le fait qu'il soit charmant, Rena a hésité. C'était une mauvaise idée de s'embrouiller avec un gros bonnet comme lui, alors elle a dit : « M. Fowler, nous ferions mieux de ne pas rester en contact. » Waylen a haussé les épaules d'un air indifférent. Rena était vraiment belle, mais Waylen ne la forcerait pas si elle n'était pas intéressée. Il a donc rangé sa carte de visite dans sa poche et a dit : « Le conservatisme te va bien. » Rena était un peu gênée, mais avant qu'elle ne puisse répondre, Waylen est sorti de la voiture et lui a ouvert la porte comme un gentleman. Dès que Rena est descendue, la voiture s'est éloignée lentement. Une brise fraîche a soufflé sur elle, la faisant frissonner. C'est alors qu'elle s'est rendu compte qu'elle avait oublié de lui rendre le manteau. Pendant que Rena hésitait à essayer de le rattraper ou pas, son téléphone s'est mis à sonner. En jetant un coup d'œil à l'afficheur, elle a vu que c'était sa belle-mère Eloise qui l'appelait. La voix anxieuse de celle-ci a retenti à l'autre bout du fil dès qu'elle a décroché : « Rena, reviens à la maison tout de suite ! Il s'est passé quelque chose de grave ! » Rena a tenté de lui poser des questions, mais Eloise n'a pas réussi à lui expliquer clairement au téléphone et s'est contentée de la supplier de rentrer à la maison le plus vite possible. Chapitre 2 Pas un homme ordinaire Dès que Rena est entrée dans la maison, elle a trouvé Eloise assise dans le canapé, hébétée. Les yeux rouges d'Eloise donnaient l'impression d'avoir pleuré. Rena a regardé autour d'elle et a demandé avec anxiété : « Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé, Eloise ? Où est papa ? » Eloise était la deuxième femme du père de Rena. La femme n'a pas pu s'empêcher de s'effondrer à l'évocation de son mari. « Harold est tellement cruel ! Quand le Groupe Moore était en difficulté il y a quelques années, tu ne l'as jamais abandonné. Maintenant que leur entreprise a retrouvé son équilibre, non seulement il t'a larguée, mais aussi il a essayé d'envoyer ton père en prison ! Ton père est maintenant au centre de détention à cause de ce garçon ingrat ! » Après une courte pause, Rena a dit à voix basse : « Laisse-moi parler à Harold. » Même si Rena et Harold avaient rompu, ils étaient ensemble depuis longtemps. Rena pensait qu'Harold ne serait pas aussi impitoyable. Elle a donc composé le numéro de téléphone d'Harold. Rapidement, l'appel a été connecté. Rena a supplié : « Harold, nous nous sommes déjà séparés. S'il te plaît, ne déverse pas ta colère sur mon père. » Mais Harold s'est contenté de ricaner froidement. « Quelqu'un doit être tenu pour responsable des pertes. » Avant que Rena ne puisse demander de la pitié, Harold a repris la parole. « Il y a en fait une autre façon de régler ceci... Si tu acceptes d'être ma maîtresse pendant cinq ans, je laisserai ton père partir. » Rena a tremblé de colère. « Harold, tu me dégoûtes ! » Harold a répondu d'un ton enjoué : « Tu as toujours su quel genre de personne je suis, n'est-ce pas ? » Rena a serré les dents et a craché : « Je refuse ! Pas question ! » Harold s'en est moqué. « Alors tu ferais mieux d'engager un bon avocat pour ton père. Après tout, une telle somme d'argent le mettra derrière les barreaux pour au moins une décennie. » Rena a répliqué : « J'engagerai le meilleur avocat du pays ! » « Veux-tu dire Waylen ? », a demandé Harold avec un petit rire suffisant. « As-tu oublié que c'est mon futur beau-frère ? Penses-tu qu'il t'aidera vraiment pour le procès ? » Rena a serré les poings si fort que ses jointures sont devenues blanches. Elle n'a trouvé aucun mot pour réfuter. Harold a souri et a ajouté : « Rena, j'attendrai que tu me supplies de te reprendre ! » Rena a raccroché brusquement le téléphone, trop furieuse pour continuer à écouter les propos de cet homme. Ayant entendu leur conversation, Eloise a maugréé : « Ne t'inquiète pas, Rena. Nous ne le laisserons jamais te faire du mal ! » Des larmes de colère ont coulé sur les joues d'Eloise. « Mais Harold a raison. M. Fowler est son futur beau-frère. Pourquoi nous aiderait-il ? Rena, il doit y avoir une solution... » Rena a baissé la tête. Au bout d'un moment, elle a dit à voix basse : « J'ai rencontré M. Fowler une fois. Je vais tenter de le convaincre. » Eloise l'a regardée avec incrédulité. C'était une femme particulièrement perspicace. Alors seulement, Eloise a remarqué que le manteau de l'homme drapé autour des épaules de Rena, elle a deviné ce qui s'était passé. Mais elle était réticente à interroger Rena à ce sujet. Il était difficile pour Rena de retrouver Waylen. Dans le hall du cabinet d'avocats Sterling, la réceptionniste a poliment rejeté la demande de Rena. « J'ai bien peur de ne pas pouvoir vous laisser monter sans rendez-vous, madame. » Rena s'est pincé les lèvres, regrettant de ne pas avoir pris la carte de visite de l'homme hier soir. « Si je prends rendez-vous maintenant, quand pourrai-je le voir ? », a-t-elle demandé anxieusement. La réceptionniste a vérifié et a répondu : « Dans un demi-mois. » Le cœur de Rena s'est effondré. À ce moment-là, les portes de l'ascenseur se sont ouvertes et un homme et une femme en sont sortis. L'homme n'était autre que Waylen ! Il portait un costume noir sur mesure, ressemblant au top premier de la société. En revanche, Rena ne connaissait pas la femme. Elle avait l'air d'avoir une trentaine d'années et était très belle. Les yeux de Waylen ont croisé ceux de Rena, mais il a fait comme s'il ne la connaissait pas et a raccompagné la cliente jusqu'à la porte. Waylen a serré la main de la femme et lui a dit au revoir. La femme a dit avec coquetterie : « Si vous n'aviez pas été là, M. Fowler, je n'aurais pas obtenu un centime de mon ex-mari ! Vous n'imaginez pas à quel point il a été avare avec moi après avoir eu sa maîtresse... » Waylen a esquissé un léger sourire. « Ça fait partie du boulot. » La femme l'a ensuite dévisagé et lui a demandé : « M. Fowler, aimeriez-vous prendre un café avec moi ? » Rena a regardé la belle femme et s'est dit qu'aucun homme ordinaire ne pourrait la repousser. Mais Waylen a fait exception. Il a jeté un coup d'œil à sa montre et a poliment refusé. « Je crains d'avoir un rendez-vous plus tard. » La femme savait que Waylen ne s'intéressait pas à elle, mais a eu la politesse de ne pas le dire franchement. Après lui avoir dit au revoir, la femme est montée dans sa voiture et s'en est allée. Une fois la femme partie, Waylen s'est rendu directement à la réception et a demandé à Rena : « As-tu changé d'avis ? » Chapitre 3 Quel hypocrite ! Visiblement, Rena s'est raidie. D'une manière maladroite, elle a brandi un sac en papier et a expliqué : « Je suis venue te rendre ton manteau. » Waylen a acquiescé et a pris le sac. « Merci. » Sans rien ajouter, il s'est dirigé vers l'ascenseur. Rena est sortie de sa transe et s'est dépêchée de le rattraper. « M. Fowler, il y a quelque chose que je... » Les portes de l'ascenseur se sont ouvertes dès que Waylen a appuyé sur le bouton. Sans hésiter, Rena l'a suivi à l'intérieur. Voyant cela, Waylen l'a regardée d'un œil inquisiteur. Ensuite, il a lissé sa chemise et a dit avec indifférence : « Je ne m'occuperai pas de ton affaire. » Rena s'est tue. On dirait que Waylen était déjà au courant de l'affaire concernant son père ! Rena a baissé la tête et a demandé doucement : « Harold t'a-t-il demandé de ne pas t'occuper de mon affaire ? » Waylen l'a regardée dans le miroir et a souri. « Je n'aime pas mélanger mes affaires privées avec le travail. » Rena a compris ce qu'il voulait dire. Si elle venait le voir pour quelque chose en rapport avec le travail, elle pouvait tout simplement l'oublier. Les oreilles de Rena ont rougi sous l'effet de l'embarras. Mais Waylen ne l'a pas forcée à faire quoi que ce soit. L'ascenseur s'est finalement arrêté au vingt-huitième étage. La secrétaire de Waylen attendait à la porte de l'ascenseur. Elle était surprise de voir Rena avec lui, mais comme elle travaillait depuis des années pour cet homme, elle savait qu'il ne fallait rien dire. « M. Fowler, votre client est arrivé », a-t-elle dit poliment. Waylen a lancé le sac en papier à sa secrétaire et a dit : « Envoie-le au pressing. » La secrétaire a acquiescé et est partie. Waylen a baissé la tête et s'est mis à manipuler son téléphone. Sans lever les yeux, il a dit à Rena : « Trouve un autre avocat. » Ensuite, Waylen a quitté l'ascenseur juste avant que les portes ne se referment. Rena a serré les dents. Quel hypocrite ! À la maison, Eloise était de plus en plus anxieuse. Rena était très stressée et a décidé de rencontrer sa camarade de classe, Vera Byrd. Vera s'était mariée avec un homme riche de Duefron juste après avoir obtenu son diplôme. Ce mari disposait d'un large éventail de contacts. Rena, qui n'avait nulle part où aller, a demandé de l'aide à Vera. Elles se sont retrouvées dans un café et Rena n'a pas perdu de temps pour raconter à son amie tout ce qui s'était passé. Vera a maudit Harold avec véhémence. Après avoir déversé sa colère, elle a réfléchi un moment et a demandé : « As-tu vraiment failli passer un moment avec Waylen ? » Rena a rougi et a remué son café avec raideur. Vera a baissé le ton et l'a taquinée : « Rena, tu es vraiment quelqu'un d'exceptionnel ! Même les stars n'arrivent pas à attirer l'attention de Waylen. Il y a rarement des ragots sur lui parce qu'il est tellement "chaste". » Rena a souri avec amertume et a changé de sujet. « Quoi qu'il en soit, je n'ai pas eu d'autre choix que de me tourner vers toi, Vera. » Waylen détenait un grand pouvoir et un grand prestige dans les hautes sphères de la société. Vera pourrait facilement s'attirer les ennuis si elle osait aider Rena. Mais Vera était l'amie loyale de Rena. Grâce à ses relations, elle a rapidement trouvé l'emploi du temps de Waylen. Le samedi, Waylen avait rendez-vous avec un joueur de golf à un club rural à trois heures de l'après-midi. Rena s'y est rendue avec Vera et son mari à l'heure convenue. Contre toute attente, Harold était également présent. Rena était stupéfaite de la tournure que prenaient les événements. Vera a pincé le bras de son mari et s'est écriée : « Pourquoi ne nous as-tu pas dit qu'Harold serait aussi là ? Comment Rena peut-elle demander de l'aide à Waylen maintenant ? » Le mari de Vera a présenté ses excuses. « Je suis désolé, Rena ! Je ne savais pas, je le jure ! » Avant que Rena ne puisse reculer, Waylen les a aperçus. Waylen, riche et beau, était habillé d'une tenue de golf blanche. Il avait une grande taille qui le distinguait de tous les autres. Comme au cabinet d'avocats, Waylen a fait semblant de ne pas reconnaître Rena et n'a salué que le mari de Vera. Celui-ci, flatté, lui a rendu son sourire. Ensuite, Waylen a jeté un coup d'œil à Rena. Rena avait une peau lisse et souple. Elle avait délibérément enfilé des vêtements qui mettaient en valeur son physique. Le tee-shirt blanc moulant lui donnait un air énergique, tandis que le short gris clair faisait ressortir ses longues jambes parfaites. Ses cheveux bruns, longs et ondulés, étaient attachés en chignon, ce qui renforçait son charme. Waylen a jeté un coup d'œil à Rena, puis a demandé avec désinvolture : « Et vous êtes... ? » Chapitre 4 Concentrez-vous, Mme Gordon ! Waylen a fait comme s'il ne connaissait pas Rena. Le mari de Vera était plutôt avisé et n'a pas dévoilé son mensonge. « M. Fowler, voici une camarade de classe de Vera, Mme Rena Gordon. Elle est professeur de piano. » Waylen a souri d'un air entendu. « Enchanté, Mme Gordon ! » En disant, il a tendu la main, comme un vrai gentleman. Autour d'eux, les autres hommes d'élite les regardaient avec curiosité. Constatant que la jolie Rena était là pour Waylen, ils étaient très jaloux. Quelqu'un a même commenté : « M. Fowler, tu as de la chance. » Rena était un peu inexpérimentée et n'a jamais été confrontée à cette situation. Elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de rougir et de tendre timidement sa petite main. La grande main de Waylen a serré la sienne. Ensuite, Waylen l'a lâchée et lui a dit avec un sourire charmeur : « Mme Gordon, aimeriez-vous jouer une partie de golf avec moi ? » Sans attendre de réponse, Waylen s'est retourné et a commencé à marcher vers le terrain, comme s'il n'allait pas la laisser refuser. Rena n'a pas eu d'autre choix que de le suivre. Derrière Rena, on pouvait voir Harold tenir le club et les regarder avec un visage sombre. Waylen était de bonne humeur aujourd'hui. Raison pour laquelle il n'était pas du tout impatient, même si Rena disait qu'elle ne savait pas jouer au golf. « Ne t'en fais pas. je t'apprendrai ! » Dès que Waylen a dit cela, tout le monde a compris ce qu'il voulait vraiment, même la naïve Rena. Waylen essayait délibérément de se rapprocher d'elle, ce qui signifiait qu'il n'aimait pas Harold et qu'il voulait le contrarier ! Rena portait un short qui dévoilait ses longues jambes. Au fur et à mesure qu'il se rapprochait d'elle, elle pouvait sentir la chaleur qui émanait du corps de Waylen. Rena n'a pas pu s'empêcher de rougir. « Concentrez-vous, Mme Gordon ! », lui a chuchoté Waylen à l'oreille. Rena s'est figée. Waylen lui a tenu les mains, qui tenaient le club. Il lui a ensuite guidé les bras pour qu'elle fasse un swing parfait. Dès que la balle a été envoyée au loin, les gens autour d'eux ont applaudi à tout rompre. Tout le monde était impatient de flatter Waylen. « M. Fowler et Mme Gordon travaillent bien ensemble ! » « Oui, M. Fowler lui a très bien enseigné. » « Encore un coup, M. Fowler ! » Waylen était habitué à entendre les gens lui parler ainsi. Mais ce n'était pas le cas pour Rena. Elle a rougi furieusement. Waylen lui a soufflé à l'oreille. « Mme Gordon, pouvons-nous frapper une autre balle ? » Waylen était très doué pour le golf. Au deuxième coup, il a réussi à faire un trou d'un coup. Ceux qui les entouraient ont à nouveau applaudi à tout rompre. Waylen les a remerciés d'un signe de la main. L'homme avait l'air si beau et si énergique que le cœur de Rena s'est mis à battre la chamade. Ce jour-là, elle était venue là pour essayer de convaincre Waylen, mais en fin de compte, la situation s'était inversée. Rena savait que si Waylen voulait une femme, la plupart d'entre elles ne résisteraient pas à son charme. Seulement qu'un homme de son rang ne s'abaisserait pas facilement. Toujours tenant Rena par derrière, Waylen l'a aidée à frapper d'autres coups. Pendant la pause, Rena s'est assise à côté de Waylen. Celui-ci n'était pas très bavard. La plupart du temps, il parlait du business avec d'autres personnes, et parfois d'affaires juridiques, mais il ne parlait presque pas avec elle. Se mordant la lèvre, Rena a réfléchi à un moyen de s'attirer ses faveurs. Rena a tendu à Waylen une bouteille de boisson et une serviette neuve. Elle s'occupait de lui comme une servante loyale. Naturellement, Waylen a accepté. Vera a cru que c'était l'occasion ou jamais. Elle a conduit Rena dans les toilettes pour avoir une discussion entre filles. « Je ne m'attendais pas à ce que M. Fowler soit aussi un dragueur ! Je l'ai déjà vu plusieurs fois à des soirées, et il a toujours été très sérieux. » Vera ne voulait pas que Rena tombe pour de vrai amoureuse de Waylen, car elle doutait qu'il l'épouse. Harold était le futur beau-frère de Waylen, après tout. Rena l'a rassurée doucement : « Je veux juste le supplier pour qu'il m'aide. Je ne suis pas si naïve, Vera. » Vera a soupiré de soulagement. Au moment où elles s'apprêtaient à quitter les toilettes, la porte a été soudainement ouverte d'un coup de pied. Harold est entré à grands pas. Sans laisser le temps aux filles de réagir, il a brusquement poussé Rena contre le mur. Vera a entrepris de l'éloigner de son amie avec anxiété. « Harold, qu'est-ce que tu fais ? » Toutefois, Harold était beaucoup plus fort qu'elle. Sans grand effort, il a poussé Vera hors des toilettes. La seconde d'après, la porte a été verrouillée de l'intérieur. Vera a frappé la porte avec force et a grondé : « Harold ! Ouvre la porte ! Ne t'avise pas de lui faire du mal ! » Harold s'en moquait éperdument. Chapitre 5 Une relation de 4 ans Rena, une femme de petite taille, ne faisait pas le poids face à Harold, même si elle se débattait avec acharnement. Harold a ricané. « Tu es venu pour Waylen, c’est ça ? Qu'est-ce qui te fait croire que tu es capable d'y parvenir ? Tout le monde sait qu'il ne se laisse pas facilement entraîner par les femmes. » Rena a serré les dents et a maudit intérieurement l'homme en face d'elle. Elle a baissé les yeux et a dit froidement : « Ce ne sont pas tes affaires. » Harold l'a regardée de haut et a ricané d'un air incrédule. « Tu as délibérément abordé Waylen devant moi. Crois-tu que je m'en soucie ? » Cet homme dégoûtait tellement Rena. Elle l'a regardé avec un dédain non masqué et a craché : « Harold, si tu n'avais pas piégé mon père, je ne me serais pas du tout intéressée à la personne que tu vais épouser ! Ne te flatte pas ! » Harold l'a fixée sans mot dire. Rena s'est forcée à le regarder dans les yeux. Elle ne voulait pas se montrer faible devant lui. Après un long moment, Harold a gloussé avec moquerie. « Rena, tu accepteras ma proposition d'une manière ou d'une autre ! Tu n'as qu'à attendre ! » Ensuite, il a ouvert la porte et est parti en claquant la porte derrière lui. Aussitôt qu'Harold est parti, Rena a eu les jambes lourdes et a appuyé la tête contre le mur pour se soutenir, les larmes coulant lentement le long de ses joues. Quel homme cruel ! Pendant les quatre dernières années, Rena avait fait beaucoup pour Harold, mais il n'avait fait que la trahir ! Elle venait seulement de se rendre compte qu'Harold jouait avec ses sentiments depuis le début. Il n'avait jamais voulu l'épouser ! En pensant à cela, Rena a pleuré amèrement. « Rena ? » La voix de Vera l'a ramenée à la raison. Rena s'est essuyé les larmes et a levé les yeux. Elle s'est figée sur place devant le spectacle qui s'offrait à elle. Sur le seuil de la porte se tenaient non seulement Vera et son mari, mais aussi Waylen. Celui-ci s'était changé et portait maintenant une chemise bleu foncé et un pantalon de costume gris. Vera était inquiète pour Rena, mais elle s'est abstenue de parler d'Harold. Elle a vite trouvé une solution et a dit : « Il s'est mis à pleuvoir tout d'un coup, alors jouons au golf une autre fois, d'accord ? » Son mari a compris et a répondu : « Bonne idée ! Jouons au golf une autre fois. M. Fowler, pouvez-vous raccompagner Rena ? Vera et moi avons quelque chose à faire juste après. » Waylen a jeté un bref coup d'œil aux yeux rouges et larmoyants de Rena. Au bout d'un moment, il a acquiescé. « Bien sûr. » Vera a soupiré de soulagement, mais en même temps, elle s'est sentie un peu mal pour Rena. Le vent soufflait fort, et la pluie ne semblait pas vouloir cesser. En revanche, le tonnerre et les éclairs étaient sans pitié. Le parking étant à ciel ouvert, Waylen est allé chercher sa voiture. Au bout d'un moment, une Bentley Continental GT dorée s'est arrêtée devant Rena. Elle n'avait pas de parapluie, mais elle n'a donc pas osé demander à Waylen de sortir de la voiture pour lui tenir un parapluie. Elle s'est empressée de monter dans la voiture, la pluie tombant sans relâche. Bien qu'elle ait fait aussi vite que possible, elle était trempée avant d'avoir bouclé sa ceinture de sécurité. L'eau dégoulinant de ses cheveux, elle était un peu mal à l'aise, craignant que Waylen ne soit pas content d'elle. Mais l'homme n'a fait que lui jeter un coup d'œil. Sans dire un mot, il a démarré la voiture. Le club était à mi-hauteur de la montagne. Le trajet jusqu'au pied de la montagne prendrait un certain temps, et le climatiseur de la voiture était enclenché. Rena n'a pas tardé à trembler de froid et ses lèvres sont devenues pâles et bleues. En attendant que le feu passe au vert, Waylen lui a tendu un manteau et lui a dit : « Tiens. » Rena l'a remercié d'un signe de tête. Dès que Rena a enfilé le manteau, elle a soupiré de soulagement à cause de la chaleur que cela lui procurait. Mais Waylen n'a pas éteint le climatiseur. Il était trop concentré sur la route à suivre. C'était un jour d'orage, et la circulation était dense en ville. Waylen a allumé une cigarette et en a tiré une longue bouffée, avant de demander nonchalamment : « Pendant combien de temps étais-tu avec Harold ? » Rena s'est raidie à cette question. Mais elle n'avait aucune raison d'être malhonnête. « Pendant quatre ans. » Waylen était un peu surpris. &8&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.kifflire.com/14431410-fb_contact-frj	Lime novel	https://www.facebook.com/100090847180115/	896	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.kifflire.com	IMAGE		https://fbweb.kifflire.com/14431410-fb_contact-frj36_1-241102-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=124213&accid=1873316979751191&rawadid=120213524022090736	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/465614877_567979222381188_7361908354016053037_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=8q1TKAM0MEQQ7kNvgFCP4pf&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AOmoKXq4_QUPjshF2MHRqam&oh=00_AYAFcvISo5XB3802-0OXN8F8eNc7gWcV_e5sWwezYwCWXw&oe=6749AD35	PERSON_PROFILE	Lime novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,232	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2024-11-24 19:15	active	1919	Vuelve conmigo, amor mío	Durante tres años, hizo todo lo posible por complacer a su marido, pero él la torturó con locura, creyendo que en el pasado ella lo había seducido deliberadamente y lo había separado del amor verdadero. Ya no queriendo sacrificarse sola, se fue desesperada, mientras el hombre se volvía loco. ===== Joelle Miller examinó minuciosamente el feed de Twitter de Rebecca Lloyd, estudiando con mucha atención cada video, ansiosa por ver el rostro del novio de Rebecca. Rebecca, la protagonista de los videos, irradiaba ternura y delicadeza con su sencillo vestido blanco. Si bien no era tan bella, tenía una genuina sencillez y una sonrisa encantadora. Había descubierto que, en los días importantes, Nochebuena, San Valentín e incluso el cumpleaños de Joelle, Rebecca estaba con Adrian Miller, su supuesto esposo, quien se había ausentado de todos esos días durante los últimos tres años. Esas alegres narraciones sobre su vida con su novio fueron más que suficientes para hundirla en la tristeza. "¿Lo ven? Él siempre guarda para mí la parte más jugosa de una sandía". "Incluso cuando llega tarde a casa, siempre me trae algo". "¡Y miren esta sorpresa! Recogió de la iglesia un amuleto de bendición para mí". ...... El nombre de usuario era "Cuenta Regresiva Hacia la Muerte", la única cuenta a la que Joelle seguía. Justo cuando reflexionaba sobre el siniestro nombre, la puerta del baño se abrió. En la habitación poco iluminada apareció Adrian. Gotas de agua caían de su cabello. A pesar de la tenue iluminación, sus atractivos rasgos permanecían intactos. Joelle cerró instintivamente su celular y le dio una mirada reflexiva. Hacía mucho tiempo desde la última vez que lo vio. Esa noche él no estaba ahí por decisión propia. Su abuela, Irene Miller, estaba enferma y, como quería un bisnieto con desesperación, lo obligó a regresar. De lo contrario, tal vez nunca hubiera venido. Durante sus tres años de matrimonio, Adrian pasaba la mayor parte del tiempo en Villas Oak, por lo que rara vez estaba en casa. Todos sabían que en realidad no amaba a Joelle. Estaba atrapada en un matrimonio por conveniencia. "Solo te voy a dar una oportunidad. El destino dirá si quedas earazada o no", declaró Adrian con una voz resonante. ¿Qué quería decir? Antes de que Joelle pudiera seguir pensando, Adrian la agarró del tobillo y la atrajo hacia él. Joelle palideció ante su crueldad, su cuerpo se tensó de miedo. "¡Adrian! Basta, no quiero...". Empezó a luchar frenéticamente. Era una completa humillación verse obligada a vivir en esa situación con el hombre que amaba. Adrian hizo una mueca de desprecio. "Te atreviste a diseño una vez, así que debiste haberlo visto venir. Solo aguántalo". Ante esas duras palabras, los ojos de Joelle se llenaron de lágrimas y sus pestañas bailaron como mariposas heridas. Mirando su rostro severo, dijo con voz temblorosa: "Las cosas no fueron lo que imaginabas..." Pero sus protestas fueron interrumpidas. Su resistencia se desvaneció a medida que la desesperación se apoderaba de ella. "Has aprendido que hacerte la difícil es mucho más interesante que quedarse tirada como un pez muerto", comentó con rencor. Después de ducharse, se marchó sin mirar atrás, como si no quisiera quedarse más tiempo ahí. Joelle no entendía qué papel tenía en su vida. ¿Solo era un juguete para su placer? ¿O una herramienta para cumplir las expectativas de su familia de tener un heredero? La ventana estaba completamente abierta, por lo que entraba un gélido y cortante viento. A Joelle se le erizaron los pelos de la nuca y se arropó más con su manta. No solo temblaba de frío, sino que sentía su corazón desgarrado, ahora no conocía en absoluto al hombre que había adorado durante casi ocho años. Tres años atrás, en un lujoso banquete organizado por la familia Miller, Joelle bebió demasiado. Cuando se despertó, en la con Adrian. Antes de que pudiera asimilar lo que estaba pasando, su hermano y varios miembros de su familia irrumpieron. Ya no podía revertir lo sucedido. La abuela de Adrian tomó las riendas y organizó su matrimonio. Desde entonces, él estaba convencido de que Joelle lo había hecho a propósito. A ella le desconcertaba su profunda animosidad, por más que creyera que lo había dgado. Después de todo, habían crecido juntos. Pero ahora lo entendía todo. Para él, ella no era más que la nefasta mujer que había saboteado su relación con Rebecca. A menudo pensaba en lo perfecto que él se veía en los videos de Rebecca, siempre tan gentil y atento. Probablemente nunca le mostraría esa misma ternura. No pudo contener más las lágrimas y sucumbió a un ataque de sollozos. Esa noche no pudo dormir bien. Tuvo sueños sobre el pasado, cuando ella y Adrian no estaban en malos términos. Debido a su angustia, Joelle se levantó inusualmente temprano. Después de lavarse, se puso ropa de casa y bajó las escaleras. Leah Jenkins, la empleada doméstica con muchos años de servicio, la vio bajar y rápidamente puso la mesa con el desayuno, ya que conocía sus preferencias dietéticas. Joelle se tomó su tiempo para comer lentamente. "Señora Miller, ¿por qué anoche no convenció a su esposo para que se quedara? No viene a casa a menudo", comentó Leah con simpatía. Había sido sirvienta de la familia Miller durante muchos años, por lo que había visto cómo los dos se convertían de amigos de la infancia a enemigos. Joelle se mostró incómoda, pero lo ocultó con una sonrisa serena. "Lo intenté, pero no quiso quedarse". Incluso si pudiera mantener a Adrian cerca, él tenía el corazón en otra parte. Más concretamente, en Villas Oak, el hogar de la mujer que realmente amaba. Leah dudó y agregó con cautela: "Tal vez sea porque el señor Miller está muy ocupado con la empresa. Dirigir una compañía tan grande requiere mucho tiempo". Tres años atrás, le habían reasignado para cuidar de Joelle, así que entendía los entresijos de ese matrimonio mejor que nadie. Su perspicacia trajo consigo una sincera simpatía hacia ella. Las pestañas de Joelle temblaron mientras mordisqueaba su tostada. Sus ojos se llenaron de lágrimas debido a la tensión emocional. Sí, Adrian estaba muy ocupado, pero siempre tenía tiempo para Rebecca. Frecuentaba la Iglesia Redención en busca de un amuleto de bendición para ella. A pesar de su apretada agenda, siempre pasaba las vacaciones con ella. De repente, su celular rompió el silencio. Cuando Leah salió del comedor, Joelle agarró el dispositivo y vio que era una llamada de su mejor amiga, Katherine Nash. "Katherine, quiero el divorcio", confesó con voz ronca. Capítulo 2 En declive Joelle había tomado una decisión: quería el divorcio. No tenía sentido seguir alargándolo. Tras un silencio atónito, Katherine soltó una estridente carcajada. "¿Te quedarás con la mitad de los bienes de Adrian? ¡Oh, por Dios! ¡Joelle, te convertirás en una multimillonaria!". "No, no será así". Joelle había firmado un acuerdo cuando se casó con Adrian. Si se divorciaban, ella no recibiría nada. "Entonces, ¿por qué te estás divorciando? ¡Tienes que seguir siendo su esposa!". Joelle recordó la brutalidad de Adrian la noche anterior, así como la humillación posterior. Había sido muy ingenua al creer que su amor por él la ayudaría a soportar cualquier dificultad. Pero ahora sabía que había sido una completa tonta. ¿El sufrimiento hacía que Adrian la amara más? Claro que no. Para empezar, un hombre que realmente la amara nunca le haría sufrir. Joelle se rio de sí misma y cambió de tema: "Por cierto, ¿recuerdas el favor que te pedí?". "Sí, justo te iba a contar eso. Me pediste que estuviera atenta a un trabajo, y tengo algo para ti. Vas a enseñar a un estudiante a tocar el violín, aunque debo decir que será un desperdicio de tu talento". "Está bien", respondió Joelle con una leve sonrisa. "No será un desperdicio en absoluto. Llevo tres años siendo ama de casa. Es suficiente con que alguien quiera contratarme". "¿Cómo que no será un desperdicio? Casi formaste parte de una orquesta internacional. Si no fuera por el matrimonio…". Katherine se quedó en silencio, demasiado indignada por su amiga. Después de su boda, a Joelle ni siquiera le permitieron trabajar. Las familias adineradas se aferraban a esas reglas obsoletas. Era bastante ridículo. Hacía tres años, la carrera de Joelle como violinista despegaba. Pero las estrictas tradiciones de la familia Miller le prohibían tocar en público. El primer día de su matrimonio, la madre de Adrian le dijo: "No tienes que trabajar. Adrian te proveerá en todo lo que necesites. Tu único trabajo es tener bebés y cuidar a tu esposo". Una vez que terminó su llamada con Katherine, Joelle subió las escaleras y fue al estudio para agarrar su violín abandonado. Había sido un regalo especial de su padre en su decimoctavo cumpleaños. No obstante, poco después de recibirlo, este sufrió un derrame cerebral y cayó en coma. Su hermano mayor terminó asumiendo la responsabilidad de sustentar a la familia, así que la dejó perseguir su sueño de tocar el violín. Mientras recordaba el pasado, Joelle movió el arco sobre las cuerdas. Años atrás, un accidente le había lesionado la muñeca y desde entonces no había vuelto a tocar. A pesar del dolor agudo que sentía en esa zona mientras tocaba, no se detuvo y confió en su memoria muscular para tocar una pieza corta. Al final, soltó una risa amarga. Sonaba horrible. De repente, escuchó la alegre voz de Leah en la puerta. "¡Señor, ha regresado!". Estaba secretamente aliviada de ver a Adrian, ya que eso tal vez significaba que todavía se preocupaba por Joelle. Quizás si ella le decía algo amable, su relación podría mejorar. Por su parte, Joelle estaba sorprendida. Adrian rara vez venía a casa durante el día. Apenas había dejado el violín cuando se abrió la puerta. Ahí estaba la alta e imponente figura de su esposo. Sus ojos la recorrieron con el ceño fruncido. Recordaba que Joelle había aprendido a tocar el violín cuando era niña y que un reconocido profesor la había elogiado por su talento. Sin embargo, por alguna razón, había dejado de tocar. Hacía un momento, la había escuchado desde afuera y le pareció una interpretación mediocre. ¿Cómo era posible que la elogiara por su talento? Joelle lo miró y bajó la cabeza para volver a guardar el violín en su estuche. "¿Qué te trae por aquí?", murmuró. "¿Necesitas algo?". "Vine a recoger algo y recordarte que mañana tenemos que visitar a la abuela", respondió él fríamente. Era una regla familia visitar a su abuela al menos una vez al mes, y mañana era el día. De no ser por esa obligación, Adrian no habría regresado. Irene se enfadaría si no iban juntos. Joelle sonrió con amargura. Recordaba las normas de los Miller mejor que Adrian y siempre las cumplía. Ni siquiera Irene, tan estricta como siempre, podía encontrarle defectos. "No lo he olvidado, me alegra que tú tampoco lo hayas hecho", respondió. Su tono acusatorio hizo que Adrian pusiera una mueca. Una ira latente empezó a hervir dentro de él. Sin decir nada más, se dirigió al vestidor para buscar algo. Aunque él no solía estar en casa, Joelle aseaba meticulosamente su guardarropa, por lo que tenía la ropa lavada, planchada y ordenada. Era como si su papel se redujera a realizar las tareas del hogar, algo que Leah también podía hacer. Su única ventaja, tal vez, era ser más joven y más guapa que Leah. Sus ojos siguieron los movimientos de Adrian. Tenía el dedo anular desnudo, sin el anillo de bodas. Una punzada de dolor le atravesó el corazón. "Adrian, hay que divorciarnos", declaró con una voz tan suave como la brisa. Había agotado todas sus fuerzas al pronunciar esas palabras, pero se sintió extrañamente aliviada. Adrian se dio la vuelta y la miró con una sonrisa burlona. "Tienes que pensar muy bien antes de hablar. La familia Watson está en declive. Sin mi apoyo, ¿vas a dormir en la calle con tu hermano?". Desde la caída de la familia Watson, Joelle pasó de ser amada a quedar en ridículo. La familia Miller la despreciaba y la miraba por encima del hombro, como si ella y su hermano fueran sanguijuelas de las que no podían librarse. Incluso sus momentos íntimos con Adrian la hacían sentir degradada. Joelle se mordió el labio y se enderezó. "Ya he alquilado un apartamento. Incluso si terminara durmiendo en la calle, es asunto mío". Solo quería que su esposo la respetara, pero tres años de cautiverio la habían dejado sin orgullo ni dignidad. "¿Y de dónde sacaste el dinero para alquilar un apartamento? Si tanto querías ser independiente, no deberías haber gastado ni un solo centavo de mi familia". De espaldas a ella, Adrian encontró entre unos muebles el anillo de bodas perdido y lo sostuvo en la palma de su mano. Joelle no se dio cuenta. Las palabras de ese hombre la dejaron sin aliento. Sí, había utilizado sus escasos ahorros para alquilar el apartamento. Pero como estaba casada con Adrian, ¿lo que era suyo no era también de él? Además, el apoyo financiero que Adrian les había dado a los Watson durante todos esos años ascendía a una suma significativa. Joelle siempre había despreciado la idea de deberle algo, pero su deuda con él era infinita. Si se divorciaban, tal vez dejaría de darle apoyo financiero a la familia Watson. ¿Estaba sugiriendo que ella debía salir del matrimonio con las manos vacías? Cuando Adrian se dio la vuelta para irse, Joelle dijo con una dignidad apenas intacta: "Tengo derecho legítimo a este matrimonio y a reclamar lo que supuestamente es mío. Pero no te preocupes, no pediré mucho, solo lo suficiente para ayudar al Grupo Watson a superar esta crisis". Adrian se quedó paralizado y su mirada se agudizó. Sus labios formaron una fina línea mientras apretaba la mandíbula. Eran claras señales de su creciente furia. Aunque Joelle ya se había preparado mentalmente, no podía soportar su intensidad. Cada segundo bajo su mirada severa la ponía más ansiosa. De repente, sonó el celular de Adrian, quien lo sacó de su bolsillo y estuvo a punto de alejarse. "¡Adrian!". Capítulo 3 Siempre mantendré la cabeza en alto La frustración de Adrian crepitaba como estática. "Si tu hermano necesita dinero, dile que vaya al Grupo Miller". "¡No se trata de eso!", replicó Joelle. La había malinterpretado por completo. Con el corazón latiendo con urgencia, corrió tras él. "¡Adrian, quiero el divorcio!". Adrian dejó de subir las escaleras y giró la cabeza. El celular en su mano había dejado de sonar. Con un metro noventa de altura, se alzaba sobre ella. "Joelle, ¿no se te ocurre un mejor juego que este interminable tira y afloja?", preguntó burlonamente con una mirada gélida. "Si de verdad quieres divorciarte, ¿por qué no se lo dices tú misma a la abuela? ¡No quiero volver a escucharte pronunciar esa palabra!". La puerta se cerró de golpe detrás de él, haciendo eco a su irrevocable decisión. Joelle se apoyó contra la pared y sus piernas cedieron hasta que se deslizó al suelo. Una risa amarga emergió de sus labios. Irene había organizado su matrimonio. Adrian se había visto obligado a aceptar, y Joelle lo sabía muy bien. Si de verdad quería el divorcio, lo más efectivo sería hablar con Irene. Sin embargo, una pequeña y estúpida parte de ella se había aferrado a la esperanza de que ella y Adrian eran una verdadera pareja. Por eso se lo había mencionado primero a él, porque lo veía como su esposo. Sin embargo, olvidó un detalle crucial: Adrian nunca había querido casarse con ella. Su reticencia había sido evidente desde el principio, aunque ella había intentado pasarla por alto. Sus últimas palabras no solo fueron despectivas, sino una orden. Si de verdad quería el divorcio, debería enfrentarse a Irene. Joelle se dio una ducha, se puso ropa limpia y se preparó para visitar a la anciana. Irene era estricta, autoritaria y temida por toda la familia. Gobernaba con puño de hierro y no toleraba la desobediencia. Pero Joelle tenía un vínculo muy especial con ella. En parte, había aceptado casarse con Adrian para cumplir las expectativas de Irene. Quería cuidar de Adrian, construir un hogar y asegurarse de que la anciana falleciera sin remordimientos. Pero ahora ya no aguantaba más. Ver a Adrian tan preocupado por otra mujer le llenaba de una amargura que parecía consumirla. Era consciente de que él no la amaba. ¡Nunca lo hizo y nunca lo haría! Estaba a punto de irse cuando sonó su celular. Era su hermano, Shawn Watson. "¿Shawn? ¿Qué ocurre?". "¡Señora Miller!". Era el asistente de Shawn. Su voz sonaba muy asustada, algo que Joelle nunca había escuchado. Se le heló la s*gre y agarró el celular con más fuerza mientras permanecía en la escalera. "¿Dónde está mi hermano? ¿Qué le pasó?". "Anoche el señor Watson asistió a una reunión de negocios, donde lo presionaron para que biera. Supuestamente volvería a casa, pero Erick Lloyd insistió en llevarlo a unas aguas termales". Joelle se quedó congelada y la furia recorrió sus venas. "¿Erick no sabía que eso podría matarlo?". "¡Erick es un svergüenza! Se jacta de su poder desde que su padre y su hermano se volvieron chóferes de la familia Miller. ¡Señora Miller, tiene que venir rápido! El señor Watson está siendo operado y los médicos han emitido dos avisos de condición crítica. ¡No pude aguantar más, así que la llamé!". El asistente parecía estar al borde de las lágrimas. Joelle sabía que él no se habría puesto en contacto con ella a menos que la situación fuera bastante desesperada. Shawn siempre la había protegido de las malas noticias, sin importar lo sombrías que fueran las circunstancias. Si su asistente estaba tan conmocionado, la vida de su hermano debía estar en peligro. Joelle sintió como si el mundo se cerrara a su alrededor y un nudo se formó en su garganta. Al bajar del último escalón, tropezó y se cayó con fuerza, torciéndose bruscamente el tobillo. El dolor abrasador la devolvió a la realidad y las lágrimas brotaron de sus ojos. "¡Oh, no, señora Miller, tenga más cuidado cuando camina!". Leah corrió a ayudarla a levantarse. Joelle agarró el brazo de Leah con la visión borrosa a causa de las lágrimas. Intentó hablar, pero las palabras le salían entrecortadas porque estaba sollozando. "Mi hermano... ¡Tengo que ir al hospital para verlo!". Leah sintió su urgencia y respondió sin dudar: "De acuerdo, no se preocupe. ¡Le pediré al conductor que la lleve de inmediato!". Leah era una criada experimentada y confiable que llevaba años al servicio de la familia Miller. Cinco minutos después, el auto ya estaba aparcado delante de la villa. Joelle estaba a punto de subir cuando se volvió hacia Leah. "Por favor, no se lo cuentes a Irene. No quiero preocuparla". El corazón de la criada se ablandó. Incluso con el rostro pálido y surcado de lágrimas, Joelle se preocupaba por la salud de Irene. ¡Qué muchacha tan rara y extraordinaria! "No se preocupe, señora Miller. Yo sé qué hacer. Vaya a ver a su hermano". Cuando Joelle llegó al hospital, Shawn acababa de salir del quirófano. Al ver a su jefe conectado a tubos y cables, el asistente casi se desplomó. Joelle se acercó y lo encontró arrodillado contra la pared, con los ojos hundidos e inyectados en sgre. Tuvo que contener el impulso de regañarlo por no haber protegido mejor a su hermano. Más tarde habría tiempo para eso. Cuando la condición de Shawn fue más estable, Joelle llevó al asistente a un lado. "Cuéntamelo todo. ¿Cómo ocurrió esto?". El asistente vaciló, con el rostro desencajado. "Señora Miller, el señor Watson nos ordenó específicamente que no la involucremos en los asuntos comerciales". "Pero esto es una cuestión de vida o muerte. ¿Piensas que todavía es una opción no decirme nada?". Ya sin paciencia, Joelle se dio la vuelta para alejarse. "Señora Miller, eso no sirve de nada", respondió el asistente desesperadamente. "Usted sabe que desde la muerte de su padre, el Grupo Watson ha dependido por completo de su hermano. Ha estado luchando para defender la dignidad de la familia, porque quiere que su vida con los Miller sea más llevadera". Durante esos años, Shawn había luchado valientemente para mantener a la familia a flote. No obstante, sin el apoyo financiero de Adrian, sus esfuerzos se habrían desvanecido hacía mucho tiempo. Su deseo más profundo era que su hermana viviera cómodamente, pero a pesar de sus incansables esfuerzos, nunca pudo hacerle ganar el respeto que merecía por parte de su esposo. No importaba lo mucho que se sacrificara, ella seguiría siendo infravalorada en la familia Miller. Joelle estaba hirviendo de rabia, pero sabía que no podía cambiar su realidad. Entonces, inspiró profundamente y preguntó: "¿No mencionaron mi relación con Adrian?" Esperaba que alinearse con los Miller pudiera ayudar a Shawn a mantenerse firme en sus actividades sociales. "El señor Watson se niega a tocar ese tema, pues teme que eso le haga las cosas más difíciles a usted". Joelle soltó una risa amarga. Jamás había estado en igualdad de condiciones con Adrian. No le extrañaba que la despreciara, ya que apenas podía soportarse a sí misma. Solo hacía una hora que le había pedido el divorcio. Y ahora se aferraba al nombre de su esposo, desesperada por facilitarle la vida a su hermano. "Dile a Shawn que soy la esposa de Adrian Miller, Irene me eligió personalmente. ¡Mientras sea la señora Miller, mantendré la cabeza en alto dentro de la familia!". De repente, escucharon unos pasos detrás de ella. Joelle se dio la vuelta y vio a Adrian, que tenía una sonrisa fría en su rostro. A su lado, se encontraba una muchacha de aspecto frágil, con grandes ojos inocentes, aferrada a él. Adrian la miraba desdeñosamente, como si incluso le costara reconocer su presencia. Ya se había dado cuenta de que ella realmente no quería el divorcio. La mujer que había parecido tan decidida a irse, ahora estaba haciendo alarde de su título como la señora Miller. Su amenaza de divorcio no había sido más que una estrategia, como una pelea de amantes que terminaba en amenazas vacías. Era tan astuta que lo había d*gado para obligarlo a casarse. Con tácticas tan engañosas, ¿cómo podría irse tan fácilmente? Su matrimonio eran un salvavidas para las dificultades de su familia. Adrian le daba cien millones cada año al Grupo Watson. Joelle sería una tonta si se arriesgaba a perderlo divorciándose de él. Capítulo 4 Por fin se dio cuenta Hacía mucho que Joelle se había vuelto insensible ante la indiferencia de Adrian. Observó sin decir nada los brazos entrelazados de la pareja y recordó los dulces momentos capturados en los videos de Rebecca, que provocaban la envidia de mucha gente. ¡Qué pareja tan perfecta! Ese pensamiento la golpeó. "¡Joelle, por favor, no nos malinterpretes!", dijo Rebecca con urgencia mientras retiraba su mano del brazo de Adrian. "No me siento bien y no puedo caminar, así que Adie simplemente tuvo la amabilidad de sostenerme". Joelle esbozó una leve sonrisa. "¿Qué te trae al hospital?", preguntó mirando a Adrian, como si no hubiera escuchado la explicación de Rebecca. "Es por Erick", dijo Rebecca, con las manos entrelazadas como una niña arrepentida. "También vine a pedirte perdón, Joelle. Lamento que Erick haya sido tan descuidado para provocar que tu hermano terminara en el hospital". "¿Descuidado?", replicó ella. "Tu hermano casi mta al mío, ¿y crees que una disculpa bastará para arreglarlo?". Rebecca se estremeció y agarró la manga de Adrian en busca de apoyo. "Ya es suficiente, Joelle", respondió él con una voz tan gélida como el invierno. "No fue a propósito". Luego, se volvió hacia Rebecca y agregó suavemente: "Vamos, ¿no viniste para ver a Erick?". Fue entonces cuando Joelle lo entendió todo. Había esperado ingenuamente que Adrian viniera para ver a Shawn. Pero no, había venido con Rebecca para ver a Erick. Incluso si visitara a Shawn, sería por obligación, nada más. Pero sabía que no debía esperar que él la defendiera. "¡Rebecca, no olvidaré lo que hizo Erick!", espetó. Rebecca dobló las piernas y se desplomó sobre el pecho de Adrian, quien la atrapó justo a tiempo y la abrazó con fuerza. "Joelle, Erick no tenía malas intenciones. ¡También está en el hospital!". "¿Ya está muerto? ¡Si no, tendrá que pagar por lo que hizo!". Joelle no solía arremeter, pero esta vez era diferente. Shawn era la única familia que le quedaba. Su padre, incapacitado por un derrame cerebral, se encontraba en estado vegetativo con poca o ninguna esperanza de recuperación, y su madre había fallecido en un accidente de tráfico. Desde los dieciocho años, habían sido solo ella y Shawn, enfrentándose juntos a las dificultades del mundo. En sus momentos más oscuros, Shawn llevó sola la carga para dejar que Joelle persiguiera su pasión por el violín. Ahora la idea de perderlo también a él era insoportable. Su único deseo era que Erick muriera. "Joelle, ¿cómo puedes decir eso?", sollozó Rebecca con incredulidad. Ya sin paciencia, Adrian fijó su fría mirada en Joelle. "¿Qué deseas?". "Shawn recibió dos avisos de condición crítica. ¿Qué hay de Erick?". Rebecca jadeó, su frágil cuerpo estaba temblando como una hoja en el viento. "¡Joelle, por favor! Solo me queda un hermano. ¡Por favor, ten compasión!". Se desmayó antes de que la otra mujer pudiera responder. Adrian la levantó en sus brazos y le dio una última mirada de reproche a Joelle. Luego, se alejó y la dejó clavada en el mismo lugar, incapaz de moverse o incluso de pensar, lo que pareció una eternidad. Antes de su matrimonio, había sido una chica adinerada, pero luego se convirtió en la sirvienta de Adrian. Ahora se daba cuenta de lo ingenua que había sido. Ella solía ser una persona muy orgullosa, pero ahora soporta todo tipo de agravios sólo para complacer a su marido. ¡Qué patético! Han pasado tres años, es hora de divorciarnos y comenzar una nueva vida... ...... ¿Qué sucederá en adelante? Los capítulos disponibles son limitados aquí, haga click el botón abajo para instalar APP y disfrutar leyendo más contenidos maravillosos. (Al abrir el APP, directo accederá a este libro) &4&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.manobook.com/14484375-fb_contact-spa	Heat stories		0	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.manobook.com	IMAGE		https://fbweb.manobook.com/14484375-fb_contact-spa220_2-1023-core2.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=1164004058227180&rawadid=120213758251450186	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/464986815_804314428400469_6397373048179048364_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=Q-oePRG5DPkQ7kNvgHQ3yht&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=Ar3C0SHhqQNr5IKODXijXKF&oh=00_AYBeEcP5nH2Q3s_b7Sm0r2pby_4nsw4nxn_ocp_gTk9KmQ&oe=6749978F	REGULAR_PAGE		1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,345	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:17	active	1919	Read next chapter👉	As the real heiress returns, onlookers mock at how the fake heiress will end. She, however, comes back as the daughter of a top billionaire, taking on the role of a judge in the real heiress competition, terminating her foster parents'contract, backed by business tycoons, and stunning everyone! ===== "Madisyn, for years, we've raised you, never imagining you capable of such cruelty. This house can no longer bear your presence. You must leave immediately." Declared the imposing woman before Madisyn Chapman, her gaze laden with disdain and a bitter chill, her elegant attire contrasting sharply with the harshness of her words. "Mom, please, it was an accident. I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs on my own. Madisyn had no part in this," said a young girl from her seat on the sofa. Just half an hour prior, Jenna Chapman, the biological daughter of the Chapmans, had suffered a fall on the staircase. At that time, Madisyn had been alone on the upper floor. Everyone believed Madisyn had pushed Jenna... Now, the looks that the Chapmans shot at Madisyn were filled with venom and disgust, a stark contrast to their attitude just a week prior, when they had professed their reluctance to ever part with her. Madisyn looked down at the floor, a fleeting shadow of irony passing through her eyes. Once, Madisyn was the sole daughter of the Chapmans. Though she never basked in parental favoritism, she lacked for nothing, her basic needs always met. The facade shattered when Jeffry Chapman, whom she had known as her father, met with a grave accident necessitating an urgent bl**d transfusion. The subsequent tests unveiled a startling truth--Madisyn was not his biological child. Jeffry then harnessed his extensive network to uncover the whereabouts of his true daughter, Jenna. The Chapman family was a prestigious household in Gemond, and news like this naturally spread quickly. To manage the public narrative and preserve their esteemed reputation, they declared an unwavering commitment to Madisyn, the girl they had raised, asserting their intention to treat her as their own for a while longer before she returned to her biological family. Behind closed doors, however, their plans were starkly different. They wanted to quickly send Madisyn away at once. Upon Jenna's arrival, the Chapman family blamed Madisyn for Jenna's years of hardship, relegating Madisyn from her room to a mere storage space, diminishing her status drastically. She was tasked with menial chores, her status far beneath even those of the household servants. Jenna, however, still wanted Madisyn gone. She had crafted several schemes against Madisyn, yet her parents turned a blind eye, their disdain for Madisyn thinly veiled. These tribulations stripped away any illusions Madisyn had about her former family, fueling a resolve to confront the injustices imposed upon her. As the tensions reached a boiling point, she faced Jenna, her voice resolute as she said, "I'll leave, but not before setting the record straight, Jenna!" Jenna's composure wavered under the intensity of Madisyn's icy stare, her body trembling slightly. Was this the same Madisyn who had once submitted quietly to every slight? A dark glint flickered in Jenna's eyes. She was the rightful heiress to the Chapman family assets, not this usurper, Madisyn, who had been living in luxury undeserved. She had to drive this impostor out! "Madisyn, I have no idea what you're going on about!" Jenna's voice dripped with feigned confusion. "Ever since I reclaimed my rightful place, receiving the affection rightfully owed to me by our parents, I've sensed your discontent. Despite your actions, I've remained tolerant. But my legs... how could you? Dancing is my soul's expression. Had I known you coveted the national competition spot so desperately, I would not have contested it." Her insinuation was clear: Madisyn had sabotaged her out of it. The gaze of Jenna's mother, Phyllis Chapman, hardened at Jenna's words, her voice laced with disdain. "Jenna, you possesses a remarkable talent that Madisyn could never hope to match. That competition spot was yours by right. And you, Madisyn!" She turned sharply towards Madisyn, adding, "Pack your belongings and leave immediately!" Madisyn's usually somber expression seemed only to fuel her contempt. Meanwhile, Jenna, ever the docile and talented daughter, shone brightly in her eyes--a true Chapman. Amidst the unfolding drama, Jeffry finally broke his silence, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Madisyn, our agreement was to keep you until the public scrutiny waned, yet here we are, facing your deep-seated resentment towards Jenna. We have no choice but to return you to your true family today." Jenna's eyes glittered with a triumphant gleam as her father pronounced Madisyn's imminent departure. In stark contrast, Madisyn's face remained an unreadable mask as she went up the stairs to gather her possessions. Her prolonged stay on the upper floor kindled a flicker of anxiety in Jenna. "What if she attempts to take everything with her?" After all, everything of value in the house rightfully belonged to her--how could she allow a fake to leave with any part of her wealth? Eventually, Madisyn reappeared, descending the staircase slowly, her movements deliberate. She carried a small, unassuming black bag. As her gaze swept coolly across the living room, it unsettled Jeffry enough for him to divert his eyes. Phyllis's eyebrows knitted together at the sight of Madisyn's minimal luggage. "Is that all you've packed? What's in there? Show me," she demanded, suspicion lacing her tone. Jeffry, however, raised a hand to halt his wife's interrogation. "Let her be." It was probably just the bank card he gave her, which had a mere hundred thousand dollars left on it. Unfazed, Madisyn placed her bag squarely on the table, her expression stoic. "Inspect it if you must." Phyllis, unable to mask her distrust, scoffed. "Maybe she has packed something valuable," she muttered as she unzipped the bag. Peering inside, she found nothing more than a notebook, a few seeds, and a small stack of cash--hardly the valuables she had feared. Phyllis, her face flushed with embarrassment from her baseless accusation, straightened up. "I'll let the driver take you there," she said crisply. Jeffry, the weight of the situation bearing down on him, reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "Madisyn, when you return, listen to your parents. They're farmers, yes... but they are good, simple people. You should help them." Madisyn looked at the offered card with her beautiful eyes, her expression calm. "Everyone has their own destiny to fulfill," she replied quietly, pushing the card back towards Jeffry. "But before I leave, there needs to be clarity. Jenna, how did you truly fall down those stairs? This is your last chance to tell the truth." Jenna seethed internally, infuriated by Madisyn's serene composure, which seemed to elevate her above everyone else despite her humble origins. Madisyn was not from a wealthy family! She was just two farmers' daughter! "Madisyn, what are you implying? That I threw myself down the stairs?" Jenna retorted. "My legs are my life; they are essential for my dancing. Why would I ever get them injured?" As she spoke, Jenna's emotions crescendoed, and she dissolved into theatrical tears, collapsing into Phyllis's arms. Suddenly, Jennainstinctively leaped to her feet because of a shattered vase. Silence enveloped the room as everyone, including Phyllis and Jeffry, turned their shocked gazes towards her. Jenna's sudden agility was startling--didn't she say she couldn't stand up because of her injuries? &9&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/60743322-fb_contact-e	Hello reading		0	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/60743322-fb_contact-enp65_2-c1-0824-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=124213&accid=798859118295947&rawadid=120216829055990091	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/466067808_407539695624999_5311993831129656822_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=VuPx-5QYN4oQ7kNvgF_Wkbr&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AmtvEJfDbQ2d1QyU_vQy4E9&oh=00_AYDmfBVNQsC9EvuM5KaEe9_3LThvqBt0bNMNldPgZ9HQnQ&oe=6749AD36	REGULAR_PAGE		1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,398	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:17	active	1919	Read next chapter	She was stunned to discover that she was not her parents' biological child. Due to the real daughter's scheming, she was kicked out and became a laughingstock. Thought to be born to peasants, she was surprised to find that her real father was the richest man in the city. ===== "Madisyn, for years, we've raised you, never imagining you capable of such cruelty. This house can no longer bear your presence. You must leave immediately." Declared the imposing woman before Madisyn Chapman, her gaze laden with disdain and a bitter chill, her elegant attire contrasting sharply with the harshness of her words. "Mom, please, it was an accident. I lost my footing and tumbled down the stairs on my own. Madisyn had no part in this," said a young girl from her seat on the sofa. Just half an hour prior, Jenna Chapman, the biological daughter of the Chapmans, had suffered a fall on the staircase. At that time, Madisyn had been alone on the upper floor. Everyone believed Madisyn had pushed Jenna... Now, the looks that the Chapmans shot at Madisyn were filled with venom and disgust, a stark contrast to their attitude just a week prior, when they had professed their reluctance to ever part with her. Madisyn looked down at the floor, a fleeting shadow of irony passing through her eyes. Once, Madisyn was the sole daughter of the Chapmans. Though she never basked in parental favoritism, she lacked for nothing, her basic needs always met. The facade shattered when Jeffry Chapman, whom she had known as her father, met with a grave accident necessitating an urgent bl**d transfusion. The subsequent tests unveiled a startling truth--Madisyn was not his biological child. Jeffry then harnessed his extensive network to uncover the whereabouts of his true daughter, Jenna. The Chapman family was a prestigious household in Gemond, and news like this naturally spread quickly. To manage the public narrative and preserve their esteemed reputation, they declared an unwavering commitment to Madisyn, the girl they had raised, asserting their intention to treat her as their own for a while longer before she returned to her biological family. Behind closed doors, however, their plans were starkly different. They wanted to quickly send Madisyn away at once. Upon Jenna's arrival, the Chapman family blamed Madisyn for Jenna's years of hardship, relegating Madisyn from her room to a mere storage space, diminishing her status drastically. She was tasked with menial chores, her status far beneath even those of the household servants. Jenna, however, still wanted Madisyn gone. She had crafted several schemes against Madisyn, yet her parents turned a blind eye, their disdain for Madisyn thinly veiled. These tribulations stripped away any illusions Madisyn had about her former family, fueling a resolve to confront the injustices imposed upon her. As the tensions reached a boiling point, she faced Jenna, her voice resolute as she said, "I'll leave, but not before setting the record straight, Jenna!" Jenna's composure wavered under the intensity of Madisyn's icy stare, her body trembling slightly. Was this the same Madisyn who had once submitted quietly to every slight? A dark glint flickered in Jenna's eyes. She was the rightful heiress to the Chapman family assets, not this usurper, Madisyn, who had been living in luxury undeserved. She had to drive this impostor out! "Madisyn, I have no idea what you're going on about!" Jenna's voice dripped with feigned confusion. "Ever since I reclaimed my rightful place, receiving the affection rightfully owed to me by our parents, I've sensed your discontent. Despite your actions, I've remained tolerant. But my legs... how could you? Dancing is my soul's expression. Had I known you coveted the national competition spot so desperately, I would not have contested it." Her insinuation was clear: Madisyn had sabotaged her out of it. The gaze of Jenna's mother, Phyllis Chapman, hardened at Jenna's words, her voice laced with disdain. "Jenna, you possesses a remarkable talent that Madisyn could never hope to match. That competition spot was yours by right. And you, Madisyn!" She turned sharply towards Madisyn, adding, "Pack your belongings and leave immediately!" Madisyn's usually somber expression seemed only to fuel her contempt. Meanwhile, Jenna, ever the docile and talented daughter, shone brightly in her eyes--a true Chapman. Amidst the unfolding drama, Jeffry finally broke his silence, his voice heavy with disappointment. "Madisyn, our agreement was to keep you until the public scrutiny waned, yet here we are, facing your deep-seated resentment towards Jenna. We have no choice but to return you to your true family today." Jenna's eyes glittered with a triumphant gleam as her father pronounced Madisyn's imminent departure. In stark contrast, Madisyn's face remained an unreadable mask as she went up the stairs to gather her possessions. Her prolonged stay on the upper floor kindled a flicker of anxiety in Jenna. "What if she attempts to take everything with her?" After all, everything of value in the house rightfully belonged to her--how could she allow a fake to leave with any part of her wealth? Eventually, Madisyn reappeared, descending the staircase slowly, her movements deliberate. She carried a small, unassuming black bag. As her gaze swept coolly across the living room, it unsettled Jeffry enough for him to divert his eyes. Phyllis's eyebrows knitted together at the sight of Madisyn's minimal luggage. "Is that all you've packed? What's in there? Show me," she demanded, suspicion lacing her tone. Jeffry, however, raised a hand to halt his wife's interrogation. "Let her be." It was probably just the bank card he gave her, which had a mere hundred thousand dollars left on it. Unfazed, Madisyn placed her bag squarely on the table, her expression stoic. "Inspect it if you must." Phyllis, unable to mask her distrust, scoffed. "Maybe she has packed something valuable," she muttered as she unzipped the bag. Peering inside, she found nothing more than a notebook, a few seeds, and a small stack of cash--hardly the valuables she had feared. Phyllis, her face flushed with embarrassment from her baseless accusation, straightened up. "I'll let the driver take you there," she said crisply. Jeffry, the weight of the situation bearing down on him, reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "Madisyn, when you return, listen to your parents. They're farmers, yes... but they are good, simple people. You should help them." Madisyn looked at the offered card with her beautiful eyes, her expression calm. "Everyone has their own destiny to fulfill," she replied quietly, pushing the card back towards Jeffry. "But before I leave, there needs to be clarity. Jenna, how did you truly fall down those stairs? This is your last chance to tell the truth." Jenna seethed internally, infuriated by Madisyn's serene composure, which seemed to elevate her above everyone else despite her humble origins. Madisyn was not from a wealthy family! She was just two farmers' daughter! "Madisyn, what are you implying? That I threw myself down the stairs?" Jenna retorted. "My legs are my life; they are essential for my dancing. Why would I ever get them injured?" As she spoke, Jenna's emotions crescendoed, and she dissolved into theatrical tears, collapsing into Phyllis's arms. Suddenly, Jennainstinctively leaped to her feet because of a shattered vase. Silence enveloped the room as everyone, including Phyllis and Jeffry, turned their shocked gazes towards her. Jenna's sudden agility was startling--didn't she say she couldn't stand up because of her injuries? Chapter 2 The Richest Man In Gemond Realizing her mistake, Jenna collapsed onto the sofa, clutching at her legs with exaggerated distress. "Ah, my legs! They hurt so much!" Jeffry's response was not of anger but of a guilt directed towards Madisyn. "Madisyn, please understand, Jenna is still very young. Don't hold this against her..." Madisyn had heard this excuse too many times. "Of course, I wouldn't retaliate. After all, it picks up such behavior from its owners, right?" With a final sneer that cut through the tense air, Madisyn shouldered her modest bag and strode towards the door, her steps resolute and unwavering. She did not look back at the family she was leaving behind. The trio she left in her wake seethed in fury. Outside, the driver waited, oblivious to the turmoil that had unfolded within the walls of the Chapman family's house. Since Jenna's return, respect for Madisyn from the household staff had waned significantly--even the driver withheld the customary greeting as she approached. Ignoring his presence, Madisyn strode past him, her posture straight with resolve. The driver, catching up to her with a hint of urgency in his steps, called out, "Madisyn, I have been told to drive you to your destination." Madisyn halted, turning slightly to deliver her response, her tone icy, "No need. From this moment, I want nothing to do with the Chapman family." With those final words, she hailed a cab and told the driver the address Jeffry had previously sent to her phone. The destination was a humble, rundown village, far from the opulence she had known. Upon arriving, she noticed the disrepair of her biological parents' home, the air filled with muffled cries that pulled at her heart. Stepping inside, she saw many people. A stark contrast presented itself: a man in a clean, elegant suit, surrounded by bodyguards, stood in front of a weeping couple clad in simple peasant garb. As Madisyn absorbed the surreal tableau, the man turned, his eyes filled with redness and disbelief. He rushed towards her, arms open wide. "My daughter, it's really you! I can't believe that you're really alive!" The tall, imposing man's voice broke with emotion. Madisyn stood bewildered. Who was this man and why was he acting like that? Madisyn absorbed the teary gazes of the peasant couple before her. Her voice, shaky with confusion, finally broke the silence. "Mom, Dad, what's happening?" The male farmer sighed heavily, his voice weary with the weight of untold truths. "Madisyn, we are not your real parents. Jenna is the rightful daughter of the Chapmans, but you... you are not ours. Our baby was stillborn." He paused, motioning towards the well-dressed man. "This man is your real father." Madisyn's eyes flickered to the stranger, noting the undeniable similarities in their features. The man produced a document from his briefcase, his hand trembling slightly. "Madisyn, when I first saw you at the hospital, something about you struck me, though I dismissed it then," he explained, his voice choked with emotion. "After hearing about the Chapmans' reunion with their real daughter, I had to know if perhaps, there had been a mistake. This paternity test confirms my suspicions--you are indeed my daughter." Taking the report, Madisyn saw the undeniable proof in black and white. In fact, even without it, their similar features spoke volumes. Madisyn's response was a silence filled with tumultuous thoughts. This revelation, this new twist in her already complex narrative, overwhelmed her. The man continued, "It's a lot to take in, I know. But this is the truth. The night you were born, there was a tragic error at the hospital. Due to a nurse's negligence, three families had their lives unknowingly intertwined. This couple's child was declared stillborn and mistakenly given to us, you ended up with the Chapmans, and Jenna was brought here." "You have no idea how much this affected your mother. She's waiting anxiously at the hotel, hoping to finally meet you." His eyes moistening. Moved by his sincerity, Madisyn nodded slowly, her gaze shifting back to the farmers. The suited man's voice softened as he promised, "This was all an accident. They too are victims in this. I intend to offer compensation to help them." The male farmer waved his hand dismissively, his voice firm. "We don't need; knowing the truth is enough for us." The farmer's voice carried a tinge of weariness mixed with a subtle disillusionment as he spoke. His relationship with Jenna, the girl he and his wife had raised as their own, had soured after she reunited with her biological family; she had ceased all communication with them. "You should go home now. It's not often a family finds their way back to each other; don't waste your time lingering here," he said, his expression a mixture of sadness and detachment as he guided Madisyn and the suited man to the door. Madisyn followed the suited man towards a gleaming Rolls-Royce parked by the curb. The opulence of the vehicle was a stark contrast to the modest home she had just exited. "Madisyn, I am Glenn Johns, your father. From here on out, I'm here for you--whatever you need, don't hesitate to ask," the suited man said, his voice soft but firm. The realization dawned slowly--Glenn Johns was not just a wealthy man; he was the CEO of the Johns Group--the richest man in Gemond. The implications of her newfound lineage began to settle in, heavy and profound. Madisyn nodded slowly. The Alpenglow Hotel was the most luxurious hotel in Gemond. Jenna, draped in a flowing Chanel dress, embodied elegance as she entered the grand lobby with her parents. The occasion was momentous; Phyllis had just learned that Lynda Johns, vice president of the Dance Association and a judge for the national competition, was in town. Phyllis had quickly seen the opportunity--being under Lynda's tutelage could secure Jenna the championship. With this in mind, she had Jenna swiftly put on her finest attire and rushed her to the hotel. However, upon their arrival, a surprise awaited them. Across the lobby, Madisyn stood, her attire simple--a T-shirt and jeans--yet she carried herself with a poised grace that seemed to draw the eye. Beside her was a man in a suit, his presence striking, though his features were obscured from Phyllis's view. "Madisyn? What the hell is she doing here?" Phyllis murmured under her breath, her tone a mix of confusion and annoyance. Chapter 3 Her Real Family "The news about Ms. Johns's arrival must have been leaked," Jenna said with a facade of innocence, her voice low and tinged with curiosity. "It seems Madisyn is also keen on learning from Ms. Johns. Perhaps she doesn't know yet that Madisyn has been kicked out of our home. It looks like we might both end up as her students!" Phyllis's face clouded over with concern at Jenna's words. She hurried forward, her intent clear--to intercept Madisyn before she could make any influential connections. However, Madisyn was already moving swiftly toward the Room of Emerald, the hotel's most exclusive and private room. Phyllis was perplexed. Why would Madisyn head to the Room of Emerald? Jenna, catching up, shared her mother's surprise. "Mom, that room isn't just open to anyone. It seems Madisyn is more connected than we thought. She must have some very impressive friends." "What sort of friends could she possibly have?" Phyllis muttered bitterly, her mind racing with unfavorable assumptions. Disgust momentarily overtook her as she grappled with these thoughts, but there was little time to dwell. With a sense of urgency, Phyllis pulled out her phone and dialed Lynda. "Apologies, I'm currently handling an urgent matter." Lynda's voice was detached and brisk over the phone before she promptly ended the call. Despondency overwhelmed Jenna, her spirits plummeting as she masked her face with her hands, tears trickling between her fingers. Jeffry encircled her with his arms, his voice imbued with gentle assurance. "Don't worry, Jenna. There'll be more opportunities. We'll find another way." Meanwhile, Lynda placed her phone back on the cushion beside her. Her brother Glenn had orchestrated an immediate family gathering following the discovery of his long-lost daughter. "Madisyn must have been through a lot over the years," said Kristine Johns, sitting elegantly beside Lynda. She had striking features, exquisite makeup, and was dressed in a luxurious gown. Though she projected the image of a refined lady, her expression betrayed a deep-seated concern. Lynda responded thoughtfully, "I heard her former family had treated her quite well. She might not have faced the hardships we imagine." Kristine's reply was laced with conviction. "It's crucial that we extend our warmth and support to her." Lynda affectionately stroked Kristine's head, taking pride in her student's good character. Kristine was adopted by the Johns family. Her acceptance of Madisyn highlighted her generous spirit and kindness. She was not concerned that Madisyn's return would threaten her status. In the corner, Elaine Johns sat quietly, her gaze fixed on the door, eager and expectant. Kristine caught the intensity of Elaine's gaze, feeling a stir of unease. Finally, the door opened, the young woman who entered looked gorgeous, her aloof and exquisite features mirroring Elaine's strikingly enough to affirm their kinship. Kristine felt an inexplicable hollowness at the sight. Elaine, unable to contain her emotions any longer, surged forward. "My daughter!" she exclaimed as she enveloped Madisyn in a tight embrace, her tears flowing freely. Madisyn stood momentarily stunned by the intensity of the welcome, her hands hesitantly patting Elaine's back. A newfound warmth blossomed within her--a familial warmth. "Let Madisyn sit down first." Glenn's voice was gentle. As they settled onto the sofa, Elaine clung to Madisyn, trying to steady her voice through her tears. "Madisyn, I'm so sorry it took us this long to find you. You must have endured so much." "I... It's okay. I'm alright." Elaine's tears, warm and earnest, dripped onto Madisyn's hand, leaving her somewhat at a loss. Touched by such a heartfelt display, she gently reassured Elaine, "Don't cry, Mom. We're together now." The term "Mom" seemed to spark a profound joy in Elaine, her voice quivering as she responded, "Yes, you're back. And I promise to make everything right." Glenn observed the exchange with a bright smile, his eagerness palpable as he looked at Madisyn. Feeling the weight of his gaze, she turned to him. "Um... Dad." "We're so happy to be reunited with you, my Madisyn." Glenn beamed, his face alight with happiness, a rare expression of pure delight. "Let me introduce you to our family. This is your Aunt Lynda." Lynda observed Madisyn, offering a slight nod in acknowledgment. Madisyn returned the gesture with polite warmth. Then, it was Kristine. Kristine's smile was radiant as she addressed Madisyn. "I've been waiting so long to finally say this--I have a sister to brag about now!" Elaine chimed in, her voice tinged with a hint of hesitation, "This is Kristine. Her father was a close friend of your dad's. Kristine lost her parents when she was very young, and we took her in. If this makes you uncomfortable..." "It's fine." Madisyn cut her off gently, understanding the implication. Glenn pulled out his phone. "It's been tough for you all these years, Madisyn. Let's start by exchanging numbers," he suggested. Elaine quickly followed suit, producing her own phone. "And exchange numbers with me as well," she added eagerly. After Madisyn compliantly exchanged numbers with them, her phone buzzed with two notifications. Her father had sent her ten million dollars through Venmo, and her mother did the same. Glenn grinned, his voice filled with a casual generosity. "Here's a little pocket money from Dad and mother. If it's not enough, just let me know." Elaine's warmth didn't falter. "And I've picked out some clothes for you. You can try them on when we get home!" This whirlwind of generosity was unfamiliar to Madisyn, yet it enveloped her in a warmth she had never known. However, Kristine felt both unease and shock. Glenn and Elaine had just casually transferred twenty million dollars to Madisyn--a sum that dwarfed her own relatively modest monthly allowance. Was this because Madisyn was their biological child and she was adopted? Chapter 4 Her Brother Throughout the meal, Elaine and Glenn took turns heaping food onto Madisyn's plate, the food piled high looking like a small mountain. By the time Madisyn finished it all, her stomach was full. It was a novel and heartwarming barrage of affection, expressed through every dish her parents offered. The sudden ring of Glenn's phone cut through the moment. He glanced at the caller ID and a broad smile spread across his face. "Madisyn, it's one of your elder brothers on the line, the youngest among them. He's eager to meet you." He accepted the video call, and a voice brimming with enthusiasm burst forth. "Did you find her? I can't wait to see her!" Glenn glanced at Madisyn, who gave a shy nod, prompting Glenn to angle the phone towards her. "Here she is--your little sister, Madisyn." "Yeah, we're definitely related!" The face on the screen lit up with a mischievous grin. Madisyn's heart skipped a beat as she recognized him-- Waylon, a famous award-winning movie star. Her world seemed to expand in an instant, her family connections sprawling into realms she had never imagined. "Hi," Madisyn said, her voice a soft whisper. Waylon Johns's excitement surged through the phone. "Madisyn, I'm stuck on set right now, so I can't come back, but I'll send you something special soon!" His affection was palpable. Despite their newly discovered biological tie, Waylon's warmth felt genuine and immediate. Waylon and his brothers had long hoped for a younger sister. Although they had Kristine, she was adopted by their parents when she was not an infant anymore, and she was not blood-related to them, making them not that close. Waylon then turned to the aloof and noble man beside him. "Andrew, meet my sister. Isn't she adorable?" Andrew Klein, known for his reserved and imposing presence, glanced at the screen. The moment he saw the girl on the screen, his previously casual glance instantly froze. Madisyn's long soft hair flowed down her shoulders and her delicate features, remarkably mirroring the Johns family traits, were very captivating. Madisyn maintained her poise as the video call continued, but Kristine's reaction was less controlled. At the mention of "Andrew", her body stiffened, her eyes locked on the screen where Andrew appeared as striking as ever. His aloof disposition made her suspect he wouldn't spare much attention for Madisyn. "Hi." Andrew's greeting was brief, his voice low. Kristine felt a pang of discomfort, her nails digging into her palm. She reassured herself silently that Andrew's greeting was nothing more than a formality. Madisyn gave a polite nod in response, her demeanor calm and detached. Then, Waylon continued to chatter away on the phone with Madisyn until Glenn stepped in, reminding him not to keep Madisyn from her meal. Even though his father hung up on him, Waylon was visibly delighted, turning back to Andrew with a grin. "That's my long-lost younger sister. Isn't she adorable? I need to finish up here fast and head back to meet her." He threw a casual invitation Andrew's way. "Andrew, want to come back with me?" He knew it was a long shot; Andrew typically avoided visits to the Johns family's residence due to Kristine's overt affection. There had been an old arrangement of a potential marriage between the Johns family and the Klein family, but it was merely a verbal agreement made by the elders. The Kleins, a prominent family from Ansport, were leagues apart from the Johns family of Gemond in status and influence, a gap that Kristine seemed to ignore as she clung to the idea of marrying Andrew. Andrew, his gaze intense and distant, replied nonchalantly, "Sure, it's been a while since I last saw your parents." Waylon blinked, taken aback by Andrew's unexpected acceptance. Was he being serious? Chapter 5 The Arrogant Fool Once the meal concluded, the Johns family all made their way to their expansive mansion, dwarfing the simpler villa of the Chapman family in both scale and splendor. The estate exuded a regal elegance, mirroring a castle in its grandeur. Elaine eagerly escorted Madisyn through the vast corridors to a specially prepared room. The room was a vision of feminine grace, adorned with delicate hues and thoughtful embellishments, striking Madisyn mute with its overly girlish ambiance. With a flourish, Elaine flung open the wardrobe doors. Madisyn's eyes widened at the array inside-- rows of exquisite, opulent dresses that sparkled under the soft lighting. "These are just the beginning. There's more to arrive tomorrow," Elaine announced. "Thank you, Mom, but--isn't this a bit much?" Madisyn inquired. Elaine laughed lightly, dismissing the worry. "Oh, never! A girl can never have too many dresses. This afternoon, we're going shopping so you can add anything else you like!" she declared with a generous smile. Madisyn, though overwhelmed, felt a deep warmth from the gestures surrounding her. Elaine had intended to wait a few days before changing Madisyn's name. However, Madisyn, feeling the genuine love from Elaine and Glenn, saw no reason to delay. That very afternoon, they visited the local City Hall, where Madisyn officially adopted the surname Johns, becoming Madisyn Johns. With the legal formalities complete, Elaine squeezed Madisyn's hand, her voice filled with excitement. "Sweetheart, let's dive into some shopping and see what catches your eye." Glenn watched the two with a tender gaze, regret in his tone. "You two enjoy yourselves. I've got some work this afternoon and can't come along. Here's ten million--treat yourselves to whatever delights you find." The Moonshine Mall was the top-ranked luxury shopping mall in Gemond. Elaine led Madisyn to the chic Chanel boutique, eyes alight with excitement as she envisioned Madisyn in each piece. She quickly picked out a collection of garments. "Sweetheart, try these on. If they suit you, we'll take them all." Madisyn, feeling somewhat overwhelmed yet compliant, nodded and gathered the clothes. As she was about to head to the fitting room, she noticed Phyllis and Jenna approaching. Jenna, clearly in a foul mood, had been brought by Phyllis to indulge in some retail therapy. Her surprise at seeing Madisyn was evident. "Madisyn?" she blurted out, her voice ringing with disbelief. Elaine, turning at the voice, recognized the pair instantly. She softened, knowing the Chapman family's significant role in Madisyn's upbringing. Glenn had already agreed to work with the Chapman family's company for their part in raising Madisyn, and he had returned to the company earlier just to meet with Jeffry to discuss the cooperation. As Elaine readied a warm greeting, even planning to cover Phyllis's and Jenna's shopping expenses as a gesture of goodwill, Jenna's tone shifted sharply. "Madisyn, what are you doing here? This is a Chanel boutique. Can you even afford anything?" Phyllis scrutinized Madisyn in confusion, her face darkening as she recalled the scene she had seen at the Alpenglow Hotel earlier that day. "Madisyn, why aren't you with your poor parents? Buying luxury goods here, where did you get such money?" These harsh words cut through the boutique's refined air, leaving Elaine shocked and momentarily speechless. Madisyn, her face set in a mask of icy detachment, responded without a hint of warmth, "My affairs are no longer your concern." Madisyn's view of the Chapman family had crystallized in that moment, reflecting years of unreciprocated loyalty. She had elevated their modest enterprise to a publicly traded powerhouse, believing she had repaid the debt of gratitude for raising her. Yet, the Chapmans were unaware of her help. Elaine's expression turned stern as she absorbed the harshness of Phyllis's words. The family she had envisioned as part of Madisyn's past was far from the reality presented before her. They treated Madisyn not with familial concern, but with outright hostility. "Excuse me, I gather this young woman was once a daughter to you, but why are you treating her like this now?" Elaine interjected, unable to hold back her dismay. With an audience now present, Phyllis exhaled deeply, her face a mask of sorrowful resignation. "Indeed, she was a daughter to me once. But I must caution you, madam, not to be deceived by her facade. She's crafted numerous lies and even stolen money from our family. She's a disgrace!" She continued, her voice laden with feigned distress, "My disappointment was profound, leaving me no choice but to distance her from our family, despite the years we spent nurturing her." Phyllis was determined to paint Madisyn in the worst possible light, ensuring that no wealthy lady would think well of Madisyn, lest word spread that she was too harsh on this fake daughter. To make her words more convincing, she even dabbed at her eyes, simulating tears to underscore her supposed despair. Phyllis was actively discrediting her before her own mother. Madisyn's expression hardened, a dangerous spark igniting in her gaze... ...... ==== Madisyn was stunned to discover that she was not her parents' biological child. Due to the real daughter's scheming, she was kicked out and became a laughingstock. Thought to be born to peasants, Madisyn was shocked to find that her real father was the richest man in the city, and her brothers were renowned figures in their respective fields. They showered her with love, only to learn that Madisyn had a thriving business of her own... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &3&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/60743322-fb_contact-e	Popular romance stories		0	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	IMAGE		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/60743322-fb_contact-enp65_2-c2-0827-core2.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=673595984708315&rawadid=120213340601860033	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/463955424_854831713376036_117023892329057935_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=EhGHJuK6dQ0Q7kNvgFYRUmk&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Adp0Q5GGN4BXfgiplTD7zCf&oh=00_AYBD52dRwd6aZJfPpvLveXwULmWoH9H0P7JsbcFkOGfzbw&oe=67498DDB	REGULAR_PAGE		1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,402	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:17	active	1919	Читать следующую главу👉	Когда она узнала, что незнакомый мужчина, с которым она провела свою первую брачную ночь, оказался ее законным мужем по договоренности, она сошла с ума! ===== Камилла Петрова сегодня вышла замуж. К несчастью для неё, жениха нигде не было видно. Она оглядела пустую комнату, и её лицо стало белым, словно простыня. Она чувствовала себя совершенно униженной. Камилла не желала терпеть это оскорбление! Но что она могла поделать? С самого рождения все аспекты её жизни контролировались другими людьми. Само собой разумеется, это касалось и её замужества. Камиллу принудил к этому союзу отец, человек, которым управляла жадность. Её дедушка работал шофёром у Родиона Новикова, главы могущественной семьи Новиковых. По досадной случайности они попали в ужасную аварию, в которой дед Камиллы погиб, спасая Родиона. В последние месяцы небольшая компания, которой управляла её семья, везде и всюду погрязла в огромных долгах. Они находились на грани банкротства. Несмотря на это, её хитрый отец отказался просить помощи у семьи Новиковых, зная, что это отменит долг, который они должны были семье Петровых. Вместо этого он придумал план, согласно которому внук Родиона, Виталий Новиков, женится на Камилле. Учитывая богатство семьи Новиковых, они были уверены, что те дадут большие деньги в обмен на руку и сердце Камиллы. И, в качестве дополнительного бонуса, они, наконец, установили бы более прочную связь с семьёй Новиковых, которая была бы законно скреплена. Разумеется, семья Новиковых не могла позволить себе отказаться от этого предложения, иначе они рисковали потерять лицо в том или ином случае. Виталий решил выразить своё недовольство всем этим, не явившись на банкет, хотя на нём не присутствовало никого, кроме членов семей. Он также отказал Камилле в использовании фамилии Новиковых и запретил ей говорить людям, что она его жена. На протяжении всего этого, от начала и до конца, никто не потрудился спросить мнение самой Камиллы. Сейчас она стоит с прямой спиной и расправленными плечами. Её ресницы, возможно, слегка дрожали, но в глазах читалось упрямство. Она не собиралась поддаваться унижению. Но как ей следует поступить? В то время, когда девушка размышляла о том, как проведёт первую брачную ночь, она получила сообщение от одной из своих коллег. Женщина просила Камиллу подменить её на ночной смене. Та не стала долго раздумывать. Она вышла из зала и вызвала такси, чтобы отправиться в больницу. Мгновением позже она оказалась в комнате отдыха персонала больницы, проверяя записи пациентов, а её вечернее платье давно сменилось белым лабораторным халатом. Внезапно дверь с громким стуком распахнулась с внешней стороны и ударилась о стену. Не успела Камилла поднять глаза, чтобы взглянуть, что происходит, как дверь снова захлопнулась. Затем она услышала щелчок выключателя, и в помещении стало темно. По её спине пробежал холодок. «Кто...» Не успела она договорить, как её толкнули на стол. Куча канцелярских принадлежностей упала на пол, и в этот момент она почувствовала, как к её шее прижался холодный острый кай нжа. «Тихо!» - свирепо прошептал нападавший. Девушка едва могла разглядеть лицо мужчины, хотя его глаза выделялись. Они мерцали в тусклом свете, его взгляд был полон бдительности. В воздухе вокруг них витал знакомый запах железа, и она поняла, что этот человек ранен. Благодаря многолетнему обучению и опыту врача, Камилла смогла сохранить спокойствие. Затем она медленно согнула одну ногу, планируя атаковать мужчину коленом. Но тот видел её насквозь. Как только он почувствовал её движение, то с силой сжал её ноги вместе и прижал к столу своими мощными бёдрами. Вдруг в коридоре послышался шум шагов. Они направлялись прямо в комнату отдыха персонала. «Быстрее, я видела, как он шёл сюда!» Достаточно было одного крика о помощи, и эти люди ворвались бы в комнату. Отчаявшись, мужчина опустил голову и по*ловал Камиллу. Она стала бороться и была удивлена тем, что смогла легко оттолкнуть его. Тем более, что мужчина больше не угрожал ей нжом. Мысли девушки заметались. В этот момент тот, кто находился по ту сторону двери, схватился за ручку. Приняв решение, Камилла притянула мужчину к себе и обвила руками его шею. На этот раз она половала его. «Я могу вам помочь», - пробормотала она под нос, надеясь, что её страх не был заметен. Мужчина шумно сглотнул. Ему потребовалась секунда, чтобы принять решение, затем она почувствовала его горячее дыхание у своего уха: «Я возьму на себя ответственность за это». Его голос был низким и притягательным. Но он, похоже, неправильно понял. Она хотела, чтобы всё это было притворством. Он не должен был ни за что брать ответственность. В следующую секунду дверь снова распахнулась. Камилла и мужчина тут же слились в очередном полуе. Несмотря на их затруднительное положение, мужчина обнаружил, что его тело среагировало на звук. Он мог бы потеряться в нём, если бы люди за дверью не заговорили. «Чрт взьми! Да это же просто цующаяся парочка. Чувак, они и вправду занимаются этим в больнице. Имейте хоть немного приличия!» Свет из коридора проникал в комнату, обнажая пару. Однако тело мужчины было обхвачено Камиллой, скрывая его лицо от любопытных глаз незваных гостей. «Что ж, это точно не Виталий. Этот ублюдок тяжело ранен. Неважно, насколько соблазнительна женщина, я сомневаюсь, что у него хватит сил сделать с ней что-нибудь». «Но, чувак, эта женщина издаёт довольно приятные звуки, а?» «Заткнись и пошевеливайся! Нам нужно найти Виталия как можно скорее, иначе мы потеряем головы!» Послышался шорох и топот ног, и мужчины бросились прочь, а дверь вернулась в своё исходное положение. Мужчина знал, что его преследователи ушли, но осознание того, что теперь они остались одни, подействовало на его самообладание. Он просто сорвался, и неожиданная волна поти захлестнула его. Этот поток же*ния не обошёл стороной и Камиллу. Возможно, дело было в их близости, или в том, как интимно они касались друг друга, а может быть, во внезапном приливе адреналина, но на поверхность поднялась бунтарская жилка, о которой она даже не подозревала. До этого момента девушка жила серой однообразной жизнью, всегда подчиняясь правилам и планам, установленным для неё другими. На этот раз - хотя бы раз - она собиралась побаловать себя. Девушка отбросила свои запреты и предоставила мужчине свободу действий, чтобы он делал всё, что захочет. Когда они закончили, мужчина нежно поцеловал её в щёку. «Я приду за тобой», - прошептал он, в его голосе всё ещё слышались отголоски наслаждения. А затем он ушёл, так же внезапно, как и пришёл. Прошло немало времени, прежде чем Камилла смогла подняться на ноги. Тишину в комнате нарушил звонок её телефона. Она огляделась и обнаружила, что он лежит на краю стола. Камилла схватила телефон, пока он не упал, и нажала на кнопку ответа. «Доктор! - раздался взволнованный голос. -В центр неотложной помощи только что привезли пациента. Он попал в аварию и получил серьёзные травмы. Нам нужно, чтобы вы немедленно оказали ему помощь!» Камилла прочистила горло, чтобы голос звучал ровно: «Хорошо, я буду через минуту». Она положила трубку и направилась к двери, но остановилась на пороге. Она оглядела себя. Она и вправду занялась сксом с незнакомцем в свою брачную ночь. Это был самый возмутительный поступок в её жизни! Но сейчас было не время праздновать свой поступок или размышлять о его последствиях. Камилла привела себя в порядок и отправилась в центр экстренной помощи. Весь остаток ночи она была занята работой. Когда она наконец освободилась, уже близился рассвет. Вернувшись в комнату отдыха персонала, она обнаружила, что в комнате было всё так же грязно. Руки девушки сжались в кулаки, а в голове пронеслись воспоминания о бурном прошлой ночью. «Спасибо, что подменила меня, доктор Петрова», - коллега Камиллы, Яна Агафонова, вошла с благодарной улыбкой. Та выдавила из себя улыбку: «Пожалуйста». «Дальше я справлюсь сама. Тебе следует вернуться и немного отдохнуть, - Яна посмотрела на бумаги, разбросанные по полу, и приподняла брови. - Что здесь произошло? Почему всё валяется на полу?» Камила в панике отвела глаза и ответила: «Ой, я случайно уронила их. Пожалуйста, приберись здесь. Я устала, поэтому пойду». Яне показался странным ответ Камиллы, но она не придала этому значения. Они попрощались, и женщина принялась собирать разбросанные вещи. Она едва успела начать, как в дверях появился сам директор больницы, а за ним - помощник Виталия. Глава 2 Чувство вины «Это врач, дежурившая вчера вечером, - сказал директор больницы. - Доктор Яна Агафонова». Ассистент Виталия, Денис Орлов, вошёл в комнату и посмотрел на табличку с именем на лабораторном халате Яны. «Пойдёмте со мной». Яна была в замешательстве. «Куда мы идём?» Но директор больницы не захотел отвечать на её вопрос. Он с силой потянул её за руку и сказал: «Просто пойдёмте. Не заставляйте господина Новикова ждать». Вскоре она оказалась в кабинете директора больницы. Виталий сидел на диване, его худощавое и мускулистое тело откинулось назад в непринуждённой позе, а длинные ноги были скрещены перед ним. Нужно было иметь острый глаз и присмотреться повнимательнее, чтобы понять, что его губы были бледнее обычного. К счастью, резкий запах дезинфицирующего средства, которым были пропитаны стены больницы, скрывал запах кви на его коже. Он был одет в чистый чёрный костюм, который также помог скрыть красные пятна, в противном случае встревожившие бы всех окружающих. В его выражении лица чувствовалась жёсткость, которая так и говорила, будто он побывал в самом аду, и что с ним не стоит шутить. Денис подошёл к дивану и наклонился поближе, чтобы прошептать Виталию на ухо: «Видеозаписи с камер наблюдения прошлой ночи были намеренно подделаны, скорее всего, это сделали ваши нападавшие. Они подчистили следы и убрали все возможные улики. Это доктор Яна Агафонова, дежурившая прошлой ночью. Директор больницы сам подтвердил это. Я также перепроверил записи. Это действительно она». Только тогда Виталий поднял глаза. У Яны резко перехватило дыхание и она поняла, что перед ней сам босс корпорации «Парамаунт». «Вы тот человек, который помог мне прошлой ночью?» - спросил Виталий, оглядывая её с головы до ног. Яна тут же пригнула голову, не решаясь встретиться с грозным взглядом мужчины. «Да... Э-это была я», - она не совсем понимала, о чём идёт речь, но знала, что в её интересах войти в доверие к Виталию Новикову. Выгода не заставит себя ждать. Так случилось, что в Центральном военном госпитале собирались отобрать кандидатов для прохождения практики. И хотя это было обозначено как таковое, все в этой отрасли знали, что интерны в конечном итоге будут приняты на работу и доживут до конца своей карьеры в этом учреждении. Если уж на то пошло, Центральный военный госпиталь имел доступ к ресурсам, которые были намного лучше, чем в этой больнице. Яна планировала подружиться с Виталием в надежде использовать его связи, чтобы попасть в лучшую больницу. «Я могу компенсировать тебе всем, чем ты захочешь, даже браком», - внезапно прервал её мысли холодный голос Виталия. Его лицо оставалось отстранённым, но мысль о вчерашней ночи смягчила жёсткую линию его рта. «Что ж... Я...» - это было настолько неожиданно, чем Яна могла себе представить, что она с трудом могла подобрать слова. «Приходи ко мне, как только примешь решение», - встал Виталий и жестом попросил Дениса дать ей свой контактный телефон. Директор больницы поспешил и предложил Виталию проводить его к выходу. «В этом нет необходимости», - отказался тот, и всё его поведение снова стало холодным. Затем он остановился, как будто его кое-что осенило. Он обернулся к директору и сказал: «Пожалуйста, позаботьтесь о ней». «Конечно», - заверил его директор больницы с вежливой улыбкой. Убедившись, что они находятся вне пределов слышимости, Денис подошёл к Виталию. «Начальник, - обратился он тихим, но настоятельным голосом, - вы ведь уже женаты. Я не думаю, что брак является приемлемым вариантом для госпожи Агафоновой. Вам следует отказаться от этого предложения». Губы Виталия дёрнулись при упоминании о его браке, а лицо ещё больше помрачнело, когда он подумал о женщине, на которой его заставили жениться. «Тебе что, жить надоело?» - пригрозил он своему помощнику. Тот понял, что сказал то, чего не следовало, и тут же задрожал. В этот момент он не знал, кто больше всего злит его босса - новая невеста или человек, стоящий за вчерашним нападением. Тем временем Камилла вернулась на виллу, которую должна была делить с мужем. Экономка средних лет, Виктория Романова, встретила её в фойе, на её лице было написано беспокойство. «Почему вас не было вчера вечером, госпожа?» «Я должна была подменить коллегу», - ответила та. Её глаза были покрасневшими и слезились от усталости. Увидев это, Виктория решила не настаивать на своём. Камилла поднялась наверх и погрузилась в ванну. Её мысли невольно вернулись к предыдущей ночи, и она почувствовала, как её щёки начали гореть. Она вздохнула и погрузилась в воду, как бы спасаясь от тревожных воспоминаний. Её чувства по этому поводу были смешанными, и она не знала, с чего начать. Она даже не представляла, что это был за человек. Более того, она теперь была замужем. От этой мысли она почувствовала вину. Несмотря на обстоятельства, которые привели их к нынешнему положению, факт оставался фактом: она и Виталий являются мужем и женой. Камилла вышла из ванны, оделась и снова приготовилась к выходу. Как только она спустилась вниз, Виктория тут же засуетилась вокруг неё: «Вы опять уходите так скоро? Почему бы вам сначала не позавтракать?» Та посмотрела на время. «Нет, я опоздаю на работу». Виктория знала, что Камилла врач, поэтому она понимала, что для этой молодой девушки является нормой проводить на работе неумеренное количество времени. Тогда она протянула ей стакан молока: «Выпейте хотя бы это. Осторожно, оно горячее». «Спасибо», - тихо произнесла девушка, согретая заботой экономки. «Не за что», - любезно улыбнулась экономка. Возможно, этот брак и был вынужденным, но она достаточно хорошо знала, что нельзя смотреть на Камиллу свысока. Даже без титула жены Виталия Новикова Камилла - профессиональный врач, и это делает её более чем достойной уважения. Допив молоко, Камилла вернула стакан Виктории и направилась к выходу. Однако она не пошла сразу в комнату отдыха персонала. Она вышла из дома пораньше, потому что ей нужно было зайти в стационар. Её мать была помещена в отделение интенсивной терапии. Камилла молча вошла в палату и проверила состояние матери. Женщина по-прежнему находилась в плохом состоянии. Сердце девушки заныло. Её мать страдала от сердечной недостаточности и находилась в критическом состоянии. Единственным способом сохранить жизнь матери была пересадка сердца, которая, естественно, обошлась бы в целое состояние. Основной причиной, по которой Камилла согласилась на брак, было то, что её отец угрожал удержать деньги, необходимые для операции. Теперь, когда она вышла замуж, как того требовал её отец, всё, что им было нужно, это найти подходящего донора сердца. Камилла бросила горький взгляд на мать: «Мама, я тебя вылечу. Я обещаю». Её мать была самым близким человеком, её главной поддержкой и надёжным доверенным лицом. Неожиданно зазвонил телефон. Девушка достала телефон из кармана и ответила на звонок. «Мила, - раздался мужской голос. - Мне нужно, чтобы ты оказала мне одну услугу». Глава 3 Частный пациент Камилле позвонил Фёдор Фальков. Они учились в одном медицинском университете, хотя он был на два года старше её. Затем он уехал за границу, чтобы продолжить обучение, и теперь был известным экспертом в своей области. Фёдор всегда хорошо заботился о Камилле, поэтому они были довольно близки. «О какой услуге идёт речь?» - прямо спросила Камилла. «У меня есть пациент, нуждающийся в лечении, однако у меня появилось неотложное дело, и я не думаю, что смогу заняться этим в ближайшее время. Пожалуйста, возьми пациента под своё крыло», - попросил Фёдор. Камила взглянула на своё расписание. Сегодня у неё не было дел в офисе, и, если не считать двух операций, запланированных на полдень, она была практически свободна. «Да, конечно. Куда мне подъехать?» - спросила Камилла. «Я напишу тебе адрес. Когда доберёшься туда, просто скажи охранникам, что ты приехала к господину Калашникову, и они обо всём позаботятся», - ответил Фёдор. «Договорились», - ответила девушка. «Ещё кое-что, - добавил Фёдор, и его тон стал серьёзным. - Никогда никому об этом не говори и не задавай лишних вопросов. Всё, что тебе нужно сделать, это вылечить пациента». «Ясно. Не волнуйся», - ответила Камилла. Они попрощались, и Камилла вызвала такси, чтобы добраться к пациенту. Место оказалось в престижном районе, заполненном виллами, оснащёнными системами безопасности высшего уровня. Как и ожидалось, на входе девушка столкнулась с суровой охраной. Камилла последовала инструкциям и упомянула господина Калашникова. Сделав звонок, чтобы убедиться в правдивости её слов, охранник пригласил Камиллу внутрь. Девушка легко нашла виллу. Она поднялась по ступенькам и позвонила в дверь. Через несколько секунд дверь открылась. Казалось, что ситуация действительно была срочной. Денис нахмурился. Они ждали Фёдора, но вместо этого на пороге оказалась незваная гостья. «Простите, вы…» - начала девушка. Из указаний Фёдора Камилла уже сделала вывод, что этот пациент ценит своё личное пространство, и чтобы избежать неприятностей, она сочла разумным надеть маску. Безопасность была в приоритете. «Доктор Фальков попросил меня приехать сюда», - сказала Камилла. Денис мельком взглянул на аптечку, которую она держала: «Вы знаете, что делать?» «Да, доктор Фальков дал мне инструкции. Я сохраню всё в строгой конфиденциальности», - ответила девушка. Денис знал, что Фёдор не передал бы свои обязанности тому, кто не заслуживает доверия или некомпетентен, поэтому утвердительно кивнул и впустил Камиллу. Он провёл её мимо роскошной гостиной, затем вверх по лестнице в спальню. В комнате было темно. «Как я буду проводить лечение без света?» - спросила Камилла. Когда Виталий услышал женский голос, то поспешно схватил свой пиджак и натянул его на лицо. «Включи свет», - приказал он сквозь ткань. Денис щёлкнул выключателем, и комнату залил яркий свет. Первой мыслью Камиллы было то, что голос пациента был довольно знакомым, однако она отмахнулась от этих мыслей. Она увидела человека, лежащего на кровати, чья белая парадная рубашка была в пятнах давно засохшей крови. Камилла не хотела вдаваться в подробности и решила сосредоточиться на ранах. Мужчина явно не хотел выдавать свою личность, поэтому девушка естественным образом уважала его границы и вела себя прилично. Она поставила свою аптечку на тумбочку и достала хирургические инструменты. Камилла ножницами разрезала рубашку пациента, обнажив его раны, которые были покрыты тонким слоем марли. Она убрала всё и, наконец, увидела две зияющие раны на правой стороне торса мужчины. Камилла начала лечение, обработав раны своими ловкими руками. Всё это время она оставалась спокойной, а её движения были быстрыми и эффективными. «Есть ли у вас аллергия на анестезию?» - спросила она через некоторое время. К счастью, раны были неглубокие и повредили лишь небольшую часть кожи, однако требовалось хирургическое вмешательство. Процесс требовал применения местной анестезии. Камилла говорила спокойно, почти тихо, что резко контрастировало с её безумным голосом прошлой ночью. Поэтому, несмотря на обмен несколькими словами, Виталий совсем не узнал её. «Нет», - сказал он своим обычным холодным голосом, про себя восхваляя её профессионализм. Камилла приступила к приготовлению анестезии, а затем ввела её в область вокруг ран. Им пришлось подождать пару минут, пока началось действие препарата, после чего она наложила швы. Примерно через час Камилла наконец закончила. В целом, лечение прошло быстро и успешно. Камилла посмотрела на свои оквавленные руки и сказала: «Мне нужно в уборную». «Вы можете использовать ту, что внизу», - ответил Денис. Камилла поспешно покинула спальню. Убедившись, что девушка вернулась на первый этаж, Денис закрыл дверь и поспешил к Виталию. «Я узнал, что бандиты, напавшие на вас вчера, подосланы Артёмом. Он, вероятно, отчаянно хочет избавиться от вас, особенно после того, как вы вычислили его шпионов в вашей компании», - сказал Денис. Виталий застонал от боли, усаживаясь, а затем подтянулся к краю кровати и опустил ноги на пол. Он выглядел слабым, но его глаза вспыхнули опасным блеском. Мужчина перевёл пронзительный взгляд на своего помощника. «Эта женщина, на которой я был вынужден жениться, имеет какое-либо отношение к Артёму?» - спросил он. Денис понизил голос: «На самом деле, Артём связался с вашим тестем, Мироном. Он стремился выдать свою дочь замуж за члена семьи Новиковых, но, похоже, никогда не рассматривал вашего кузена Илью, как подходящего кандидата. Должно быть, Артём договорился с ним». «Он не перестаёт меня удивлять каждый день. С моей стороны будет не вежливо промолчать в ответ», - сказал Виталий. За время отсутствия Виталия, в городе произошло много событий, в которых был замешан Илья. «Я слышал, что у Ильи есть захудалый бар "Шарм" на улице Арбатская», - протянул Виталий. Денис всё понял с полуслова. «Да, поскольку шпионов выгнали из компании, этот клуб стал их единственным источником дохода, и если его закроют, то им придётся довольно туго», - сказал Денис. «Помоги им в этом», - сказал Виталий, и его голос стал на октаву ниже. Денис столкнулся с Камиллой, когда спускался вниз. Он предположил, что Фёдор проинструктировал девушку заранее, однако решил немного её напугать для большего эффекта: «Если вы расскажете об этом кому-нибудь, вас настигнет ужасная смерть», - сказал он. Если слух о травмах Виталия дойдёт до Артёма или его сына Ильи, они обязательно повернут это в свою пользу. Камилла кивнула: «Я сохраню это в тайне. Я только возьму свою аптечку и немедленно уйду». Когда девушка вернулась в спальню, то обнаружила мужчину, стоящего у окна напротив двери. Он стоял к ней спиной, однако девушка могла рассмотреть его широкие плечи и мускулистую спину. Его тело было стройным, просто идеальным. «Вы разве не ушли?» - спросил мужчина насмешливым голосом. Он не обернулся, но каким-то образом понял, что она смотрит на него. Возможно, он почувствовал её горячий взгляд. Камилла смущённо опустила голову. Как бы ей не хотелось это признавать, но этот мужчина заинтересовал её. Глава 4 Стажировка Камилла, опустив голову, торопливо взяла свою аптечку. Прочистив горло, она дала мужчине несколько указаний. Как бы там ни было, она всё же была врачом. «Вам нельзя пока мочить свои раны. Дезинфицируйте их раз в день и носите свободные рубашки, чтобы не раздражать раны». Она поставила бутылочку с таблетками и тюбик с мазью на тумбочку. «Я оставляю вам эти лекарства». Виталий что-то пробормотал в знак признательности, но не обернулся. Камилла тоже больше ничего не сказала и сразу же покинула виллу. Когда она вернулась в больницу, было уже почти одиннадцать дня. Она направилась в столовую, чтобы перекусить. Едва устроившись за своим столом, её вызвали в кабинет главврача. «Я отправляю Яну в Центральный военный госпиталь на стажировку», - сказал главврач тоном, не терпящим возражений. Камилла была потрясена и сказала: «Но я думала, что вы уже решили отправить меня?» «Камилла, я уверен, что ты знаешь о том, что всё высокотехнологичное оборудование нашей больницы спонсировалось корпорацией "Парамаунт". Президент Новиков лично попросил меня позаботиться о Яне. Я не могу позволить себе пойти против его воли». Камилла ощетинилась при упоминании имени Виталия. Хотя они и были официально женаты, но они никогда не встречались. Она видела мужчину только в журналах и иногда в новостях по телевизору. Значит, он и Яна? Сердце Камиллы ёкнуло, но она оставалась спокойной. «Вот как?» «Да, боюсь, у меня связаны руки. Послушай, Камилла, мы оба знаем о твоих способностях, но...» - главврач хотел успокоить девушку, но не знал, как. Камилла выделялась среди своих сверстников благодаря невероятному таланту и профессиональной этике. Главврач ценил её больше всех остальных. «Я понимаю», - пробормотала Камилла себе под нос. Девушка говорила себе, что она была не в том положении, чтобы расстраиваться из-за вмешательства Виталия. Он был вынужден жениться на ней, и, естественно, она не могла рассчитывать на то, что он будет заботиться о ней. «Мне ещё нужно подготовиться к операции, так что я пойду», - смиренным голосом сказала девушка. Камилла понимала, что ничего не может сделать, чтобы изменить ситуацию. Главврач просто вздохнул и смотрел, как она уходит. Камилла с энтузиазмом погрузилась в работу, пытаясь не думать о стажировке. Она без заминки провела свою вторую операцию, затем сняла свою хирургическую форму и, посмотрев вверх, устало плюхнулась на стул. Именно в этот момент в гостиную вошла Яна и сказала: «Здравствуй, Камилла, - поприветствовала она, ярко улыбаясь. - Ты свободна вечером? Позволь угостить тебя ужином». «Извини, но у меня есть дела, с которыми нужно разобраться позже», - вежливо отказалась Камилла. Девушка не была в хороших отношениях с Яной. Они были просто коллегами, а не подругами. Обе окончили один и тот же университет в одно и то же время. Ещё тогда Яна была той ещё штучкой. Она была очень амбициозной и всегда хотела покрасоваться и привлекать всеобщее внимание. Камилла, в свою очередь, предпочитала оставаться незаметной и была погружена в свои книги. Можно сказать, что девушки были абсолютно разными. Понятное дело, что они не очень хорошо ладили. «О, очень жаль, - сказала Яна, выглядя почему-то смущённой. - Вообще-то я хотела с тобой кое о чём поговорить». Камилла встала и подошла к своему шкафчику, чтобы повесить халат. «Говори», - сказала она, не глядя на Яну. Тот факт, что её коллега так или иначе связалась с Виталием, ещё больше отдалил Камиллу от Яны. «Ты, должно быть, слышала, да? Мне очень жаль. Я понятия не имела, что директор…» «Всё в порядке», - перебила Камилла. Однако Яна ещё не всё сказала и продолжила: «И ещё, можешь сохранить в секрете то, что вчера вечером ты вышла на смену вместо меня? Знаешь, поскольку я собираюсь в Центральный военный госпиталь, я не хочу, чтобы это причинило какие-либо проблемы». Несмотря на то, что просьба Яны была необычной, Камилла не думала об этом и ответила: «Я никому не скажу». В любом случае, не было ничего странного в том, чтобы взять на себя смену коллеги. Время от времени им приходилось сталкиваться с личными чрезвычайными обстоятельствами. На территории больницы. Фёдор сидел на заднем сиденье дорогой чёрной машины, которая была припаркована у ворот. «Ну, - сказал он голосом, переполненным гордостью, - что думаешь о моей ученице? У неё отличные способности, не так ли?» Рядом с мужчиной сидел Виталий, откинувшись на спинку сиденья. Он снова подумал о враче, который лечил его, и вспомнил, какими спокойными и точными были её действия. На самом деле, мужчина был поражен её способностями. «Это госпожа Волкова», - вдруг заговорил Денис. Виталий опустил стекло как раз в тот момент, когда Яна подошла к машине. Брови Фёдора поднялись, и он сказал: «Яна?» Денис обернулся с водительского места и спросил: «Вы знаете её?» Фёдор кивнул, его взгляд заблестел от любопытства. «Она была студенткой на год младше в моём университете». Виталию стало любопытно, когда он услышал это. Значит, эта девушка не только спасла его прошлой ночью, но и залечила его раны? «Это судьба?» - воскликнул Денис. Вселенная наконец решила дать его боссу шанс на любовь? «Какого чёрта ты несёшь?» - спросил Фёдор, нахмурившись, переводя взгляд с одного мужчины на другого. ...... Что будет дальше? Количество глав здесь ограничено, нажмите на кнопку ниже, чтобы установить приложение и продолжить чтение более захватывающих глав! 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2,526,219	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2526214}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:29	active	1919	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 Amelia's POV "Hello, Amelia," the smooth baritone says over the phone, and my eyes go wide immediately. My pulse quickens as my brain produces a face to match the voice almost instantly. It is the one face I had tried so much to get over - the one face that makes my heart beat erratically. "Who is this?" I say, unable to keep the trembling out of my voice as I woefully pretend not to recognize his voice. "Tsk tsk tsk. You don't recognize my voice? That's too bad, Amelia," he says. I can hear the disappointment and slight amusement in his low, smooth baritone. It makes my pulse jump. It makes my mouth dry, even as I moisten my li-ps with my tongue. Ashley, my roommate and best friend, is watching me with her brows furrowed into a question mark across the room. I look away from her, cupping the phone closer to my ear. "What do you want, Mr. Tanner?" I whisper harshly. What could he be calling me about at this time of the night? It is 10 p.m. on a random Tuesday. We haven't spoken in three years since the funeral of my mom. I wanted nothing to do with him. I have successfully run away, hiding from him, hoping he would not be able to reach me. "I thought we agreed on you addressing me by just Linc." His voice cuts into me, but I can't pull the phone away from my ear. I am drawn, and yet my brain yells at me to just drop the call and block this new number. But I don't listen because he will just call me again. He will always find me, or I always allow myself to be found. Ashley, having sensed my need for privacy, stepped out of the room already. "Mr. Tanner," I take a deep, shaky breath to steady my nerves so I don't sound like a scared, squeaky mouse over the phone, "Why are you calling me at this time of the night with a strange number?" I fail; I bite down on my lower li-p in muffled anger. It's been so long since I heard his voice, his deep baritone voice that sends swarms of butterflies in my lower belly. "Because you blocked all my other numbers and cut everyone else off," he snaps. Though there is still that hint of amusement in his voice, like he is enjoying toying with my emotions like this. He knows what he's doing; he always does, and I swear on my life he could literally picture me shaking for him. "Yes, and?" I say with a brow raise like he can see me, hoping I'm doing a good work at acting unaffected and unbothered as though I hadn't mastur-bated an hour ago with his half-na-ked picture I saved on my phone from social media account. Hell yes! You can say I'm stalking him, too. God! Seeing him shirtless, his shorts hanging lower beneath his hi-p brought waves of forbidden feelings I never knew existed within me. "Ames, darling, you worry me," Linc Tanner, my stepfather breathes into the phone, and heat rises to my face at that danm nickname. That nickname coming out from his forbidden li-ps, capable of making my toes curl, my knees bend before him, taking all of him deep into my throat. "Don't call me that!" I yell, cutting him short. My face is going red. I hate the way my body reacts to him. Every part of me awakens at the sound of his voice. It terrifies me; it excites me. "I will call you what I want," he replies calmly and dangerously low and then continues in the same calm tone like I am not huffing and puffing over the phone at him, "It has been three years, and I needed to know how you were doing. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," He pauses like he is rethinking his choice of words, and I hold my breath, refusing to think too much about the fact that he just said he hasn't been able to stop thinking about me, "Wondering how you were coping," he adds finally. I exhale. The sudden vulnerability in his voice drives a sharp sting directly to my heart. It hurts for a second, and then I pull my defensive walls up again, guarding that traitorous organ called the heart. "It is not in your place to worry about me. I am not your responsibility. I am doing perfectly fine on my own," I bite back, but deep down a surge of joy was gradually brimming. He obviously has not called me to talk about my shortcomings in the way I handled the aftermath of my mother's funeral three years ago. That is why I had his numbers blocked. I know Linc Tanner is rich enough to find me within days, but I hoped that common sense would tell him not to bother me regardless, and he didn't. "You know that is not true. I am your guardian; of course, it is in my place to worry about you," Linc says, his smooth baritone pierces me like a lash. I imagine him pulling his hand through his thick wavy jet-black hair in quiet frustration. It is one of the things I noticed about him immediately when I was first introduced to him four years ago. That thick midnight dark hair. For his age, it was ridiculous for his hair to still be that youthful looking, that mouthwatering, the hottest man I have ever set my eyes on. But that was Linc Tanner. A walking contradiction of a man. Chapter 2 I snap myself to reality when I realize I have started trailing off into memories I have tagged forbidden. this"So, what do you want now, stepfather?" I hear his light chuckle, and I can't help the flutter in my belly from absorbing the rich sound. I can almost smell him. I remember what he smelled like. God! it's imprinted in my brain. It is embarrassing, but I can admit that I look for that scent in every man I have gone out with since, but to no success. It belonged to Linc Tanner alone. Just like my silly heart. Mint, dark coffee, something dark and mysterious thrown in the mix and a whiff of something floral and yet overwhelmingly masculine. I used to smell him in the house before he even got to the room I was in, with my mom on his arm, dark onyx eyes seeking mine like a storm. "I kind of prefer Mr. Tanner to that stepfather title. Makes me feel old, and the way you say it adds a perverted undertone to it," he says after a moment. His tone is light; it is a rebuff he has used several times before when I used to call him that as a sort of childish rebellion to the dismay of my mother who insisted I call him by his name or worse, dad. "Whatever," I snap. I hate having to think about my mother or the period during that summer before I left for college when I had to stay with them, and it was low-key the worst few weeks of my life in that house. "Still that temper. It is good to know you haven't changed much, Ames darling," Linc says with a light chuckle. But he is wrong. At least I hope so. I hope I have changed enough. But with the way my heart flutters every time he calls me that nickname in that rich baritone of his, I can't be sure I have changed much, and it is embarrassing. "I need you to tell me why you have called, Linc. Cut the whole thing about you worrying about me and all that bullshiit. I know you have eyes on me. I have seen her. What do you want?" My anger comes back to shield my foolish heart; it wraps around my che-st like a vice. Whatever he has been paying the woman following me for the past three years should be halved. She is terrible at her job. She doesn't even try to be hidden. "Okay. Okay. Sheathe your claws, tigress," Linc says. There is no chuckling this time. He doesn't even try to deny it. It makes me angrier, but I bite my tongue. Once I hear what he is calling for, we will talk about that danm female bodyguard. "I need you to come back home for your break tomorrow. Your plane tickets are ready, everything is set in place," Linc says, his voice dangerously set and rigid, my mouth opens and closes. Again, I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I am beyond dumbfounded. Not at the fact that he knows the exact timing of my summer break, but the finality and air of authority of his tone. "What!" Finally, I scream into the phone. "What the fck are you talking about?! I am not coming back! You better say you're joking right now!" I scream into the phone. Courtesy be danmed. I don't care if Ashley can hear me. I don't care if I am being rude. He has lost his mind if he thinks he can just command me to come back to New York out of the blue like this. After three whole years of no contact! Though I was the one that initiated the no-contact rule, that is beside the point. "You are and you will," Linc says and the calmness in his voice threatens to push me to the edge. He has no rights! Have I not made this clear enough! "I don't know how to say this nicely, Mr. Tanner, but I genuinely do not want anything to do with you. My mother is dead. She is not here anymore. I am not obligated to feel related to you because we are not related. I am not coming back to New York, and that is final," I say, breathing heavily. My eyes narrow on the floral pattern of my quilt, and I feel like I could go crazy with the way my heart is racing, flashes of forbidden memories running through my mind. Mental snapshots of Linc walking out of the luxurious infinity pool on the rooftop of his mansion and his immaculate figure, toned wide shoulders, long muscular legs like tree trunks, chiseled torso, me hiding behind the lounge door, watching him like a creep, the water dripping down his hairy front body, snaking into his navel, down his briefs with that noticeable bulge, and his dark eyes catching mine immediately like he knew I was there all along, watching him. "Amelia. Listen to me," Linc's domineering voice cuts into me, and I rip my focus away from those danm memories. That summer is cursed. I can't think of that time without feeling a heap of guilt and the sense of awakening into something bigger than myself, in those stolen glances, fantasies, and sleepless nights where I imagined what it would be like to be the one sharing Linc's bed instead of my mother. I felt treacherous even though me and my mother and I had never been particularly close. "No! I am not coming back, and you can't make me!" I yell. "Amelia!" Linc's annoyed voice snaps me to attention. I bite my tongue. Squeezing the phone in my hand. I grit my teeth in annoyance. I didn't have any specific plans for the holiday, though I was thinking about my internship options. Since it is my sophomore year, I am supposed to spend my summer break interning at any reputable architectural company that will take me. "It is something your mother wanted," Linc says, his voice going back to calm and collected. Of course. She would still continue to mess up my life even when she is no longer here. Chapter 3 It is aggravating, all the complex feelings she evokes in me. Our relationship wasn't the typical mother-daughter bond. Because she wasn't the typical mother by any means. Kathryn Dimitri was a socialite through and through. She was glamorous and loud and enjoyed going to dinner parties, soirees, any excuse to have fun and drink champagne, flirting with the throng of men who were always sniffing around her. It always stung when people noted how different we looked. They always looked at her elegant auburn bold beauty and my muted blonde prettiness and concluded I paled in comparison, just like my skin. Mother always threw her head back with a delightful laugh when those men paid her compliments at my expense. That was one of the reasons why I hated spending time at home. With her. She always made me feel like an unwanted attachment to her person. An attachment that never quite measured up. Sometimes, I think to myself that my attraction to Linc was a rebellion. It was a cowardly one because I never acted on any of my fantasies, but it was a rebellion nonetheless, and it felt good. When just three months into college, enjoying my freedom from her and that suffocating mansion where I had to hide my blushing face whenever Linc was in the room, I got the call that she had died in a car accident all the way in Paris on her way to another of her glamorous parties, I felt a wave of grief so huge, so encompassing and utterly confusing that my world paused. I went through the funeral in a muted daze. I faintly remember Linc holding me as I finally broke down and cried on the third night when I wanted to return to college. Wanted to escape. The reassuring way he held me. Tenderly. Like I was too fragile and could break apart against his huge body. I got on the plane and arrived back in college, and I could still smell his scent on me. I didn't wash the dress I wore for weeks. "She wanted you to intern at my firm. She wanted me to keep an eye on you. To take care of you and safeguard your future. You like to act tough, but you really have no one else in this world, and that makes me feel empathetic towards you. You can view me as this big bad monster stepfather and I don't care, but I do care about you, and I wouldn't sit back and watch you struggle when I could do something about it. Amelia, please. It would be for just three months. Come to New York. Come home," Linc says, the genuine sincerity in his voice bites at me. I blink back, furious tears, feeling the anger dissipating into that warm feeling I hate feeling towards him because it felt wrong. "Ames..." He says gently when I don't reply. I am too busy pushing back the lump in my throat. He knows he has touched a nerve because he is right. I am truly alone in this world. All of my mother's connections and circle of friends and even families, nobody gave a danm about me after the funeral. My late dad has family in Portugal, but we were not really close before he died. With my mom gone too, I was left alone, and it didn't hit as hard because before she died, I always felt alone, shuffling from boarding school to college, we never bonded in any special way. I was always alone in my little world. But in moments like this, when someone like Linc who knew me, knew my mother and I, reminds me how utterly alone I am, it breaks my heart. "Okay. I will come back to New York." My heart flutters at my resignation because I know there is nothing I could possibly do about it. I accept it. I guess I have to go back to fighting my forbidden attraction to my stepfather. For just three months. I can survive that long without doing anything I might regret. I hope. ***** Linc Tanner's POV: The golden blonde full-grown woman seated in front of me is not the soft-spoken, shy eighteen-year-old Amelia I remember. I am taken aback by how much she has grown, that eyes that could make a grown man weak, that full mouth that I eager to taste, but I manage to keep my face expressionless. She is stunning. When she walked in a minute ago, I couldn't take my eyes off her, my greedy eyes taking in every detail of her womanly curves. It made me tingle for all the wrong reasons. She is currently glaring at me from her position on the chair in front of my desk. I tell myself I have kept an eye on her over the years because of a sort of loyalty to Kathryn, but in reality, I just couldn't bear not knowing how Amelia was doing, couldn't bear thinking about her being in the arms of another man, moaning and crying out his name instead of mine. She is a brave, strong girl, but I couldn't just let her go. My body couldn't let her go. She made my heart ache. I'm most definitely proud of her just thinking of her out there, all on her own. She reminds me of myself at the same age, hustling against all odds to make a name for myself. "Why did you come here directly?" I ask, breaking the ice between us. It has been three years, and we didn't even exchange a smile. She is on guard towards me, and I am walking on eggshells, trying not to upset her. "I figured we should get to it immediately," Amelia says. The softness of her voice is gone, replaced by a sharp edge that is confident and so womanly. I shake my head to ward off any more misleading thoughts. "Oh c'mon, Amelia. I asked that they chauffeur you to the house." I thought she would appreciate the rest. But here she is, glaring at me. "Do you stay alone?" She asks, catching me off guard. "Yes," I say, cautiously. Her boldness and the way she is holding my eyes are making me feel uneasy. I don't remember her being this confident. I used to find her extreme shyness amusing then. Interesting. Now I find her confidence highly attractive. Erotic. Fvck! Linc. Goddammit! Control yourself. Chapter 4 We have some history between us from that one summer three years ago before she ran away to college. But I am proud of myself for keeping things in control when she was just an eighteen-year-old rebellious teen. Now that she is all grown, I can't promise that I would be able to control myself much. This woman sitting across from me could bring any man to his knees, and I don't fvcking care falling on my knees in front of her as her legs open up for me, taking in the scent of her arousal, tasting her. Merely looking at her, I know she tastes like pure sugar. "Then I am not staying in that house. You have to get a place for me," she says, not adding the unspoken part. That she doesn't want to stay alone with me. "It is a big house, Amelia." I tried to clear my voice, It is a mansion, but I understand if she doesn't want to stay with me. I guess that could be weird. Without Kathryn in the midst, what would we do with each other? I don't want to dwell on that train of thought. "I don't care." She folds her arms over her front body, and my eyes get drawn to her che-st. I want to peel my eyes away, but I am powerless against her quietly confident feminine aura. She is wearing a pale blue sundress with a black sweater over it, but the pale blue of the dress makes her eyes stand out so clearly, she radiates like a beam of sunlight sitting across from me. She used to be pale, but her complexion has matured with a golden tint that teases down her long graceful neck into her deep-V line. I yank my eyes up to meet hers; thankfully, she is looking out the window. I note the multiple piercings in her ears, and a chuckle escapes me as I imagine the fit that Kathryn would have thrown if she could see her. "What is so funny?" she snaps, turning to fix me with her startling blue eyes. "Nothing. I will have someone look for a place for you that is close to the firm. Fine?" "Yes. Thank you." I don't mention that she would stay in the house with me until we find a place. It is unnecessary; she knows. "Come, let me show you around," I say, getting up, eager to move around before finding myself distracted, watching her like a aroused freak. I walk to her side to take her hand; she ignores me and tries to get up on her own. She takes a step forward, and it all happens too fast. She trips on her feet in front of me, falling backward with her eyes wide in terror. I shooot forward, grabbing her by her slim waist instead of her outstretched hand. I pull her forward until she is stable on her feet; our bodies collide, and I hear the soft gasp leave her full li-ps. A headiness clouds my thoughts. Her body is intoxicatingly soft pressed against me like this. My primal reaction startles me as all the blood rushes southward. Our faces are inches from each other; her large doe-like eyes blink up at me, and her rosy li-ps are slightly open. It takes all of my self-control to not just crash my mouth to hers and taste them. God knows how badly I have always wanted that. "Why do you not want to stay at the house with me?" I ask, ripping my eyes away from her tempting li-ps to look into her eyes. They hold mine with a mixture of fear, anticipation, and defiance. The combination makes my blood rush faster. "You know why," Amelia breathes, so close, so overwhelmingly stunning. Soft and dangerous. Grown and lethal. She overshadows my common sense, even at just eighteen. I only managed to stay away because of Kathryn, her mother. But now, three hard years later, she is in my arms, and there are no hindrances. I hold onto her waist tightly; she doesn't resist my touch, but she is not exactly leaning into me. She is frozen in place, and I get the feeling that if I let go, she would run. I can't lose her again. Danming all consequences, I lean in; my vision narrows in on the most perfect pair of li-ps I have ever seen, the whole world quietens with a hush. Chapter 5 Amelia's POV "Mr. Tanner, I have the reports..." A cheery voice interrupts the moment. "Oh! I am sorry." The woman's surprised, high-pitched voice intrudes on the madness that is my lust-filled brain and snaps me out of my reverie. His strong arm around my waist loosens its grip, and I take the opportunity to move away from the furnace of the man, my heart thundering at what almost happened. I didn't even hear the door open. His firm li-ps only grazed mine before the interruption, but I feel like it was more with the way my heart is beating fast. I have not been here longer than an hour, and I have already found myself in his arms. We almost kissed. And I hoped to survive three whole months with him without doing anything I might regret? That seems like such a practical joke now. Linc is forbidden, a no-go area, he's fire, if I get too close, he would burn me. Seeing Linc's trim, muscled figure in his form-fitting grey suit, his devastatingly handsome, resistant-to-aging face with those dark, piercing onyx eyes has reminded me just how easily my body gives in to him. His quiet, effective charm has reminded me why I ran. Why that summer really tough for me. Fighting this forbidden attraction to my middle-aged stepfather, who is forty-one while I am just twenty-one. He is literally old enough to be my father. But yet he pulls me. And I am powerless once he pins me with those eyes. I am weak. My body surrenders without much resistance. "Drop them on the desk," he says, his dark eyes still trained on me, his back to the woman frozen at the door glaring at me with such venom it scares me. I move further away. I need to escape him. But I know it is futile. Linc would find me. This attraction between us feels inevitable now. There is a quiet countdown ringing like a third heartbeat between us. Coming back was a mistake. Linc Tanner is not the kind of man one forgets. Or moves on from. I still feel the same way as I did three years ago, if not stronger. And now there is one less excuse as to why we shouldn't give in to this dark desire. "Uhm, sir, it needs your signature so I can send it back to..." "Charlotte, drop them on the desk!" Linc raised voice startles me and the woman, who quickly drops the files and hurries out. Linc doesn't turn away from me. He keeps his eyes on me, watching me like a hunter hunting his prey. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry. Naked hunger is present in the depth of those shimmery dark eyes, and I have to clentch my fists together to gain some control over my senses. This is all shades of wrong. And yet so right. So necessary. It is official, I have lost my danm mind. How the hel are we going to sleep in the same house tonight without something forbidden happening between us? I can almost picture it, and it makes my pulse race faster. "Um. I should go." I say when I reach the door. Where am I going? I have no idea but I know I have to get away from this office right now before I find myself climbing my stepfather like a tree right here in his office. I know the nak-ed hunger in his eyes reflects mine. I am just as aroused. Just as willing to be reckless. Caution was thrown to the wind as soon as I agreed to come back. "Okay." His usually smooth baritone comes out cracked, he pauses and clears his throat, he starts walking towards me and my heart skips a beat, but then he turns to the left, towards his desk and I blink back my disappointment. "Take a tour of the firm. Choose whatever department you want to intern at. Then we can go to dinner." His mouth is a set line as he settles at his desk like he wasn't just about to kiss me a moment ago. "Dinner?" I croak, still visibly shaken up by what almost happened between us. I still feel the weight of his strong arm wound tightly around my waist. The possessiveness of his hold. The way his eyes narrowed in on my face before he leaned in to me for the kiss. It all makes me feel heady. "Yes. I made a reservation." He says looking up to meet my eyes, I hold his gaze. "I don't feel up to that." I say, looking away first as his eyes bore into me. One day, I will wi-n our spontaneous silent staring battle. "What? Let me guess, you are not hungry?" He asks with a small chuckle. It brings flashbacks of that summer three years ago when I used to deny being hungry so I could stay away from him and my mother. Only to sneak back to the kitchen at midnight to raid the fridge for leftovers. Linc caught me several times and the embarrassment still feels so heavy right now with the way he is watching me. Mischievous amusement shining in his eyes. "Fvck off." I snap. I can't stand his teasing in moments like this. I hate that he knows me all too well. "Now, now, Ames darling. I don't appreciate that tone." He says but his voice is still teasing and light. I can't believe we almost kissed just a moment ago and here he is, teasing. He confuses me. And somehow, that seems to be the allure. Other than the fact that he is my fcking stepfather. "Whatever. I am not going out to dinner with you." I cross my arms, his eyes follow the motion and heat rises up my cheeks. A moment passes between us. An impasse. "Okay, we will eat at home. I'll call my private chef." He says at last. I can't argue with that, so I just nod in passive agreement and push the door behind my back so I can escape the office. Escape his impossible charm. ***** "So, which department are you going to intern at?" Linc says, wiping his mouth with a triangle shaped napkin. The table is being cleared by the chef's assistants, I nod my appreciation to them for a great home dining experience. Linc doesn't even acknowledge them. "I don't know yet." I say because I truly don't. His firm is so large. So multifaceted. I have so many options but I have narrowed it down to either the creative designing or engineering departments since I have majored in both at college. "Okay. Take your time." He says. I refuse to allow myself feel the impact of his smooth baritone as it washes over me across the dining table. "Yeah." I should probably add my thanks but I don't. The staff finishes clearing out the table and they leave immediately, leaving us alone to our awkwardness. I swallow. The soft light of the overhead chandelier is cast directly on my face and I feel like he is watching me closely. His eyes, those dreamy but predatory eyes watches my every move. I could literally feel like he was looking at me to expose me, to expose my deepest secrets, secrets I would kil to have them concealed, but with Linc, just one move from him, his mouth on me and his hand in-between my legs, my entire being will open up to him on it's own accord, and when his fire burns me, my secrets will be revealed. Chapter 6 Linc had the house restructured, and so it doesn't hold much sentiment for me. I was slightly shocked when I first got in, but now it has ebbed. The mansion is like a luxurious minimalist hotel. Oddly, I felt comfortable and at ease. But I know I can't stay here for too long. I simply can't. "Um, so, about the apartment you would rent for me. How is that coming along?" I say, enunciating my words carefully. I see a tic in his jaw, and I swallow. I remember the way he asked me why I didn't want to stay with him as he held me in his arms earlier in his office. The nak=ed vulnerability in his eyes. The way he was looking at me, it scares me, hypnotize me and locks me in. "You just told me a few hours ago." He says, interlacing his svelte fingers on the table as he leans forward. I can't read the expression on his face, whether it is annoyance or amusement. "Yeah. But it is something that you can sort out in a really short time. Aren't you like a billionaire or something?" That was why Mom was besotted with him. Linc Tanner has been in Forbes. His architectural firm has worked on top multi-billion dollar projects across the country. He is dark and mysterious and a hot forty-one-year-old. "Yes, I am a billionaire." He says, with a smirk. "You are avoiding my question." The house has gone quiet. All the bright lighting has been switched for dimmer ones. I am sure all the staff have left. It is just us now. Coming to this realization opens me up to my forbidden thoughts about being alone with Linc. Wild things that had invaded my dreams for so long, just me and him alone in the house, starring at each other, reaching out to each other, eating out each other. "What if I simply don't want to get you an apartment? What if I don't want you to stay away from me? Why the he-ll would you be staying in some apartment when I have a mansion here you can stay in?" His smirk is gone, and he is pinning me to the spot with his dark eyes. My pulse starts racing. My mouth goes dry. "That is not what you promised!" I yell, getting out of my seat. What the heck does he mean he doesn't want me to stay away from him? "Ames, Ames darling. Sit down." He says, his voice is oddly calm and controlled. It only makes me angrier, and I flip my middle finger at him as I turn around to walk away. I don't hear him walking up to me till he grabs my wrist and spins me around to face him. The motion pulls my body too close, so we are inches away from each other. Twice in just one day, my breath escapes me in an audible gasp. "Why the he-ll are you so stubborn? It is kiling me keeping my hands to myself already, and you have to go and push me." He hisses under his breath at me, but I hear him clearly because we are very close. The expansive kitchen peels away from my vision. The house. The soft lights. Everything. All I can see is Linc, and up close, he is stunning. He's dangerous, he overwhelms me, he could literally set me on fire with thst forbidden mouth of his. I don't have any power when he is this close. My knees go weak. I forget my anger. "I can't stay here with you." I say quietly, my voice trembling. His hand holding my wrist is like a brand on my skin. Am I agreeing this accommodation thing? The house is huge. We can steer clear of each other for the duration of the three months. The firm is huge too. I can spend my internship there, and we will never run into each other. Nobody even has to know about our connection if I keep quiet about it. But the way my body involuntarily leans towards him, the way my belly erupts with liquid fire every time he looks down at my face, I just know. I couldn't possibly stay here alone with him without giving in and doing something I would surely regret. "Why?" He asks, his face a closed-off mask, his li-ps set in a tight line. Our faces are just inches apart from each other, my back is pressing against the hard edge of the polished wood of the dinner table, but I don't register the discomfort. There are too many sensations to be felt standing this close to Linc Tanner, that pain is temporary. "What do you mean, 'why?'" I throw back at him, breathing as regularly as I can, but my breaths come out choppy and raspy. I need to move away from him. "Because I don't understand it, Ames." He snaps, his grip on my wrist tightens. I wince, and then he looks at his hand like he didn’t realize he has been holding onto me all this while. He lets me go. "Okay, but why won't you let me go?" I pull my chin up at him, our li-ps barely inches apart now. I meant it as a defiant move, but one look from him and I regret it, but I don't back down. One look at my li-ps I shake. One look at my face accessing me, I'm soaked. "This is why." Linc covers the distance between us, and my world erupts in bright scattered lights as he claims my mouth.	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=13363&u	Indulge in story	https://www.facebook.com/61552702618591/	838	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=13363&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/455715339_410984478152267_9166489231231977406_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=2dobJS1WFecQ7kNvgFFMDDr&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=A1O3cmHalsxmxuoyytbCBUC&oh=00_AYC1ztpAex3wKXffKLa-SBmRP9sBmkPU0CxyMNKF6d2oQA&oe=6749B190	PERSON_PROFILE	Indulge in story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,524,276	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2526612}'	No	2024-11-24 19:02	active	1919	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	"Mr. Nichols, your wife is experiencing severe postpartum hemorrhage. Please, come and see her for the last time." The doctor anxiously pleaded with the person on the other end of the phone. But Juan Nichols's voice was filled with indifference. "She's still alive? Call me when she's dead." With that, he hung up the phone. All the light disappeared from the eyes of the woman lying on the bed. 'Juan, do you hate me so much? ' The machine emitted a flat, cold beep, indicating Debra's vital signs had disappeared. In Debra's lifetime, she loved Juan dearly. As the only daughter of the Frazier family, she should have enjoyed the best life. But to marry Juan, she sacrificed herself and her family. In the end, she died alone and tragically. Debra slowly closed her eyes. Given another chance, she would never make the same mistakes. ... "Madam, Mr. Nichols wants to take you to the auction. Which outfit would you like to wear?" Sophie asked. Debra gasped and opened her eyes. Everything in front of her was strikingly familiar. This place was Juan and her home. They had been married for a month, but Juan had rarely visited her. She remembered that Juan was attending a land auction, and due to the occasion, he had to bring his family along. But this was all five years ago. 'How could it be? ' she thought, deeply confused, 'Am I reborn?' "Mr. Nichols has never stayed overnight before. You should seize this opportunity." Sophie’s voice brought Debra back to reality. She picked out a white gown, hesitating. "How about this one, Madam?" Looking at it, Debra gave a self-deprecating smile. It was well known that Juan favored Shelia. In the past, she often dressed like Shelia to please Juan Miles. Shelia liked white dresses, so she followed suit, just to earn a little favor from Juan. For this auction, Juan didn't inform her of the change in companion and brought Shelia instead, making her look ridiculous in a white dress similar to Shelia's. The thought of the past made her laugh. "No, I'll wear that one," she said, picking up a red dress she has never tried on before. Debra never liked plain clothes. Shelia was just a poor college student. Debra felt that she must have lost her mind to wear cheap clothes for a man. "But Mr. Nichols likes white dresses," Sophie said hesitantly. Debra simply ignored her hints. "I'll wear this one," she said. "Throw away all those white dresses. I don't like them." Sophie sighed and complied. Debra looked at herself in the mirror, still vibrant and beautiful. But in a few years, she would be worn down by Juan's torment. Before that happened, she would end it all. ... In the evening, the auction venue was filled with celebrities, and Juan walked to the entrance with Shelia. Shelia, in a white dress, held Juan's arm timidly. "I've never been to such an event before. Maybe I should go back." "You'll get used to it. You'll be attending these events frequently in the future," Juan said. Shelia nodded. Juan was about to enter with Shelia when his assistant Joe spoke up. "Sir, won't we wait for Mrs. Nichols?" Juan frowned. "Didn't I ask you to tell her not to come today?" Joe glanced at Shelia, and she quickly said, "It's not Joe's fault. I told him not to inform Debra. With my status, I'm afraid of gossip, so I thought it would be better for Debra to accompany you in." Shelia lowered her head like a scared hare. Juan rubbed his temples. He didn't want Debra to show up at all. "Mr. Nichols," Shelia murmured, biting her lip. "It's alright." Juan patted Shelia's head and said to Joe, "Go intercept her and send her away." In the crowd, there were murmurs of surprise and praise. Joe looked over and was also shocked. "I'm afraid it's too late."	LEARN_MORE	https://thebvhwysgng.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=1	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	320	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	thebvhwysgng.com	DCO		https://thebvhwysgng.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=13914&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/464176595_1056316475935566_659174090726662733_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=Hd6gwzHzUeQQ7kNvgEqsPhO&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=At-52rFSmlbTm9ybhhHc7yh&oh=00_AYBQY0AvdwsamF6dByI_1VrFHH2js3l68uwuzfJkbldb0g&oe=6749B241	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,720	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2525697}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:22	active	1919	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	Neah "Where is she?" I hear the Beta scream. I groan and rise to my feet, grabbing the cleaning basket before heading over. The moment Beta Kyle sees me, he strides towards me and his hand slices against my cheek. I don't make a sound. Years of experience has taught me to keep my mouth shut at all times. "Alpha Trey and I are expecting company and you still have not cleaned the office." Beta Kyle spits at me. I nod my head and my hand tightens on the cleaning basket. If only I could find the courage to swing it at his head, it would make my day. But I didn't need another week locked up with no food. My stomach already hurt enough. "We are trying to make a good impression on Alpha Dane. Don't you understand how important it is for us to join ourselves with his pack?!" I don't answer, It's a trap, a ploy to provoke me into saying something that would justify punishment. I keep my eyes lowered, avoiding his gaze. Alpha Dane, I had only ever heard rumours about him. He was a ruthless man, a Wolf feared by others. He didn't mess around and he had the largest pack. "He is the Alpha of Black Shadow, the biggest pack in the world, we need him!" We had never been attacked and we had never attacked anyone, so why did we need another pack to help us? He grabs my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin as he turns me around and kicks me into the office. "Useless Wolf." He mutters as he moves away. Quietly closing the door, I lean against it, observing the already clean office. It looked perfectly fine for a meeting with this so-called powerful Alpha. Closing my eyes, I slide down to the floor. I hated this house. I thought that when I turned eighteen, I could finally escape, but four years later, here I still am, a slave in my own home. Doing all the dirty tasks for my brother, Alpha Trey and the pack. While my ex mate, Beta Kyle waltzes around reminding me of how worthless I am. Someone clears their throat and I freeze, I thought I was alone. Leaning forward, I see a handsome man sitting in a chair, just around the corner. A foot propped up on his knee as he nurses a glass of alcohol. His short hair is dark and his eyes are a deep crimson colour, that don't quite look right. They suddenly shift to me and I throw myself back against the door as my heart pounded. "Is this the way you greet all Alphas?" His deep voice rumbles through the room, there was an edge of amusement to his tone. "I'm sorry." I whisper, getting to my feet. "I...I thought I was alone." I had no idea who he was but I could feel the power radiating off of him, even without my Wolf. "Come forward." He orders and I already feel a lump forming in my throat. Alpha Trey wil kill me. I step around the corner, doing as I'm told, allowing him to see me properly. I close my eyes, expecting the worst. "You smell funny. Yet you are a Wolf, correct?" I nod, though I couldn't tell how he was going to react. Most laughed when they found out about me. "I would prefer it if you spoke to me." He growls, "I'm not in the mood to play games." "Yes." I whisper. I couldn't help but think of all the punishments I was going to have to endure. A whipping maybe? Starvation for another week? "Why do you smell strange? And how is it possible for you to not know I was in the room? You should have scented me." "I..." I hated the question. "You should open your eyes when you are talking to someone. It's rude to not look at them. Has your Alpha not taught you anything?" His deep voice sends a shiver through me. Slowly, I open my eyes and lower them, there was no way I was making eye contact."My Wolf abilities were bound," I mutter. Twice, I wanted to add. Twice my abilities were bound. But he probably wasn't interested in that part. He leans forward, I could feel him staring at me, "Why would someone do that?" If this is the Alpha that my brother is supposed to be meeting with, I knew I could screw everything up for him by saying too much. "It was a punishment." I whisper. It wasn't far from the entire truth. There's a twitch in his cheek. Was he angry to hear of such a punishment? Or maybe, just like the others, he was amused by it. I couldn't tell. The door swings open and my brother screeches at me "Neah, what are you doing in my office?" He turns to the crimson eyed man. "I am so sorry that my sister is bothering you, Alpha Dane." Crap, it's him. My brother spins around, hand poised to hit me. I close my eyes, bracing myself, ready to feel the burn. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."Peeking through slits, I see Alpha Dane has risen to his feet, his hand coiled around my brother's wrist. He is taller than my brother, more muscly too. "Neah," My name rolls off of his tongue, "was kindly showing me to your office, Alpha Trey, as you failed to meet me at the front of your house like I requested." What? I had no idea what he was talking about. And he had no reason to lie for me. My brother glares at me, clenching his jaw tight. "Go and get Beta Kyle." Alpha Trey seethes. "Tell him our guest is here." I nod my head and hurry from the room, the last thing I wanted was to be caught between bickering men. "Beta Kyle," I whisper as I enter the dining hall. He instantly glares at me with his dark eyes. I had spoken without being spoken to. "Alpha Trey is in the office with Alpha Dane. I was sent to inform you." He slams the newspaper down on the table and glares at me as he walks by. "You're lucky that the Alpha sent you to get me, otherwise you wouldn't see sunlight for a few days." Pausing behind me, he yanks my head back, locking his fingers in my hair, leaning in close to me, I feel his hot breath on my skin. He doesn't speak, it was just his way of proving that he could do what he wants when he wants. I try to keep myself busy so I can stay as far away from the office as possible. My peace doesn't last long when I hear my brother calling out to me. Quietly, I pad towards the office and plaster a smile on my face as I open the door. "Neah, go get the champagne and some glasses, we are celebrating." I bow my head and hurry to the drinks cabinet. Quickly finding what my brother has asked for. As I re-enter the office, I can feel Alpha Dane watching my every move, even the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. No one ever watches me this closely. "Neah is your sister, correct?" Alpha Dane questions my brother. "She is." Alpha Trey mutters with disgust. He looks away from me to focus on the man asking questions. "Why do you treat her like trash?" Straight to the point, my brother wouldn't like that. He only liked sharing information on his terms. No one had spoken to my brother about his treatment of me because everyone took great joy in beating me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move but I knew I had to get out of there. If this deal goes to pot because of me, then that would be my fault too. "Neah was responsible for our parents' death." Alpha Trey spits I closed my eyes, battling back the tears that were threatening to break free. "Responsible how?" Alpha Dane's voice rumbles through me. He was definitely angry. "She served them Wolfsbane." Don't make a sound. Don't make a sound. I knew Alpha Dane was studying me. They all did, no one could ever quite believe how someone could do something so disgusting as poisoning their own parents. I stood there, with my head hanging low, wishing for the ground to open up and suck me in. There are movements around me. He was standing directly in front of me. With a rough finger he tilts my face up towards his, forcing me to look at him. "You poisoned your parents?" "I was six." I splutter. "I just made them lemonade." My voice comes out all squeaky as I try to defend myself. I could barely remember my parents, but I could remember all the guilt I had been made to feel since that day. His crimson eyes flash to my brothers. "Hardly seems fair to blame a six year old." "A six year old should know the difference between plants." Alpha Trey snaps "Sounds to me like she was set up." Alpha Dane shrugs his shoulders, letting go of me. "You weren't there, Alpha Dane." My brother muttered through gritted teeth as his eyes narrowed to slits. "I didn't ask you here to talk about my slave!" Alpha Dane grabs his leather jacket from the chair. Unlike other Alpha's he seemed to dress more casually. A simple black tee and jeans covered his huge frame. And unlike other Alpha's, his arms are bare of tattoos, not a single bit of ink poked out anywhere. "You're right and now I have a few things to mull over." "I thought we agreed." My brother exclaims "Nothing has been signed. Now I will show myself out." The moment he is out of the office, both my brother and Beta Kyle round on me. "What the heck did you say to him?" My brother demands, slamming a hand into my stomach. "N...nothing. Well, he just asked me why I smelled funny." "Did you tell him?" Beta Kyle demands. He was practically spitting in my face. I hated him. I hated him so much that I had vowed to one day get my revenge and rip his stomach out through his mouth. "WELL?" My brother yells when I don't immediately respond and smacks me across the side of the head. My head involuntarily moves up and down. "But I didn't say it was you." I tried to sound strong and confident but it just comes out as a whisper. My brother's hand locks into my black hair as he yanks my head back, sending a shooting pain through my skull. "If you have ruined this, you won't see daylight again." He drags me by my hair from the office and down the hallway towards the basement door. "Please…." I beg. "He was an Alpha…I… I had to answer him." My cheeks burn with my tears as he flings the door open. On the other side of the door is Alpha Dane. He is leaning against the wall with his arms folded, staring out at us. My brother's hand falls from my hair, relieving the pressure on the back of my skull... "Alpha Dane, I thought you had left." Alpha Trey murmurs angrily. "I said I would show myself out. I thought I had found the door, but instead I find a basement, riddled in your sister's strange scent. Is this how you treat your family?" "As I said," my brother holds his ground, "She is responsible for the death of my parents, so yes, this is what she deserves." "You should keep your nose out of other packs' business!" Beta Kyle adds. Alpha Dane laughs. "If I agree to this deal, everything about your business becomes my business. So tell me, what would your punishment be for her? No food, locked away for a week, beatings?" Both Alpha Trey and Beta Kyle hold their tongues. There was no reason for him to defend me and yet he was. I was a nobody, no one special. Just who everyone called a traitor. Only instead of being given a death sentence, my brother had decided to make me spend my life suffering. I see those crimson eyes land on my swollen face. "I have a proposition for you, Alpha Trey." Alpha Dane speaks up again. "We have already agreed on terms." "Well, I'm adding one. And if you don't agree, you will not get my help. Instead, you will become my enemy. And we both know, you don't want that." "I take it that your new terms have something to do with her?" Alpha Trey mutters through clenched teeth. "You would be correct. Let me take her away to my pack and then you, Trey will have a deal." Me? Why would he want me? As my brother and his Beta discuss me, Alpha Dane is still studying me. His look made me nervous. What could someone like him possibly want with me? "Deal." Alpha Trey sticks out his hand for Alpha Dane to shake. He doesn't take it, instead his crimson eyes shift from me to my brother. "I will have paperwork drawn up and will return tomorrow." He reaches a hand out and cups my face, "Ensure you have everything packed." He drags his thumb across my bottom lip and strides to the opposite end of the hallway and straight to the front door. He knew exactly where the front door was, so what was he up to? He pauses at the door. "If I find out any one of you has laid a hand on her. The contract will be the last thing you need to worry about." He struts out, slamming the door behind him. After Dane leaves, my brother grabs me by the collar. "You think you're going to have a good life if you follow Alpha Dane out of here? Don't be naive!" He continues in a vicious voice. "He's the coldest man in the world, he's killed nine of his mates, I'm waiting to see what happens to you!"	LEARN_MORE	https://wwwedb.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=11783&	New world publications	https://www.facebook.com/100090352943774/	3,763	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	wwwedb.com	DCO		https://wwwedb.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=11783&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/461300334_1147718953597347_4619507324730441281_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=ffyElxVm76kQ7kNvgF_qlK7&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ANOmYwfhp_t5fwKpKdunqaJ&oh=00_AYD8Czs905M-P4Of_Fdt_R6bo_ZJ-0rDObuY90BI_dnFqA&oe=674996E0	PERSON_PROFILE	New world publications	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,523,564	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2523575}'	Yes	2024-11-24 18:57	active	1919	SolarGuard™ 4 in 1 Bug Zapper - 40% Off Until Midnight	🦟 Transform your outdoor experience with the Norvure SolarGuard™ Bug Zapper. 🔋 Enjoy advanced solar and USB charging with a robust 4000mAh battery for long-lasting protection. 💡 Eliminate mosquitoes, flies, and gnats instantly with a 360° UV light and 4200V enhanced voltage. 🌟 Multi-functional design serves as a bug zapper, lighting lamp, and dynamic atmosphere light. ⚡️ Smart control technology with dusk-to-dawn sensor for hassle-free operation. 👇 Click Below To Get Yours 40% Off Until Midnight!	SHOP_NOW	https://norvure.com/products/solarguard%E2%84%A2-b	HeartlyLove	https://www.facebook.com/100089641703840/	747	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop now	norvure.com	IMAGE	40% Off Until Midnight	https://norvure.com/products/solarguard%E2%84%A2-bug-zapper-your-ultimate-shield-against-bugs	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/448307083_1149348066116855_4280985484339892401_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=f5ZuNp226RcQ7kNvgE0H7__&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ad3w3Asc4AHoGjnd2NlXTC1&oh=00_AYBV8CGZnnf7uVkwsDwJQ4Rr3lvRBjj_rb1Z4ZHHKW0bKA&oe=674989C0	PERSON_PROFILE	HeartlyLove	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,523,732	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2523806}'	Yes	2024-11-24 18:58	active	1919	😍Read the next chapters👉	It was actually very obvious whether a man loved a woman or not. Angela Graham knew it very well. For example, Dexter Bamford could spend a fortune buying out all the billboards in the central business district to celebrate the birthday of his first love, Elena Carrey. He did so that the whole city would be able to tell his sincerity toward her. But for Angela's birthday, all she got was just a small, six-inch cake. In fact, it was the very same cake the nanny had gotten on her birthday. Angela chuckled when she saw the cake. It made sense, after all. Although she was Dexter's legally wedded wife, the actual Mrs. Bamford, her job scope wasn't much different from the nanny's anyway. The only extra task she had was sleeping with Dexter. Angela felt tears well in her eyes when she thought about this. The loneliness in her eyes stood out like a sore thumb amid the noisy surroundings of the party. Dexter had been late to the party as always. Actually, he had planned on staying at the banquet hall for a while longer, but he had received a message just then. He opened up the message, not bothering to hide anything from Angela. It was as if her feelings weren't even worth considering at any point. "It kinda hurts… Can you come over?" Along with the message was a photo of a woman's bare back, decorated all over with love bites, as if she had just finished rolling in the sheets with her lover a few minutes ago. It was very suggestive. Angela couldn't even describe what she was feeling anymore. She just felt the discomfort in her stomach start to intensify. She knew the person who had sent Dexter the messages. It was his secretary, Erica Carrey, Elena's younger sister. She had just never imagined that Erica was also one of Dexter's bed partners. Angela stared at Dexter's phone for a long time. It wasn't until Dexter addressed her that she finally snapped back to her senses. "Done staring?" Angela raised her head, her gaze meeting Dexter's dark eyes. Dexter's facial features were partially hidden in the shadows under the dim light. He exuded a cold and aloof air as he threw Angela another glance and nonchalantly slipped the phone back into his pocket. He didn't seem the least bit hurried or anxious at all, and he certainly wasn't remorseful that his wife had found out about his affair. He didn't even care whether Angela would throw a fuss about it. Meanwhile, Angela simply lowered her head like a guilty child who had just done something wrong. She shifted her gaze at once. She just simply couldn't hold this against him. After all, following what had happened the last time, her father, Bill Graham, had remarried, and Angela didn't have any support from her maternal family. They no longer wanted to have anything to do with her. Her mother, Marie Jetson, used to own a company called Jetson Co., but Bill had completely taken over the company. He had also long forgotten his promise to Marie and abandoned Angela for the sake of his new wife, Judy Miller, and her son, Zack Graham. Angela had nothing left aside from the title of Mrs. Bamford. She was just Dexter's trophy wife. She knew that she had no right to question Dexter, the head of the household who provided for her. It didn't matter that she used to be a very famous designer in the industry. Just as Dexter was about to leave, Angela tugged on the corner of his shirt and said, "Dexter, can you come home earlier today? I've got something to tell you." Dexter looked at her with a half-smile and suddenly came close to her. He chuckled in her ear and said, "What, tonight? Someone's eager today. I'm taking this as an invitation." Angela shuddered suddenly. Dexter had never gone easy on her in bed. However, the people around them couldn't help teasing them watching their interaction. They joked that Dexter and Angela kept behaving like newlyweds in their honeymoon phase with how often they stuck to each other like glue. Still, Angela knew that this so-called intimacy was only a show. Dexter had never viewed her as his equal. To him, she was nothing but a decoration item that he owned. He had been forced to marry her, so she was a liability to him. He also thought it was all a ruse to curry favor with him. Without giving Angela a chance to answer, Dexter nodded at the rest of the guests and left the place. … That night, Dexter got home even later than usual. Angela glanced at the clock and saw that it was close to dawn. She sat in the living room as she waited for him. When she saw him enter the house, she got up and approached him. As she took his coat from him, she thought it vaguely smelled like peaches. Obviously, this scent didn't belong to her. She held the coat closer and took another sniff. "Dexter—" Just as she started to speak, she was immediately interrupted. However, it was obvious that Dexter misunderstood her. "What's up? Why are you sniffing like a dog?" He said it nonchalantly, as if reminding Angela about her position in this marriage. She was Mrs. Bamford, a nanny who should always turn a blind eye to Dexter's tomfoolery, serve him food, and satisfy him in bed whenever he wanted. She was not to bother about anything else that didn't concern her. "Whatever you have to say, you can wait until I've showered," Dexter said, walking around Angela as he left. A short while later, Dexter emerged from the bathroom with a head of messy hair. His bathrobe hung loosely on his shoulders, revealing his toned abs and sexy V-line. Angela hurriedly stood up from the couch and didn't dare to look up at him. It had been so many years, and Dexter still managed to hypnotize her like this every time. When they had been in high school, she had accidentally bumped into his table, knocking his textbook off to the ground. From the moment he had smiled at her and told her it was okay, with the sun shining in the back, Angela had fallen for him, hook, line, and sinker. But she then recalled the phone call she had received from Judy that afternoon, saying that Zack had racked up a huge debt from his gambling addiction. Apparently, they had no choice but to put a mortgage on the house Marie had left for Angela to repay his debts. That house had belonged to Marie all along and had nothing to do with them! How could they have done such a thing? Angela gritted her teeth and said, "Dexter, I'd like to participate in the international design competition this year." The prize money was well worth up to eight figures. Angela wanted to use the money to redeem her mother's house. "You waited for so long just to ask me this? Aren't you a little too free now, Mrs. Bamford?" Dexter asked, curling his lips up in a smirk. "You're not suited to reveal your face in public." Angela grabbed Dexter's arm anxiously and said, "I'm not revealing my face to the public. I won't let other people know that I'm Mrs. Bamford." Dexter had long lost his patience. He looked at her mockingly and said, "And why should I believe you?" Exactly. Why should he believe her? The coffee Bill had prepared for Dexter back then had been drugged. Angela had known nothing about it, but they hadn't been able to trust each other for years because she had been the one who had given it to Dexter. Angela released her hold on Dexter's arm. If she didn't participate in the competition, then how else could she get so much money? Suddenly, a huge force swept Angela off her feet. She found herself falling against a cold, steely chest. Dexter's icy voice sounded from behind her. "Giving up so soon? Actually, if you perform well tonight, I can perhaps think about it." "Perform what?" "What do you think?" Dexter suddenly blew in Angela's ear, getting her in the mood. As usual, the lobes of Angela's ears turned a bright red color. Dexter felt aroused all of a sudden. He hugged her tightly from the back and leaned in to kiss her earlobes. Yet, Angela suddenly felt annoyed. Dexter often acted on his primal instincts. He was the only one who had a say in whether they would be having that night or not. Hadn't he just come back from someone else's bed that night? That woman didn't satisfy him? Before Angela could push him away, Dexter's phone suddenly started ringing loudly, ruining the mood. He went to answer the phone. The sound of a woman sobbing could be heard on the other end of the line. Chapter 2 Dexter glanced up at Angela before speaking gently into the phone. "What's the matter? Don't cry." Angela watched as Dexter changed into his outdoor clothes and left for the second time, for some other woman and that too, on her birthday. Her eyes stung with tears. She didn't feel sleepy anymore after Dexter left. Thinking she would get a book or two to read, Angela headed into the study and happened to see a contract. The contract was placed right in the center of the table, as if anyone was welcome to take a look at it. It was a contract between Dexter and Elena, his first love. Angela couldn't believe that they were still in contact with each other. The contract was very thick. It had started when Angela had first gotten married to Dexter, spanning five years. Angela's hand shook. The more she read, the more shocking it was for her. The latest date was actually last night. As it turned out, everything that Dexter had done for her, whether a celebration or an anniversary date, had been meticulously planned out by Elena. That explained everything! No wonder Dexter had been so gracious to set off a fireworks display just for her when she had made a fuss about him and Elena. The fireworks display had been a grand show of colors, lighting up the night with the words "LOVE YOU", the very two words Angela had been wanting to hear from Dexter since forever. She had felt so touched then. She could still remember how elated she had felt when she had seen the two words in the sky. But now, after reading this contract, she finally understood that the fireworks display she had been so proud of had been nothing but another one of Dexter's tactics to toy with her emotions. And yet, she had naively thought that maybe he did have a place for her in his heart after all. Angela closed her eyes. She had never felt such despair like she did today. She was going to have to divorce him. … Dexter didn't return for the rest of the night. The next morning, Erica called, telling Angela to bring Dexter's tie and cufflinks to the company. She told Angela to hurry up since Dexter had an important meeting that day. Angela packed the things and headed over to Bamford Co. However, as always, she was stopped by the receptionist. "Good morning, miss. Do you have an appointment today?" Angela could already recite their next conversation with her eyes closed. "None." "I'm sorry, but you can't go up without an appointment." It didn't matter if Angela proved that she was Dexter's wife. "We're sorry, but we didn't receive any orders, so we can't let you up. It's the same for everyone else." In fact, if Erica were there, she would also mock Angela and say, "Oh, I'm sorry, but Mr. Bamford is the one who sets the rules here." So, this time, Angela didn't give them a chance to humiliate her anymore. She said, "I do, but my appointment is with Ms. Carrey. Please call her and ask her to come down." The receptionist stared at Angela for a brief while before calling Erica. Erica appeared very quickly. "Did you bring the things, Ms. Graham?" She never called Angela "Mrs. Bamford" in front of other people. She was also somewhat dismissive of her, talking to her as if she were just talking to a delivery man. In the past, Angela would always treat Erica with the utmost respect because of her status and position. But now, she was already planning to leave Dexter. "I did. Where's Dexter?" "Mr. Bamford is very busy. You can just hand me the things without having to wait for him. He won't show up anyway," Erica said condescendingly. Angela sighed in relief. She lifted a corner of her lips in a smirk and passed the items to Erica. "Okay. I'll pass you his things. I just thought of telling him that next time, it would perhaps be more appropriate for him to get his driver to send these things to him. "Also," Angela added, giving Erica the once-over. "As his secretary, isn't it your job to make sure that you have at least a few sets of his neckties and cufflinks as a spare? Aren't you being a little incompetent since you don't even have any extra sets for him?" With that, Angela walked away. She couldn't be bothered to argue with a mistress and teach the latter to mind her position. Dexter only caught sight of Angela's back as she left when he came out of the door. He looked at Erica and asked in confusion, "She left?" Erica opened her mouth to say something but decided against it. She didn't know what was wrong with Angela today. Usually, Angela would always beg to stay at the company, and Dexter would always appear when she was arguing with Erica. But it was somehow different today. It was as if Angela was a completely different person altogether. At the very least, she didn't stay back to wait to catch a glimpse of Dexter anymore. Erica frowned. "Yes. She left without saying anything else." Dexter found it strange. He felt a little frustrated too. "Don't bother about her. Hurry up and get to the meeting." The meeting lasted the whole day. It was already evening by the time it ended. Dexter got into his black Luxury car and went straight home to the villa. His driver, Chet Sanders, cut the engine and hurriedly got around the car to open the door for Dexter. As soon as Dexter got out, the maids came out to greet him. "You're back, sir! Madam has been in her room all day and refuses to eat anything. We're not sure if anything's wrong with her." When he heard this, Dexter was stunned for a moment. His eyes turned dark with emotion. Angela must be jealous. She probably didn't like that he had left last night, and she was throwing a fuss because she felt threatened. Dexter went upstairs, jeering at her in his heart. He saw Angela folding her clothes in front of the wardrobe when he stepped into their bedroom. He reached up to loosen his tie, leaning against the side as he openly eyed her from top to bottom. This was Angela, his wife. Aside from that pretty face of hers, she was absolutely useless to him. Come to think of it, she was pretty good with doing chores around the house. She was even better than the nanny at it. Angela didn't make a sound. Seeing that she wasn't saying anything, Dexter didn't feel like questioning her either. He just went to change out of his work clothes. He thought that by the time he was done changing, knowing Angela's temperament, her anger toward him would have already dissipated by then. She would then pour him a drink and gently ask him if he'd had dinner. She would always pretend as if nothing bad had ever happened. So, when Dexter noticed a suitcase at the door after he was done changing his clothes, he stared at it in surprise. "Are you going out?" Dexter asked, frowning slightly. Angela packed up the last of her belongings and raised her head to meet Dexter's gaze. Dexter's eyes were deep, and he exuded an air of elegance. It was still just as Angela remembered him from when she had first met him. He was a brightly shining star, and she simply couldn't take her eyes away off of him. However, as time passed, Dexter had only seemed to hate her even more. Angela stared at him silently for a long time. She stared at him for so long that her eyes began to feel dry, and they slightly welled up with tears. She then took a deep breath and said slowly, "Dexter Bamford, let's get a divorce." Chapter 3 Dexter could hardly believe what he had just heard. Throughout his marriage with Angela, he had only ever seen a submissive and hopeful look in her eyes. He knew she feared losing him. The term "divorce" was probably the thing she had feared hearing the most in the past three years. But now, she had uttered it so casually. When Dexter had seen Angela's retreating back at the office this morning, he had already felt annoyed. That emotion resurfaced again. Dexter questioned in a cold voice, "What? Are you upset because I didn't accompany you yesterday? Or is it because I refused to let you participate in that ridiculous competition? "Angela, are you out of your mind? You cried and begged to be Mrs. Bamford. You live in a villa and have luxury cars to drive you around. I even propped up your failing family. What more could you possibly be dissatisfied with?" The disdain and contempt in his words made Angela feel a chill run down her spine. She should have known better. She couldn't hold back anymore. She retorted loudly, almost shouting, "Mrs. Bamford? So what if I'm Mrs. Bamford? Have you ever seen a rich man's wife as pathetic as I am?" She stormed into the study, grabbed a bulky contract, and threw it in front of Dexter forcefully. "You should know what this is better than I do! I'm expected to keep up appearances in front of your family. But when I come home, even the household staff can show me attitude! "What kind of wife spends her birthday being yet another portfolio addition to a fireworks designer and is given the very same six-inch birthday cake that was given to the nanny? "While it is true that I got to become Mrs. Bamford because of my family's plotting, I don't want it anymore! Do you have a problem with that?" Dexter found this side of Angela unfamiliar. At the same time, he thought she was being ridiculous. "Do you think you can just get into this marriage and end it as you wish? You'd be too naïve to think so!" He raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Do you think you can come and go as you please in the Bamford family? What about the debt you and your family owe me?" "Whatever the Graham family owes you, go to them. What do I owe you, Dexter? I don't owe you a thing! Even if I did, three years of warming your bed should have been enough to repay it!" Angela countered. She didn't want to argue with Dexter anymore. So, she picked up her only suitcase and turned to leave. After three years of being Mrs. Bamford, all her belongings didn't even fill a small suitcase—this was proof of the miserable life she had been leading. As she approached the staircase, a strong grip pulled her back. Dexter's expression was stormy as he gripped her chin and forced her to look up at him. "Warming my bed? Is that how you see yourself? Ha! It seems I've overestimated you. You don't even know how to be proactive in bed or please me. Shall I give you a chance to demonstrate what you're capable of now?" Angela's eyes widened in disbelief as the dull pain radiated from her chin. Out of reflex and in retaliation, she slapped Dexter. As her hand landed on his face, a loud slap echoed in the enclosed space. The air around them seemed to freeze at that moment. A surge of anger shot up in Dexter's heart. In the next second, Angela felt the world spinning around her as Dexter picked her up and threw her onto the bed. His expression was terrifying, and he exuded an imposing air. Pinning Angela down, Dexter placed his hands on either side of her head. She felt his heavy breaths on her face. They were mere inches apart. Angela tensed up upon sensing the looming danger. As she stared at the vivid handprint on his face, she couldn't help but cower a little. Dexter bit down on the side of her neck and spoke unkind words in the most intimate way possible. "You're making a scene because you're jealous. Are you that bothered about Elena? Isn't pretending your specialty? What? Can't keep it up now?" The mention Elena struck a nerve with Angela. She swallowed down the nervousness from slapping him earlier and tried to push Dexter away impatiently. This was the first time Angela had shown refusal, or it could also be that Dexter was simply too used to their physical contact. Either way, Angela's actions ignited his desire, and he suddenly felt aroused. Angela had always had an alluring figure; she had beautiful curves in all the right places. Though she was passive in bed, they actually got along very well physically. Dexter brushed a few strands of stray hair off her forehead, his gaze darkening. He then leaned in, his lips lingering over hers. One of his hands moved to grip her soft waist. Angela came to her senses and realized what Dexter was about to do. Usually, she found it hard to refuse him when he was this forceful. But now that she intended to divorce him, this forced intimacy was uncalled for. "No, Dexter! Stop…" Angela was unaware of the impact that her soft, moaning tone had on a man. There was even a hint of a sob in her meek protest. Angela cursed herself for being so weak. All it took was a light kiss from Dexter, and what was supposed to be a firm rejection sounded like she was playing hard-to-get instead. Well, Dexter was into this. His wandering hand trailed lower as his lips brushed over her earlobe. "Isn't it too early to ask me to stop now? It always takes a few rounds before you start begging for mercy." Angela's face turned red with embarrassment, and she had a flustered look in her eyes. Even if Dexter didn't want to admit it, he was indeed aroused when he held her intoxicating body in his arms so closely. Just as he was about to tear her clothes away, she reached out and stopped him. Angela asked through ragged breaths, "There are no more protective measure. Are you sure about this?" Dexter paused, and reason took over. He realized that he wasn't that desperate to bed her. After all, having a child with Angela wasn't part of his current plans. Nevertheless, he felt reluctant to let go of her when the mood was just right. He raised an eyebrow and questioned, "Are you threatening me?" "No, I'm simply stating a fact." Angela stubbornly looked up at him, standing her ground. At that moment, something snapped in Dexter, and he found the face staring back at him incredibly infuriating. "You could just take a pill!" he growled, disregarding her objections. Angela's face was wet with tears. Once again, she saw her true worth in Dexter's eyes. Even calling her a bed partner would be too generous. A bed partner had the right to say "no", but she didn't even have the right to refuse. The abrupt ringing of Dexter's phone interrupted their imminent intimacy. He casually picked up his phone, not really concerned at first. But upon seeing who was calling, he quickly lifted himself off Angela. Chapter 4 Dexter cleared his throat with a light cough before pressing the answer button. "Yes, Grandpa?" The robust voice of an old man came from the other end. "Dexter, I may be sick, but I'm not dead. Did you even know it was Angie's birthday yesterday?" Upon hearing this, Dexter glanced at Angela before speaking politely into the phone. "Of course I knew it was her birthday yesterday. I even organized a grand celebration for her." "Hmph! Don't try to fool me!" Joseph Bamford scolded. The next moment, there was the sound of Joseph angrily handing the phone over to his butler, Gary Butler. Gary took over the call and spoke respectfully to Dexter. "Mr. Bamford Jr., Mr. Bamford Sr. has been feeling some discomfort in his chest over the past couple of days. If you have the time, bring your wife along to visit him at Bamford Manor. Mr. Bamford Sr. might not say it, but he probably misses the pasta she makes." Dexter remained silent for a moment before agreeing. "I'll bring her over shortly, Mr. Butler." After hanging up, Dexter calmly adjusted his cuffs and asked in a seemingly casual tone, "Didn't you post any birthday photos yesterday?" With just that question, Angela understood what he meant—the lack of photos had caused Joseph to worry. "Grandpa isn't well, and he's getting on in years. Whatever you may be thinking, keep it to yourself in front of him. Understood?" Dexter warned. Angela nodded wordlessly and got up to get dressed. Joseph was the only one in the Bamford family who had ever truly treated her well. When she had been ten, Marie had end life saving Joseph. After that, Bill had gotten married again, and Judy had become her stepmother. Bill had used this debt of gratitude to secure Angela a foothold in the Bamford family. Feeling sympathy for her and having always liked Angela, Joseph had forced Dexter to marry her. She and Dexter getting divorced was a private matter. So, there was no need to trouble Joseph about it. He didn't need to know. Dexter went downstairs first and picked out a car from the garage. He didn't ask Chet to drive him to Bamford Manor. Instead, he drove the car out himself. The engine emitted a low hum in the night. Angela changed into a white camisole dress and draped a pale blue shawl over it, accentuating her curves. Her long hair cascaded down her shoulders, and the pale skin on her neck was partially visible, adding a touch of allure. She forcefully tugged on the handle of the door to the back seat, but it wouldn't budge. The window on the passenger side rolled down halfway, and Dexter's impatient voice came from inside. "Get in the front." Angela hesitated only briefly before opening the door and getting in. Dexter stepped on the accelerator pedal somewhat heavily as he drove off. The inertia caused Angela to be thrown back into her seat slightly, making her frown. She glanced sideways at Dexter, who had one hand resting on the wheel. He was completely focused on the road, seemingly oblivious to her presence. He had always been like this. In their three years of marriage, he had seldom given her any of his attention unless it had been necessary. Over the years, Angela had rarely gotten to ride in his car. The times she had gotten to sit in the passenger seat were few and far between. Now that she was preparing to divorce Dexter, she didn't bother to engage him further. Hence, the drive was silent. The car stopped in front of Bamford Manor, which was on the outskirts of town. With its lush greenery and vast expanse, it resembled castle grounds from the last century—rustic yet grand on the outside and luxurious on the inside. Just as Angela was about to open the door to get out, Dexter grabbed her wrist. "Hold on." She turned around in puzzlement to see Dexter looking unusually serious. "What?" she asked curtly. "Let me remind you again—Grandpa can't handle surprises. Think carefully before you speak," Dexter reminded warily. Angela nodded, her tone cold as she replied, "I know." As she got out, she shrugged her shoulders against the chilly night air. With brisk steps, she walked toward the entrance. Dexter watched her back, noticing that she didn't wait for him. He caught up with her in a few strides and placed a hand over her shoulder. He felt her halt, and her body stiffened for a brief second. Ultimately, she didn't pull away. In the main hall on the first floor, Dexter's mother, Fiona Rosewell sat elegantly, holding a steaming cup of dandelion tea prepared by the maids. She didn't even look up when Gary announced Dexter and Angela's return. Angela wasn't surprised. For the past three years, Fiona had always been indifferent toward her. Once, Angela would have felt hurt upon being given the cold shoulder. But now that she was on the brink of divorce from Dexter, none of it seemed to matter anymore. Knowing that Dexter would never take the initiative to greet Fiona, Angela took the initiative to greet her instead. After a moment, Fiona reluctantly nodded and said, "Oh, you're here. Go greet your grandfather." She sipped her tea daintily—a signal for them to leave her alone. Her gaze lingered on Dexter's hand that was on Angela's shoulder, and she frowned slightly. She had always disliked seeing them being intimate. Dexter, as usual, ignored her and walked straight past her. Fiona and Dexter had been estranged for years. Once, Angela had tried to act as a mediator between them. Now that she had her own troubles, she no longer had any energy to spare them. She followed Dexter into Joseph's bedroom and found the latter looking somewhat weary as he leaned against the headboard. Upon hearing the door open, Joseph looked up. His eyes lit up with joy when he saw it was them. "You're here, Angie! I was just thinking of you, birthday girl. Gary, go bring the gift I prepared for Angie." Joseph's cheerful expression nearly brought tears to Angela's eyes. In this household, he was probably the only one who had bothered to prepare a gift for her. "Grandpa, I heard you've been unwell lately. Don't worry about me. Your health means more to me than any gift you could give," Angela said with concern. She chatted with Joseph for a while before going off to make him some fresh pasta. As soon as she left, Joseph's expression became grim. He looked up and narrowed his eyes at Dexter, who had been silent since he had entered the room. "Cat got your tongue?" The corners of Dexter's lips became slightly downturned. "Didn't I bring her back to see you?" "Don't act innocent, Dexter. I'm warning you, don't keep this up until it's too late. Angie is a good woman—don't take her for granted! Keep an eye on the Graham family. They're not easy to deal with either. "As for that other Carrey woman… You'd better cut ties with her completely! Don't upset Angie, you fool." Dexter mumbled a few vague responses, hoping to end the conversation. Joseph was about to lose his temper when Angela returned with the fresh pasta. "Here's the pasta, Grandpa. Give it a try and see if it is as good as you remember," Angela said. Joseph noticed that Dexter and Angela had barely had any interaction with each other ever since they had arrived. In his eyes, this was a clear sign of trouble. He was especially worried because Angela's eyes no longer shone when she looked toward Dexter. Joseph felt an urgency to intervene on behalf of his oblivious grandson. He took a spoonful of the pasta and praised it. Then, he asked with a smile, "Angie, I'm getting older. I hope that my home can be a bit more lively, you know? When are you two planning to give us a new family member?" Chapter 5 Angela had just gotten out of the car and steadied herself when the black Cullinan drove off without any hesitation, leaving her in a cloud of dust. She stood there in a daze for a moment before letting out a self-deprecating laugh and thought, "That's right. He's always been like this." But before she had time to dwell on her misery, her phone rang urgently. Angela took out her phone and saw that it was an unknown number. "Hello, is this Ms. Graham? I'm the property manager for Villa Heights. I'm calling to confirm if your property has been sold." "Why do you ask?" Angela's heart skipped a beat. Over the years, she had managed the property, so the contact information listed was hers. However, when Marie had passed away, she had been too young. So, Bill had put all of Marie's assets under his name. When Angela had been young, he had used to say to her, "When you grow up and find your Prince Charming, I'll turn this house into a castle for you both to live in happily ever after!" But in just a few years, everything had completely changed for the Graham family. Angela sometimes wondered if Bill was still the same father who used to love her mother dearly and cherish her. Whenever Bill hadn't been home, Judy hadn't allowed Angela to eat at the table. She had come up with the excuse that girls needed to stay in shape and had made Angela go hungry several times a day. Apart from her outerwear, her clothes had always been too short. The freezing winter wind would seep right into her sleeves and chill her to the core. Angela had developed arthritis at a young age, yet Judy had always complained to Bill, saying, "I don't know what else to do! I pamper her, but she's never satisfied. She's always complaining of feeling pain here and there. Anyone who didn't know better would think I'm mistreating her!" Upon hearing that, Bill had responded furiously, "Can't you let us have some peace, Angela?" The first slap she had ever received from Bill had landed on her cheek at that moment. Later on, he had even sacrificed her for his own selfish desires by sending her to Dexter's bed. Angela hated herself for spending three years trying to win Dexter's love and failing ultimately. Frustrated, she clenched her fists tightly. It seemed she couldn't rely on anyone. She would have to reclaim what was rightfully hers on her own. However, she knew she couldn't rush things—she had to take it step by step. First, she needed to secure her mother's house no matter what. The property manager's voice on the other end snapped her back to the present. "The moving company is clearing out the house, saying it has a new owner." Angela was stunned and felt a surge of panic. Hadn't they agreed to give her more time? Why should she bear the consequences of her good-for-nothing stepbrother's actions? "I'm coming over right now!" She hung up and quickly hailed a cab back to her home. But when she arrived, the house was barely recognizable. The place was filled with unfamiliar men in gaudy clothing. The furniture was overturned. The photos of her and Marie were carelessly tossed on the floor. A fat, middle-aged man with a bald head stepped squarely on Marie's face in one of the pictures. "Stop! Who gave you permission to come in?" Angela shouted angrily. The man turned around, grinning sleazily when he saw her. "The house is mine! I can come and go as I please. And who might you be, little lady?" Angela looked at the fat man in front of her in disgust, pointing toward the door. "This house is mine! I'm asking you to leave immediately!" The man guffawed as he said, "Did you all hear that? She says the house is hers!" The men around him joined in, egging him on. "Since when did you get a wife, Tony? She's fighting you over the property!" "Well, she's pretty, but we've never seen her." "Yeah! Introduce us to your beautiful wife, Tony!" The fat man, Tony Koch, felt emboldened by their provocation. He walked up to Angela with a lewd grin. Laughing raucously, he offered, "Come on, pretty lady. Give me a smile! Tell me which room you like. I'll let you choose first!" Angela silently estimated when the police would arrive after she had called them. She stepped back coldly, her face full of disdain. Tony got even more excited when he saw her retreat. "Hey, don't back away!" He reached out, attempting to touch Angela's cheek. Just then, she heard the screech of car brakes outside. She smiled slightly and delivered a crisp slap to Tony's greasy face. Tony stared back in shock, unable to believe that this delicate-looking woman had dared to hit him. "Why you… Do you have a death wish?" he snarled, grabbing a wooden frame from the floor and hurling it at Angela's head. Angela quickly dodged. At that moment, the property manager arrived and said loudly, "Sir, miss, please calm down. The police are at the gate. Let's handle this peacefully!" Upon hearing the property manager's words, Tony hesitated. However, the mocking looks from the people around him made him refuse to back down. "Fine, let's see what kind of punishment she gets for causing trouble on my property!" … Angela had never expected the person who had bailed her out of the police station would be Dexter. When she saw him, he had one hand on the car window, He looked devilishly handsome. His gaze toward her was filled with disdain. "Well, this is unexpected, Mrs. Bamford." The mocking smile on his face was clear to see. "I didn't expect I'd need to come and get you from the police station on the first day you ran away from home." Angela felt a wave of humiliation but held back her tears. She put on a defiant expression and replied, "Since you find it so troublesome, why don't we just get divorced tomorrow? That way, you won't be troubled by my problems anymore." After some time, he chuckled. "Still acting tough, huh? What makes you think I'll comply with your wishes? Get out!". "Don't call me again if you get into this kind of trouble." The Car Continental GT sped off, leaving a trail of exhaust in its wake. Angela crouched down and hugged herself, trying to find some warmth in the cold night. … Over the next few days, Angela rented a small apartment and found a new job. With the police's help, she was granted a three-month grace period. If she could gather enough money within three months, she could buy back Marie's house. During this time, the property couldn't be auctioned or have its ownership title transferred. This meant that she could no longer remain as a rich man's wife who had nothing to her name. The first thing she needed to do was to be able to support herself financially. Things didn't go as she wished. On her first day at work, the HR manager nervously called her over and asked, "Excuse me, are you Mrs. Bamford?" Chapter 6 Angela frowned and denied it without a second thought. However, the manager didn't believe her. "Regardless, we just found out that you have no work experience. I'm sorry, but we can't hire a complete newbie like you." Even though Angela repeatedly assured him of her expertise in design, the manager was adamant about not going through with hiring her. As Angela stared at the manager, who looked deeply troubled, she instantly understood everything. It was Dexter! He was forcing her to give in! Amidst the strange gazes everyone was casting her way, Angela took her belongings and left. At that moment, she felt an urge to call Dexter and ask him why he was doing this. Still, she resisted that impulse and refrained from acting on it. She kept convincing herself not to let this get to her. It was just a job—she could find another. Angela dragged her exhausted body back to her rented apartment, only to find her belongings thrown out and lying miserably in the hallway. Nothing had been spared—even her brand-new bedding and toiletries had suffered the same fate as they lay in a pile outside. Shocked and furious, she immediately called the landlord. "Sorry, but I can't rent to you anymore. I'll transfer your rent back," the landlord replied curtly, not even giving her a chance to question him. Seconds later, she received 2,000 money on Venmo. Once again, the image of Dexter's handsome yet maliciously amused face appeared in her mind. Unable to bear it any longer, she called him. For once, he picked up within ten seconds. "What's wrong? Have you finally come to your senses?" His tone was casual, and there were the sounds of a lively gathering in the background. But the moment he spoke, everything around him fell silent. It seemed everyone was waiting to hear how Angela would make a fool of herself. "Are you making my life difficult for fun, Dexter?" Angela asked. Her eyes were red, and her nose tingled. She was on the verge of tears. Yet, she forced herself to stay composed and not let her voice break. On the other end, there was a brief pause before Dexter let out a cold laugh. "Of course I'm not doing it for fun. I want you to experience what life would be like without the Bamford family—" "You're sick!" Angela spat harshly and hung up before he could finish his sentence. Her shoulders shook slightly as she slid down the cold wall as tears finally streamed down her face. She wiped them away, but they wouldn't stop. Dexter knew her pain more than anyone else, yet he had chosen to rub salt on her wounds. "Dexter, you're a bad egg!" she screamed, her chest heaving. After a long while, she slowly stood up and found a hotel through a quick online search on her phone. She needed somewhere to stay for a few days before she could start afresh. … Meanwhile, in a luxurious VIP suite at Mystique Bar, the earlier liveliness had vanished. In its place was an eerie silence. Everyone exchanged looks, seeing the shock and confusion mirrored in each other's eyes. Who had Dexter been talking to on the phone just now? He had been cursed at, and the person had even hung up on him. The shrill exclamation from earlier—"You're sick!"—seemed to linger in the air, weighing down the atmosphere even more. Dexter's expression was grim. The scowl on his face was so pronounced that it intimidated the people around him. He gripped his phone tightly, staring at the phone screen, which showed that the call had ended. The name "Angela" was right at the top of the list of recent calls. Staring at her name, Dexter seemed to see her defiant face in his mind's eye. "What's wrong, Mr. Bamford?" asked a young man. The person asking was Zayn Jewell, a childhood friend of Dexter's. He was the one who had arranged the gathering that evening. "Nothing." After a brief silence, Dexter stood up and lifted his long legs to step over the obstacles blocking his way. As he walked out, he announced, "I'm leaving." He was tall and muscular—even his back looked imposing. Erica was already waiting outside. As Dexter tossed his coat to her, he ordered coldly, "Take me to Bliss Garden." He thought Angela had acted out of line that day and that she needed stern disciplining. Angela's angry outburst reverberated in his mind constantly as he got into the car and seated himself. Irritated, he loosened his tie. Erica asked, "Mr. Bamford, why are you going to Bliss Garden?" Normally, she wouldn't ask questions. Her reaction was out of the norm that day. Dexter's expression darkened. "What? Do I need to report to you now?" Erica turned pale instantly. She lowered her head and explained, "I'm sorry, Mr. Bamford. Mrs. Bamford is no longer at Bliss Garden." Dexter frowned and asked irritably, "What do you mean? Where did she go?" Erica recounted her conversation with Angela's landlord in Bliss Garden succinctly. "Who told you to do that?" Dexter's gaze was icy, and he exuded a menacing chill all over. No wonder Angela had been furious—she had been pushed to her limits. Erica trembled in fear and struggled to come up with an adequate explanation that could justify her actions. However, her mouth felt like it was glued shut, and she couldn't utter a word. "Find her!" Dexter ordered coldly. His expression remained the same, but it still sent a chill down Erica's spine. The gentle summer night breeze blew softly. Angela trudged along the city's main street with all her belongings. She went from one hotel to another. She had to admit that Dexter was ruthless. With just a little effort, he had plunged her into the depths of despair. This was a huge city, yet she couldn't even find a place to stay. Angela had thought about going home, but that place was hardly home to her anymore. Suddenly, it began to rain. As the rain grew heavier, Angela and her meager belongings were soaked through in no time. Angela ran desperately in the rain. Eventually, she found shelter in a self-service banking kiosk. With that, she finally had a moment to catch her breath. She found a cheap motel that didn't require any registration on her phone. When the rain stopped, she took a cab there. The motel was in poor condition, and it had thin walls. So, she didn't sleep well all night. The next morning, she woke up with a fever. She felt hot for a moment, but cold in the next. Due to her sickness, she drifted in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, Angela heard the door open. She jumped out of bed immediately, feeling alarmed. Dexter stepped in, and it was clear he wasn't pleased. When their eyes met, her guarded expression didn't soften in the slightest. She asked, "What are you doing here?" Of course, he was there to watch her misery. What Dexter first noticed upon stepping in wasn't the defensive look on Angela's face. He scanned the shabby room and frowned while thinking, "I can't believe she'd rather stay here than admit defeat and come home." "I came to see what my dear wife has been up to these past two days," Dexter said blandly, sitting down on the dingy couch. The lingering scent of the previous occupants' body odor and sweat clung to it. The moment his nose caught the stench, he stood back up, feeling repulsed. "So, is life on the streets fun?" he asked, looking at Angela with amusement. He observed her frail frame. Though she looked thin and weak, her gaze was sharp and defiant. Something was different about her. "It's none of your business." Angela's head ached, and her knees felt like they would buckle at any moment. Even her voice sounded lethargic. She wrapped herself in her clothes and sneezed. It made her head throb even more. Dexter quickly sensed that something was wrong with her. He stepped forward and grabbed her arm, noticing right away that she was burning up. His hand shot up to her face and forehead, and an even warmer temperature registered on his fingers.	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2,524,248	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2524682}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:02	active	1919	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	Neah "Where is she?" I hear the Beta scream. I groan and rise to my feet, grabbing the cleaning basket before heading over. The moment Beta Kyle sees me, he strides towards me and his hand slices against my cheek. I don't make a sound. Years of experience has taught me to keep my mouth shut at all times. "Alpha Trey and I are expecting company and you still have not cleaned the office." Beta Kyle spits at me. I nod my head and my hand tightens on the cleaning basket. If only I could find the courage to swing it at his head, it would make my day. But I didn't need another week locked up with no food. My stomach already hurt enough. "We are trying to make a good impression on Alpha Dane. Don't you understand how important it is for us to join ourselves with his pack?!" I don't answer, It's a trap, a ploy to provoke me into saying something that would justify punishment. I keep my eyes lowered, avoiding his gaze. Alpha Dane, I had only ever heard rumours about him. He was a ruthless man, a Wolf feared by others. He didn't mess around and he had the largest pack. "He is the Alpha of Black Shadow, the biggest pack in the world, we need him!" We had never been attacked and we had never attacked anyone, so why did we need another pack to help us? He grabs my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin as he turns me around and kicks me into the office. "Useless Wolf." He mutters as he moves away. Quietly closing the door, I lean against it, observing the already clean office. It looked perfectly fine for a meeting with this so-called powerful Alpha. Closing my eyes, I slide down to the floor. I hated this house. I thought that when I turned eighteen, I could finally escape, but four years later, here I still am, a slave in my own home. Doing all the dirty tasks for my brother, Alpha Trey and the pack. While my ex mate, Beta Kyle waltzes around reminding me of how worthless I am. Someone clears their throat and I freeze, I thought I was alone. Leaning forward, I see a handsome man sitting in a chair, just around the corner. A foot propped up on his knee as he nurses a glass of alcohol. His short hair is dark and his eyes are a deep crimson colour, that don't quite look right. They suddenly shift to me and I throw myself back against the door as my heart pounded. "Is this the way you greet all Alphas?" His deep voice rumbles through the room, there was an edge of amusement to his tone. "I'm sorry." I whisper, getting to my feet. "I...I thought I was alone." I had no idea who he was but I could feel the power radiating off of him, even without my Wolf. "Come forward." He orders and I already feel a lump forming in my throat. Alpha Trey wil kill me. I step around the corner, doing as I'm told, allowing him to see me properly. I close my eyes, expecting the worst. "You smell funny. Yet you are a Wolf, correct?" I nod, though I couldn't tell how he was going to react. Most laughed when they found out about me. "I would prefer it if you spoke to me." He growls, "I'm not in the mood to play games." "Yes." I whisper. I couldn't help but think of all the punishments I was going to have to endure. A whipping maybe? Starvation for another week? "Why do you smell strange? And how is it possible for you to not know I was in the room? You should have scented me." "I..." I hated the question. "You should open your eyes when you are talking to someone. It's rude to not look at them. Has your Alpha not taught you anything?" His deep voice sends a shiver through me. Slowly, I open my eyes and lower them, there was no way I was making eye contact."My Wolf abilities were bound," I mutter. Twice, I wanted to add. Twice my abilities were bound. But he probably wasn't interested in that part. He leans forward, I could feel him staring at me, "Why would someone do that?" If this is the Alpha that my brother is supposed to be meeting with, I knew I could screw everything up for him by saying too much. "It was a punishment." I whisper. It wasn't far from the entire truth. There's a twitch in his cheek. Was he angry to hear of such a punishment? Or maybe, just like the others, he was amused by it. I couldn't tell. The door swings open and my brother screeches at me "Neah, what are you doing in my office?" He turns to the crimson eyed man. "I am so sorry that my sister is bothering you, Alpha Dane." Crap, it's him. My brother spins around, hand poised to hit me. I close my eyes, bracing myself, ready to feel the burn. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."Peeking through slits, I see Alpha Dane has risen to his feet, his hand coiled around my brother's wrist. He is taller than my brother, more muscly too. "Neah," My name rolls off of his tongue, "was kindly showing me to your office, Alpha Trey, as you failed to meet me at the front of your house like I requested." What? I had no idea what he was talking about. And he had no reason to lie for me. My brother glares at me, clenching his jaw tight. "Go and get Beta Kyle." Alpha Trey seethes. "Tell him our guest is here." I nod my head and hurry from the room, the last thing I wanted was to be caught between bickering men. "Beta Kyle," I whisper as I enter the dining hall. He instantly glares at me with his dark eyes. I had spoken without being spoken to. "Alpha Trey is in the office with Alpha Dane. I was sent to inform you." He slams the newspaper down on the table and glares at me as he walks by. "You're lucky that the Alpha sent you to get me, otherwise you wouldn't see sunlight for a few days." Pausing behind me, he yanks my head back, locking his fingers in my hair, leaning in close to me, I feel his hot breath on my skin. He doesn't speak, it was just his way of proving that he could do what he wants when he wants. I try to keep myself busy so I can stay as far away from the office as possible. My peace doesn't last long when I hear my brother calling out to me. Quietly, I pad towards the office and plaster a smile on my face as I open the door. "Neah, go get the champagne and some glasses, we are celebrating." I bow my head and hurry to the drinks cabinet. Quickly finding what my brother has asked for. As I re-enter the office, I can feel Alpha Dane watching my every move, even the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. No one ever watches me this closely. "Neah is your sister, correct?" Alpha Dane questions my brother. "She is." Alpha Trey mutters with disgust. He looks away from me to focus on the man asking questions. "Why do you treat her like trash?" Straight to the point, my brother wouldn't like that. He only liked sharing information on his terms. No one had spoken to my brother about his treatment of me because everyone took great joy in beating me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move but I knew I had to get out of there. If this deal goes to pot because of me, then that would be my fault too. "Neah was responsible for our parents' death." Alpha Trey spits I closed my eyes, battling back the tears that were threatening to break free. "Responsible how?" Alpha Dane's voice rumbles through me. He was definitely angry. "She served them Wolfsbane." Don't make a sound. Don't make a sound. I knew Alpha Dane was studying me. They all did, no one could ever quite believe how someone could do something so disgusting as poisoning their own parents. I stood there, with my head hanging low, wishing for the ground to open up and suck me in. There are movements around me. He was standing directly in front of me. With a rough finger he tilts my face up towards his, forcing me to look at him. "You poisoned your parents?" "I was six." I splutter. "I just made them lemonade." My voice comes out all squeaky as I try to defend myself. I could barely remember my parents, but I could remember all the guilt I had been made to feel since that day. His crimson eyes flash to my brothers. "Hardly seems fair to blame a six year old." "A six year old should know the difference between plants." Alpha Trey snaps "Sounds to me like she was set up." Alpha Dane shrugs his shoulders, letting go of me. "You weren't there, Alpha Dane." My brother muttered through gritted teeth as his eyes narrowed to slits. "I didn't ask you here to talk about my slave!" Alpha Dane grabs his leather jacket from the chair. Unlike other Alpha's he seemed to dress more casually. A simple black tee and jeans covered his huge frame. And unlike other Alpha's, his arms are bare of tattoos, not a single bit of ink poked out anywhere. "You're right and now I have a few things to mull over." "I thought we agreed." My brother exclaims "Nothing has been signed. Now I will show myself out." The moment he is out of the office, both my brother and Beta Kyle round on me. "What the heck did you say to him?" My brother demands, slamming a hand into my stomach. "N...nothing. Well, he just asked me why I smelled funny." "Did you tell him?" Beta Kyle demands. He was practically spitting in my face. I hated him. I hated him so much that I had vowed to one day get my revenge and rip his stomach out through his mouth. "WELL?" My brother yells when I don't immediately respond and smacks me across the side of the head. My head involuntarily moves up and down. "But I didn't say it was you." I tried to sound strong and confident but it just comes out as a whisper. My brother's hand locks into my black hair as he yanks my head back, sending a shooting pain through my skull. "If you have ruined this, you won't see daylight again." He drags me by my hair from the office and down the hallway towards the basement door. "Please…." I beg. "He was an Alpha…I… I had to answer him." My cheeks burn with my tears as he flings the door open. On the other side of the door is Alpha Dane. He is leaning against the wall with his arms folded, staring out at us. My brother's hand falls from my hair, relieving the pressure on the back of my skull... "Alpha Dane, I thought you had left." Alpha Trey murmurs angrily. "I said I would show myself out. I thought I had found the door, but instead I find a basement, riddled in your sister's strange scent. Is this how you treat your family?" "As I said," my brother holds his ground, "She is responsible for the death of my parents, so yes, this is what she deserves." "You should keep your nose out of other packs' business!" Beta Kyle adds. Alpha Dane laughs. "If I agree to this deal, everything about your business becomes my business. So tell me, what would your punishment be for her? No food, locked away for a week, beatings?" Both Alpha Trey and Beta Kyle hold their tongues. There was no reason for him to defend me and yet he was. I was a nobody, no one special. Just who everyone called a traitor. Only instead of being given a death sentence, my brother had decided to make me spend my life suffering. I see those crimson eyes land on my swollen face. "I have a proposition for you, Alpha Trey." Alpha Dane speaks up again. "We have already agreed on terms." "Well, I'm adding one. And if you don't agree, you will not get my help. Instead, you will become my enemy. And we both know, you don't want that." "I take it that your new terms have something to do with her?" Alpha Trey mutters through clenched teeth. "You would be correct. Let me take her away to my pack and then you, Trey will have a deal." Me? Why would he want me? As my brother and his Beta discuss me, Alpha Dane is still studying me. His look made me nervous. What could someone like him possibly want with me? "Deal." Alpha Trey sticks out his hand for Alpha Dane to shake. He doesn't take it, instead his crimson eyes shift from me to my brother. "I will have paperwork drawn up and will return tomorrow." He reaches a hand out and cups my face, "Ensure you have everything packed." He drags his thumb across my bottom lip and strides to the opposite end of the hallway and straight to the front door. He knew exactly where the front door was, so what was he up to? He pauses at the door. "If I find out any one of you has laid a hand on her. The contract will be the last thing you need to worry about." He struts out, slamming the door behind him. After Dane leaves, my brother grabs me by the collar. "You think you're going to have a good life if you follow Alpha Dane out of here? Don't be naive!" He continues in a vicious voice. "He's the coldest man in the world, he's killed nine of his mates, I'm waiting to see what happens to you!"	LEARN_MORE	https://wwwedb.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=11783&	New world publications	https://www.facebook.com/100090352943774/	3,763	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	wwwedb.com	DCO		https://wwwedb.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=11783&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/463745664_1705482006939110_4845627328662362045_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=lTbRF_LV63YQ7kNvgHY0l-h&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=At-52rFSmlbTm9ybhhHc7yh&oh=00_AYCAL2WeLRzWEJpn6WpoKTK3vghTjybw5uY9-hPPeIxcdw&oe=674995D1	PERSON_PROFILE	New world publications	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,524,950	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2524874}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:11	active	1919	Read more FREE chapters👉	It’s not the first time I received photos of my husband, Owen, cheating on me. After losing my parents, I was adopted by Owen’s family. I grew up with him. We were inexplicably attracted to each other but we dared not to admit it. Until that one crazy night... anyway we got married when we were both 22. Now, it’s been three years. But Owen had been acting very strange recently. These photos seemed to explain why... I had to confront him. “Owen?” I called out. “Owen, where are you?” He didn't answer. Owen was on the phone with his friend. As I was about to knock on the door, I overheard: “No, I don’t think I love her anymore.” Owen’s words gave me icy chills. “How could he say that?!” My heart was broken. Owen left without any explanation that night. When Owen came back he was very drunk. He started kissing me and called me Josie. I couldn’t believe what I heard… “Josie…? Were you with Josie?” I asked with panic in my voice. I couldn’t believe my husband cheated on me with my best friend. Life passed, I became more and more painful. I finally got divorced with Owen. I thought there would be no relationship between us. But the appearance of Raymond gave me fresh hope for love. Raymond was Owen’s uncle. He was only several years older, but very mature. He was tall, handsome and rich. He was one of the most attractive men I knew. After living in Australia for most of his life, he had come back 10 years ago to take over his family’s business. By now, he was the most successful CEO in the city. Although all women admired him, he remained single. I couldn’t believe such a wonderful man would confess to me. I didn’t know why he would fall in love with such an ordinary woman like me? He’s always there when I was in danger and even got injured when protecting me. But I can not accept him as his relationship with my ex-husband. Then the unexpected thing happened. My best friend set me up. When I woke up, I found myself under Raymond's sheet. “Don’t be scared, Noah.” “I’ll protect you.” “I’m willing to take responsibility.” “Noah, I love you.” His magnetic voice always lingered in my ears. Could I trust him? What will happen if I get involved in this forbidden relationship?	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=14837&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	320	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=14837&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/463600279_1053409966435668_5063960042783931742_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=LL-N0N5h3gkQ7kNvgGlY7vp&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A6Wk4W6rSKexRJKU2T1fHMP&oh=00_AYDoVY_NGP8XjbeD-Cf3-8nYWBrF83YOjBPc-Si9BV9CzQ&oe=6749AC9E	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,524,613	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2524584}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:06	active	1919	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	"You'd be willing to be my mistress?" I took a deep breath. "Yes." He'd got rid of me as his wife, to replace me with his sweetheart, but he still wanted to keep me as his mistress. The shame was almost too much to bear. The next day, my father told us that our debts had all been repaid. Suddenly, Joseph had become an angel in my mother's eyes. How he must love me to help us so much. All I could do was force a smile and bite my tongue. As far as my parents knew, I was still his wife. To them, I was on my way to spend a happy evening with my husband, not to be used as his toy. But what other choice did I have? I was well aware that I was giving up my dignity. Joseph's room was the very same bedroom we had shared while we were married. Yet now, it felt very different. I had no idea when Joseph would return. When I awoke, there seemed to be a great weight pressing down on me. As my senses gradually returned, I realized that Joseph was on top of me. What's more, his hands were moving underneath my clothes. "How ... How dare you!" Without thinking, I raised my hands to push him off. But before I knew it, he had grabbed hold of my wrists and forced them down. "Even now, your pampered temper's still intact." He jeered at me. I gazed around at the familiar room and then at the familiar man before me. It took me a while to fully remember where I was. This bedroom we were in was now his, and I was nothing more than his mistress. My arms went limp, I meekly let out a soft apology, "I'm sorry". He laughed, standing up and heading towards the bathroom. As he cleaned himself, I wrung my hands nervously. Before all this, once I had begun to have feelings for him, the thought of his touch had not been an unpleasant one. But this was different. There was nothing mutual or respectful about our current situation. This was simply possession and revenge. In such circumstances, the thought of what was to come was horrifying, but I had nowhere to run. After what seemed like an age, he finally emerged from the bathroom. The sound of the door opening once more was almost more than my frayed nerves could take.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15053&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	320	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	beokn.com	DCO		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=15053&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/464446123_872410864981319_4606585567578669790_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=HrNd31J4zFQQ7kNvgEkR39R&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=Apq-W_ef3s5AtMTo5ZWFzxH&oh=00_AYCfxpdPGHY_jJyK3-i_oY7oBqoNsdu7XFpdLq9LT2SoKg&oe=6749AFD3	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,524,811	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2525505}'	Yes	2024-11-24 19:08	active	1919	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	"I, Barrett Warren, vow with my life that I'll take no concubine! Carissa Sinclair shall be my one and only!" These were the words that convinced Carissa Sinclair, the daughter of general, to hide her martial talents and forsake her promising future to marry into the crumbling Warren family. Even on their wedding night, when Barrett was abruptly summoned to the battlefield, Carissa never complained. She used her dowry to support the struggling Warren household, waiting faithfully for his return. But she never imagined that when Barrett finally returned, the first thing he would do was marrying his new love... --- At Grace Mansion, Carissa Sinclair stared at the man before her—her husband she had waited for a whole year. Barrett Warren, still in his battle armor, wore an expression of both determination and guilt. "Carissa, the king has issued a royal edict for my marriage to Aurora." he said, his voice steady, " She will be joining our household. There's no question about it." Carissa's eyes clouded with confusion. "The queen dowager has praised General Yates as a model for all women in the kingdom. Would she be willing to be a concubine?" Barrett's eyes flashed with a hint of annoyance. "No, she won’t be a concubine. She’ll be my legal wife, equal to you." "But calling her equal doesn't change the fact that she’s still just a concubine," Carissa said, a soft smile playing on her lips. Barrett frowned. "Why can't you face the reality? Aurora and I fell in love with each other on the battlefield, and we earned this marriage with our glorified victory. In fact, I don’t really need your approval on it." Fell in love? Huh, looks like he is determined in breaking the vow he made a year ago... Carissa's soft smile wiped off by a mocking one, she had once believed Barrett’s victory would earn him a higher rank, freeing her from the burden of supporting the Warren household with her dowry. Yet instead, in exchange for his victory, he only asked the king for another woman's hand, and now he even dared to silence her with his so-called 'glorified victory'... Carissa felt a lump in her throat. Despite her disgust and reluctance, she asked, "What about your parents? Do they agree?" "They do. It was a royal edict, and Aurora is amicable. Mother liked her a lot upon seeing her, even her health seems to be improving." "Improving?" Carissa felt a whirlwind of emotions. "When you went to war, your mother was already gravely ill. I brought in the best physician, managed the estate’s affairs by day, and stayed up nights caring for her. That's how her condition started to improve." "But seeing Aurora has made my mother feel even better," Barrett said earnestly. "I know this is unfair to you, but for the greater good, please be generous enough to welcome Aurora." Carissa lowered her eyes, as if blinking away the tears. But inspected closely, that's actually her sharpened gaze. "Invite General Yates over. I have a few things to ask her." "There's no need," Barrett refused instantly. "Carissa, she’s different from any woman you know. As a general, she’s above household squabbles and wouldn’t want to meet you." Carissa retorted, "What are women I know like? Or tell me, what kind of woman am I to you? Have you forgotten? I'm also the daughter of the Marquis's family. My father and my six brothers sacrificed on the Southern Frontier three years ago-" "That’s them." Barrett interrupted, "You're still a delicate woman suited only for home comforts, while Aurora has no respect for that. Besides, she never holds back her true thoughts. Trust me, you won't want to hear it from her. Also rest assured. Mother has promised me that Aurora will never threaten your control of the household. Carissa, she couldn't care less about those things." “Oh, that's what you and mother think I fear? Losing the control of this household?” Carissa couldn't help but laughing. Little did Barrett know his household had been reduced to a hollow shell - managing it was a hot potato no one else would bear. Over the past year, it was Carissa's dowry alone that kept the Warren family’s life respectable, and this was her reward. “Enough,” Barrett snapped, his patience running thin. “I’ve done my duty by informing you. Your opinion won’t change anything.” As Carissa watched hum storm out, her bitterness deepened. “My lady, my lord has really crossed the line!” Lulu, Carissa’s maid, said, wiping her tears. “Don’t call him that!” Carissa gave her a stern look. “We never consummated the marriage. He’s not your lord. Now go fetch my dowry list.” “Why the dowry list?” Lulu asked, puzzled. Carissa tapped her on the forehead. “Silly girl, we need to reckon everything before we leave.” Lulu gasped. “Leave? But where can we go? To the Northwatch Estate?” Suddenly Lulu held her tongue, aware that she had touched the sensitive subject. She spared Carissa a guilty look, "I'll get the list now, my lady." Upon the mention of Northwatch Estate, the always restrained Carissa finally let her tears fall. When she was fifteen, her father, the Marquis of Northwatch, had sacrificed his life on the battlefield. Then, just six months ago, her entire family at the Northwatch Estate was brutally slaughtered — assassins rumored to be spies from the enemy nation, Westhaven. She rushed back after getting the news, only to find the dismembered bodies of her mother and grandmother. Even her youngest nephew, two years old, didn't escape death, neither. Now, she was the lone survivor of the marquis' family, the idea of restoring her family’s former glory seemed impossible—at least to outsiders. After all, she was presented mostly as a delicate, fragile woman, while Aurora Taytes had just made herself the first female general in history. It's only natural that the Warren family was more than happy to agree to the marriage. Yet, unbeknownst to the world, Carissa's martial talent was never beneath her father and brothers. If given a chance on the battlefield, she would definitely outshine Aurora Taytes, perhaps a million times more... Just then, Lulu had brought over the dowry list, "My lady, this year alone, you've spent over six thousand silver coins supporting the household. However, the shops, houses, and estates remain untouched. All the bank savings, along with the property deeds and land titles your mother left, are locked up in the chest." "I see." Carisse's gaze lingered on the list with melancholy. Her mother had given her such a substantial dowry, fearing she might face hardship in her husband's home. Yet now here she was. The Warren family had disregarded all her effort, and Barrett had even broken his vow to take no concubine - the very promise that led her mother to choose him over more eligible suitors, despite the Warren family’s fall from grace. 'Was this really the life mother wanted me to have?' It took Carissa no time to made up her mind. “Lulu, get prepared. There's somewhere we need to go tomorrow.” ... Early the next morning, Carissa and Lulu boarded a carriage, heading straight for the royal palace. It was noon by the time they arrived. Under the scorching autumn sun, Carissa and Lulu stood like statues in front of the palace gates. They waited for a full hour, but no one came to let them in. In the palace's study, Derek Walker had already reported Carissa’s arrival to the king three times. “Your Majesty, Mrs. Warren is still waiting outside the palace gates,” he repeated. The king, Salvador Quinton, set aside the document he was reading and rubbed his temples. “I can’t summon her in. The edict has been issued, and can't be taken back. Tell her to go home.” “The guards tried to persuade her, but she refused to leave. She’s been standing there for over an hour without moving.” Salvador felt a pang of guilt. “Barrett requested the marriage as a reward for his military service. I didn’t want to agree, either, but not granting it would embarrass both him and General Yates. They have after all won a big war.” “Your Majesty, when it comes to military achievements, no one can compare to the Marquis of Northwatch,” Derek countered. Salvador thought of Hector Sinclair, the Marquis of Northwatch. When Salvador was a crown prince who had recently joined the military, it was Hector who had guided him. Back then, he had also known Carissa when she was only a cute kid. Salvador himself had fought a bloody path to the throne, paved with death. He understood the struggles of military officers, so when Barrett requested marriage as a reward, Salvador had hesitated but eventually agreed. But Derek was right. In terms of military merit, Barrett and Aurora were far inferior to Hector Sinclair. “Alright, let her in. If she agrees to this marriage, I’ll grant her whatever she wants, even if it's a noble title or an official rank,” said Salvador. Derek breathed a sigh of relief. “As always, you're wise, Your Majesty!” ... Carissa knelt in the study with her head bowed. Recalling that Carissa was now the only one left in the Sinclair family, Salvador felt nothing but pity for her. "Rise and speak," he commanded. Carissa bowed deeply with her hands clasped. "Your Majesty, I know it's presumptuous of me to seek an audience today. But I also wish to implore for your grace." "Carissa Sinclair, I have already issued the edict of marriage. It's impossible to revoke it," Salvador said. Carissa shook her head gently. "Your Majesty, I'm not imploring you to reverse that edict, but imploring you for another edict - an amicable divorce with General Warren." The young king was taken aback. "Divorce? You want a divorce?" Carissa nodded her head firmly. She was never someone to pester some man. If Barret Warren loved Aurora Yates so much, then she would let him go. What she needed now was a single edict for an amicable divorce, so she could take away all her dowry and get rid of the despicable Warren family for good, dignified and head high...	LEARN_MORE	https://shgjfh.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=13853&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	320	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	shgjfh.com	DCO		https://shgjfh.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=13853&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}&placement={{placement}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/464681484_532171326224549_7177859630690723278_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=psZsr7A7EVUQ7kNvgEeFK1m&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A1cxrKYvonuM3iIFFLeSbpe&oh=00_AYCswdKqR-5PzCuDm_egazCC4bOSuqrIJTJhGfB-CLEPhg&oe=67499D37	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,358	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2024-11-24 19:17	active	1919	Читать следующую главу👉	Когда она узнала, что незнакомый мужчина, с которым она провела свою первую брачную ночь, оказался ее законным мужем по договоренности, она сошла с ума! ===== Камилла Петрова сегодня вышла замуж. К несчастью для неё, жениха нигде не было видно. Она оглядела пустую комнату, и её лицо стало белым, словно простыня. Она чувствовала себя совершенно униженной. Камилла не желала терпеть это оскорбление! Но что она могла поделать? С самого рождения все аспекты её жизни контролировались другими людьми. Само собой разумеется, это касалось и её замужества. Камиллу принудил к этому союзу отец, человек, которым управляла жадность. Её дедушка работал шофёром у Родиона Новикова, главы могущественной семьи Новиковых. По досадной случайности они попали в ужасную аварию, в которой дед Камиллы погиб, спасая Родиона. В последние месяцы небольшая компания, которой управляла её семья, везде и всюду погрязла в огромных долгах. Они находились на грани банкротства. Несмотря на это, её хитрый отец отказался просить помощи у семьи Новиковых, зная, что это отменит долг, который они должны были семье Петровых. Вместо этого он придумал план, согласно которому внук Родиона, Виталий Новиков, женится на Камилле. Учитывая богатство семьи Новиковых, они были уверены, что те дадут большие деньги в обмен на руку и сердце Камиллы. И, в качестве дополнительного бонуса, они, наконец, установили бы более прочную связь с семьёй Новиковых, которая была бы законно скреплена. Разумеется, семья Новиковых не могла позволить себе отказаться от этого предложения, иначе они рисковали потерять лицо в том или ином случае. Виталий решил выразить своё недовольство всем этим, не явившись на банкет, хотя на нём не присутствовало никого, кроме членов семей. Он также отказал Камилле в использовании фамилии Новиковых и запретил ей говорить людям, что она его жена. На протяжении всего этого, от начала и до конца, никто не потрудился спросить мнение самой Камиллы. Сейчас она стоит с прямой спиной и расправленными плечами. Её ресницы, возможно, слегка дрожали, но в глазах читалось упрямство. Она не собиралась поддаваться унижению. Но как ей следует поступить? В то время, когда девушка размышляла о том, как проведёт первую брачную ночь, она получила сообщение от одной из своих коллег. Женщина просила Камиллу подменить её на ночной смене. Та не стала долго раздумывать. Она вышла из зала и вызвала такси, чтобы отправиться в больницу. Мгновением позже она оказалась в комнате отдыха персонала больницы, проверяя записи пациентов, а её вечернее платье давно сменилось белым лабораторным халатом. Внезапно дверь с громким стуком распахнулась с внешней стороны и ударилась о стену. Не успела Камилла поднять глаза, чтобы взглянуть, что происходит, как дверь снова захлопнулась. Затем она услышала щелчок выключателя, и в помещении стало темно. По её спине пробежал холодок. «Кто...» Не успела она договорить, как её толкнули на стол. Куча канцелярских принадлежностей упала на пол, и в этот момент она почувствовала, как к её шее прижался холодный острый кай нжа. «Тихо!» - свирепо прошептал нападавший. Девушка едва могла разглядеть лицо мужчины, хотя его глаза выделялись. Они мерцали в тусклом свете, его взгляд был полон бдительности. В воздухе вокруг них витал знакомый запах железа, и она поняла, что этот человек ранен. Благодаря многолетнему обучению и опыту врача, Камилла смогла сохранить спокойствие. Затем она медленно согнула одну ногу, планируя атаковать мужчину коленом. Но тот видел её насквозь. Как только он почувствовал её движение, то с силой сжал её ноги вместе и прижал к столу своими мощными бёдрами. Вдруг в коридоре послышался шум шагов. Они направлялись прямо в комнату отдыха персонала. «Быстрее, я видела, как он шёл сюда!» Достаточно было одного крика о помощи, и эти люди ворвались бы в комнату. Отчаявшись, мужчина опустил голову и по*ловал Камиллу. Она стала бороться и была удивлена тем, что смогла легко оттолкнуть его. Тем более, что мужчина больше не угрожал ей нжом. Мысли девушки заметались. В этот момент тот, кто находился по ту сторону двери, схватился за ручку. Приняв решение, Камилла притянула мужчину к себе и обвила руками его шею. На этот раз она половала его. «Я могу вам помочь», - пробормотала она под нос, надеясь, что её страх не был заметен. Мужчина шумно сглотнул. Ему потребовалась секунда, чтобы принять решение, затем она почувствовала его горячее дыхание у своего уха: «Я возьму на себя ответственность за это». Его голос был низким и притягательным. Но он, похоже, неправильно понял. Она хотела, чтобы всё это было притворством. Он не должен был ни за что брать ответственность. В следующую секунду дверь снова распахнулась. Камилла и мужчина тут же слились в очередном полуе. Несмотря на их затруднительное положение, мужчина обнаружил, что его тело среагировало на звук. Он мог бы потеряться в нём, если бы люди за дверью не заговорили. «Чрт взьми! Да это же просто цующаяся парочка. Чувак, они и вправду занимаются этим в больнице. Имейте хоть немного приличия!» Свет из коридора проникал в комнату, обнажая пару. Однако тело мужчины было обхвачено Камиллой, скрывая его лицо от любопытных глаз незваных гостей. «Что ж, это точно не Виталий. Этот ублюдок тяжело ранен. Неважно, насколько соблазнительна женщина, я сомневаюсь, что у него хватит сил сделать с ней что-нибудь». «Но, чувак, эта женщина издаёт довольно приятные звуки, а?» «Заткнись и пошевеливайся! Нам нужно найти Виталия как можно скорее, иначе мы потеряем головы!» Послышался шорох и топот ног, и мужчины бросились прочь, а дверь вернулась в своё исходное положение. Мужчина знал, что его преследователи ушли, но осознание того, что теперь они остались одни, подействовало на его самообладание. Он просто сорвался, и неожиданная волна поти захлестнула его. Этот поток же*ния не обошёл стороной и Камиллу. Возможно, дело было в их близости, или в том, как интимно они касались друг друга, а может быть, во внезапном приливе адреналина, но на поверхность поднялась бунтарская жилка, о которой она даже не подозревала. До этого момента девушка жила серой однообразной жизнью, всегда подчиняясь правилам и планам, установленным для неё другими. На этот раз - хотя бы раз - она собиралась побаловать себя. Девушка отбросила свои запреты и предоставила мужчине свободу действий, чтобы он делал всё, что захочет. Когда они закончили, мужчина нежно поцеловал её в щёку. «Я приду за тобой», - прошептал он, в его голосе всё ещё слышались отголоски наслаждения. А затем он ушёл, так же внезапно, как и пришёл. Прошло немало времени, прежде чем Камилла смогла подняться на ноги. Тишину в комнате нарушил звонок её телефона. Она огляделась и обнаружила, что он лежит на краю стола. Камилла схватила телефон, пока он не упал, и нажала на кнопку ответа. «Доктор! - раздался взволнованный голос. -В центр неотложной помощи только что привезли пациента. Он попал в аварию и получил серьёзные травмы. Нам нужно, чтобы вы немедленно оказали ему помощь!» Камилла прочистила горло, чтобы голос звучал ровно: «Хорошо, я буду через минуту». Она положила трубку и направилась к двери, но остановилась на пороге. Она оглядела себя. Она и вправду занялась сксом с незнакомцем в свою брачную ночь. Это был самый возмутительный поступок в её жизни! Но сейчас было не время праздновать свой поступок или размышлять о его последствиях. Камилла привела себя в порядок и отправилась в центр экстренной помощи. Весь остаток ночи она была занята работой. Когда она наконец освободилась, уже близился рассвет. Вернувшись в комнату отдыха персонала, она обнаружила, что в комнате было всё так же грязно. Руки девушки сжались в кулаки, а в голове пронеслись воспоминания о бурном прошлой ночью. «Спасибо, что подменила меня, доктор Петрова», - коллега Камиллы, Яна Агафонова, вошла с благодарной улыбкой. Та выдавила из себя улыбку: «Пожалуйста». «Дальше я справлюсь сама. Тебе следует вернуться и немного отдохнуть, - Яна посмотрела на бумаги, разбросанные по полу, и приподняла брови. - Что здесь произошло? Почему всё валяется на полу?» Камила в панике отвела глаза и ответила: «Ой, я случайно уронила их. Пожалуйста, приберись здесь. Я устала, поэтому пойду». Яне показался странным ответ Камиллы, но она не придала этому значения. Они попрощались, и женщина принялась собирать разбросанные вещи. Она едва успела начать, как в дверях появился сам директор больницы, а за ним - помощник Виталия. Глава 2 Чувство вины «Это врач, дежурившая вчера вечером, - сказал директор больницы. - Доктор Яна Агафонова». Ассистент Виталия, Денис Орлов, вошёл в комнату и посмотрел на табличку с именем на лабораторном халате Яны. «Пойдёмте со мной». Яна была в замешательстве. «Куда мы идём?» Но директор больницы не захотел отвечать на её вопрос. Он с силой потянул её за руку и сказал: «Просто пойдёмте. Не заставляйте господина Новикова ждать». Вскоре она оказалась в кабинете директора больницы. Виталий сидел на диване, его худощавое и мускулистое тело откинулось назад в непринуждённой позе, а длинные ноги были скрещены перед ним. Нужно было иметь острый глаз и присмотреться повнимательнее, чтобы понять, что его губы были бледнее обычного. К счастью, резкий запах дезинфицирующего средства, которым были пропитаны стены больницы, скрывал запах кви на его коже. Он был одет в чистый чёрный костюм, который также помог скрыть красные пятна, в противном случае встревожившие бы всех окружающих. В его выражении лица чувствовалась жёсткость, которая так и говорила, будто он побывал в самом аду, и что с ним не стоит шутить. Денис подошёл к дивану и наклонился поближе, чтобы прошептать Виталию на ухо: «Видеозаписи с камер наблюдения прошлой ночи были намеренно подделаны, скорее всего, это сделали ваши нападавшие. Они подчистили следы и убрали все возможные улики. Это доктор Яна Агафонова, дежурившая прошлой ночью. Директор больницы сам подтвердил это. Я также перепроверил записи. Это действительно она». Только тогда Виталий поднял глаза. У Яны резко перехватило дыхание и она поняла, что перед ней сам босс корпорации «Парамаунт». «Вы тот человек, который помог мне прошлой ночью?» - спросил Виталий, оглядывая её с головы до ног. Яна тут же пригнула голову, не решаясь встретиться с грозным взглядом мужчины. «Да... Э-это была я», - она не совсем понимала, о чём идёт речь, но знала, что в её интересах войти в доверие к Виталию Новикову. Выгода не заставит себя ждать. Так случилось, что в Центральном военном госпитале собирались отобрать кандидатов для прохождения практики. И хотя это было обозначено как таковое, все в этой отрасли знали, что интерны в конечном итоге будут приняты на работу и доживут до конца своей карьеры в этом учреждении. Если уж на то пошло, Центральный военный госпиталь имел доступ к ресурсам, которые были намного лучше, чем в этой больнице. Яна планировала подружиться с Виталием в надежде использовать его связи, чтобы попасть в лучшую больницу. «Я могу компенсировать тебе всем, чем ты захочешь, даже браком», - внезапно прервал её мысли холодный голос Виталия. Его лицо оставалось отстранённым, но мысль о вчерашней ночи смягчила жёсткую линию его рта. «Что ж... Я...» - это было настолько неожиданно, чем Яна могла себе представить, что она с трудом могла подобрать слова. «Приходи ко мне, как только примешь решение», - встал Виталий и жестом попросил Дениса дать ей свой контактный телефон. Директор больницы поспешил и предложил Виталию проводить его к выходу. «В этом нет необходимости», - отказался тот, и всё его поведение снова стало холодным. Затем он остановился, как будто его кое-что осенило. Он обернулся к директору и сказал: «Пожалуйста, позаботьтесь о ней». «Конечно», - заверил его директор больницы с вежливой улыбкой. Убедившись, что они находятся вне пределов слышимости, Денис подошёл к Виталию. «Начальник, - обратился он тихим, но настоятельным голосом, - вы ведь уже женаты. Я не думаю, что брак является приемлемым вариантом для госпожи Агафоновой. Вам следует отказаться от этого предложения». Губы Виталия дёрнулись при упоминании о его браке, а лицо ещё больше помрачнело, когда он подумал о женщине, на которой его заставили жениться. «Тебе что, жить надоело?» - пригрозил он своему помощнику. Тот понял, что сказал то, чего не следовало, и тут же задрожал. В этот момент он не знал, кто больше всего злит его босса - новая невеста или человек, стоящий за вчерашним нападением. Тем временем Камилла вернулась на виллу, которую должна была делить с мужем. Экономка средних лет, Виктория Романова, встретила её в фойе, на её лице было написано беспокойство. «Почему вас не было вчера вечером, госпожа?» «Я должна была подменить коллегу», - ответила та. Её глаза были покрасневшими и слезились от усталости. Увидев это, Виктория решила не настаивать на своём. Камилла поднялась наверх и погрузилась в ванну. Её мысли невольно вернулись к предыдущей ночи, и она почувствовала, как её щёки начали гореть. Она вздохнула и погрузилась в воду, как бы спасаясь от тревожных воспоминаний. Её чувства по этому поводу были смешанными, и она не знала, с чего начать. Она даже не представляла, что это был за человек. Более того, она теперь была замужем. От этой мысли она почувствовала вину. Несмотря на обстоятельства, которые привели их к нынешнему положению, факт оставался фактом: она и Виталий являются мужем и женой. Камилла вышла из ванны, оделась и снова приготовилась к выходу. Как только она спустилась вниз, Виктория тут же засуетилась вокруг неё: «Вы опять уходите так скоро? Почему бы вам сначала не позавтракать?» Та посмотрела на время. «Нет, я опоздаю на работу». Виктория знала, что Камилла врач, поэтому она понимала, что для этой молодой девушки является нормой проводить на работе неумеренное количество времени. Тогда она протянула ей стакан молока: «Выпейте хотя бы это. Осторожно, оно горячее». «Спасибо», - тихо произнесла девушка, согретая заботой экономки. «Не за что», - любезно улыбнулась экономка. Возможно, этот брак и был вынужденным, но она достаточно хорошо знала, что нельзя смотреть на Камиллу свысока. Даже без титула жены Виталия Новикова Камилла - профессиональный врач, и это делает её более чем достойной уважения. Допив молоко, Камилла вернула стакан Виктории и направилась к выходу. Однако она не пошла сразу в комнату отдыха персонала. Она вышла из дома пораньше, потому что ей нужно было зайти в стационар. Её мать была помещена в отделение интенсивной терапии. Камилла молча вошла в палату и проверила состояние матери. Женщина по-прежнему находилась в плохом состоянии. Сердце девушки заныло. Её мать страдала от сердечной недостаточности и находилась в критическом состоянии. Единственным способом сохранить жизнь матери была пересадка сердца, которая, естественно, обошлась бы в целое состояние. Основной причиной, по которой Камилла согласилась на брак, было то, что её отец угрожал удержать деньги, необходимые для операции. Теперь, когда она вышла замуж, как того требовал её отец, всё, что им было нужно, это найти подходящего донора сердца. Камилла бросила горький взгляд на мать: «Мама, я тебя вылечу. Я обещаю». Её мать была самым близким человеком, её главной поддержкой и надёжным доверенным лицом. Неожиданно зазвонил телефон. Девушка достала телефон из кармана и ответила на звонок. «Мила, - раздался мужской голос. - Мне нужно, чтобы ты оказала мне одну услугу». Глава 3 Частный пациент Камилле позвонил Фёдор Фальков. Они учились в одном медицинском университете, хотя он был на два года старше её. Затем он уехал за границу, чтобы продолжить обучение, и теперь был известным экспертом в своей области. Фёдор всегда хорошо заботился о Камилле, поэтому они были довольно близки. «О какой услуге идёт речь?» - прямо спросила Камилла. «У меня есть пациент, нуждающийся в лечении, однако у меня появилось неотложное дело, и я не думаю, что смогу заняться этим в ближайшее время. Пожалуйста, возьми пациента под своё крыло», - попросил Фёдор. Камила взглянула на своё расписание. Сегодня у неё не было дел в офисе, и, если не считать двух операций, запланированных на полдень, она была практически свободна. «Да, конечно. Куда мне подъехать?» - спросила Камилла. «Я напишу тебе адрес. Когда доберёшься туда, просто скажи охранникам, что ты приехала к господину Калашникову, и они обо всём позаботятся», - ответил Фёдор. «Договорились», - ответила девушка. «Ещё кое-что, - добавил Фёдор, и его тон стал серьёзным. - Никогда никому об этом не говори и не задавай лишних вопросов. Всё, что тебе нужно сделать, это вылечить пациента». «Ясно. Не волнуйся», - ответила Камилла. Они попрощались, и Камилла вызвала такси, чтобы добраться к пациенту. Место оказалось в престижном районе, заполненном виллами, оснащёнными системами безопасности высшего уровня. Как и ожидалось, на входе девушка столкнулась с суровой охраной. Камилла последовала инструкциям и упомянула господина Калашникова. Сделав звонок, чтобы убедиться в правдивости её слов, охранник пригласил Камиллу внутрь. Девушка легко нашла виллу. Она поднялась по ступенькам и позвонила в дверь. Через несколько секунд дверь открылась. Казалось, что ситуация действительно была срочной. Денис нахмурился. Они ждали Фёдора, но вместо этого на пороге оказалась незваная гостья. «Простите, вы…» - начала девушка. Из указаний Фёдора Камилла уже сделала вывод, что этот пациент ценит своё личное пространство, и чтобы избежать неприятностей, она сочла разумным надеть маску. Безопасность была в приоритете. «Доктор Фальков попросил меня приехать сюда», - сказала Камилла. Денис мельком взглянул на аптечку, которую она держала: «Вы знаете, что делать?» «Да, доктор Фальков дал мне инструкции. Я сохраню всё в строгой конфиденциальности», - ответила девушка. Денис знал, что Фёдор не передал бы свои обязанности тому, кто не заслуживает доверия или некомпетентен, поэтому утвердительно кивнул и впустил Камиллу. Он провёл её мимо роскошной гостиной, затем вверх по лестнице в спальню. В комнате было темно. «Как я буду проводить лечение без света?» - спросила Камилла. Когда Виталий услышал женский голос, то поспешно схватил свой пиджак и натянул его на лицо. «Включи свет», - приказал он сквозь ткань. Денис щёлкнул выключателем, и комнату залил яркий свет. Первой мыслью Камиллы было то, что голос пациента был довольно знакомым, однако она отмахнулась от этих мыслей. Она увидела человека, лежащего на кровати, чья белая парадная рубашка была в пятнах давно засохшей крови. Камилла не хотела вдаваться в подробности и решила сосредоточиться на ранах. Мужчина явно не хотел выдавать свою личность, поэтому девушка естественным образом уважала его границы и вела себя прилично. Она поставила свою аптечку на тумбочку и достала хирургические инструменты. Камилла ножницами разрезала рубашку пациента, обнажив его раны, которые были покрыты тонким слоем марли. Она убрала всё и, наконец, увидела две зияющие раны на правой стороне торса мужчины. Камилла начала лечение, обработав раны своими ловкими руками. Всё это время она оставалась спокойной, а её движения были быстрыми и эффективными. «Есть ли у вас аллергия на анестезию?» - спросила она через некоторое время. К счастью, раны были неглубокие и повредили лишь небольшую часть кожи, однако требовалось хирургическое вмешательство. Процесс требовал применения местной анестезии. Камилла говорила спокойно, почти тихо, что резко контрастировало с её безумным голосом прошлой ночью. Поэтому, несмотря на обмен несколькими словами, Виталий совсем не узнал её. «Нет», - сказал он своим обычным холодным голосом, про себя восхваляя её профессионализм. Камилла приступила к приготовлению анестезии, а затем ввела её в область вокруг ран. Им пришлось подождать пару минут, пока началось действие препарата, после чего она наложила швы. Примерно через час Камилла наконец закончила. В целом, лечение прошло быстро и успешно. Камилла посмотрела на свои оквавленные руки и сказала: «Мне нужно в уборную». «Вы можете использовать ту, что внизу», - ответил Денис. Камилла поспешно покинула спальню. Убедившись, что девушка вернулась на первый этаж, Денис закрыл дверь и поспешил к Виталию. «Я узнал, что бандиты, напавшие на вас вчера, подосланы Артёмом. Он, вероятно, отчаянно хочет избавиться от вас, особенно после того, как вы вычислили его шпионов в вашей компании», - сказал Денис. Виталий застонал от боли, усаживаясь, а затем подтянулся к краю кровати и опустил ноги на пол. Он выглядел слабым, но его глаза вспыхнули опасным блеском. Мужчина перевёл пронзительный взгляд на своего помощника. «Эта женщина, на которой я был вынужден жениться, имеет какое-либо отношение к Артёму?» - спросил он. Денис понизил голос: «На самом деле, Артём связался с вашим тестем, Мироном. Он стремился выдать свою дочь замуж за члена семьи Новиковых, но, похоже, никогда не рассматривал вашего кузена Илью, как подходящего кандидата. Должно быть, Артём договорился с ним». «Он не перестаёт меня удивлять каждый день. С моей стороны будет не вежливо промолчать в ответ», - сказал Виталий. За время отсутствия Виталия, в городе произошло много событий, в которых был замешан Илья. «Я слышал, что у Ильи есть захудалый бар "Шарм" на улице Арбатская», - протянул Виталий. Денис всё понял с полуслова. «Да, поскольку шпионов выгнали из компании, этот клуб стал их единственным источником дохода, и если его закроют, то им придётся довольно туго», - сказал Денис. «Помоги им в этом», - сказал Виталий, и его голос стал на октаву ниже. Денис столкнулся с Камиллой, когда спускался вниз. Он предположил, что Фёдор проинструктировал девушку заранее, однако решил немного её напугать для большего эффекта: «Если вы расскажете об этом кому-нибудь, вас настигнет ужасная смерть», - сказал он. Если слух о травмах Виталия дойдёт до Артёма или его сына Ильи, они обязательно повернут это в свою пользу. Камилла кивнула: «Я сохраню это в тайне. Я только возьму свою аптечку и немедленно уйду». Когда девушка вернулась в спальню, то обнаружила мужчину, стоящего у окна напротив двери. Он стоял к ней спиной, однако девушка могла рассмотреть его широкие плечи и мускулистую спину. Его тело было стройным, просто идеальным. «Вы разве не ушли?» - спросил мужчина насмешливым голосом. Он не обернулся, но каким-то образом понял, что она смотрит на него. Возможно, он почувствовал её горячий взгляд. Камилла смущённо опустила голову. Как бы ей не хотелось это признавать, но этот мужчина заинтересовал её. Глава 4 Стажировка Камилла, опустив голову, торопливо взяла свою аптечку. Прочистив горло, она дала мужчине несколько указаний. Как бы там ни было, она всё же была врачом. «Вам нельзя пока мочить свои раны. Дезинфицируйте их раз в день и носите свободные рубашки, чтобы не раздражать раны». Она поставила бутылочку с таблетками и тюбик с мазью на тумбочку. «Я оставляю вам эти лекарства». Виталий что-то пробормотал в знак признательности, но не обернулся. Камилла тоже больше ничего не сказала и сразу же покинула виллу. Когда она вернулась в больницу, было уже почти одиннадцать дня. Она направилась в столовую, чтобы перекусить. Едва устроившись за своим столом, её вызвали в кабинет главврача. «Я отправляю Яну в Центральный военный госпиталь на стажировку», - сказал главврач тоном, не терпящим возражений. Камилла была потрясена и сказала: «Но я думала, что вы уже решили отправить меня?» «Камилла, я уверен, что ты знаешь о том, что всё высокотехнологичное оборудование нашей больницы спонсировалось корпорацией "Парамаунт". Президент Новиков лично попросил меня позаботиться о Яне. Я не могу позволить себе пойти против его воли». Камилла ощетинилась при упоминании имени Виталия. Хотя они и были официально женаты, но они никогда не встречались. Она видела мужчину только в журналах и иногда в новостях по телевизору. Значит, он и Яна? Сердце Камиллы ёкнуло, но она оставалась спокойной. «Вот как?» «Да, боюсь, у меня связаны руки. Послушай, Камилла, мы оба знаем о твоих способностях, но...» - главврач хотел успокоить девушку, но не знал, как. Камилла выделялась среди своих сверстников благодаря невероятному таланту и профессиональной этике. Главврач ценил её больше всех остальных. «Я понимаю», - пробормотала Камилла себе под нос. Девушка говорила себе, что она была не в том положении, чтобы расстраиваться из-за вмешательства Виталия. Он был вынужден жениться на ней, и, естественно, она не могла рассчитывать на то, что он будет заботиться о ней. «Мне ещё нужно подготовиться к операции, так что я пойду», - смиренным голосом сказала девушка. Камилла понимала, что ничего не может сделать, чтобы изменить ситуацию. Главврач просто вздохнул и смотрел, как она уходит. Камилла с энтузиазмом погрузилась в работу, пытаясь не думать о стажировке. Она без заминки провела свою вторую операцию, затем сняла свою хирургическую форму и, посмотрев вверх, устало плюхнулась на стул. Именно в этот момент в гостиную вошла Яна и сказала: «Здравствуй, Камилла, - поприветствовала она, ярко улыбаясь. - Ты свободна вечером? Позволь угостить тебя ужином». «Извини, но у меня есть дела, с которыми нужно разобраться позже», - вежливо отказалась Камилла. Девушка не была в хороших отношениях с Яной. Они были просто коллегами, а не подругами. Обе окончили один и тот же университет в одно и то же время. Ещё тогда Яна была той ещё штучкой. Она была очень амбициозной и всегда хотела покрасоваться и привлекать всеобщее внимание. Камилла, в свою очередь, предпочитала оставаться незаметной и была погружена в свои книги. Можно сказать, что девушки были абсолютно разными. Понятное дело, что они не очень хорошо ладили. «О, очень жаль, - сказала Яна, выглядя почему-то смущённой. - Вообще-то я хотела с тобой кое о чём поговорить». Камилла встала и подошла к своему шкафчику, чтобы повесить халат. «Говори», - сказала она, не глядя на Яну. Тот факт, что её коллега так или иначе связалась с Виталием, ещё больше отдалил Камиллу от Яны. «Ты, должно быть, слышала, да? Мне очень жаль. Я понятия не имела, что директор…» «Всё в порядке», - перебила Камилла. Однако Яна ещё не всё сказала и продолжила: «И ещё, можешь сохранить в секрете то, что вчера вечером ты вышла на смену вместо меня? Знаешь, поскольку я собираюсь в Центральный военный госпиталь, я не хочу, чтобы это причинило какие-либо проблемы». Несмотря на то, что просьба Яны была необычной, Камилла не думала об этом и ответила: «Я никому не скажу». В любом случае, не было ничего странного в том, чтобы взять на себя смену коллеги. Время от времени им приходилось сталкиваться с личными чрезвычайными обстоятельствами. На территории больницы. Фёдор сидел на заднем сиденье дорогой чёрной машины, которая была припаркована у ворот. «Ну, - сказал он голосом, переполненным гордостью, - что думаешь о моей ученице? У неё отличные способности, не так ли?» Рядом с мужчиной сидел Виталий, откинувшись на спинку сиденья. Он снова подумал о враче, который лечил его, и вспомнил, какими спокойными и точными были её действия. На самом деле, мужчина был поражен её способностями. «Это госпожа Волкова», - вдруг заговорил Денис. Виталий опустил стекло как раз в тот момент, когда Яна подошла к машине. Брови Фёдора поднялись, и он сказал: «Яна?» Денис обернулся с водительского места и спросил: «Вы знаете её?» Фёдор кивнул, его взгляд заблестел от любопытства. «Она была студенткой на год младше в моём университете». Виталию стало любопытно, когда он услышал это. Значит, эта девушка не только спасла его прошлой ночью, но и залечила его раны? «Это судьба?» - воскликнул Денис. Вселенная наконец решила дать его боссу шанс на любовь? «Какого чёрта ты несёшь?» - спросил Фёдор, нахмурившись, переводя взгляд с одного мужчины на другого. ...... Что будет дальше? Количество глав здесь ограничено, нажмите на кнопку ниже, чтобы установить приложение и продолжить чтение более захватывающих глав! (Вы будете автоматически перенаправлены на книгу, когда откроете приложение) &9&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.litradnovie.com/10251418-fb_contact-	Lime novel	https://www.facebook.com/100090847180115/	896	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.litradnovie.com	IMAGE		https://fbweb.litradnovie.com/10251418-fb_contact-ruj17_6-1108-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=124213&accid=1016312736312375&rawadid=120213381442540790	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/466019114_1480617579284757_8698978349837609171_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=uN4pH48p09MQ7kNvgFDSp7M&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AxsKm1zJhIDcDH8QRaJH0kI&oh=00_AYCxbT-a7wBWOGeF4SpcLGrz7GNBjT_XKht5cSDXNUf_Dg&oe=6749B7A5	PERSON_PROFILE	Lime novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,525,224	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2024-11-24 19:15	active	1919	Read next chapter	She and her stepsister fell in love with the same man, but when he knelt down to beg her to save her stepsister, she felt desperate. She demanded to become his wife to save her stepsister. Two years later, when she got the divorce agreement as scheduled, she realized that she had ended up losing everything. ===== Emma Cooper boarded her flight home after three grueling months of filming. Today was also the final day of Emma's contractual marriage. The four-hour journey felt endless, but at last, the plane touched down. Once she retrieved her suitcase, she made her way toward the exit, expecting a company car. But as soon as the doors slid open, she spotted someone familiar--Edwin Reid, the Jenner family's long-time driver. He stood by a sleek black Rolls-Royce, his posture rigid and respectful, waiting. Dragging her suitcase, she approached. Edwin immediately took over, wordlessly opening the car door for her. Inside, a man sat in silence. His presence was cold yet commanding, encased in a perfectly tailored black suit. His sharply chiseled face devoid of any expression, he didn't look up--not even a glance her way. It was Ricky Jenner, her husband of two years. His unexpected appearance caught her off guard, though she quickly remembered why he was here. Their arrangement was ending today. Of course, he would show up. Emma slid into the car, maintaining a careful distance, the space between them as silent and tense as ever. For two years, Ricky had made it clear--he didn't want her close. Tonight was the first time they had been seated so near, and the closeness felt foreign. The faint scent of his cologne lingered between them, familiar but distant, like everything about him. Edwin quietly loaded her suitcase into the trunk and slid back behind the wheel. As the car pulled away from the airport, the silence inside grew suffocating. Ricky's expression remained as cold and distant as ever, his presence casting a shadow over the space. Emma's heart raced, each breath coming in shallow, uneasy waves. Twenty minutes later, the Rolls-Royce rolled to a stop in front of the Jenner family's grand estate. Before Emma could collect her thoughts, the butler rushed out, swiftly opening the door. Ricky stepped out first, his long strides carrying him toward the house without so much as a glance in her direction. "Let's go to the study," he muttered, his tone clipped, not even bothering to slow his pace. Emma's nerves had been on edge the entire ride. She knew what was coming. The moment she entered the study, she saw Ricky pull out a stack of papers from the desk drawer, tossing them in front of her. "Let's get a divorce," he said. Emma's heart twisted painfully in her chest, but she remained composed. She had loved Ricky for ten years, and wearing the title of Mrs. Jenner had never brought her closer to his heart. His body, his soul--none of him had ever belonged to her. "Nicola is old enough to marry now, isn't she?" Emma said, her voice trembling despite her best effort to keep it steady. Ricky's brow twitched slightly, a flicker of impatience crossing his sharp features. He didn't bother responding to her comment. Instead, he immediately extended the pen toward her, a silent demand. Emma forced a smile, but it felt like a crack in her mask. Without her usual makeup, her lips looked pale, and her face seemed drained of life. The exhaustion was undeniable. "Just sign it," Ricky said, emotionless and firm. She accepted the pen and, without sparing a glance at the contents of the contract, flipped to the last page and signed her name. The act felt final, yet hollow. As she placed the pen down, Emma glanced up at Ricky. His eyes, still striking, stared back at her with an icy detachment that sent a shiver through her. It was as if he was looking at a stranger, not his wife. "It's getting late. I'll move out tomorrow, if that's alright?" Emma asked, her voice fragile, her smile tense as she searched Ricky's face for even a shred of warmth. But Ricky's response came swift and sharp, dashing any hope. "Edwin will take you to a hotel." Was he really sending her away this very moment? Not even allowing her the courtesy of one last night under this roof? Her forced smile faltered, then vanished altogether. The silence between them stretched, heavy. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment before she turned away, her heart hardening with each step as she left the room. In her bedroom, Emma took the suitcase she hadn't even had the chance to unpack. When she dragged her suitcase downstairs, the maids rushed to help, but she waved them off, her smile weary. "Thank you, but I can handle it." They exchanged helpless glances, standing quietly in a line as they watched her approach the door. In the two years she had spent in this house, Emma had grown to care for the people here. Everyone, except Ricky, had shown her warmth. A pang of sorrow hit her, but after enduring two years of emotional isolation, she no longer had the strength to fight. It was over. Time to move on, and finally, let go. Despite the searing pain ripping through her chest, Emma remained dry-eyed. She had learned how to hide her emotions well. As she slid into the backseat of the car, she forced herself to appear composed. Edwin drove her through the city streets and dropped her off at a five-star hotel. Without a word, he left. Inside, Emma checked in and powered on her phone, which had been off for hours. There was a missed call from her father, Colby Cooper. She inhaled deeply, bracing herself as she dialed his number. Colby picked up almost immediately. "Emma, Nicola's condition has worsened," he said, his voice rough, weighed down with exhaustion and worry. Emma's heart skipped a beat. "What? When did this happen?" "About a week ago." "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" she asked. "You were busy filming. I didn't want to burden you," Colby explained. Emma paused, the silence between them heavy. Her mind flashed back to two years ago, when she had donated her bone marrow to save Nicola Cooper. The realization hit her--she knew exactly why her father was calling. "What do you need me to do?" she asked, her voice steady but resigned. "No, there's nothing you need to do. Ricky's already taken care of everything--he's brought in top doctors, and the hospital found a bone marrow match for Nicola from the registry. You just need to visit when you can," Colby said. Emma stayed silent, her chest tightening. Colby, sensing her hesitation, gave her Nicola's room number and urged her to come soon, mentioning how much Nicola missed her. A sharp pain gripped her heart. She managed a weak "okay" before quickly ending the call, unable to hear more. That night felt endless. She tossed and turned on the unfamiliar hotel bed, her mind racing. By 2 a.m., she gave in, ordering a bottle of red wne. She drank most of it before finally drifting off into a fitful sleep. The next morning, close to noon, Emma was jolted awake by her phone ringing. Her agent's voice was quick and urgent on the other end. She pitched the idea of her joining a popular rural reality show--one that guaranteed fame for all who participated. "I'm not interested. I need a break," she replied, her voice groggy with exhaustion. Her agent snapped, clearly frustrated, "A break? Do you think you can take a break whenever you feel like it? Look, you've been in this industry for three years. You've turned down intimate scenes, refused reality shows and avoided any publicity stunts with male celebrities. The company has bent over backward to accommodate you! But what now?" Her voice grew sharper. "Three years in, and you still lack ambition. Keep this up, and your career will be done." "Then let it be done." "Emma, you..." Her agent's voice was cut off as Emma ended the call without hesitation. The frustration simmered inside her, but she didn't dwell on it. She headed straight to the bathroom, ignoring the incessant buzzing of her phone. After a long shower, feeling slightly more clear-headed, she decided to reach out to Jenifer Howard, a close friend she hadn't seen for a while. Emma asked if she could stay at Jenifer's place for a few days. Jenifer was thrilled and agreed, coming over to pick her up almost immediately. Once settled at Jenifer's, Emma unpacked her things and shared a quiet meal with her friend. That afternoon, she made her way to Ecatin General Hospital. Standing outside Nicola's room, Emma watched through the glass as the caregiver tried feeding her sister. Nicola, frail and pale, managed only a few bites before she began to retch. Emma's chest tightened with a sorrow she couldn't fully articulate. Nicola was her half-sister, five years younger and barely twenty now. They had been inseparable as children; Nicola had always looked up to her, following her everywhere. But everything changed when they both fell in love with Ricky. Two years ago, when Nicola was first diagnosed with leukemia, Ricky had been beside himself with worry. That was when the truth hit Emma--Ricky didn't love her. His heart belonged to Nicola. Chapter 2 You Don't Deserve To Be Around Nicola Back then, Emma's blod test results had come back clear--there were no complications, no signs of rejection. She could save Nicola. In truth, Emma wouldn't have hesitated to donate her bone marrow to a stranger, let alone her own sister. But before she could even voice her decision, Ricky had already thought of her as cold and indifferent, assuming she wouldn't step up to save Nicola. He was so desperate that he even knelt before her, pleading for her help--a sight that shattered Emma's heart. Never in her life had she seen Ricky humble himself for anyone like that. She had known Ricky since they were kids. From elementary school to high school, they had been inseparable. Childhood sweethearts, as some might have called them. Ricky used to get into fights with other boys just to defend her, and he would stay up late into the night to help her prepare for exams. She had believed, naively, that after all those years of being by his side, she would eventually earn his love. But she was wrong. Feelings, she had come to understand, were never won by logic or time. Emma was never as good at acting cute or knowing exactly how to please Ricky as Nicola. While he cared for both of them, the way he doted on Nicola was always more tender, more genuine. He must have loved her deeply. The thought pierced Emma's heart, and her eyes stung with unshed tears. What hurt most wasn't just Ricky's love for Nicola but the fact that he had assumed she was heartless enough to let her sister die. That judgment, so harsh and wrong, had infuriated her. In a moment of blind anger, she had demanded that Ricky marry her. She wanted to be his wife. Even though the marriage would only last two year, she had believed--foolishly--that it would be enough time for Ricky to fall in love with her. But reality, sharp and unforgiving, had torn that hope apart. She had lost. Miserably. "You still have the nerve to show your face here?" A biting voice yanked Emma out of her thoughts. Emma quickly wiped away her tears and turned to see Verena Cooper standing behind her, her expression instantly turning cold. Verena, her stepmother, was forty but looked a decade younger. With her perfectly styled hair and chic designer clothes, she exuded elegance and control. When Emma was still mourning the loss of her mother, Verena, who had been the family's servant, got pregnant. The father of the baby was Colby. "Spare me the crocodile tears!" Verena sneered, brushing past Emma as she entered the hospital room. Emma swallowed her frustration and followed behind, forcing herself to remain composed. When Nicola saw her, a faint light flickered in her otherwise tired eyes. "Emma," she said softly, a trace of warmth in her voice. Emma smiled, walking over to gently take Nicola's hand. "I heard you've been missing me." Nicola nodded, her expression gentle. "I haven't seen you for three months. I really missed you." Emma's heart twisted painfully. Nicola, with her innocence and kindness, made everything so much more difficult. How could her own sister, the one she'd loved and cared for, be the one standing between her and the man she longed for? When Nicola had fallen ill, Emma had crossed a line she could never uncross--using that tragedy to secure her place as Mrs. Jenner. She had expected Nicola to resent her for it, maybe even despise her. In her mind, their meetings would be cold, filled with resentment and distance. But Nicola still cared about her as though nothing had changed. And that was the hardest part of all. Every time Emma looked at her sister, the guilt became unbearable. "I'm taking a break right now, so I've got plenty of time to spend with you," Emma said, her eyes still red from emotion, but she forced a smile. Nicola's face lit up. "That's amazing! I want you to visit me every day until I'm discharged, okay?" "Of course, I'll be here every day," Emma replied warmly. From the side, Verena rolled her eyes, glaring at Emma with open contempt. She held her tongue for Nicola's sake, but every time she looked at Emma, her anger flared. She couldn't forget how Nicola had become a shell of herself when Ricky married Emma. Fighting her bitterness, Verena coaxed Nicola to sleep. Once Nicola was asleep, she turned to Emma, her voice cold. "Ricky's coming soon to see Nicola. If you don't want an uncomfortable scene, you'd better go." Emma stood silently, taking in her words. After one last glance at Nicola, now peacefully asleep, she turned and headed for the door. Just as she reached the doorway, Verena's voice cut through the air once more. "Don't bother coming back. After everything you've done to her, you don't deserve to be around Nicola." Emma didn't say a word. She walked out, her steps heavy with the weight of a truth she'd long grown accustomed to carrying. Emma quietly closed the door behind her and collapsed onto a bench in the corridor. She buried her face in her hands as tears flowed uncontrollably, her body shaking with silent sobs. Jenifer had been waiting outside in the car for far too long. Concerned, she decided to head into the hospital to check on Emma. When she entered the corridor and saw Emma hunched over on the bench, looking utterly defeated, Jenifer was about to rush over when she noticed Ricky stepping out of the elevator. He paused when he spotted Emma, but after a brief pause, he walked toward her. Emma had been following Ricky everywhere since childhood; she knew the sound of his footsteps anywhere. Hearing that familiar rhythm, she quickly wiped her face and tried to compose herself, though the effort felt futile. "Are you here to see Nicola?" she asked, forcing a smile as she looked up at him. Her eyes were swollen from crying, with streaks of smudged makeup on her face. She looked fragile, a shadow of her usual self. Ricky's response was indifferent. "You've already visited her?" "Yes," Emma whispered. For a moment, something in her appearance must have stirred a hint of sympathy, because Ricky, in an unusual display of kindness, added softly, "Don't worry. Nicola will be undergoing a bone marrow transplant soon. She'll get better soon enough." "I know." With just those words, Ricky simply turned to push open the door to Nicola's room. But before he could step inside, Emma couldn't help but call after him, "Please, take good care of her." If she couldn't have him, then maybe it was time to let go, to give him back to Nicola--the one he truly loved. Ricky paused, his hand on the door. Without turning to face her, he replied in a voice laced with restrained anger, "I don't need you to remind me. I'll take care of her." His words were sharp, each syllable weighted with frustration. Emma flinched. She had already signed the divorce papers, freeing him from their hollow marriage, giving him the chance to return to Nicola. This was what he had always wanted, wasn't it? So why did he still seem so furious with her? Was he really that eager to be rid of her? Did he hate her that much? Ricky disappeared into the room, but Emma remained frozen on the bench, her eyes locked on the closed door. She felt hollow, lost in the emptiness of it all. Jenifer, who had been watching from a distance, couldn't bear it any longer. She rushed over, gently pulling Emma to her feet and dragging her away from the hospital ward. In the days that followed, Emma continued visiting the hospital, but she no longer went inside Nicola's room. She only stood by the door, looking through the glass to catch a glimpse of her sister. Sometimes she would see Ricky taking Nicola for walks outside, their closeness painfully clear. From afar, she would watch, a quiet spectator to the life she had no part in. Ricky's coldness toward her was always in stark contrast to his gentle care for Nicola, a contrast that left Emma with a deep, aching wound that never seemed to heal. A month later, Nicola successfully underwent her bone marrow transplant. There were no signs of rejection or complications, and her recovery was progressing smoothly. For the first time in a long while, Emma felt a sense of relief. In the past month, Ricky spent nearly all his time at the hospital, constantly by Nicola's side. He seemed to have forgotten about going to the courthouse with her to finalize the divorce. Emma had watched enough of his affection toward Nicola. She was ready to close this chapter, ready to walk away and rebuild her life. That day, she made up her mind to call him. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before Ricky finally picked up. "What is it?" he asked, his tone as cold and detached as ever. Emma didn't hesitate. "When are we going to finalize the divorce?" There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line. When Ricky finally spoke again, his voice was distant, but his words caught her off guard. "I haven't signed the papers yet." Her heart skipped a beat. After all this time, he still hadn't signed the divorce papers? Emma froze for a moment, her mind racing. Why hadn't Ricky signed the papers yet? Could he have changed his mind? Was there a possibility he no longer wanted the divorce? The thought was fleeting and absurd, and she quickly dismissed it. Ricky had always wanted to be free of her. Now that Nicola was recovering and old enough to marry, there was no reason for him to hold on. This delay couldn't possibly mean anything different. "Meet me at the courthouse tomorrow at nine," she said, her tone sharp, leaving no room for discussion before hanging up the phone. Meanwhile, in Ricky's office. For two years, Ricky had been waiting for this moment--the end of their marriage. The divorce papers had been drawn up months ago, prepared by his assistant, ready for the final signatures that would sever their ties for good. He had thought the moment he signed would bring relief, a clean break. But after Emma had actually signed them, something gnawed at him. A strange unease he couldn't shake. Ricky wasn't sure anymore, not even of himself. He wasn't something to be traded or handed over between two women. His decisions were his own--no one else had the right to make them for him. He calmly finished his work, then pulled the divorce papers from his desk drawer and tore them to pieces. "Divorce?" Ricky's lips twisted into a mocking smile. "It's not that simple. The game has just begun." ...... ==== Two years ago, Ricky found himself coerced into marrying Emma to protect the woman he cherished. From Ricky's perspective, Emma was despicable, resorting to underhanded schemes to ensure their marriage. He maintained a distant and cold attitude toward her, reserving his warmth for another. Yet, Emma remained wholeheartedly dedicated to Ricky for more than ten years. As she grew weary and considered relinquishing her efforts, Ricky was seized by a sudden fear. What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &3&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/62445322-fb_contact-e	Popular romance stories		0	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	IMAGE		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/62445322-fb_contact-enj103_2-1105-core2.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=673595984708315&rawadid=120213837832130033	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/465741650_555646247418876_7156473550501482569_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=4Nv2VrvrvDkQ7kNvgGjXnkb&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=Ar3C0SHhqQNr5IKODXijXKF&oh=00_AYDX3Agv7TPlauO2GTZ4tK7WmXAKJC21EiPSOGRVchoBzw&oe=67499C20	REGULAR_PAGE		1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete

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