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Yes | 2025-02-24 19:43 | active | 2625 | 0 | Read next chapter | An accident led her to marry the man she secretly loved. When he woke from his coma, he used her as a blood supply for his first love, even sending her to prison on false accusations, keeping her from seeing her grandmother one last time. Heartbroken, she demanded a divorce. ===== "It's been ages since we've had a moment like this..." Shane Brooks' l*ps brushed lightly against Yvonne Burton's ear. "Shane, I need to go to the hospital now..." Yvonne turned her head away, avoiding the ki*s Shane tried to steal. "Just this once!" Shane insisted. Time seemed to stretch endlessly. It wasn't until Yvonne felt the world around her spinning, faintness threatening to take over, that Shane finally let her go. "Did I hurt you?" His voice, rich and deep, carried a blend of concern and teasing. "How about I make it up to you with the latest designer bag?" Yvonne's eyelids fluttered open, her gaze locking onto him. The man before her was breathtakingly handsome, with features so refined they could have been sculpted by an artist. His usual cool and distant demeanor was still there, though now tinged with a faint, lingering pa*sion--proof of their recent intimacy. After three years of marriage, Yvonne had come to recognize this look. It was his tell, a sign that he was satisfied. That was why he was being so generous to her. Yvonne's lips curved into a bitter smile. "Did you forget? I haven't completed my sentence." "Then you can use the bag when you're out," Shane replied casually as if discussing the weather. Yvonne's chest tightened painfully. Shane had said it so nonchalantly, as though serving time was just a mundane inconvenience. "You will be released from prison soon, right?" His fingers trailed along her cheek with practiced ease. "I told you before, one year would fly by in the blink of an eye." Yvonne swallowed the lump in her throat, her hand clutching his as desperation seeped into her voice. "The hospital called me... They said my grandmother wasn't doing well. Could you come with me to the hospital to visit her?" Since she was still serving her sentence, she couldn't leave here freely. But she had earned a day of temporary release due to her good behavior in prison. Initially, her plan had been to go straight to the hospital. Yet, she had hesitated, worried her frail grandmother, Maggie Thomas, might be unsettled by her disheveled appearance. Returning home to freshen up had seemed like the right choice, but unexpectedly, she had run into Shane at home, who had just gotten back from a business trip overseas. She had really wanted to rush to the hospital, yet Shane had stopped her. He had been adamant, demanding his needs be met first, leaving her spending the entire morning here. Still, she thought, maybe this was good. If Shane accompanied her to the hospital, it would make her grandmother happy. But the next second, Shane pulled his hand away. Yvonne's heart sank like a stone tossed into deep water. "I've got something to do this afternoon. You can go on your own." Shane's words came out without hesitation. Standing up, he retrieved a card from the bedside drawer and held it out. "Use this to buy something nice for your grandmother." This wasn't unexpected for Yvonne--she had seen this play out before. Shane's preferred method of problem-solving always involved money. But she knew Maggie didn't need fancy gifts. What Maggie needed, what she longed for, was to see Shane and her being happy together as a family. Shane showered, got dressed, and left without so much as a goodbye. Yvonne rose slowly. She then busied herself with packing some homemade food to bring to the hospital--something Maggie would appreciate more than any store-bought gift. When she entered Maggie's hospital room, the sight before her made her bl**d run cold. The bag with the food slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor as she cried out, "Grandma!" Though Maggie had endured numerous hospital stays throughout her illness, she had never needed to use a ventilator. This really shocked Yvonne. Yvonne rushed to Maggie's bedside, her voice quavering with worry. "Grandma, I'm here! Open your eyes and look at me, Grandma!" Maggie's weathered eyelids fluttered open, a dim spark of recognition lighting her aged eyes. "Yvonne, you're here..." "Grandma, what happened?" Yvonne's words tumbled out in a panic. "The nurse said you were just feeling a bit unwell and missed me. Why does your condition look so severe?" "I asked the nurse not to worry you too much. Yvonne, I think I don't have much time left," Maggie replied. "No! That's not true!" Yvonne's trembling hand flew to Maggie's face. She then assessed Maggie's condition. Soon, her fears were confirmed--Maggie indeed had not much time left. Tears carved burning paths down Yvonne's cheeks as sadness threatened to tear her heart asunder. "Yvonne, life and death walk hand in hand. Don't cry." Maggie's papery fingers brushed Yvonne's wet cheek. "Having such a great granddaughter, I am satisfied with my life. I am just concerned about how you will live your life after I am gone." "Grandma, please stay with me!" Yvonne hastily scrubbed away her tears, forcing brightness into her voice. "I'll be out of prison in a month. Then I'll never leave your side. Remember how you longed to return to our hometown? Once you recover, we'll go back together." "That would be lovely." Maggie's gaze held infinite tenderness. "Bring Shane along, too." Though her heart knew otherwise, Yvonne nodded fervently. "Of course. Shane wanted to be here today, but urgent business matters demanded his attention." "Work always comes first." Maggie withdrew a half-moon pendant from beneath her pi*low, pressing it into Yvonne's palm. The pendant was made of high-quality jade and was carved with a bird. "Yvonne, keep this safe. It's your--" The door's sudden opening cut short Maggie's words. Shane's commanding presence filled the doorway, his dark suit emphasizing his statuesque frame. He looked elegant with every move. Joy illuminated Yvonne's tear-stained face. "Grandma, look! Shane came to see you!" But as Shane approached, there was something amiss about his expression. His customary mask of cool detachment had cracked; he looked uncharacteristically anxious and worried. "Yvonne, Jayde needs an immediate bl**d transfusion." The words stabbed through Yvonne's momentary happiness. She had thought Shane was looking worried because of her grandmother, but it turned out he was just concerned for Jayde Davis. Of course. In Shane's world, no one could eclipse his childhood sweetheart, his eternal flame, Jayde. All others paled in comparison. Yvonne fought to suppress the familiar ache in her chest. "My grandmother lies here, critically ill. I must stay by her side. Can't Jayde use bl**d bank supplies?" she said. "The rare bl**d type isn't available here, and the nearest bank is an hour away. Jayde can't wait that long." Shane's fingers closed around Yvonne's wrist like steel bands. "Yvonne, her life hangs in the balance. You need to come with me now." "I won't leave my grandmother! Let go of me!" Yvonne's struggles proved futile against Shane's strength. "Yvonne..." Maggie's frail voice called out, her hand reaching toward her granddaughter. "I never told you about your parents. The truth is, you..." "Grandma!" Yvonne cried out, but Shane had already dragged her out of the room before she could hear the rest of her grandmother's words. Though protocol limited bl**d donations to 400 milliliters, Shane demanded double that amount from Yvonne. This left Yvonne ghost-white and trembling after the donation. Despite her weakness, she forced herself upright, using the wall for support as she stumbled back to Maggie's hospital room. The sight that greeted her sent her world spinning--the silent ventilator, Maggie's still form covered by a white cloth... Yvonne's legs betrayed her, sending her collapsing to the floor. Grief had stolen even her tears. She crawled forward on trembling limbs until she reached the bedside. "No... Grandma... Don't leave me..." She clutched Maggie's lifeless hand, drowning in waves of desolation. "My condolences, Yvonne." Shane's deep voice cut through her anguish with detachment. "Jayde is stable now. Thank you for your help... By the way, the prison requires your immediate return." Chapter 2 Let's Get A Divorce Yvonne's chest constricted with unbearable pain as she desperately grasped Shane's leg. "Shane, please," she said through trembling lips, "help me appeal to the prison authorities. My grandmother has passed away, and I need to handle her funeral arrangements. I can't go back now." Shane's features hardened into a disapproving frown. "Prison regulations aren't something you can simply circumvent with money. Your grief is understandable, but you need to think rationally before you speak." "Think rationally?" Yvonne gazed up at him, her voice quavering with emotion. "For eleven months, I've been imprisoned, and four times you've arranged my temporary release to donate bl**d for Jayde--all by using your financial influence. Why is this time different?" "The circumstances aren't comparable," Shane replied coldly. "How can you say that?" Raw anguish seeped through Yvonne's voice as she continued her plea. "I understand Jayde holds the highest place in your heart, but my grandmother just passed away. She raised me, yet I couldn't be there in her final moments. I must accompany her on this last journey--I can't bear the thought of her spirit departing alone. Shane, I am begging you; just do this one thing for me." "You still have an uncle, don't you? I'll help and ensure your grandmother receives an honorable funeral," Shane said. "That's not what this is about." Tears coursed down Yvonne's cheeks unchecked. "My grandmother is already gone. A lavish funeral means nothing now. I just want to bid her farewell in person. If you grant me this, I swear I'll donate bl**d for Jayde whenever necessary." Shane's gaze turned glacial as he looked down at her. "Are you treating bl**d donation as some kind of bargaining tool? This is your obligation to Jayde. If not for your actions, she wouldn't be confined to a wheelchair." Yvonne squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel Shane's words piercing her heart. Jayde's incident had happened a year ago. She had tumbled down the stairs, suffering spinal injuries that had left her paralyzed below the waist. She had accused Yvonne of pushing her down the stairs. The Brooks family unanimously condemned Yvonne. Without surveillance footage or witnesses to clear her name, Yvonne stood defenseless against the accusations. Shane, her husband, had delivered the ultimatum: "Yvonne, Jayde's suffering is immeasurable. Legal consequences are necessary considering what you have done to her. Such an assault typically carries three to ten years, but Jayde's compa*sion moves her to request only one." The irony of it all had left Yvonne feeling bitter. She had initially refused to go to prison, demanding police intervention. But Jayde had produced damning evidence--a video showing Yvonne pushing her down the stairs. The collective revulsion in the Brooks family members' eyes as they watched that video still haunted Yvonne. It was as if they felt even breathing the same air as her was repulsive. *** Shane's bodyguards eventually escorted Yvonne back to her prison cell. The combination of severe bl**d loss and overwhelming grief left Yvonne bedridden for two days, her body too weak to rise. On the third day, fate dealt another cruel blow. In the prison's recreation room, the television broadcasted Jayde's extravagant birthday celebration. The media were saying that the Brooks Group's CEO Shane had spared no expense in celebrating Jayde's birthday. The screen captured Jayde in her wheelchair, her natural beauty undimmed by her condition. Shane hovered attentively at her side, his expression radiating tenderness and devotion. Together, they looked really good together, like a match made in heaven. Fresh tears carved silent paths down Yvonne's cheeks as the reality struck her. While her grandmother Maggie was being laid to rest today, Shane--who had promised to assist with the funeral arrangements--was instead orchestrating an elaborate celebration for Jayde. In that moment of crushing clarity, Yvonne finally grasped the bitter truth: Shane's heart held no love for her. No sacrifice she made would ever be enough to change that. Yvonne had a secret, one she had guarded for a decade--her unwavering love for Shane. Shane had once only existed in a realm far beyond her reach, while she remained just another face in the crowd, their paths never meant to intersect. Fate had intervened three years ago through a devastating car accident that had left Shane comatose. The Brooks family had exhausted every medical resource, consulting countless renowned physicians without success. It was Shane's grandmother, Lydia Brooks, who turned to superstitious beliefs. She suggested that marriage might bring the fortune needed to restore Shane's health. Fate had taken another unexpected turn when Jayde, Shane's betrothed, had suddenly been kidnapped. With the wedding date looming, Lydia had desperately searched for another bride with a compatible horoscope. She had then discovered Yvonne, who had been working part-time as a caregiver for the Brooks family at that time. Marrying Shane came with a precious opportunity for Yvonne--Yvonne's ailing grandmother Maggie would receive treatment at the hospital under the Brooks Group. The hospital was one of the top hospitals in Zlamsas. Ordinary people couldn't afford to get treatment there. Yvonne had agreed to the marriage without hesitation, though her heart held a deeper truth. For seven years, she had harbored an unspoken love for Shane, willing to tend to him even if he would never emerge from his coma. A month after the marriage, Shane had miraculously awakened. His fury when he had learned of the marriage for fortune's sake had led to immediate demands for divorce. Yet, these demands had ceased abruptly when he had discovered Yvonne shared Jayde's bl**d type. From that moment forward, Yvonne had become nothing more than Jayde's living bl**d bank. Determined to make Shane happy, Yvonne had shouldered this burden silently. For two years, she had devoted herself to caring for Shane and his family, striving to embody the perfect wife--until Jayde's false accusation had led to her imprisonment. Ten years--she had loved Shane for ten years. She had given Shane her purest love and most selfless devotion, but what did she get in return? Shane only had eyes for Jayde, his heart perpetually closed to her. Perhaps she had been naive to hope Shane might one day even care about her a little bit. *** Rain poured from leaden skies the day of Yvonne's release from prison. No one had come to pick her up. After a lengthy journey on multiple buses, she arrived at Serenity Villa, Shane's residence, her clothes clinging to her because of the rain. The fingerprint lock granted her entry, and she found Shane descending the staircase when she entered, his appearance impeccable in stark contrast to her disheveled state. Surprise flickered across Shane's features when he saw her. "Why are you back?" he asked. Yvonne's fingers trembled as she replied, "I was released today." "Ah, I forgot." Shane paused briefly before her. "Get some rest. I'm heading out now." "Shane," Yvonne suddenly called out. "I need to talk to you about something." Shane glanced impatiently at his watch. "We can talk when I return." As Shane moved past Yvonne, Yvonne grasped his sleeve to stop him. "It won't take long." Shane halted reluctantly, irritation evident in his expression. "Make it quick." Yvonne studied his perfect profile, a slight smile on her face. "Shane, let's get a divorce," she said, her tone resolute. Shane's confusion was palpable as he turned to face her. "You want a divorce because I didn't pick you up from prison?" "This isn't about today." Yvonne's smile didn't waver. "I genuinely want a divorce. We can handle the paperwork when you're free." "Yvonne, I don't have time for your antics right now." Shane's expression darkened as he shook off her hand. "You should take a shower and clear your head. You are not thinking straight." After Shane's departure, Yvonne stood motionless, lost in thought. Shane thought she was not thinking straight. But that was not true. In fact, her mind had never been clearer. *** Upstairs, Yvonne drew a bath and powered on her fully charged phone. A month's worth of WhatsApp messages awaited her--none from Shane. As she absently scrolled through her feed, she suddenly froze upon seeing something. Jayde had just posted something. "True love is shown through enduring companionship." The accompanying photo showed her beaming at the camera while Shane peeled an apple beside her, the perfect picture of devotion. Chapter 3 I Want You Yvonne blinked. So that was why Shane had been in a rush to leave, not even wanting to talk about the divorce with her. He had been eager to go and spend time with Jayde. A familiar ache seized Yvonne's heart, spreading numbness through her chest. Throughout her two-year marriage with Shane, Yvonne had watched as Jayde paraded Shane's affections across social media. Each post had torn at her heart, yet something had kept drawing her back to look at the posts. Now, finally, she had resolved to end this cycle of torment. Her fingers moved swiftly as she deleted both Shane and Jayde from her WhatsApp contacts. After her shower, Yvonne just finished getting dressed when her phone rang. Shane's name blazed across the screen. Wasn't Shane supposed to be spending time with Jayde now? Why was he calling her? Yvonne hesitated for a moment but eventually picked up the call. "Shane?" "Did you delete Jayde on WhatsApp?" Shane asked. "Yes. What's wrong?" Yvonne replied. "You have the nerve to ask that?" Venom dripped from Shane's words. "Jayde wanted to congratulate you on your release but then discovered you had deleted her. She thought you still resented her. She broke down remembering when you had pushed her down the stairs. Yvonne, when will you stop causing trouble?" His sharp words pierced Yvonne's heart, but she maintained her composure. "Shane, deleting her was my freedom," she said. "You are still talking about your freedom?" Shane's voice grew colder. "She's a patient, Yvonne! She is already stuck in a wheelchair because of you. She is now emotionally fragile. The least you could do is show some compa*sion!" Yvonne's lips curled into a bitter smile as she closed her eyes, forcing her tears back. "If she's as fragile as you say, then it's all the more reason for me to keep my distance. God forbid something happens, and I get blamed again." "Yvonne, don't--" Yvonne didn't let Shane finish. The call ended with a sharp click, and she wasted no time blocking his number. After that, she made herself a simple plate of spaghetti and ate quietly, her thoughts heavy. Then, umbrella in hand, she headed to the cemetery. The rain fell in a quiet drizzle, soaking the earth. Yvonne stood before Maggie's tombstone for what felt like an eternity, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her chest. When she returned to Serenity Villa, it was already evening. Just as she entered, she saw Shane sitting on the living room sofa. Yvonne froze for a moment, caught off guard by his presence. Normally, when Shane was with Jayde, he wouldn't come home until late at night, after Jayde was asleep. Not wanting to delve into Shane's unusual behavior, Yvonne ignored him and headed upstairs. "Stop right there." Shane's voice cut through the quiet like a knife. Yvonne halted but didn't turn around. Shane rose from the sofa and walked to stand before Yvonne, his gaze locking onto hers. "You've grown bold, haven't you? Hanging up on me and even blocking my number?" Yvonne said nothing, her body tense as she tried to walk past him. But Shane grabbed her wrist, his grip firm. "I'm talking to you. What's the matter--did prison leave you deaf?" The words stung Yvonne hard, but she met his gaze, her voice trembling with restrained emotion. "Yes, Shane, I've been to prison. My life is already in ruins because of it. Isn't that punishment enough for you?" Shane's brows furrowed as his eyes searched her face. He noticed the puffiness around her eyes, the faint redness. "Have you been crying? Did you go to visit your grandmother's grave?" Yvonne tried hard to hold back her tears. "I wasn't there for her when she needed me the most. Do I need your permission to visit her now?" Shane's expression darkened when he heard that. "Yvonne, the reason I pushed for you to return to prison that day was because I didn't want you to dwell in your grief. It was for your own good." "For my own good?" Yvonne let out a hollow laugh, her bitterness spi*ling over. "Are you even listening to yourself? You can't even lie convincingly anymore, Shane." With a sharp tug, she pulled her wrist free. Her voice was steady now, cold and final. "I'm tired, Shane. Let's just end this. Let's get a divorce." *** Yvonne went to the master bedroom's walk-in closet, dragging out an old suitcase to pack her belongings. She wanted to leave behind everything the Brooks family had given her after the wedding, which left little to take. "Yvonne, stop with your antics!" Shane's exasperated voice cut through the silence. "It was just a year in prison. I made sure you weren't mistreated there. What more do you want?" Yvonne's hands stilled over her clothes as she turned her head to face him. "You certainly ensured I was treated differently. Every meal there was packed with spinach and liver to replenish my bl**d, keeping me ready for the next bl**d transfusion for Jayde." Shane's brow furrowed. "So this circles back to Jayde again. The transfusions saved her life. You work in medicine--you should have some compassion. And I've compensated you generously." "Compassion?" A hollow laugh escaped Yvonne's lips. "Show me one doctor who has bl*d themselves dry for a patient." She gestured toward the wall of luxury handbags--a collection worth hundreds of millions, coveted by countless women. "Is this your idea of compensation? One bag per transfusion. I always get the ones Jayde rejected." Each bag was Jayde's selection, and Shane paid for it. Jayde would claim the ones she preferred, leaving Yvonne with the ostentatious pieces--expensive but impractical for daily use. Yvonne had never requested bags, yet both Shane and Jayde believed exchanging bl**d for luxury bags was a good deal for her. "I won't take a single bag," Yvonne said with a slight smile. "I never agreed to sell my bl**d." Shane massaged his temples. Throughout their marriage, Yvonne had remained compliant--occasionally sulking but never defiant, never speaking to him like this. Shane gripped Yvonne's shoulders, his tone gentling. "I know you're upset after staying in prison for so long. Let's not fight, okay? I asked Zoey to prepare your favorite dishes. Let's go and have a meal together." Yvonne shrugged off his hands, grabbed her suitcase, and moved toward the door. The next second, in one fluid motion, Shane swept Yvonne into his arms. Before Yvonne could resist, she was placed on the soft b*d by Shane. He trapped her hands above her head, his scent surrounding her as he whispered in her ear, "Yvonne, stop being angry, alright? Tonight, I will m*ke l*ve to you until you're satisfied." Yvonne's heart thundered in her chest. Previously, when anger took hold of her, she would always melt under Shane's b*droom tactics, quick to forgive. Shane had found amusement in this pattern. His dominance had always overwhelmed her, pushing her limits until she broke into tears, begging for mercy and agreeing to his every demand. Yvonne shuddered, her body taut as she grasped at her crumbling resolve. Though she struggled against him, Shane seemed determined to draw her into the moment, refusing to release her. Shane muttered, "Yvonne, I want you..." Chapter 4 She Is Pregnant Yvonne fought against the magnetic pull of Shane's touch, forcing herself to bite down hard on her lower lip. The sharp sting anchored her thoughts,she couldn't afford to lose herself in this facade of intimacy anymore, not in a marriage devoid of genuine love. Just then, the shrill ring of a phone pierced the intimate moment. Shane showed no intention of stopping, but the persistent sound quickly disrupted his mood. His eyes darted to the screen, and he let go of Yvonne. The name "Jayde" illuminated the screen, and Yvonne also saw it. History had taught Yvonne the pattern well. Other calls during such moments would be silenced by Shane without hesitation, but Jayde's calls were the exception. Whenever Jayde called Shane, Shane would answer immediately. Shane's voice turned gentle as he answered the call. "I'm at home... She didn't mean anything against you; don't overthink it... Alright, I'll go to see you later..." Yvonne sat up, adjusting her clothes. Her hands trembled as she buttoned her shirt. Shane ended his call and turned to her with an amused smile playing on his lips. "Such haste to dress yourself--are you afraid of what I might do?" Yvonne didn't say anything. "If you want them to stay fastened, join me for dinner downstairs now." Recalling what had just happened, Yvonne acquiesced. Resistance, she had learned, was futile. *** In the dining room, the maid, Zoey Rowe, had already prepared a feast of culinary excellence. "Mrs. Brooks, you have lost so much weight. You need to eat more," Zoey said. Shane's gaze traveled across the table, studying the woman eating before him. Zoey's observation struck a chord--Yvonne's natural slenderness had indeed become more pronounced since her release from prison, her features carrying a new sharpness. Though her beauty remained unchanged, Shane couldn't help but feel like Yvonne had changed somehow. As Zoey transferred a portion of braised beef to Yvonne's plate, the rich aroma triggered an unexpected wave of nausea in Yvonne. She couldn't help but gag. "Mrs. Brooks!" Zoey rushed to pour a glass of water for Yvonne, concern etching her features. "Are you feeling unwell?" "I'm fine." Yvonne regained her composure and rose from her chair. "I'm full now." Shane's appetite vanished as he watched Yvonne leave. Abandoning his meal, he stood up and prepared to leave the house. "Mr. Brooks, you've barely touched your food," Zoey said. "I need to step out." Shane shrugged into his coat, pausing to instruct, "The food in prison is bland--Yvonne's body needs time to readjust. Prepare lighter meals for now." Zoey nodded and replied, "Yes, Mr. Brooks." *** Upstairs, Yvonne had just reached her room when she heard the sound of a car engine from outside. A bitter smile twisted her lips as she contemplated how quickly Shane had abandoned dinner to fulfill his promise to Jayde. It was clear Shane really loved Jayde. Standing beside the floor-to-ceiling window, Yvonne watched Shane's car disappear into the distance. As she closed her weary eyes, a startling realization jolted them open again--she realized she might be carrying a child. The timing left little room for doubt. That day a month ago, Shane had refused to use protection. Shane had always disliked using protection, so she always took medication afterward. She had planned to purchase preventive medication after visiting Maggie in the hospital that day, but grief had consumed her when Maggie passed away unexpectedly. The pi*ls had slipped from her mind entirely. Thoughts whirled through Yvonne's head like autumn leaves in a storm until clarity finally emerged. She hurried out to purchase a pregnancy test, her heart thundering against her ribs. The two clear lines that appeared finally confirmed her suspicions with stark finality. She just hadn't taken the pi*ls one time. She had not expected to get pr*gnant so easily like this. Yvonne's hand drifted to her lower abdomen, her emotions churning like a turbulent sea. The cruel irony of fate struck her like a physical blow--just as she had steeled herself to end her marriage with Shane, she discovered she was carrying his child. Sleep proved elusive that night, Yvonne's thoughts churning until exhaustion finally claimed her. When she woke up, the sky outside was bright. Shane had not come home the entire night, his side of the bed untouched. After Yvonne made her way down for breakfast, Zoey burst into the dining room, barely containing her excitement beneath a veneer of hesitation. "What has made you so excited?" Yvonne asked, studying Zoey's expression. "Did you win the lottery or something?" "Mrs. Brooks, it's you who has made me excited!" Zoey produced a pregnancy test, her eyes sparkling. "I found this while cleaning. You are pr*gnant! This is wonderful news! Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?" Yvonne's silence spoke volumes. "Mrs. Brooks?" Zoey's enthusiasm dimmed. "Aren't you happy about this?" Yvonne stirred her oatmeal slowly. "Zoey, I've already told Shane that I want a divorce." The revelation struck Zoey like lightning. "You want to divorce Mr. Brooks? How could you consider such a thing?" she said. "Why can't I do that?" Yvonne's voice remained steady, masking her inner turmoil. "Haven't you noticed how great Shane and Jayde look together? They are the real loving couple here. I disrupted their relationship, claiming a title that wasn't rightfully mine and forcing them apart." Her lips curved in self-mockery at her foolish dream that Shane might grow to love her one day. Tears welled in Zoey's eyes. "Mrs. Brooks, I know this past year in prison brought you immense suffering. But that chapter has ended. You and Mr. Brooks can build something new together now. Eventually, Mr. Brooks will recognize your worth. Now, with you being pr*gnant, everything could change. Your child deserves a complete family--you can't proceed with the divorce." Yvonne's movements stilled as memories of her own childhood surfaced. Orphaned young, she had been raised by her grandparents. Though her grandparents had given her all the love they could, she had always envied other children who had both their parents. She understood profoundly the importance of giving a child a complete family. "Having children often changes a man's priorities," Zoey said gently. "Fatherhood has a way of grounding men, redirecting their focus to family. For your child's sake, shouldn't Mr. Brooks have a chance to prove himself?" Yvonne nodded slightly. Perhaps Zoey was right--her child deserved a chance at a complete family. If Shane could maintain distance from Jayde, she would bury the past and make her marriage with Shane work. After breakfast, Yvonne took a taxi to the Brooks Group. Few employees knew of her marriage to Shane, so she called Shane's assistant, asking him to escort her to Shane's office. She found Shane engaged in a phone call in his office, his lack of surprise at her appearance suggesting he had grown accustomed to her anger dissipating overnight. The assistant provided Yvonne with a glass of water and then departed. Shane ended his call and looked at Yvonne. "Why didn't you sleep in?" "I've had sufficient sleep." Yvonne pointed at the thermos she had brought. "Zoey asked me to bring the soup to you." "I'll have it later," Shane replied. "Where were you last night, Shane?" Yvonne asked. Shane's response came without hesitation. "Jayde wasn't feeling well and was admitted to the hospital. I stayed with her there." Yvonne's fingers trembled when she heard that. After gathering her courage, she said, "If we had a child, would you spend more time at home?" Shane's brow furrowed. "You want a child now?" "Don't you want a child?" Yvonne asked. Shane lit a cigarette, taking a drag before responding in measured tones, "Yvonne, now is not the right time for us to have a child." Yvonne paused for a moment. "Why?" Shane replied, "Jayde's health has been declining. If you became pr*gnant, you wouldn't be able to donate your bl**d to her." Chapter 5 Leaving With Nothing A glacial chill crept through Yvonne's body, starting at her feet and spreading gradually until numbness claimed every inch of her being. She realized she had been too naive. She had clung to desperate hopes--that she could start a new family with Shane, that Shane might embrace fatherhood as Zoey had suggested, that their unborn child could bridge the growing chasm between Shane and her. But reality had shattered those illusions, revealing a harsh truth: even their child ranked beneath Jayde in Shane's eyes. Yvonne closed her eyes as tears traced silent paths down her cheeks. "I know you don't like Jayde." Shane's patronizing tone cut through the silence. "But her health is genuinely fragile now. Surely you can show some understanding of that." His eyes flickered over Yvonne's tear-stained features as he added, "We can discuss having children once Jayde's health condition improves. There's no need to rush." A bitter smile twisted Yvonne's lips. She knew that if she told Shane now that she was pr*gnant, he would probably drag her to the hospital immediately to terminate the pregnancy. This child represented one of her last remaining familial bonds, and she would never sacrifice it for Jayde's sake. "Of course, I understand that," Yvonne said, brushing away her tears and summoning a weak smile. "Don't let me keep you from your work. I won't bother you any further." She fled Shane's office before he could respond, retreating to Serenity Villa where she hastily packed her belongings, gave Zoey some instructions, and left. Though she had initially planned to seek refuge in a hotel, her uncle's timely call redirected her path to his doorstep. The clock struck ten when Shane returned to Serenity Villa, only to find the master bedroom empty. Yvonne was not there. His attempt to reach Yvonne by phone proved futile, prompting him to go downstairs and summon Zoey. "Where's Yvonne?" he asked Zoey. "Mrs. Brooks has moved out," Zoey replied. "What?" A deep frown etched across Shane's features. "When?" "This morning." Zoey hesitated, the weight of Yvonne's words pressing down on her. Yvonne had told her not to mention anything about her pregnancy to Shane. Otherwise, the baby would be harmed. After a moment, Zoey presented Shane with a document. "Mrs. Brooks left this divorce agreement for you." Shane's eyes swept over the pages, a cold laugh escaping his lips. "Leaving with nothing--she's really something!" "Mr. Brooks appears quite resolute about the decision to divorce," Zoey said. "That's not her choice to make!" Shane yanked at his tie in frustration. "Where has she gone?" "Mrs. Brooks didn't tell me that," Zoey replied. Shane stormed out, barking orders for the driver to ready the car. *** Fresh from her shower in the guest room, Yvonne was about to go to sleep when her phone's ringing pierced the silence. An unknown number flashed across the screen. Yvonne answered the call. "Hello?" "Come downstairs." Shane's familiar, cold voice echoed on the other end of the line. Yvonne's grip on the phone froze for a moment. "I am already in bed." "I will give you ten minutes, Yvonne. If you don't come down in ten minutes, I'll ensure this entire neighborhood gets no sleep tonight," Shane said. The call then disconnected, leaving Yvonne staring at her phone. After a moment's hesitation, she changed and descended the stairs. A black Rolls-Royce was parked outside, with Shane's imposing figure beside it. Maintaining a careful distance, Yvonne spoke with forced composure. "It's late. What do you want?" "You're asking me that? Did you interpret last night's conversation as some kind of joke? You had the audacity to draft divorce papers and vanish?" Shane said. "Get in the car. Come home. We'll forget this ever happened." "Home..." Yvonne let out a bitter laugh. "That place is not my home. If it is, why would my husband spend his nights elsewhere with another woman?" "Back to Jayde again. Can't you stop being so petty?" Shane said. "You think I am being petty? Should I smile while watching your displays of affection? Continue offering my bl**d? Perhaps serve another prison sentence?" Yvonne looked at Shane. "Shane, our marriage was business, but I'm a person--not Jayde's personal bl**d bank." Shane let out a cold chuckle. "You knew the marriage was transactional. You married me for your grandmother's treatment. Now that she's gone, you're eager to leave me. Burning bridges already?" Yvonne replied, "Fine. I'll repay every cent of my grandmother's hospital bills. I won't owe you anything after that." Fury blazed in Shane's eyes. "What did you say?" Yvonne met his rage with a calm expression. "Calculate the total. I'll provide an IOU and repay it in installments. You can decide on the interest." Just as she finished speaking, Shane quickly approached Yvonne. Yvonne barely had time to react before finding herself engulfed in his embrace. His hand gripped her waist as the world tilted, her back meeting the car's cold metal surface. "What are you--" Shane's lips silenced Yvonne's protest, claiming dominance in a breathtaking ki*s that left her gasping. "Unless you want me to have s*x with you right here, get in the car." ...... What happens next? Can Yvonne divorce as she wishes? 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/68536322-fb_contact-e | Heat Novel A | https://www.facebook.com/100089743291944/ | 610 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn more | 0 | fbweb.moboreader.net | VIDEO | https://fbweb.moboreader.net/68536322-fb_contact-enj106_2-250213-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=934080944896999&exdata=807BF4DD44FFB0C857B71CEC32E2495AB7809AE06E04A4CB | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/479184930_1162777035516874_7314472942814544266_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=5ZpQvsg2l2EQ7kNvgFU0coK&_nc_oc=AdjLAovYvsFJh-295IWo_NEeWcJIO8HrWW8XXS1pg8w8nKIfNhDND4Ly9_xs8-uWxwXPMWhCskyOhaOZ3T3nFF-u&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AtwDLx6ssEbD40x-lKBIest&oh=00_AYAGYT1qiR_pTSNQh6TrmFidJ3rbhbtzCvBL2F4I218sag&oe=67C30A57 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Heat Novel A | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Yes | 2025-02-25 17:24 | active | 2628 | 0 | Read next chapter👉 | He divorced her because of cheating. She left a message: "You will regret it." 4 years later, he saw her on TV and introduced her as a top 100 female CEO, but she shone and attracted everyone's attention. He was frustrated and begged to win her back! ===== In the bustling, weathered heart of Orkset, flames erupted violently within an ancient apartment building. Propelled by gusts of wind, the fire devoured the structure, belching dense smoke and bright, searing tongues of flame. "Saved! They've been saved." The words echoed amidst the chaos. Firefighters emerged from the smoldering inferno, carrying Carrie Campbell to safety at the roadside. Her features, usually refined and expressive, were now smeared with soot; her sparkling eyes dimmed to a vacant gaze, hollow and lost. As reality seeped back into her consciousness, Carrie felt a rush of gratitude overpower her usual composure. Her voice, hoarse and weak, conveyed a profound "thank you" to her rescuers. Shaking, she fumbled for her phone, her fingertips quivering as they found the familiar number. "Hello, the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later..." The automated message played after a few rings, leaving her with a lump in her throat, her unvoiced frustrations and sorrow welling up inside her. Bang! With a deafening roar, the explosion abruptly silenced the cold, mechanical voice echoing through the line. Carrie's head snapped upwards, shock painted on her face as she witnessed the apartment she had just exited erupt into flames. Chunks of debris were hurled into the air by the force of the blast, scattering across the sky. Panic engulfed the crowd as survivors, freshly rescued, screamed in terror. They huddled together, seeking solace in each other's arms, their cries piercing the tumultuous scene. In stark contrast, Carrie lay alone on a stretcher, her isolation magnified amidst the chaos. "Kristopher..." Fighting the dread creeping up her spine, Carrie pressed her lips together tightly and dialed her husband's number again, her resolve unwavering. Yet, the call disconnected after a few short rings, leaving her with a haunting silence. Just then, a Twitter notification flickered on her phone screen. The gossip feed was alive with the latest gossip: #LiseNash #MysteriouBoyfriend. According to the tweet, a producer from a well-known variety show had invited the renowned star Lise Nash to a dinner, which had quickly soured when she declined to partake in a toast. This act of defiance had sparked a confrontation, only to be interrupted by Lise's domineering boyfriend. He stormed into the private dining room, dismissing the producer with a dismissive wave and escorting Lise away. The tweet described the scene vividly, painting a picture of a powerful man defending his beloved partner. Yet, perhaps due to his prominence, only the back of the man was visible in the accompanying photos, preserving his anonymity. Meanwhile, Lise, donning an oversized suit jacket, beamed a smile, reaching out to clasp his hand as they departed together. Carrie's eyes were glued to the screen, her stare intense and unblinking as she absorbed the image before her. There he was--Kristopher Norris! The suit jacket draped carelessly over Lise was a dead giveaway. Every piece of clothing Kristopher owned had been meticulously tailored by a master craftsman abroad, a detail Carrie knew all too well. Her grip on her phone tightened, her knuckles blanching to a stark white, as if her very soul were being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain sharp and acid-like in its intensity. In her most desperate moment, Kristopher had coldly disconnected their call, choosing instead to be at Lise's side. What was the worth of their two-year marriage? The tears she had been holding back now overwhelmed her, streaming down her face. Even as she tilted her head back in a futile attempt to stem the flow, the tears continued to escape. Lise had always been Kristopher's first love, a fact whispered and gossiped about among their circles. The Norris family had never approved of Lise, seeing her ordinary background as unfitting. Forced apart by family pressures, it had been Lise who ended things, but the past, it seemed, was not easily left behind. Kristopher had diligently pursued the leadership of the Norris family, harboring dreams of finally being with Lise. Yet, when he reached his goal, he discovered that Lise had already chosen another. In defiance of his family's expectations and perhaps out of bitterness, Kristopher turned to Carrie, a woman equally devoid of wealth or status, to become Mrs. Norris, thereby blocking any matchmaking attempts by his relatives. At that time, Carrie faced immense pressure from her father, Tristan Campbell, who was pushing her towards a marriage with a playboy, the son of a business associate, to cover her grandmother's steep medical expenses. Both Kristopher and Carrie, driven by their personal motives, consented to a marriage of convenience. Originally set for just one year, their contractual marriage stretched beyond its term, sustained by a shared understanding between them. Over time, Carrie began to believe in the authenticity of their union, never suspecting that it was merely an extension of her hopes. Just moments ago, a fire had nearly claimed Carrie's life. In that critical moment, she reached out to Kristopher, only to be twice rebuffed as he spent his time with Lise. This harsh reality shattered Carrie's illusions, revealing that her perceived transition from pretense to genuine relationship was nothing but a facade maintained by her own desires. Carrie wasn't even a temporary substitute in Kristopher's life but merely a pawn used to spite his family. After a poignant pause, tears welled up in Carrie's eyes, unstoppable and poignant. It might be time for her to release herself from the shackles of her own hopeful delusions--to stop deceiving herself. Chapter 2 Trending Topics The overwhelming number of injuries from the fire was staggering, straining the already frantic doctors and nurses as they tried to provide aid. Carrie had been merely grazed by a splintered clothes rack, which left a deep, jagged wound on her calf. In comparison to the chaos around her, her wounds seemed almost negligible. She managed to get basic care--a brisk cleaning and a quick wrap of bandages--at a local hospital before catching a cab back to her house. Bayview Villa, a grand property under Kristopher's name, was technically their matrimonial residence. Living alone had become the norm for Carrie, as Kristopher was hardly ever around. She had bid farewell to the housekeeper, discovering that her life could be quite adequately maintained with just takeout, deliveries, and the occasional visit from a part-time cleaner. Now, she found herself the sole occupant of the sprawling living room, sinking into the sofa, her gaze drifting across the empty space. The stark, monochrome decor did nothing to imbue warmth into the atmosphere. A chilling realization crept up on her: this vast, elegant space felt more like a colossal tomb, a silent grave for her lost years of youth and a love that had quietly slipped away. In this cold, echoing house, would anyone even notice if her breath ceased one day? Carrie exhaled a weary sigh, her frame heavy as she leaned against the cold wall for support, struggling up the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor. Each step was a battle, sending stabbing pains shooting through her from the surface of her skin down to her aching bones. The house, stark and hollow, echoed even the smallest sounds, magnifying her sense of isolation. It was today, amidst this profound silence, that Carrie truly grasped the all-encompassing nature of her loneliness--it was almost tangible, enveloping her senses with its texture and mournful whispers, tightening around her heart like a vice, producing a dull, relentless ache. Upon reaching the sanctuary of her bedroom, she collapsed onto the bed, the very embodiment of exhaustion, feeling it both physically and spiritually. Just as she surrendered to this weariness, the sharp ring of the phone pierced the silence. "You reached out to me earlier. What do you need?" Kristopher's voice cut through the line, cold and distant as ever. Carrie was caught off guard by his unexpected call. Words failed her as she parted her lips to respond, but before she could collect her thoughts, a soft, feminine voice floated through from the other end. "Kristopher, will you join me to..." A surge of emotions tightened Carrie's grip on the phone, her heart thumping louder with each second. Overwhelmed and unable to contain her rising panic, she demanded, "Who's there with you?" Kristopher gave no answer, merely stating in a flat, disinterested voice, "If there's something you need, let's catch up when I'm back. I have pressing engagements right now, so I must disconnect." He promptly ended the call, cutting off any chance for Carrie to reply. As the harsh beep of the disconnected line filled her ears, Carrie's lips twisted into a rueful grin. How utterly foolish she felt! Deep down, she knew his response all too well, yet she had clung to the hope of hearing his voice confirm it. With a sense of self-inflicted irony, Carrie activated her tablet and scrolled through the day's hot topics. One headline caught her eye: "A female star shielded from harassment at a dinner by her formidable partner." A wry smile twisted her lips. Carrie knew all too well what it was like to face harassment at those kinds of dinners. She vividly remembered her first major audition after her entering the showbiz; her agent had escorted her to a dinner with the influential director and producer of the drama series "Serene Sighs." As a novice in the dizzying world of showbiz, Carrie had felt incredibly vulnerable, uncertain of how to navigate the murky waters of such gatherings. The producer had eyed her shamelessly, sneering as he asked, "Is this the new talent you're introducing? She appears presentable, but I'm curious to see how she fares with a drink. Here's the deal, if you can gulp down this bottle in one go, I'll secure you an audition for the lead role." Carrie was inclined to decline, but under the relentless pressure from her agent, she found herself compelled to consume the entire bottle. As the evening wore on, she was hurriedly taken to the hospital suffering from a severe stomach ailment. Her agent, fretful about the prospect of the role slipping away to another, quickly settled the hospital charges and departed. At that time, Carrie found herself isolated in a hospital bed for several long days. Yet, even before Carrie could be released from the hospital, the media was abuzz with the announcement that Lise had secured the lead role in "Serene Sighs." Subsequently, her agent rebuked Carrie for her lack of ambition, complaining, "You are more appealing than Lise, so why can't you show more drive? She cozied up to Mr. Norris and hardly had to make an effort. She's surrounded by people eager to cater to her every need. I've heard that Mr. Norris personally orchestrated her landing the lead role in this production!" When the show premiered, Lise was catapulted into stardom, swiftly ascending to the elite echelons of the acting world. From that moment forward, Carrie let her acting aspirations wane and chose instead to devote herself entirely to supporting her husband, Kristopher. After all, no matter her efforts, she could never get the same career opportunities that Lise seemed to receive effortlessly with Kristopher's offhand remarks. At that time, Carrie had believed she was filling the role that was meant to be Lise's as Mrs. Norris, which meant she owed Lise. By giving up the career opportunities to Lise, Carrie thought they would settle their unspoken debt. However, Carrie hadn't foreseen that Lise would claim both the coveted career and Kristopher's affections. As Lise's professional and love life blossomed, Carrie came to the painful realization that she had been overly consumed with her romantic pursuits, at the expense of her career, and now, she found herself bereft of both love and professional fulfillment. With tears streaming down her face, Carrie viewed her past two years as tragically misguided. Given another opportunity, she resolved she wouldn't be so unguarded, letting her heart recklessly fall captive to Kristopher's charm. "Ms. Spencer, the new copyright contract is prepared. Please review it for any discrepancies." Her phone buzzed with the alert, snapping Carrie out of her reverie. She gazed at the PDF file attached in the message, her mind briefly overwhelmed. Under the pseudonym Katrina Spencer, Carrie had once made a name for herself as a budding screenwriter, selling numerous scripts in her early days. During her early career as Katrina, Carrie often sold her work for a pittance, compelled by her urgent need for immediate cash. Over the years, these scripts transformed into blockbuster films and hit series, catapulting Katrina's reputation to new heights. By this time, Carrie had married Kristopher and was no longer plagued by the financial woes that had once driven her to desperation--her grandmother's hefty medical bills were a thing of the past. With her financial crises resolved, Carrie's life had pivoted to domestic responsibilities, striving to be an exemplary wife to Kristopher. Amidst these changes, her pseudonym, Katrina Spencer, gradually receded into the background. However, her past as Katrina wasn't ready to be shelved just yet. Recently, an interested buyer had come forward, ready to pay a handsome sum for one of her old scripts. Carrie, however, was hesitant to sell. She raised several concerns about the contract presented to her, and to her astonishment, the buyer was genuine enough to revise it accordingly. Holding the revised contract in her hands, Carrie inhaled deeply, her resolve hardening. She seemed to have reached a crucial decision. Her fingers danced over her phone's keyboard with swift precision, typing out a firm command. "Create a divorce agreement following my terms and ensure it reaches Kristopher Norris at the Norris Group." Without pausing for a response, she placed her phone aside and limped toward the bathroom, each step echoing a blend of determination and newfound independence. Chapter 3 Exchange Of Conveniences Thirty minutes had passed, Carrie finally heaved herself up from the bathtub, her limbs feeling heavy and uncooperative. As she lifted her gaze, her own image in the mirror halted her movements--her skin appeared as smooth and impeccable as fine porcelain, glowing with an unblemished radiance. Her eyes, deep pools of allure, sparkled with an enchanting, soft warmth, inviting anyone who dared meet her gaze. Despite edging into her late twenties at twenty-five, she reveled in the fact that time had yet to etch its marks upon her flawless complexion. Surely, a woman with such a visage had no place for self-pity. Absorbed in her contemplation, Carrie carelessly extended her right leg onto the cold floor, forgetting it was the very limb she had injured. Wrapped excessively in cling film to shield it from moisture, the tight encasement had stifled her circulation, rendering her leg eerily numb. As her foot touched down, it betrayed her, slipping forward unexpectedly. "Ah!" Carrie gasped, her arms flailing in a frantic ballet, searching for a lifeline in the void. Just as she teetered on the brink of a painful rendezvous with the floor, the bathroom door burst open. Kristopher stood at the entrance, his suit immaculately tailored, creating a striking figure. As their eyes locked, he paused, visibly taken aback, then quickly closed the distance with brisk strides. Carrie's breath caught as Kristopher swept her up in a graceful bridal style, an unexpected tightness wrapping around her waist. Caught off guard by his sudden appearance, Carrie realized with a jolt that she was completely bare. A flush of embarrassment washed over her as she instinctively clutched her hands over her chest. This was their first moment of such intimacy since their wedding, and the discomfort made her toes curl inward, her skin blushing a delicate shade of pink. Kristopher looked down at her with a mischievous grin. "Let's be honest, there's not much to see," he teased gently. Feeling both mortified and slightly irritated, Carrie snapped back, "Oh, Mr. Norris, after all you've seen, I suppose nothing can impress you anymore." She carried her C-cup curves with understated charm, a touch of sensuality that outshone Lise's painfully flat, almost awkwardly rigid build. Yet Carrie knew well that without love, even the most perfect physique paled in comparison to the charm of one dearly cherished. Nonchalantly, Kristopher reached for a bathrobe hanging behind the door and draped it over her. His frown deepened at her comment. "What are you talking about, Carrie?" A thought seemed to strike him, and his expression grew even more impatient. "Tell me, did you send those divorce papers in the dead of night just to lure me back here--to catch you completely bare?" His tone was a mix of disbelief and annoyance. "I told you I was swamped with work. Was this dramatic display really necessary?" Carrie's temper flared at his accusatory tone, reigniting the tension between them. He was always so quick to lose patience with her. She wasn't the type to throw around words like divorce or breakups lightly. In fact, this was the first time she'd ever mentioned divorce in their two-year marriage, yet he seemed indifferent to her turmoil. He simply dismissed her concerns as if she were overreacting about trivial matters. Despite the throbbing pain in her leg, Carrie mustered her strength and said, "Put me down." Kristopher, however, paid no heed, his eyes scanning her leg swathed in bandages. His brow furrowed slightly. "What happened to your leg? Is this some elaborate ploy to lure me back?" At his words, a bitter laugh escaped Carrie. It seemed he viewed her as merely seeking attention, and in failing to capture it, she had likely concocted a story to draw him back, allowing her to dramatize her plight in his presence. With a blank face, she replied untruthfully, "It's a beauty treatment that shouldn't get wet." "Why did you suddenly decide to undergo such a treatment?" Kristopher inquired, his tone casual as he carried her outside, not pressing the issue further. His frame was large, and through his thin shirt, she could distinctly feel the warmth of his body and the defined shape of his chest muscles. The closeness created an uncomfortable tension for Carrie, who had resolved to end things once and for all. Her voice climbed involuntarily, sharper this time. "Oh, since when have you been concerned with such minor things, Mr. Norris?" For the first time, Kristopher witnessed her using biting sarcasm; it struck him as peculiarly amusing. With a calm demeanor, he responded, "You're my wife, it's only natural I'd be concerned about your well-being." "Really?" There was a somber note in Carrie's voice now. "It seems like you've never really regarded me as your wife. I'm scared that if I were to die, you wouldn't even know until much later." After all, at that very moment, Kristopher had been distracted, lost in moments with his first love, too consumed to lend an ear to her desperate pleas. Caught off guard by her accusation, Kristopher's eyes widened with surprise before he let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Carrie, what's brought on this sudden outburst of anger? Just because I was tied up this afternoon and missed your call? Perhaps I've been too indulgent with you lately, and it's made you a bit too presumptuous?" Carrie froze, startled. Was he accusing her of being too presumptuous? She realized their marriage had always been lopsided. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a transactional partner, a woman who had bartered her freedom for financial security. Their union was meant to be a mere exchange of conveniences, yet she had, quite foolishly, fallen deeply in love with him. In the tricky terrain of romance, the one who fell first invariably found themselves at a distinct disadvantage. Kristopher's dismissive reaction left Carrie reeling, her emotions dismissed as trifles, a tight knot of suffocation rising in her chest. "I said to put me down this instant!" Carrie exclaimed, jerking her head to the side, her voice laced with a sharp edge of impatience. Kristopher remained mute, effortlessly carrying her towards the bed before suddenly releasing his hold. Carrie felt a jolt as the support vanished, her heart skipping a beat as she instinctively grasped for him. Their bodies collided on the bed, her bathrobe teetering on the brink of decency, threatening to unravel with any minor shift. Propped on one elbow, Kristopher gazed down at her, his lips curled into a sly, teasing grin. "You wanted to be let go, didn't you? So why cling to me now?" His eyes, deep and sparkling like a midnight lake speckled with stars, captivated her. In those celestial depths, Carrie caught a glimpse of her own reflection. At times like this, she was misled into believing he harbored a deep affection. Sadly, his heart was a fortress reserved for Lise, and all Carrie had left were empty fantasies. "Boring!" she exclaimed, her voice devoid of any enthusiasm as she attempted to rise, her hand inadvertently brushing against something unexpected. The following moment brought a noticeable shift in his cock pressing against her stomach. "Don't move, or I can't promise what might happen next," he warned in a deep, gravelly voice. With a frown, Carrie internally cursed upon hearing the statement. It was an undeniable fact. Primal instincts steered the actions of men. Absence of affection didn't quell their basic desires. Yet, she dared not agitate Kristopher. Angling her face away, her body remained rigid, frozen in place. Carrie, feeling irked, shot back. "Didn't you say there's nothing here to see? What's with the reaction now, Mr. Norris? Are you really that easy to impress?" No sooner had her words flown than she grasped the potential repercussions of her sharp tongue. A wave of regret surged through Carrie, but instead of anger, Kristopher responded with a chuckle, "You are my wife, after all. Since that's something I can't alter, I might as well embrace it. Besides, it's been years since we became husband and wife--it would be a shame to neglect you completely." Chapter 4 Are You Out Of Your Mind? Kristopher slipped his hand beneath the folds of her bathrobe, his touch tracing the curve of Carrie's skin, as smooth and delicate as silk. He encircled her slender waist, drawing her closer with a gentle yet firm grip. Her face, a captivating canvas of defiance and visible irritation, ignited in him an uncontrollable urge to claim victory over her resistance. His breathing grew heavy, yet he remained composed, slowly removing his tailored suit. The fabric of his suit brushed lightly against Carrie's cheek, releasing a mix of scents: a familiar woody aroma intertwined with an unexpected zesty twist of lemon. It was unmistakably Jo Malone's Blue Agava and Cacao--Lise's signature scent. A surge of nausea overwhelmed Carrie at the realization. As Kristopher's eyes, now shaded with a stormy intensity, drew nearer to hers, the proximity conjured unwelcome visions of him with Lise. Her stomach churned violently, and with a sudden movement, she pushed him away, propping herself up with a jolt and a dry retch. "Ugh..." Her stomach had been empty all day, leaving her with nothing to bring up. The desire in Kristopher's gaze flickered out, replaced by a cold, detached expression as he withdrew slightly. Observing the genuine distress and the reddening of Carrie's eyes, Kristopher perceived her reaction for outright disgust at their closeness. He paused, fingers adjusting his shirt cuffs, his voice cold as he confronted her. "Carrie, is this reaction reserved only for me, or is it how you respond to all men?" The air in the room turned frosty, thick with tension. Carrie swallowed the sharp sting in her throat, her eyes widening in shock as she stared up at him. Ever since their marriage, she had cut ties with nearly all her male friends, yet here was Kristopher, casually tossing out comments sharp enough to cut glass. The years of love she had poured into their relationship now seemed utterly futile. Heat crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks a bright scarlet as indignation took hold. Without thinking, her hand flew up and delivered a stinging slap across Kristopher's face. All her suppressed grievances from the day ignited in that swift motion. Her bathrobe, loosened in the heat of the moment, slipped from her shoulders. Ignoring the flush of exposure, she swiftly gathered the fabric and draped it around herself, her movements quick and firm. The impact of her slap had left a light, crimson mark on Kristopher's cheek, marking him with her outrage. His eyes, wide with disbelief, met hers. "Carrie, are you out of your mind?" Out of her mind? Yes, she was clearly insane to ever fall for him in the first place. Carrie fumed silently, her heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly, the sharp buzz of the phone on the table cut through the mounting tension, its vibration bringing a brief respite from their standoff. Kristopher cast a fleeting glance at the message, shut off the phone with a snap, and strode towards the door, his back rigid with tension. Her voice, firm and unwavering, chased after him. "We're getting a divorce! Make sure you sign those papers before you walk out that door!" Kristopher paused briefly and said sharply, "I have something to do now. When I return, do whatever pleases you." With that, he forcefully shut the door. Carrie's eyes followed his unwavering exit, feeling an oppressive weight compressing her chest once again. She disregarded the sharp sting in her leg and hobbled determinedly toward her tablet. Fingers trembling, she hastily navigated to Lise's Twitter page. Lise had just uploaded a new tweet. The photo showed her lying down with a fever patch adhered to her forehead, still enveloped in Kristopher's familiar jacket. The caption read, "Being sick makes me extra clingy. Wishing I had someone here. Stay cozy and take care, everyone!" The simultaneous timing of these two events made it almost impossible for Carrie not to suspect that Kristopher had dashed off to tend to Lise. Carrie's instincts loudly proclaimed that this was no accident; Lise had deliberately sought to tug at Kristopher's heartstrings. It appeared her tactics were effective. Not even Carrie's stark threat of divorce could overshadow Lise's theatrical display of vulnerability. Seething with fury, Carrie quaked like a leaf swept into a storm. She steeled herself against the heartache, forcefully ripping the plastic wrap from her aching leg. After her lengthy soak, the bath's lingering moisture had infiltrated her skin, inflaming the wound until it was a vivid, angry red and painfully swollen. She, too, could be clingy. Even in the harshest times back in the county, she had shown vulnerability, breaking down into soft sobs within the comforting arms of her grandmother, especially that one time she got burned by the scalding kettle. But such vulnerability had its time and place, and it wasn't now. The stark reality of Kristopher's exit forced Carrie to confront her need for self-reliance. Biting down hard on her lip, Carrie cleaned the throbbing wound with a practiced hand before securely wrapping it anew. She rose with a newfound resolve and yanked a black suitcase from the far end of her expansive walk-in closet--it held all the belongings she'd brought into this house as a hopeful bride. She grabbed a fresh set of clothes to slip into and left a bank card neatly on the bedside table. She had transferred every penny she'd earned over the past year onto that card, effectively settling her financial entanglements with Kristopher over the last two years and cutting him out of her life for good. Dragging the heavy suitcase behind her, she limped painfully out of the opulent villa. As she passed through the gate, she wrapped her baseball jacket more tightly around her slight figure, her silhouette hauntingly solitary in the enveloping darkness. The night air of early spring was bitingly cold, devoid of any trace of warmth, a chill that seemed almost faint compared to the ice forming in Carrie's shattered heart. She had arrived here with nothing but a suitcase and a heart full of dreams, and now she was leaving, dreams crumbled, utterly alone. A bitter laugh slipped through her lips. If only she hadn't fallen so hard for him, if only she'd proposed an amicable separation at the end of their agreed year, maybe she wouldn't be wandering now, a lost soul in the shadow of her former self. Lise didn't have to lift a finger, and Carrie had already fallen, utterly broken and beyond redemption. Chapter 5 A Gathering Meanwhile, in the Oasis Club, renowned as the priciest spot in Orkset, the air within the VIP room crackled with excitement. Under the spell of bright lights and thumping music, a diverse group of men and women lounged together, basking in the exclusivity of the setting. Suddenly, the door burst open, revealing Kristopher in the doorway. The karaoke session halted abruptly as the crowd turned to greet him in unison, voices mingling. "Kristopher..." Before they could utter another word, a woman cloaked from head to toe stepped out from behind him. Lise, with a fluid motion, removed her mask and slid her arm through Kristopher's. She addressed the room with a poised charm. "My assistant took a sudden leave, and I found myself without company. Not keen on spending the evening alone, I invited Kristopher to join me. I trust that's alright?" Lise's beauty was without question. Her face was a delicate composition of cherry lips and a sculpted nose, framed by eyes that shimmered with a vulnerable allure, commanding a protective fervor from those around her--her presence, ethereal. In contrast, Carrie's features were more pronounced, her beauty vivid and striking. Lise, by comparison, carried a softer, more understated elegance. Yet, as it often goes, matters of the heart followed no simple paths. While Kristopher and Carrie were married, it was in name only; Kristopher seemed detached and seldom included her in private social events. The group didn't have much of a relationship with Carrie, leading them to feel no obligation to defend her. Upon hearing Lise's comment, a moment of discomfort rippled through the air. Nonetheless, they quickly recovered, offering a congenial smile as they said, "We're all friends here; let's not bother with formalities." Lise offered a subtle, knowing smile, as she gracefully accompanied Kristopher into the bustling room. The event that evening had been meticulously planned to express appreciation for Kristopher's contributions. As they stepped into the room, the crowd parted like the sea, making way for them to proceed to the seats of honor. The group's leader handed Kristopher a glass of wine with a flourish, proclaiming with a broad grin, "We truly owe you a debt of gratitude, Mr. Norris! Your exceptional talents are the talk of the town, and witnessing them firsthand today only confirms it. Without your expertise, securing this contract would have been a fantasy!" Their gathering marked the launch of a novel shopping platform, one that had been in negotiation with numerous local brands in Orkset. But the scenario changed dramatically when the tech giant JoyBuy dramatically entered the scene, stirring up the competitive landscape. Competing with JoyBuy was akin to the classic David versus Goliath tale--hopelessly daunting. In a surge of desperation, they turned to Kristopher, reaching out through a network of connections for his renowned strategic prowess. With his characteristic swiftness, Kristopher hatched an ingenious plan and swiftly secured the deal, snatching it from the clutches of JoyBuy right before the business association could ink their agreement--a masterful coup that reverberated success. This remarkable turnaround only intensified the already deep respect everyone held for Kristopher. Albin Murray, beaming with pride, couldn't help but boast, "Ah, just look at the caliber of his friends! They thought they could steal deals right under our noses, obviously underestimating Kristopher's clout!" Albin, born into the wealthy Murray family, counted himself among Kristopher's closest friends. He was renowned for his sprawling social web--a network through which the desperate plea for help was channeled to Kristopher. Meanwhile, Kristopher himself, the focus of all their discussions, reclined nonchalantly on the couch, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights. He was well-versed in the art of receiving compliments; thus, his expression stayed calm and detached. The ambient light sculpted his angular features, casting dramatic shadows that emphasized his high nose bridge and sharply cut jawline, as though he were a living masterpiece. His natural grace and detachment eclipsed any terrestrial magnificence. Following a sequence of celebratory toasts, when it became apparent that Kristopher merely touched his glass without truly drinking, the rest of the company toned down their conversation, allowing him a moment of repose with his eyes gently shut. Lise, slightly feverish, opted not to indulge in the spirits, choosing instead to sit in serene silence next to Kristopher, her eyes lingering on him with a look of deep, unmistakable adoration. Albin, captivated by the seemingly perfect pair, pondered the whims of destiny. He discreetly captured their image with his smartphone and nonchalantly shared it across his social networks. As the evening progressed and the liquor dwindled, the room's door swung open anew. Kristopher's personal assistant, Oliver Brooks, made his entrance, acknowledging the gathering with a courteous nod that bordered on respect but avoided groveling, swiftly positioning himself in front of Kristopher. Silence hung in the air, yet Lise, unable to contain her curiosity, leaned in and whispered, "What's going on?" Oliver, maintaining his focus on Kristopher, chose not to respond directly to her. A flush of embarrassment tinted Lise's cheeks as she turned towards Kristopher, hesitatingly inquiring, "Should I leave?" Kristopher adjusted his posture, his voice low and calm as he instructed, "Go ahead, speak." A shiver of apprehension coursed through Oliver as he tentatively began, "Mr. Norris, Mrs. Norris has departed from Bayview Villa, and..." &10& | LEARN_MORE | https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-e | Lime novel-E | https://www.facebook.com/100090637249756/ | 341 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn more | 0 | fbweb.moboreader.net | VIDEO | https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-enp26_6-1226-core3.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=124213&accid=2030515880733998&exdata=CC231578CFC4BA35ACC63F0512C63FF9A56FF165E9E10451 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480563494_620299077385266_146001531613693991_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=P1xRKtN8UVAQ7kNvgGObT8W&_nc_oc=AdiMCBd_tXbrDMXGOK1jbH8-1ZiePkCiONCyvqlA6rO-P_h4CfnNf8oHUwEyW2J0RN0&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=A_1g3hfMoL4FTgIuXsMBHl7&oh=00_AYA8Qrgb5rHclbAG_JqbEOgzNuG4H_7N-Eha_INVA8KC4Q&oe=67C435E7 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Lime novel-E | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Yes | 2025-02-25 16:51 | active | 2627 | 0 | Carry your bow hands-free! | 🎯 Archers, get ready for a hands-free experience! Bow Spider is coming to Colorado @ TAC this weekend. Go hands-free with our innovative device and take your archery game to the next level! Find us online or at one of our nationwide retailers near you: www.bowspider.com | LEARN_MORE | http://www.bowspider.com/ | BowSpider | https://www.facebook.com/bowspider/ | 10,768 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn More | 0 | bowspider.com | DCO | Durable. Lightweight. Versatile. Made in USA. Lifetime Warranty. | http://www.bowspider.com/ | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-lga3-3.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/464955505_578195384725123_7334580438216482946_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=BeQD--4aOg8Q7kNvgGbffQ7&_nc_oc=AdhXXMZdM3edPca79KC8nZFnDAwQ4lINO3cMtaEeE6IDunx74Qr_YkAYWaj4F6G7GRDdDbVSjvBOwCHLFzFkQeX5&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-3.xx&_nc_gid=AMbnMpBiBejDgG_rdxSaMrO&oh=00_AYBJI6SEMzc7OhKO5eMNdU5rSOe_LZYq_GWg1IM84AjKJw&oe=67C402EC | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | BowSpider | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Giveaway time!! $100 Amazon Gift card!!! 💲💲💲 Go to our Instagram page and enter to win!!! | MESSAGE_PAGE | Split Happens Don't Break Up Without Us | https://www.facebook.com/61572204612660/ | 18 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Send message | 0 | IMAGE | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480754404_1865585867584208_1872255748961075889_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=MPoYYZYpS3cQ7kNvgG0mqMX&_nc_oc=AdiCfKZoHUVKsnb3_cJfMtyd7IHFGOPB0JouzI_6-XK1YCg-wmrP0Dh1Va6ZNgFNI539TFQSRQEmEtjvJc_egWCM&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=A3tIsQJweFrhhMBjYKtMnUl&oh=00_AYBbsp8RpyGcR13t7fcBl0X-EZfr8mvBHg67hNSp9Q91SQ&oe=67C2CE04 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Split Happens Don't Break Up Without Us | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE | http://instagram.com/junijewellery | Juni Jewellery | https://www.facebook.com/junijewellery/ | 299 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Visit Instagram Profile | 0 | instagram.com | CAROUSEL | http://instagram.com/junijewellery | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480689783_1983932588794835_6197650070751309594_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=rXuVuEU-Bd4Q7kNvgGHDGcA&_nc_oc=AdiIj9cKoPnHBbfV1kZO5rxmpFPlJ6ciZFbdn0QpyBNUAm-RLiQEAMfqg344Hq5nLR3HiseTZqpe4M2I1zPKoquP&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A-3ZJuAoJcLeqO2FXZyHXuA&oh=00_AYAZQyWkFmcgm_XAha3HfbOJeJhHCjduYP5L1H_uQ2kWZg&oe=67C2DF1D | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Juni Jewellery | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Yes | 2025-02-25 16:51 | active | 2627 | 0 | Survival isn't just luck—it's strategy. | INSTALL_MOBILE_APP | http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.r | Dark War Survival Mobile | https://www.facebook.com/61566393095967/ | 469 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Install now | 0 | play.google.com | VIDEO | http://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.readygo.dark.gp | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-lga3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/473704901_28038623115785091_6104319760814821832_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=C8kmB16XrF4Q7kNvgF-GtXN&_nc_oc=AdiZ0xa3Fzxt4DztRKU2dlN_8J0WP39cuQsffYMQPuhDrZ40VGvRS2JMm_GGAbDLSp6zzgVV0loYWiQG8DqDS2Jm&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AyFsmEESOM3waZjudoJdxry&oh=00_AYAyGA0UnOHrjriCLewavPYVlUqun6UOT2LFzt1xK082FA&oe=67C42100 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Dark War Survival Mobile | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE | http://instagram.com/upland.photography | upland.photography | https://www.instagram.com/_u/upland.photography | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Visit Instagram Profile | 0 | instagram.com | CAROUSEL | http://instagram.com/upland.photography | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-19/436346223_476639138053560_4870557707037549620_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s206x206_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=525117&_nc_ohc=AvC-nlkNZLMQ7kNvgGNddcy&_nc_oc=AdggG1neX92mBuAFBDlyCIO-neD0hjqfe40fpxhsSCbirzmtJDCA4MCJ_6W2hP8Ck-iU5tkhtYJFh2Hv1cjKcFaq&_nc_zt=24&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com&oh=00_AYBEhrClDU8vD5xUNa3Zuog1qaCZINM2Su_VYbcp1AUnTQ&oe=67C2DFB2 | IG_ADS_IDENTITY | 1 | 0 | 0 | upland.photography | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE | http://instagram.com/lisalitlounge | lisalitlounge | https://www.instagram.com/_u/lisalitlounge | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Visit Instagram Profile | 0 | instagram.com | CAROUSEL | http://instagram.com/lisalitlounge | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-19/468391741_1113824517409930_6387780007706694659_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s206x206_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=525117&_nc_ohc=-cI70lIdi4QQ7kNvgGZyQlk&_nc_oc=AdgWhcm7tN7OXoirToAuppa6Dk1w_KB2xk8fhnfXTrMJoZNnU7UNGUrrP61bO9T59wU&_nc_zt=24&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com&oh=00_AYBXajlHraLtKlA4DAa1VOjDCHFSRA8nA3QdOu_X99IFJw&oe=67C42419 | IG_ADS_IDENTITY | 1 | 0 | 0 | lisalitlounge | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE | http://instagram.com/basilsaltar | Basils Altar | https://www.facebook.com/61553366915321/ | 274 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Visit Instagram Profile | 0 | instagram.com | CAROUSEL | http://instagram.com/basilsaltar | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480575971_1151577603376507_6725906173087464724_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=sj3qeq7iwr8Q7kNvgEd90l8&_nc_oc=Adhq-4K6hYCjC3D20ZiQ4qhTUWTOVz4wbl7G9VT8vlhesVjpiLb215BUmSNiWWCEPPisbcM-1QlYOiyKWn-h-QFO&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AU_PVGLiijP2EwZx3ePygC4&oh=00_AYCgKzThhCxV0vR0IvUVgPRnHV6vKQ5SgTOqv8yF4CFJQQ&oe=67C2DF48 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Basils Altar | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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No | 2025-02-24 19:43 | active | 2625 | 0 | Read next chapter | On her wedding day, her stepsister set her up, framing her with accusations of promiscuity, academic fraud, and attempted murder. She was personally brought to court by her fiancé and imprisoned for three years, enduring inhuman torment! ===== On the day Khloe Evans was put on trial by her fiance, it was raining heavily. "Khloe Evans, you are suspected of bribing competition judges, academic fraud, and attempted homicide. Do you plead guilty or not?" Inside the silent and solemn courtroom, the judge's gavel echoed, signaling the start of a tense moment. Khloe's bl**dshot eyes were filled with anger and desperation, staring at Eric Watson, her fiance. She couldn't help but sneer. They had spent four years from falling in love to getting married; she had always believed that he loved her deeply and that their married life would be blissful. But on their wedding day, he personally put her on trial because of her stepsister's words. The Watson family was one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the country. No one would dare to offend them for a nobody like her. Khloe said word by word, "I have nothing to say." All along, she thought Eric was the love of her life. But it turned out he had been having an a**air with her stepsister, Sloane Evans. What was more, he had stolen her academic achievements. And now, he falsely accused her of being a m*rderer. He was ruthless. What else could she say? The judge banged his gavel again and gave his verdict. "The court hereby sentences the defendant, Khloe Evans, to eight years in prison and a fine of three hundred thousand dollars." The trial concluded, and the prison guards escorted Khloe. As she walked out of the courtroom, Khloe turned and looked back at Eric, sitting in the plaintiff's seat, her eyes burning with deep hatred and fury. ...... Three years had passed. "Khloe Evans, someone has bailed you out. You're free to go." Upon hearing that, Khloe raised her head, her pale face filled with shock. After suffering from endless torture for three years, she had thought that she was bound to stay there for the full sentence. She didn't expect that she would be released one day. An hour after she was released from prison, Khloe was taken to a hospital. She entered a ward, and her heart clenched when she saw her mother through the ICU door, lying motionless in the hospital bed. With a pale face and various apparatus connected to her body, she looked lifeless. "Mom..." Khloe got all worked up, her voice trembling with emotion. She wanted to open the door and go in. "Stop it! This ward is specially secured. No one is allowed to enter without my permission." A female voice suddenly rang out behind her. Khloe turned around and was surprised to see the person who spoke. "Sloane? My mom severed ties with the Evans family long ago. Why are you still doing this to her?" As she spoke, she glared at Sloane with eyes full of hatred. Sloane looked at Khloe, a flicker of jealousy and disdain flashing across her eyes. Then, she sneered, "Khloe, looks like you are mistaken. I'm saving her. Without me, your mother would have died long ago. Perhaps, by the time you come out of prison, you will only see her tomb." Khloe took a deep breath to calm herself down. "Sloane, stop being so hypocritical. You are saving my mother? Only a fool will believe that. What are you really up to? You're using her to manipulate me, right?" "Khloe, you're as clever as ever. No wonder they called you the rising star of academia. But it's a pity that you are now a convict for attempted murder. And your fate is in my hands," Sloane taunted. "So, today, all you need to do is spend a night with Karl Russell. Then, I'll arrange for your release and your mother's treatment." "Karl Russell? That old man is already in his sixties. Are you out of your mind?" Khloe's eyes widened in disbelief. "So what? Should I care? It's you who are going to sleep with him, not me. As long as you spend one night with him, our family can secure the Russell family's arms deal. It's a very lucrative business. You should feel honored that you are selling out your body to make so much money for us. But if you refuse..." Sloane pointed to the ICU. "I'll have them remove your mom's life support, and she'll die right in front of you. I'll give you five seconds to decide. Five, four, three..." "Fine! I'll go," Khloe agreed in despair. This time, she could no longer suppress the tears she had been holding back. She was left with no choice. For the sake of her mother, she had to do it. After freshening up, Khloe was put into a car. Tonight, she was destined to sleep with a sixty-something disgusting man. And she was still a v**gin. Chapter 2 Henrik Watson That night, the car glided through the deserted streets, headlights cutting into the night's inky darkness. Bang! A g*nshot shattered the silence, deafening and ominously close. Glass sprayed across the seats as the car window exploded, fragments glittering in the dim streetlights. All hell broke loose. Terrified creams echoed in the street as the few remaining shops hurried to lower their shutters. The driver, white-faced and trembling, veered in a panic. The car skidded, tires screeching before slamming into the curb. He slumped forward, unconscious. Beside him, Khloe blinked, disoriented from the impact. Pressing a hand to her throbbing head, she tried to make sense of what had happened. Through the cracked window, she glimpsed flickering orange flames a short distance away. "Oh, no!" She'd stumbled straight into the deadly crossfires of a g*nfight. It was likely a turf war turned ugly by two warring gangs. Steadying herself, Khloe pushed open the door and crouched low, inching towards the roadside. But before she could move further, a figure emerged from the darkness. Tall and powerfully built, he was moving fast. Even though a mask obscured most of his features, she could still see his intense eyes and the proud outline of his nose. A dark stain spread across his side, seeping through his clothes--bl**d. He stumbled towards her, breathing heavily, and collapsed at her feet. Just then, another group of burly men burst from the shadows, each armed to the teeth. Their faces were etched with vicious determination, each bearing a t**too on the hand. "Perfect! He's down. Now, finish him off!" The leader, bald and snarling, held up his g*n and pointed it towards the fallen man. Then, his gaze fell on Khloe. She was dressed to the nines, as she was meant to be a gift for a man tonight. A tight red dress hugged her perfect figure, accentuating her curves and complimenting her porcelain skin. Her glossy hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a delicate, doll-like face with wide, innocent eyes. In a word, she looked like a vision from a dream--or a man's t**ptation made flesh. The bald man's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with le**erous intent. He had never seen such a beautiful woman before, and he wasn't about to let an opportunity like this slide. "While you're finishing him off, I'll help myself to this beauty." He lunged, shoving Khloe back against the shattered window, pressing his weight against her. "No, please!" she pleaded, her voice trembling as she tried to pull away. "Please don't hurt me." "Why would I hurt a beauty like you?" he taunted, his fingers gripping her shoulder tightly as he leaned closer, his hot breath on her skin. His men jeered behind him, urging him on, enjoying the show. But Khloe's hand moved, almost imperceptibly, reaching into her purse. In one swift, desperate motion, her fingers closed around a pen, and she drove it up into his neck with a fierce thrust. The bald man's eyes widened in shock as bl**d spurted from the wound, his grip loosening. Gone was the look of a damsel in distress; her eyes, which were so full of fear just a second earlier, now glinted with a cold light. What was once a delicate, angelic beauty had transformed into a bl**d-stained rose, dark and dangerous. "B**ch, you're asking for it!" The henchmen froze for a split second, then fury overcame them, and they charged at Khloe with murderous intent. Her voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. "Don't move, or I'll pull the pen out! He'll bleed out on the spot!" The men abruptly stopped in their tracks. No one dared to move a muscle. At this moment, the man who'd been lying motionless suddenly sprang to life, g*n in hand, and unleashed a hail of b*llets on the stunned th*gs. He moved with such agility that it was clear his injury had only been a ruse. Even the bald man Khloe held hostage collapsed in a bl**dy heap, a bullet having shattered his skull in an instant. Khloe spun her head just in time, avoiding the bl**d splatter. But her clothes and legs weren't so lucky; they were stained with bl**d, sticky and warm. "Ugh!" The sickly, metallic scent hit her, and her stomach churned. She couldn't stop herself from retching, knees buckling as she collapsed sideways. But before she hit the ground, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright. The man's grip was firm, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Feisty little thing, weren't you so badass just a second ago? What happened?" Khloe recoiled, shoving him away, her face twisting in defiance. "Let go of me!" Before she could get another word out, black-clad men suddenly emerged from the shadows, their faces hard, eyes cold. Even the surrounding rooftops showed silhouettes of these men, controlling all sniper points. Each man moved with such deadly precision, and Khloe could tell at a glance that they were all experienced killers. They brandished machine guns and rocket launchers with practiced ease, as though these were everyday items. In a word, they looked like an elite strike force--battle-hardened, lethal. Unexpectedly, one by one, they all started dropping to their knees, as though bowing before a king. Thousands of them bowed in unison. "Awaiting your orders, Mr. Watson," the leader announced reverently. Khloe's breath hitched. "Are you Henrik Watson?" Chapter 3 The Kiss Henrik accepted a handkerchief from his trusted aide, Rhett Foster, wiping the bl**d from his hands with deliberate, almost regal precision. He then removed his mask slowly, revealing a face that could seize anyone's breath. His eyes were dark, magnetic pools, deep enough to pull anyone in. And above his perfectly-shaped lips was a prominent, sculpted nose. His chiseled features conveyed both power and beauty, almost too flawless to belong to any ordinary man. It was the kind of face that could eclipse even the brightest stars in the showbiz. But more than his appearance, it was his aura--commanding, indomitable--that sent shivers down spines. This was a man who held dominion over countless lives. Henrik smiled, a flash of danger glinting in his eyes. "So what if I am?" Khloe's eyes went as wide as saucers. Henrik Watson--that name carried the weight of legend. Henrik had once been a branch member of the Watson family before vanishing into obscurity for ten long years. When he resurfaced, he singlehandedly seized control of the nation's underworld, rendering him a king without rival. In fact, he was so powerful that even the president treaded carefully around him. Khloe's ex-fiance, Eric, was a member of the Watson family, which had ascended from obscurity to supremacy solely thanks to Henrik. By blood, Eric was Henrik's nephew. So, if her marriage to Eric pushed through, Henrik would be her husband's uncle. Khloe's stepsister, Sloane, had maneuvered her into offering herself to Karl Russell. Though Karl held sway in the city, he was nothing against Henrik's underworld might. It was like comparing a lion to a mouse. As the thought struck her, hope flickered within Khloe. If she could gain Henrik's support, she might escape her forced sacrifice, and her mother could be saved. Steadying her breath, she asked tentatively, "Since I just helped you, could I ask you a favor?" Henrik's gaze sharpened, eyes gleaming with intrigue. It was the first time a woman had faced him with such poise, especially after witnessing him kill so many people. Interest piqued, Henrik strode towards Khloe with an almost lazy confidence, each step measured and unhurried. His sculpted fingers pinched her chin, lifting it so she was looking right at him. He held her gaze as he studied her with a trace of amusement in his eyes. His voice, low and rich, sent a chill through the air. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Aren't you afraid I'll kill you?" A shiver raced through Khloe's heart. His presence was overwhelming, like a storm cloud closing in, suffocating in its intensity. He was dangerous--merely speaking to him was like playing with fire. But she had nowhere else to turn; Henrik was her only chance. "I have a Ph.D. in chemistry and medicine, along with patents--highly profitable ones. If you help me, I can make you money," she said, voice steady but with a glint of desperation. Henrik shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Money?" he murmured, his fingers brushing her cheek. "Do I look like I lack money?" The scent of bl**d clung faintly to his skin, chilling her even as he remained outwardly gentle. Khloe's guard went up instinctively, her body tensing beneath his touch. "What do you want?" she ventured cautiously. "If it's within my power, I'm willing to exchange anything." A spark flickered in Henrik's dark eyes, something enigmatic and unreadable. He let his gaze drift over her as if considering her offer. "Anything, you say?" All of a sudden, he let out a chilling laugh. "Then I want this." In one swift motion, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. And there, before all his men, he kissed her. Chapter 4 Decisive Action The kiss came unexpectedly. Khloe was caught off guard, unable to respond in time. Henrik's subordinates stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief. They had all worked for him for years, and never once had they seen him so close with a woman. Henrik had always been the type to keep his distance from women. In the past, women who approached him either ended up as fish food or were sent to toil in the mines at his orders. What kind of spell had this woman cast? How was it that she managed to make Henrik abandon all his usual rules, and all on their very first meeting? As the crowd remained stunned and puzzled, Khloe's thoughts swirled in chaos, making it impossible to think straight. Henrik's kiss was overwhelming, like a storm crashing down on her, leaving her breathless and dizzy. She found herself trapped in his arms, held so tightly it felt as though she were a flower caught in a violent storm. Yet she was anything but fragile. Once the shock wore off, a surge of anger rose within her. For years, she had endured humiliation, her fall from grace plunging her into the darkest depths. But giving up was never an option; she had always been plotting her revenge. It was only natural that she refused to yield. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss with equal ferocity. After all, what harm could a kiss do? And the man was both devastatingly handsome and of high standing. She would not suffer any losses. She skillfully fought back with her t**gue, refusing to let him dominate her entirely. Instead of pulling back, she met his intensity head-on, taking the lead. What began as a one-sided kiss quickly transformed into a fierce exchange, each of them vying for control, pushing and pulling in a heated battle for dominance. The kiss was fierce and all-consuming, each second more passionate than the last, until they were both gasping for air. When they finally pulled away, their lips were swollen and stained with bl**d, a testament to the intensity of the moment. Henrik let go of Khloe, his hand brushing against the corner of his mouth where her teeth had left their mark. His gaze was intense, locking onto her with a depth that seemed to pierce right through her. Khloe held his stare steadily, not flinching or showing even the slightest sign of discomfort. Her fearless attitude earned her the respect of those watching. It was clear now why Henrik was drawn to her. She was bold, with a courage that couldn't be ignored. She had the audacity to bite Henrik's lips, unafraid of the consequences. Henrik continued to gaze at Khloe, a growing satisfaction building within him. The sting on his lips reminded him sharply of what had just happened. The woman standing before him, with a face as stunning as an angel's, was no delicate flower. She was a thorny rose, and anyone foolish enough to underestimate her would undoubtedly pay the price. But that was exactly what made her so captivating--it was the danger beneath the beauty that drew him in. "Mr. Watson, is everything to your liking?" Khloe asked, breaking the stillness. "Yes, let's go," Henrik replied with a smile. "Now, let's take care of your little issue." ...... 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) &9& | LEARN_MORE | https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65284322-fb_contact-e | Romance Novel | https://www.facebook.com/100083771162998/ | 48,210 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn more | 0 | fbweb.moboreader.net | VIDEO | https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65284322-fb_contact-enp98_2-1210-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=934080944896999&exdata=40775B4BFB7D97256070006AD92AB531F00D6CC8CC681D7A | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/475118388_1713414102888547_900468264805214194_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=111&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=Aseddnewv3cQ7kNvgGnel59&_nc_oc=AdgZcg9MbTz3D4pX8nM4EM7Q6kNGlz7GT6--oHVg5Hbj3uMrv7EfkAroeIimk0-6-JnSnUetvKoeC68Nmp0KvieW&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ATFvmXYPHQw3fmdqgM-eJgG&oh=00_AYCoD-sUsZ8P1Kv-kBtgdJd0BzKIZSy8VZbZ8TTckQY-eg&oe=67C2F3A7 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Romance Novel | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Read next chapter | Ever since my father passed away, Richard had taken on a brotherly role in my life, but he often disapproved of my closeness with other guys. Every time I found a boyfriend, Richard scared them off. I complained to my friend, "My brother is stricter than my mom!" Sandra handed me a bag of chips and thought for a moment. "Could it be that Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." Since then, I deliberately distanced myself from him, but during the New Year, he suddenly brought home a girl. "Tricia, call her sister-in-law." ===== Richard was only a year older than me, but he had always used his role as an older brother to control me. When I was younger, he'd scold me for skipping classes. As I grew older and started dating, he still interfered. One time, my friend joked, "Maybe Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." Since then, I had tried to keep my distance. But during the holidays, he suddenly brought a girl home. "Tricia, this is my girlfriend. Say 'Hi'." That night, I locked myself in my room and cried uncontrollably. He pulled me out from under the covers and gently wiped away my tears. "You could find a boyfriend to annoy me, but I couldn't do the same to you?" Lately, luck hadn't been on my side. Every time I found a boyfriend, Richard scared them off. I complained to my friend, "My brother is stricter than my mom!" Sandra handed me a bag of chips and thought for a moment. "Could it be that Richard likes you? You guys aren't even related by blood." It was true. My dad and his dad had been old friends, and ever since my dad passed away, his family had been taking care of us. My mother had always told me to treat Richard like a real brother. Even though we weren't related by blood, he was more responsible than any real brother. Back in school, he would watch me do my homework every day and even lecture me if I skipped class. He was only a year older than me, but he had always acted like an adult. Whenever I did something wrong, he'd scold me faster than my mom. "Tricia, that's not polite. Don't do that." "Tricia, don't talk badly about people behind their backs." The thought that he might like me sent chills down my spine. "Don't say that! You're going to give me nightmares!" After leaving Sandra's house, her words kept echoing in my head, as if they had put a spell on me. That night, I dreamed that Richard cornered me at the stairwell, gripping my chin and ki*sing me forcefully. "Who said you could get a boyfriend?" I woke up in a cold sweat, terrified, and immediately blocked his number. Thankfully, I was about to start my internship and wouldn't be home much longer. When I opened the door the next morning, Richard just happened to be walking by. Instinctively, I stepped back and slammed the door shut. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his cold, piercing stare. It felt like a blade cutting right through me. Later that evening, we went to his apartment for dinner. In front of everyone, he asked why I had blocked his number. I stammered, unable to come up with a reason, and had no choice but to unblock him. "I must've clicked the wrong button..." Trying to appease him, I offered him a piece of chicken with a flattering smile. "Richard, you look so thin! You should eat more meat." But something I said must've annoyed him because he even moved his plate farther away. "No need." I had found my internship on my own, even though Richard strongly opposed it and insisted I join his company. But this time, I stood my ground and firmly refused. I was too afraid that if we spent too much time together, something would happen. The apartment we were living in had been rented by Richard, thinking I'd work at his company and we'd commute together. But after starting my job, I found a new place to avoid seeing him as much as possible. My mother would text me every day, asking what I wanted to eat. She'd have the servant cook it and then deliver it to me. I'd give her a whole list of dishes, but Richard was always the one who showed up at my door. I almost slammed it shut again. But when I saw the angry look in his eyes, I stopped myself. I forced a smile and took the food container from him. "Richard, I've missed you." He ignored me, walking around the apartment to inspect the place. "Tricia, I send you so much money every month, and this is where you live? Where's all the money gone?" I hadn't touched a cent of the money he gave me. I didn't want to owe him or his family too much. But I didn't dare tell him that. He'd just accuse me of treating him like a stranger. Honestly, my mother gave me plenty of money every month too, but I had a habit of splurging on my favorite celebrities, so I had to cut costs elsewhere. "I'm investing. High returns, you know." Being a fan was an investment, especially for a toptier star like Lanny--his merch was incredibly popular. Once I got him out of my apartment, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. I swore I'd never overindulge again! Starting my new job, I often joined my colleagues for meals to fit in better. Eventually, I ran out of money and had to call my mother for help. She transferred $50, 000 to me but gave me a strict warning. "If you waste this money on a man again, I'm cutting you off." Chapter 2 Richard's Furious Because I Spent Money On Another Guy Her voice was so loud that my colleagues started giving me strange looks. I was exasperated. I had explained to her more than once that being a fan just meant liking a celebrity and spending some money on their endorsements. But my mom never listened and kept scolding me. "Spending money on men is pointless! You should be the one letting them spend money on you, got it?" Just as I was about to argue with her again, I heard a familiar voice on the other end of the phone. "Mrs. Reynolds, has Tricia gotten a boyfriend?" Why was Richard at my home? Startled, I immediately hung up the phone. The restaurant we picked was pretty popular, and we had to wait over an hour for a table. While we were waiting, a crowd suddenly started gathering. I glanced over and saw Lanny trying to make his way through the mob. Well, no wonder the place was packed--it's a hotspot for celebrities, and fans love to flock to places like this. Lanny saw me and headed my way, with a swarm of fans trailing behind him. It was a little intimidating. Wearing sunglasses, he looked cool, but in reality, he was a total goofball. "Tricia, you're here at my restaurant? Aren't you worried Richard will get angry?" Back in high school, Lanny and I were in the same class. He was great at math, and Sandra and I once went to his house to do homework. He casually put his arm around my shoulder, like we were just buddies, and neither of us thought much of it. But when Richard found out, he beat Lanny up. Ever since then, the two couldn't stand each other. I sighed helplessly. "If I'd known this was your restaurant, I wouldn't have come." I was a fan of Lanny--I went to his concerts and bought his endorsements, but I rarely paid attention to his personal life. One time, he recognized me from the stage and said he'd just give me a ticket next time, but I turned him down. Being a fan meant spending my own money; otherwise, it was not called being a fan, it was just being friends. Lanny handed me a membership card, saying I could eat at his restaurant for free from now on. I took it, thinking that if my mom ever really cut off my funds, at least I'd have a place to get a free meal. After dinner, I got home and saw Richard standing outside my door. I instinctively tried to retreat, but he was quick and called out to me. "Tricia, come here." For some reason, I always felt guilty around Richard. All I ever wanted to do was run away. "Richard, why are you here? Have you eaten yet?" He sneered, and despite it being hot, I felt a chill down my spine. "If I didn't show up, how would I know you're out here spending time with some guy?" I opened the door and explained that it was all just a misunderstanding. But he wasn't having it. He kept pressing, demanding to know who the guy was. I refused to tell him, thinking if he found out I'd spent money on Lanny, he'd beat him heavily. Then he gave me an ultimatum. "A kept man can't make you happy. Break up with him immediately." As I stood up, the card Lanny gave me fell to the floor. I quickly bent down to pick it up, but Richard was faster. He stared at me, eyes full of rage. "You don't even have money for yourself, and you're out here paying for his meals?" I was speechless as he stormed out of the apartment. Two hours later, Laurence, Richard's assistant, called me, practically in tears. "Tricia, what did you do to upset Mr. Stewart this time? I had just finished getting ready for bed when he called me back to the office to revise the proposal. I can't be on call 24/7!" I often visited Richard at his office, so I had gotten close with his secretaries and assistants. Since starting my internship, I knew all too well the pain of being forced to work overtime. Besides, they always gave me useful information--I couldn't just leave them hanging. I called Richard, and he picked up on the third ring, clearly still furious. I was trying to think of a way to coax him without making it obvious, but he was impatient. "Say something." My mind raced. Flattery never failed. "Richard, I heard you're still working overtime? You work so hard! With you in charge, the company is sure to thrive!" He didn't seem impressed. "If I didn't work my butt off, where would you get the money to spoil some guy?" Seeing that talking wouldn't help, I bought some snacks and headed to his office. When I arrived, the lights were still on, even though it was already ten o'clock. The tension in the air was palpable. Before I even reached the conference room, I could already hear Richard's angry voice inside. Chapter 3 I Thought Richard Liked Me, But He Brought Home A Girlfriend "Did I hire you to sit around gossiping all day?" "What kind of proposal is this? Is this your first day on the job? Take it back and redo it." I knocked on the door but didn't wait for a reply before entering. Everyone inside looked at me as if I were their savior, and I could see the gratitude in their eyes. Richard was caught off guard for a moment--he hadn't expected me to show up. I cleared my throat, walked up to him, and set the food down. "Richard, you should eat something. Mrs. Stewart said you haven't had dinner." He didn't move at first, so I grabbed his arm and guided him toward his office. As I closed the door behind us, I gave the others an "OK" signal. Richard's expression softened a bit, but he still looked like he wasn't in the mood to talk. I brought him a bowl of noodles, and he didn't even leave a single bite of meat. He must've been starving. "Richard, you need to take care of yourself. Work will never end. If you keep this up, your parents will be worried sick." He looked into my eyes, and I saw a mix of emotions--too many for me to make sense of. "And what about you?" I started tidying up the takeout container, avoiding his gaze. "Of course, I'm worried too. Why else would I come looking for you in the middle of the night?" My attempt to coax him worked. He picked up his jacket, slung it over his arm, and got ready to leave. "I'll take you home. It's not safe for you to walk alone at night." In the car, I avoided his eyes, pretending to look out the window at the passing scenery. For several days, I didn't contact Richard. My mom thought we were fighting and kept urging me not to be stubborn. "Don't be so willful. Richard is busy with work, and he still makes time to take care of you." I didn't know how to explain it to her, so I just stayed silent. As work got busier, I pushed the matter to the back of my mind. We spoke occasionally, but only about work-related things. Eventually, he became distant with me. I sighed with relief, but at the same time, I felt an odd emptiness inside. Time flew by, and before I knew it, Christmas was approaching. The company gave us a holiday starting three days before Christmas. Coincidentally, Lanny was holding a concert in Alodon, so I flew over to catch it and even took a photo with him afterward. Lanny said we hadn't taken a picture together in years and asked me to send him one. I did, and moments later, I saw him post it on Facebook. "Great concert! Thanks to all the friends who came from far and wide." When I returned to Pheldence, it was Christmas Eve. For some reason, I couldn't shake this feeling of unease. Every year, our families took turns hosting the family dinner, and this year it was at Richard's house. As soon as I walked in, I heard laughter coming from the living room. I headed toward the sound and saw a gentle, elegant girl sitting on the couch. She had long hair, was dressed in a luxury coat, and carried a limited-edition handbag. Clearly, she was the same type of person as Richard. The most important thing was that she was sitting next to him, with her hand linked through his arm. Richard didn't even look at me. His attention was completely on her. I felt an inexplicable surge of frustration and placed my things on the coffee table a bit too forcefully. My mom shot me a sharp look. "Tricia, can you show some manners? You just walked in, and you're already giving attitude." Richard smiled--barely, but I noticed it. Sitting across from them, their closeness felt glaringly obvious. "So, what should I call you?" I asked the girl. For the first time since I arrived, Richard actually looked at me. "Tricia, this is my girlfriend. Say 'Hi'." I didn't know what to say. Suddenly, I understood where that feeling of unease had been coming from. Richard was in a relationship, and I was the one who felt the most hurt. I quickly greeted her, but despite the feast in front of me, everything tasted bland and unappetizing. Once I got home, I rushed to my room, buried myself under the covers, and let the tears flow freely. I didn't know how much time had passed when I suddenly heard the door creak open. I hastily wiped away my tears, pretending to be asleep. Someone walked slowly to my bedside. I could feel his gaze on me as he crouched down. He pulled at my blanket, and though I clung to it, I couldn't match his strength. I opened my eyes to see Richard standing by my bed with a faint smile. "Tricia, why are you crying just because I'm in a relationship?" ...... 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/61215322-fb_contact-e | Heat Novel A | https://www.facebook.com/100089743291944/ | 610 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn more | 0 | fbweb.moboreader.net | IMAGE | https://fbweb.moboreader.net/61215322-fb_contact-enad50_2-250126-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=934080944896999&exdata=40775B4BFB7D972550EBCDB95D37D6C3150D36509F42FD3A | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/474996864_576793995192596_3105655239207457968_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=111&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=hG1JxWg0wIkQ7kNvgELWwtC&_nc_oc=AdhjzpwW0Jzn49VlcMJ7AoBYP2ZskGrTmeXlw6ass2wKdl3uvto5ISdKssf4xrT76o_O78akIE2iLoGrtyD1yZ1e&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AZ7xhMnaVxEzdMtHvuiDLeL&oh=00_AYDqdBWL75oNcHFoYcIx6LXxSMfu1um1XVNuTbNqHdB2GA&oe=67C2F100 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Heat Novel A | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Yes | 2025-02-24 19:42 | active | 2625 | 0 | 🔥🔥Click to read the next chapter for free👉 | "Ugh... P-please stop," Zoey whimpered, her voice low and hoarse, closing her eyes with an anxious and fearful expression. "L-let go of me!" she squeaked, struggling as she kept pushing against the broad chest of a man who was crawling over her body. If she hadn't been half-drunk, Zoey was sure she could have fought this man off. But because it was her first time trying wine, her head was spinning, and her body felt weak. Zoey had been invited to a high school reunion at a famous hotel in her city, and she attended the event. One of her friends dared her to drink wine, and Zoey refused, but her friend kept insisting. Eventually, Zoey gave in and took a few sips before stopping. Not long after she drank the strong, clear liquid, Zoey's head felt heavy, and her neck suddenly felt warm. She decided to leave, sneaking away from the reunion quietly. However, as she walked down the hotel corridor toward the elevator, someone suddenly covered her mouth and dragged her away. Now, here she was, in a room, struggling—trying to hold on to the last bit of her consciousness and fighting off a stranger who intended to assault her. No! Her family would be ashamed and devastated if they found out about this. Her dad and older brother would be furious, and it would break her mother's heart. Unfortunately, Zoey's vision was blurry. She couldn't see the face of the man who was violating her. "Aaaah..." Zoey moaned, on the edge of consciousness. She knew she was being assaulted by a man, but she had stopped resisting. She was losing herself to the touches of the man, her awareness fading—it felt like a dream. She wasn't herself anymore. "Ugghh..." Zoey whimpered, biting her lower lip but keeping her eyes shut. Her expression only excited the man further. He had already managed to strip the fabric covering her beautiful body, and his desire grew uncontrollably. He removed his own clothes—getting closer to the bared girl—and then pressed his body against her. "Ugh... Ahh! P-please, no!" Zoey whimpered with the last shred of consciousness, as her eyelids grew heavy and eventually closed completely. - The next morning, Zoey woke up with her body aching and sore. When she tried to lift her head, a wave of pain and dizziness hit her. She felt nauseous, her stomach churning. Realizing something, Zoey gasped in shock. "N-no!" Tears streamed down her face as she noticed her bared body. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a sharp pain spread through it. There was a red stain on the bed sheet! "T-this can't be happening!" she cried, her tears falling even harder—rolling down her cheeks, burning her skin. With her neck stiff and her heart racing, Zoey forced herself to glance to her side—to see who had taken her innocence so cruelly. Thud! Zoey's eyes widened, and for a second, her heart seemed to stop. She was in shock, unable to believe the identity of the man lying beside her—the one who had stolen her innocence. Zoey's previously stiff body began to tremble violently, and fear engulfed her. She hurriedly, but carefully, climbed out of the bed. She dressed as quickly as possible before sneaking out of the room. This was a nightmare! Zoey swore she would never see that man again. Never! Zoey would keep this secret—her family's reputation would be ruined if the truth came out! The man was someone Zoey feared and came from a very dangerous family. He was her cousin! 'Did I seduce him last night? Or… No, that's impossible! I-I can't remember anything! All I remember is leaving the party,' Zoey thought frantically, hitting her still-throbbing head in frustration, angry at herself for not remembering what had happened the night before. There were only hazy flashes, but Zoey couldn't be sure of anything. It was like a dream that felt real, but when you wake up, the memory fades away, leaving you unsure of what really happened. Chapter 0002 Three days after the incident, Zoey felt safe. Her secret of that dark night was something she could hide from her parents and her brother. Fortunately, at the time of the incident, her parents were still abroad, and her brother was out of town on business. Zoey also hadn't run into that person in the past three days. Thank goodness. Right now, Zoey was with her brother, Hayden, who had forced her to come along with him to buy some books. She wasn't sure what kind of books, but he seemed insistent that she should accompany him. "Why are we here?!" Zoey shrieked, already sweating and feeling incredibly nervous as Hayden brought her to Jonathan Robert's house. The house belonged to THAT man's family. Terrified of bumping into him, Zoey trembled. 'Somebody, help!' "Jonathan is back from Paris. I wanna meet him," Hayden explained. "And what does that have to do with me? You freaking liar! You said we were going to a bookstore. Argh!" Zoey screamed, torn between being angry at her brother and panicking at the thought of seeing that man. She really did not want to meet him. No, no! W-what if Jonathan remembered what happened that night?! He could accuse Zoey and think she was a promiscuous girl or a desperate flirt. And to make matters worse, Zoey used to admire him. It would be so easy for him to accuse her, wouldn't it? "Gosh, you're being so dramatic!" Hayden stuffed an orange peel he had found in the car into his sister's mouth, making Zoey fall silent and even more irritated with him. "You should be happy. Why? Well, your kind-hearted brother here is reuniting you with your long-lost love after five years apart." "That was a long time ago. I don't like him anymore. Besides, I already have a boyfriend," Zoey grumbled, refusing to get out of the car. But Hayden, acting crazily, pulled her out of the car and carried her into the grand, luxurious mansion. Once inside, Hayden finally put Zoey down, but he didn't let go of her hand. He kept dragging her along with him. "Hayden, Zoey, come here, darling," called a middle-aged woman who still looked beautiful and youthful—Sophie, the mother of the man Zoey was so terrified of. Blushing slightly, Zoey and Hayden approached her. They kissed her on the cheek and then joined their other cousins. The Phillips and the Roberts family were close. In fact, Jonathan was Zoey and Hayden's cousin. "Hey, Zoey, you're even prettier now." "You've grown up a lot since we last saw you." Zoey just smiled and nodded slightly in response to her cousins' comments. She silently prayed not to run into Jonathan again, as she had sworn never to see him again. Secretly, Zoey glanced around, checking where the man she feared might be. 'He's an extreme introvert. There's no way he'd come out of his room. Hah, I think I'm safe,' Zoey thought, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. "Zoey, what are you doing standing there? Sit down." Zoey gave a shy smile and nodded once again. She looked around, searching for a place to sit. Some of her cousins were sitting on the floor, and others were on the sofa, forming groups. That was typical. She really did not want to be there. She would rather be at the cafe than hang out there. The cousin she was close to, Jodie, wasn't even around. Right now, she was pondering where to sit. 'Hayden is such a bloody liar!' Zoey thought angrily, glancing at her brother, who was still standing right next to her, busy typing something on his phone. If she sat with Raphael, their conversation would be too intense. If she sat with her female cousins, they'd just be gossiping non-stop. Zoey stretched out her hand toward the sofa beside her—intending to rest her arm there. But why did it feel like she was touching hair? Zoey immediately turned to her side. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief as she realized whose head she had just touched. It was Jonathan. The man she feared the most and the one who had stolen her innocence that night. Chapter 0003 "S-sorry." Zoey quickly withdrew her hand from Jonathan's head. He was now staring at her coldly, with a warning look. "Hahaha…" The laughter of the people in the room echoed. They all knew Zoey used to like Jonathan, and they often teased the two, trying to match them up. But what they didn't know was that now Zoey was terrified of Jonathan. This cousin of hers had once threatened her and even terrorized her. Her feelings had shifted from admiration to fear. Especially after that night, Zoey was even more scared! "Since you touched your future husband's hair, why don't you kiss him too, Zoey? So you can memorize his scent." "Your future husband is back, Zoey. Why haven't you said hi?" Zoey winced in embarrassment, wishing she could leave. Her heart was racing, and her face turned pale. Good grief! Zoey was breaking into a cold sweat. Everyone was teasing her about Jonathan, but none of them realized how terrified she was. How could they know? Zoey had never told anyone about Jonathan's threats. "I think I need to get back to the office. Some urgent business came up," Hayden suddenly said, then turned to his sister. "Zoey, stay here with the others. I'll pick you up later, or someone else will drop you off..." Hayden left his sentence hanging, glancing at their cousins to see who could give Zoey a ride if he couldn't. "I'll take her home," Jonathan said suddenly, his voice low and deep—heavy and resonant, making Zoey's heart pound with both fear and tension. His voice was so seductive, sending shivers through Zoey's entire body. Added to the fact that she used to admire him, Zoey's body couldn't help but respond. But she couldn't deny that Jonathan's smooth voice also made her feel threatened. "No." Zoey shook her head quickly. She couldn't stay here any longer. She had promised herself to avoid Jonathan. "I have something to do at the café," Zoey said hurriedly, gripping Hayden's arm tightly, afraid of being left behind by her brother. Maybe Jonathan had forgotten about that night, but Zoey was still scared to face him. Actually after five years of not seeing him, Jonathan had returned home more charming than ever. Handsome, yes, but now much more terrifying. Especially when Zoey recalled the threats Jonathan had directed at her over the years. Hah. She could hardly remember the time she had been in love with him. To be honest, Zoey had used to idolize Jonathan. She had even dreamed of becoming this cold man's wife. She had tried to get his attention, confessed her feelings, and even asked Jonathan to marry her. But all those feelings had slowly faded. It started when Jonathan suddenly moved abroad and got a girlfriend, which broke Zoey’s heart. One night, he had contacted Zoey with a threat. "You'll know the consequences if you try anything, Zoey. I'll make your life worse than death!" Jonathan's threat still haunted Zoey to this day. Back then, Zoey was naive and innocent, so she had been genuinely frightened. She even fell sick from the fear caused by Jonathan's words. But to this day, no one knew how cruel Jonathan had been to her. Zoey chose to keep it to herself. The crazy thing was that she had ended up having a night stand with this very cousin she feared, and now, here she was, face-to-face with him again. She had spent the last three days trying to avoid him. 'Please let him have amnesia!' That was Zoey's desperate prayer. "Good grief, Zoey! Weren't you the one who insisted on coming here? You wanted to meet your dear Jonathan, didn't you?! Well, here he is, right next to you." 'You sneaky liar! When did I ever say that?! You tricked me, and that's how I ended up here,' Zoey thought in shock, staring at her brother in disbelief. The worst part was that it wasn't just her cousins who liked to tease her about Jonathan. Her annoying brother did it too. Yeah, her own brother! "You wanted to see me, but now you don't want to talk to me? Strange," Jonathan said, his voice low, without looking at Zoey. He was still engrossed in reading a thick book in his hands. His face looked cold and expressionless, his eyes serious and focused on the pages. "Sit next to me, future wife," Jonathan added, his tone deep and heavy, suddenly turning toward Zoey, making her even more nervous and awkward. "Practice sitting by my side before we walk down the aisle." "Ooooh…." Everyone in the room cheered, laughing together. Gah! Zoey wished the ground would swallow her up whole. Jonathan was still as mischievous as he had been five years ago. He always joined in teasing Zoey, just like their other cousins. 'In front of everyone, you seem sweet. But behind them, you're the devil, Jonathan Roberts! I know your dark side, and why am I the only one who knows that?!' Awkwardly and extremely nervous, Zoey finally agreed to sit next to Jonathan. What choice did she have? Her brother kept nudging her, and her cousins kept cheering her on. If Zoey refused to sit next to Jonathan, they'd all get the wrong idea, thinking she still had feelings for him and was just too shy. So… reluctantly, Zoey had to muster the courage to sit beside him, just to prove she didn't have any feelings left. "How have you been?" Jonathan asked after a long silence, once their other cousins were preoccupied with their own conversations. "Fine," Zoey replied flatly, pretending to be busy with her phone, though in reality, she wasn't doing anything on it. Argh! She was so nervous, awkward, and scared. But… Jonathan's behavior seemed normal. Had he really forgotten that night? Or were they both just too drunk to remember? The question was, why had Jonathan been there? He should have still been in Paris at the time. Ah, in any case, Zoey could only hope he had amnesia. Chapter 0004 Unable to handle the teasing from Jonathan's family, who kept trying to match them together, Zoey decided to leave early—using the excuse that her café was busy and she needed to help her staff. "Zoey, are you leaving?" her uncle Gabriel asked, who happened to cross paths with Zoey. Gabriel was Jonathan's father. "Yes," Zoey replied, nodding slightly with a light smile. People said her uncle was quite intimidating, but to Zoey, he was the best uncle. Yes, he was quiet and cold, but her uncle was someone who deeply cared about and loved his family. "Jon, come here for a moment," Gabriel suddenly called when he saw Jonathan walking by, intending to enter the elevator. Zoey immediately panicked, glancing at her uncle, then at Jonathan, who was walking coolly like a king approaching his throne. 'Zoey, you already have a boyfriend. Please forget about Jonathan. Remember! There are many beautiful and smart women in Paris, and last time you saw him, he was with another woman. Don't fall for him again. And don't forget he once terrorized you! Don't fall in love with the devil,' Zoey tried to convince herself in her heart. Zoey's heart pounded wildly, beating faster as Jonathan approached her. When he stopped right next to her, so close that her shoulder brushed against his arm, her heart felt like it was about to explode. This was too close! Her heart wasn't safe around Jonathan! The truth was, this was the man Zoey had always liked, and she had never confided her feelings to anyone. She had kept it all to herself. Yet somehow, the family found out that Zoey had feelings for Jonathan, and now the news had spread, leading to constant matchmaking between her and Jonathan. In the past, Zoey had been shy about being paired with Jonathan. Even now, she was, but she had come to understand something: Jonathan was uncomfortable with it and didn't like it. Five years ago, Zoey had foolishly confessed her feelings to Jonathan. In the spur of a moment, she had told him how she felt. Jonathan had told her to graduate and chase her dreams first, and only then would he consider a relationship. The worst part was that just a few months after Zoey confessed, Jonathan started avoiding her. Not long after that, Jonathan abruptly decided to move to Paris to manage their family's business there. Zoey understood then that he wasn't promising to wait for her; he was gently rejecting her. The most painful thing was that Zoey had impulsively followed Jonathan to the airport, intending to see him off and say goodbye. But when she arrived, she saw Jonathan sitting with another woman on his lap, and they were kissing. That was the deepest heartbreak Zoey had ever experienced. Since then, Zoey had buried her feelings, trying to move on and forget Jonathan, her first love. In the midst of her attempts to move on, Jonathan suddenly threatened her over the phone. That was the cruelest blow to Zoey's heart. Now, Zoey had a boyfriend. She was not quite in love with him yet, but she was sure that after they got married, she would learn to love him. "Your future wife wants to leave. Can you take her home?" Gabriel asked as soon as Jonathan was nearby. 'What?! What is he doing?! Even Uncle Gabriel is in on this?! Ugh.' "Sure, Dad," Jonathan nodded. "A-actually, it's not necessary, Uncle. I've already called a taxi—" "You can cancel it," Jonathan interrupted quickly, grabbing Zoey's wrist and pulling her along with him. "Jonathan, I don't need you to take me home. I can go by myself. Besides, my boyfriend—" "Break up with your boyfriend!" Jonathan cut her off sharply, his tone angry, his expression even colder. "Sorry, but that's none of your business and has nothing to do with you," Zoey responded, her voice soft and careful, though she was both nervous and awkward. Jonathan's sharp gaze was intense and intimidating. This terrified her greatly. "None of my business? Who gave you permission to have a boyfriend?!" Jonathan hissed, his eyes piercing into Zoey. "I'm an adult now, so I can make my own decisions without asking anyone for permission," Zoey said quietly, her voice steady despite her nerves. "An adult? What proof do you have that you're an adult?" Jonathan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he looked at Zoey's sour expression. "I'm twenty-five years old." "Age doesn't guarantee maturity." "My chest has grown bigger," Zoey snapped in frustration, puffing out her chest as if to prove her point. But when she realized what she was doing and saw Jonathan's gaze drop to her chest, Zoey quickly crossed her arms over her chest and stepped back, embarrassed. 'Ah! What was I doing? Oh my God, I'm so embarrassed!' Zoey thought, cringing internally. Her cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment, spreading all the way down to her roots. "Tch, that's fake," Jonathan commented, hands on his behinds, still staring at her chest. "That's padding," he added, making Zoey's eyes widen in shock. 'What?! Fake? Padding?! Is he serious?!' "They're real!" Zoey retorted angrily. "I've seen them," Jonathan said, freezing Zoey in place, her body stiffening, "and they're not bigger than my hand," he added in a quiet voice, now standing so close to Zoey that she could feel his minty breath on her face. Zoey's heart felt like it had dropped into her stomach, her knees shaking. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. Excuse me, I need to go." Zoey pushed against Jonathan's broad chest, rushing away with a pale, panicked expression. Hah, not bigger than his hand? Why did this Frost King suddenly seem perverted? And... Did Jonathan remember that night? – "Let's talk again later. Just hang up; your patients are waiting, and saving lives is more important than a phone call," Zoey said softly over the phone to her boyfriend, Daniel Smidt—a surgeon at a local hospital. They had been dating for six months, and Zoey thought that was long enough to get to know each other. But for some reason, she kept putting off marriage with Daniel. Maybe it was because she still wanted to enjoy her youth. "Huh," Zoey sighed, massaging her temples after Daniel hung up. Once again, Daniel had asked if she was ready to get married. "Should I just go through with it? But I'm not a innocent girl anymore. Ugh, what do I do?" Zoey muttered to herself in the office of her café. Click. The door to her office opened, and Zoey instinctively turned to see who it was. "Excuse m—" Her words stopped short when she saw who was standing there. It was Jonathan. Zoey's heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes widened, and her face turned pale. "Why are you here?" 'Don't tell me he followed me here?' "Break up with your boyfriend!" Jonathan said coldly, not answering her question. He locked the door and began walking toward Zoey, who stood frozen in place. "I've already told you, my relationship has nothing to do with you!" Zoey snapped, trying to cover her nervousness as Jonathan drew closer. "You're going to marry me," Jonathan said casually. "What? Who said I'd marry you?!" Zoey stammered, her face turning red as she grew more panicked. "I won't marry you! I'm going to marry my boyfriend, not you." "Are you sure you want to refuse me?" Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I'm one hundred percent sure," Zoey nodded firmly. "By the way, I didn't use protection that night, and I came inside you," Jonathan said coldly, now standing directly in front of Zoey, wrapping his arm around her waist as he stared into her eyes with a sharp, warning look. Zoey's heart felt like it was about to jump out of her chest. Her face wasn't just stiff—it was burning red with both anger and shame at Jonathan's words. And with him standing so close, holding her like this, Zoey felt like she was going to faint. 'I came back for you, but you chose someone else. Tsk, don't think you can escape me!' Chapter 0005 Jonathan kept lingering in Zoey's mind—his mention of their night stand constantly replaying in her head. He acknowledged it but also used it as a threat to force her into marrying him. "But why does Jonathan suddenly want to marry me? There must be something else. It can't be that he likes me. Ugh, he can't even stand looking at me unless Hayden or one of our cousins is around, and only then does he talk to me," Zoey muttered quietly, talking to herself in her room. It was humiliating! Zoey had actually fainted, for real! Being too close and too intimate with Jonathan, she had held her breath, her head suddenly feeling light, and then everything went dark, ending with her passing out. When she woke up, she was already in her room and immediately scolded by Hayden for troubling Jonathan. Luckily, her mom and dad had come home, so Zoey could hide behind them from her brother's fury. Click. The door to Zoey's room opened suddenly, revealing her brother, Hayden, with an annoyed and sour expression. He was probably still mad at Zoey. "Dad is calling you," Hayden said curtly, looking at his sister with a flat expression before turning to leave. "Hurry!" "Alright." Zoey sighed, turning off her laptop and quickly getting up. She had been busy working on a new concept and menu for her café. Though, in truth, her mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of Jonathan. With quick steps, Zoey went to see her father. She entered his office, where her mother was also present. Her parents, Kenneth and Maria, were waiting. Her father had a twin sister named Kendra, but Kenneth and his twin sister bore little resemblance to each other. Kendra, her aunt, had married Jonathan's uncle, Alfred Barron, which was why Zoey and Jonathan were still considered cousins, although not related by blood at all. Kenneth and Jonathan's father, Gabriel Roberts, were very close, almost like best friends since their youth. This bond further strengthened the relationship between the Phillips family and the legendary Roberts family. "What did you need me for, Dad?" Zoey asked after entering the office, sitting in front of her father, who was holding what looked like two wedding invitations. 'Probably just invitations for the company's anniversary,' Zoey thought, staying optimistic as she glanced at the invitations in her father's hand. "Have you seen Jonathan?" "Yes, Dad," Zoey answered, scratching her cheek before glancing at her mom, wondering why her father was bringing up Jonathan. But Maria simply shrugged. "So, next week or the week after?" "Huh? Next week for what?" Zoey asked, increasingly confused. Were her parents going on another business trip? Would she be left alone with her temperamental brother again? Kenneth looked up at his daughter, pushing the sample invitations toward her. "Your wedding with Jonathan." "What?!" Zoey gasped, her face turning pale and her body stiffening. 'Marry Jonathan? God no!' "Why are you so shocked? Didn't Jonathan tell you that you two were getting married?" "No. And I refuse." Zoey shook her head firmly. "Jonathan and I are cousins, and there's a seven-year age gap between us. Besides, I already have a boyfriend, and he's planning to propose." Kenneth's face grew cold as he looked at his daughter with a warning expression. "Everything is already set, Zoey. You can't refuse this marriage." "Yes, darling. Jonathan came back to the country specifically to marry you. So, you really have no choice; you have to marry him," Maria added, leaving Zoey feeling both grim and disheartened. "But why so suddenly, Mom? And don't you both remember that we are cousins? We're close, like a real family, so we can't get married. I-I already have a boyfriend, and he's going to propose to me next week. And I'm sure Jonathan already has a girlfriend in Paris. So I have reasons to refuse this marriage," Zoey protested, rejecting the idea of marrying Jonathan. She had a boyfriend who loved her, and that was enough reason for Zoey to refuse the marriage with Jonathan. As the saying goes, it's better to be with someone who loves you than with someone you love. Learning to love someone may not be easy, but trying to make someone you love reciprocate can be deeply painful. Zoey didn't want to go through that! Especially since Jonathan had been a nightmare to her. His threats and intimidation over the years made her dread the idea of being married to him. Besides, didn't Jonathan already have a girlfriend?! "What are you saying, dear?!" Kenneth sighed slowly, rubbing his forehead before running his hand roughly over his face. "I begged Gabriel to have his son marry my daughter, asking him to convince Jonathan to agree to the marriage. I swallowed my pride for you!" Zoey pulled a face, feeling uncomfortable and struck by her father's words. "Why would you do that?" "For you!" Kenneth snapped, raising his voice without realizing it, his frustration boiling over at his daughter's attitude. He had gone through all of this to grant his daughter's earlier wishes. "I did it because you kept asking for it. Every birthday, you refused gifts from me, instead pushing me to arrange a marriage with Jonathan. And if I didn't agree, you would go on hunger strikes and refuse to speak to me! And now that I've granted your wish…" "But that was when I was seventeen, eighteen, and even at twenty, Dad. After that, I never asked you to match me with Jonathan again. I was just a kid back then! I was impulsive and obsessed with one thing without thinking about the consequences. I'm an adult now, and I don't want to be forced into a marriage with Jonathan. I have my own choices now!" Zoey protested again, unwilling to be paired with Jonathan. And now she understood why Jonathan had suddenly agreed to marry her. It was all because of her father's request and plea. Kenneth cut in quickly. "I love you so much that I humbled myself and begged Gabriel to accept you into their family. And this is how you repay me?!" "T-that's not—" Zoey began, but Kenneth interrupted her. "There were many others who offered their daughters to marry Jonathan, and I competed with all of them. I always believed that my daughter was better than any of them, that you were more worthy of standing by Jonathan's side. Of all the marriage proposals that came for Jonathan, Gabriel chose you to be his son's wife. "Do you know who Jonathan is and how important he is to the Roberts family? He's the main heir, continuing to manage the family's business in Paris—he's the leader of EliteQuality Electronics. Gabriel wouldn't just allow any woman to marry his son. He's selective! And Gabriel trusted you to be Jonathan's partner; he chose you. Whether it's because of my plea or not, you're the one he chose. Please don't destroy his expectations of you, and don't make me lose face in front of him." Zoey sat frozen and silent. Her eyes reddened, stinging with tears after she heard her father's lengthy explanation. She felt as if her heart had been stabbed, realizing she had become a burden to her father. Her father had begged for her to become Jonathan's wife. And on top of that, her uncle Gabriel had trusted her to marry Jonathan. What now? After hearing that Jonathan was the heir to the Roberts family, Zoey felt even more unworthy. But her father had already done so much to make sure she could marry Jonathan. He had even begged for it. 'I'm the most ungrateful and selfish daughter. My past desires have made my father humble himself to that family. I'm so thoughtless,' Zoey thought to herself, unable to speak and only crying, her head hung low. "Let me handle this, dear. I'll talk to our daughter. Maybe she'll listen to me as a friend," Maria said gently, trying to soothe her husband, who was pushing their daughter too hard. Poor Zoey! She was already crying, her head bowed, unable to look her father in the eye. "Hmph." Kenneth huffed in frustration, standing up and leaving the room. "Daddy has done everything so you could marry the man of your dreams, dear," Maria said softly, approaching Zoey and hugging her while stroking her hair. "Your daddy loves you so much! He even begged Aunt Kendra, Uncle Alfred, Uncle Gabriel, Aunt Sophie, Aunt Lucy, and Uncle Roger, all so you could marry the man you've always dreamed of. And now, you've hurt him." "I'm sorry, Mom," Zoey whispered, her voice small. "I-I was wrong." 'You all only know that I used to love Jonathan. But you don't know that now I'm terrified of him. I'm even afraid to look him in the eye. And now I have to marry the man I fear? This is a nightmare.' "Daddy thought you'd be happy when you found out you'd marry Jonathan. Instead, your reaction is like this, and now you tell us you have a boyfriend. That only hurt him more, sweetheart." Maria said while holding her daughter's hands. Zoey shook her head. "I didn't mean to hurt him, Mom. I regret going against him. I'm sorry..." "I'll talk to Jonathan tomorrow and sort this out," Zoey said through her sobs, still crying. "Alright, sweetheart." Maria nodded, continuing to stroke Zoey's hair. Chapter 0006 As Zoey had mentioned to her mother, today she mustered the courage to meet with Jonathan at his family mansion. To avoid drawing too much attention from her family, Zoey used the excuse of accompanying Hayden—just like the previous night. But actually, Zoey genuinely wanted to go, without being forced or tricked by Hayden again. After observing the surroundings, Zoey saw Jonathan in the kitchen. She mustered the courage to walk up to him. "I need to talk to you," Zoey whispered, tiptoeing to reach Jonathan's ear. This man was incredibly tall, and his height was abnormal to Zoey. At 5'5", Zoey already considered herself quite tall for a woman. Jonathan and the rest of his family were unusually tall compared to the average, with Jonathan standing at 6'3". So, next to Jonathan, Zoey felt incredibly short. Even her brother, Hayden, was only six feet tall, which already made Zoey feel like she was short. Next to Jonathan, she felt like a dwarf! "Go ahead," Jonathan said casually, taking a carton of milk from the fridge before closing the door. "Not here," Zoey replied, looking up at Jonathan with a gloomy and nervous expression. Her heart was racing, almost ready to explode. To be honest, there was a lingering fear of this man that made Zoey's hair stand on end. Jonathan's aura was intimidating, and his gaze was hypnotic. "Hmm." Jonathan walked ahead, followed by Zoey. He led her to the rooftop, locking the door so they were alone. Zoey grew more anxious, her heart pounding. But she knew Jonathan wouldn't do anything strange to her since they were still at the Roberts residence. "Sit," Jonathan ordered, already seated in a lounge chair. Zoey nodded and chose to sit in the chair beside him. "Did you come to tell me you've broken up with your boyfriend?" Jonathan asked coldly, without looking at Zoey. Zoey shook her head. "I came to ask you to cancel our wedding. I'm sorry, but I only recently found out that my dad asked your dad for me to be your partner. That was my fault for pressuring my dad to arrange our match in the past. I'm sorry, I was immature. My actions might have made your dad uncomfortable with my dad, so maybe he pressured you into agreeing to marry me. But now, there's no need to feel burdened anymore because I don't want to be your wife, and... and I won't bother you anymore. You can cancel the wedding." "You think it's that easy to cancel this wedding? The invitations have already been sent out," Jonathan suddenly growled, glaring at Zoey in anger. "But—" Zoey stiffened. 'I don't even know the wedding date. How come the invitations are already sent out? Last night, Dad just gave me a sample invitation. What on earth?' Zoey's mind wandered around. "You're being even more childish now! After making your dad beg on your behalf, you're still insisting on canceling the wedding?!" Zoey swallowed hard. "That's why I came to apologize and admit my mistake." "Do you have a brain?" Jonathan snapped sarcastically, silencing Zoey. "Your fake padded chest isn't helping you act more mature. You might as well take it off!" "Jonathan!" Zoey shouted, a mix of anger and humiliation. Jonathan's comment wasn't just sarcastic—it was bullying and body-shaming. To be honest, Zoey felt deeply hurt by Jonathan's inappropriate words, but mostly, she was embarrassed. The truth was… she was wearing a padded underwear. Jonathan's comment about her small fronts made Zoey feel insecure, which is why she wore the underwear to enhance her chest size. "Can you not make a big deal about my chest? You've always brought it up. What's your problem with it?!" Zoey fumed, though she wanted to cry, she was too embarrassed. Crying over her small fronts? Seriously? How pathetic. "Tch," Jonathan clicked his tongue softly, glancing at Zoey's fronts, making her immediately cross her arms in front of her. "Fine, but if you really want to cancel this wedding, it's not a big deal for me." Zoey hesitated, looking at Jonathan with a mix of shame and flushed cheeks—a remnant of Jonathan's earlier words. Jonathan's tone was calm again, but somehow that only added to the horror and danger. Zoey grew even more scared! This man was too mysterious, and Zoey couldn't figure him out. "I've already felt your body," Jonathan said nonchalantly, "and if you still want to cancel the wedding, that's fine. But when you get conceived later, don't expect me to take responsibility. And one more thing, don't drag my name into it!" Like being crushed, Zoey's heart felt like it was about to burst and shatter, leaving her numb and in pain. Zoey froze, feeling slapped by Jonathan's words. This man was truly exploiting that tragic night. Zoey was speechless! "But if you agree to marry me, then from this moment on, you'll call me 'hubby'," Jonathan added with his winning smile. Zoey clenched her hands tightly—she was anxious and restless. Jonathan threatened her and now acted as if he could do whatever he wanted with Zoey. But— What was Jonathan's real motive for insisting on marrying her? Jonathan was always so annoyed and uncomfortable around her. Zoey had already apologized for her father's request that Jonathan marry her. Jonathan was free now! Could Jonathan have feelings for her? Impossible! If he liked Zoey, he would have proposed properly or at least expressed his feelings. Not bullied her and used her as a tool to subdue her. Jonathan seemed… like a pervert! Did Jonathan have a grudge against her?! That made more sense to Zoey. "H-hubby," Zoey whispered nervously. She had no choice! She was terrified of getting conceived, and if she thought about it, she felt selfish rejecting the wedding. Her dad had sacrificed so much for this! The truth was… Jonathan had succeeded in threatening her by exploiting that tragic event. "Not bad," Jonathan muttered softly, leaning back in his chair and staring straight ahead. "But we're cousins. We can't get married." "We're not related by blood," Jonathan replied simply. "Break up with your boyfriend as soon as possible." Zoey nodded. 'Maybe Jonathan doesn't want to see Dad begging him over and over to marry me. Jonathan and Dad are close, so maybe that's why Jonathan is so insistent. Or… is this revenge?' Chapter 0007 After meeting Jonathan, Zoey decided to visit her boyfriend, Daniel, at the hospital. Daniel was supposed to come to Zoey's café, but she had told him not to, especially since Jonathan, Hayden, and their cousins were hanging out there. Ugh, Zoey hadn't even fully agreed to marry Jonathan, yet everyone assumed she had, and here's the kicker—they were getting married in three days. Crazy, right? But that was the reality. The situation was urgent, and Jonathan couldn't stay in the country for long. The company needed him, so everything was rushed. "Daniel?" Zoey said, surprised to see him already at her café—along with a young, conceived woman. 'Oh my God, why did Daniel come here? I told him I'd meet him at the hospital. Ugh, Hayden is here, and so is Jonathan. I'm doomed!' Zoey thought to herself. "Zoey," Daniel called softly, walking toward her while holding the hand of the woman next to him. "I'm sorry we couldn't meet at the hospital. My mom was there, so I decided to come here. I also have something to tell you." "Let's sit over there." Zoey smiled awkwardly at Daniel, feeling the eyes of her cousins and Hayden on her, which made her feel constrained. Daniel and the woman sat down, and Zoey followed, again smiling awkwardly at them both. "I wanted to say…" "I need to talk…" Both of them spoke at the same time, clearly nervous. "Oh, you go first, Daniel." Daniel Smidt, a 26-year-old doctor, nodded awkwardly. "I want to apologize, Zoey. You're a beautiful and talented woman." 'That's a bad sign,' Zoey thought, still smiling gracefully, though her heart was already pounding. She had a bad feeling about this. "I love you. But—I can't wait for you anymore, Zoey. I'm sorry." "What do you mean?" Zoey asked, even though she already knew. She chose to ask anyway, though their intentions were the same, it still hurt. "My parents never approved of our relationship. I'm sorry, there's a difference in our statuses. I'm a doctor, and you're just a waitress in this café," Daniel explained. Zoey smiled sweetly once again, even though… it hurt so much! Daniel had no idea that Zoey actually owned the café, nor did he know that she was the daughter of the Phillips family. But why did it still hurt when Daniel made their status an issue? All humans are created equal! But in reality, many still cared about social status, like Daniel. 'I humbled myself and pretended to be simple so you wouldn't feel insecure about finances. I wanted you to feel like you were worthy of standing beside me. But apparently, a waitress is too low for your family,' Zoey thought. "And… this is Maya. She's seven months conceived by her ex-boyfriend. But since he refused to take responsibility, my family wants me to marry her. I'm sorry," Daniel spoke gently, suddenly pulling something out and handing it to Zoey. "Here's my wedding invitation, and I hope you can attend." "Oh, that's okay. Congratulations, Daniel," Zoey said, accepting the invitation. "Oh, and I need to get back to work. My boss might get mad if I just sit around. Sorry, but I have to go." Zoey quickly excused herself, walking briskly and leaving. Even though she didn't have deep feelings for Daniel, it still hurt to be in this position. Maybe it was just her ego, not wanting to be the one dumped first. But why did it have to be because of her job? She didn't love Daniel yet, but she had put in so much effort for him. Zoey had even pretended to be a waitress in her own café—just so Daniel would feel confident and worthy of her. "It's okay. The important thing is that I didn't hurt him first. Now I don't have to explain anything to Daniel," Zoey muttered, trying to console herself. "Hmph…" But in reality, Zoey still cried. First, Jonathan rejected her because of their age gap, and now Daniel rejected her because of social status. Meanwhile, Jonathan had been watching the entire event between Zoey and Daniel. He even followed Zoey when she went to the café's kitchen. Jonathan saw her go to the corner of the room and sob quietly. That made Jonathan furious! – "Dad, I want to marry Zoey tomorrow." "Are you out of your mind?!" Gabriel looked at Jonathan with a mix of confusion and warning. "They're trying to get the company's data, and I need to return as soon as possible. If it's not tomorrow, then there won't be another day for the wedding. It's tomorrow or never!" Jonathan said flatly, staring at his father with an unreadable expression. | LEARN_MORE | https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=17968&u | Random Reading | https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/ | 373 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn more | 0 | redtgb.com | VIDEO | https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=17968&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/t39.35426-6/475463524_1360347248656653_8901531532701940912_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=4C-mhV2KHaEQ7kNvgHzDHH9&_nc_oc=AdgdnGAJh9x-6J5WxlUyaXojHArg-89WIdggZCbzSOCJdqg9tSjvUCD6D94dY3lkEkI&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AZzxiL8V0XKM0u8QVO9XujR&oh=00_AYB5takQlryDqt4U6dF19y9M2kix8tjWBpLEMGEz_zLYiQ&oe=67C2F7F2 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Random Reading | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Yes | 2025-02-24 19:42 | active | 2625 | 0 | 🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉 | “Useless Wolf! Clean the office quickly! Don't you know that our guest, Alpha Dane of the biggest pack Black Shadow, will be arriving soon?” Beta Kyle slaps me and rudely kicks me towards the office before moving away. Quietly closing the door, I slide down to the floor frustrated. I hate this house. As the daughter of the late Alpha, everyone in the pack takes great joy in torturing me, because of an unforgivable sin I made at 6. I thought that when I turned 18, I could finally escape, but 4 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. “Uhheem” This moment, someone clears their throat and I freeze. Who else is here?？ 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 Alpha’s?” 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 was going to finish 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... Twice my abilities were bound actually. He leans forward, carefully placing his glass on the small table next to the chair. I could feel him staring at me, “Why would someone do that?” “It was a punishment.” I whisper. It wasn’t far from the entire truth but it was the simplest answer I could give. 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 was him. My brother spins around, his hand stretching out to hit me. I close my eyes, bracing myself, ready to feel the burn. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Alpha Dane’s voice rumbles through the room. Peeking through slits, I see Alpha Dane has risen to his feet, his hand coiled around my brother's wrist. He was 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. I was lucky someone was present, at least someone understands the importance of this deal.” What? I had no idea what he was talking about. And he had no reason to lie for me. My brain freezes when I see my brother glaring at me. “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 vermin?” “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 know Alpha Dane is studying me. No one could ever quite believe how someone could do something so disgusting as poisoning their own parents. I stand there, with my head hanging low, wishing for the ground to open up and suck me in. There are movements around me. He is standing directly in front of me. With a rough finger he tilts my face up towards his, forcing me to look at him. Slowly, his hand latches onto my throat but he doesn’t squeeze. “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 brother. “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 my throat. “We all know that standard wolfsbane doesn’t affect us anymore. We evolved from that thing centuries ago.” What? What did he mean? Wolfsbane wasn’t lethal. It had been drummed into me since I could walk. “Which only leaves Blood of Wolfsbane.” Alpha Dane mutters. “You weren’t there, Alpha Dane.” My brother muttered through gritted teeth as his eyes narrowed to slits. “It was Wolfsbane.” He nods his head. “You are right, I was not present.” Great, now there was someone else who could remind me of something I had done by accident, years ago. “But tell me this, where would a six year old get Blood of Wolfsbane?” “I didn’t ask you here to talk about my slave!” Alpha Trey spits. “Or what happened to my parents.” Alpha Dane grabs his leather jacket from the chair. Unlike other Alphas, he seems to dress more casually. A simple black tee and jeans cover his huge frame. “You’re right and now I have a few things to mull over.” “I thought we agreed.” My brother exclaims. “Nothing has been signed, right?” He glances at me, and continues, "I have a proposition for you, Alpha Trey. And if you don’t agree, you will not get my help. Instead, you will become my enemy.” “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.” I suddenly raised my head, staring at Alpha Dane with wide eyes in disbelief. Me? Why would he want me? A person who murdered her own parents? -- As I was waiting at the door with my luggage, I heard a playful laugh coming from the car next to me. "She's the charm! I wonder how long she can live?" “Shut up! Before you say something you regret!” I was startled by the familiar deep voice. That car... was the one Alpha Dane sent to pick me up? Bang! I watch Alpha Dane gets out of the car and close the door, striding in front of me. He reaches a hand out and cups my face and starts, “Are you ready?” I bit my bottom lip and nod slightly, clutching the barely full carrier bag to my chest. “Where are the rest of your things? Everything needs to be packed.” “That’s all she has.” Trey snorts as he makes his appearance with his Luna. “That’s it?” Alpha Dane stares at my brother. “She’s what, in her early twenties and that’s all her belongings?” “What more does she need?!” The Luna sneers, "Take her Alpha Dane. I’m sure she will be as useful a slave to you as she is to us.” Her shrill voice goes straight through me. “Shut up, bimbo! You should make yourself familiar with our agreement.” Alpha Dane snaps. “It seems your Alpha has not told you everything.” He takes the contract from his Beta Eric, then shave it against Alpha Trey’s chest. “I agreed that you could take her as part of our deal.” My brother signs without reading and practically throws the contract back at Alpha Dane. “Done.” Alpha Trey mutters. “Is this my only option?” I whispers to my self, keeping my eyes low. What could someone like him possibly want with me? “Neah?" Alpha Dane steps in front of me and hold a hand out to me. "Come. It’s time for us to go.” ... A few hours later. I stares up at big villa of Alpha Dane, gasping a little. It was easily three times the size of my previous home. “Let me give you a tour.” Alpha Dane suggests. I follow him in with clutching the carrier bag to my chest, not speaking a word. “Tell me, what do you need. Underwear, jeans, dresses, shoes?” “I don’t need anything.” I whispers, feeling uneasy. I hear Alpha Dane sighs, who starts scribbling something down. I scrunch my face up when he measurs me. It's painful. “Are you injured?" I bit my bottom lip and shake my head. “You have to say something, Neah. I cannot read your mind. When I mark you, at least I will know what you are feeling.” “Mark me?” “You….You brought me so that you could mark me?” I stare at him in disbelief, eyes wide. “Yes, I will mark you.” His rough fingers tip my face up, and his crimson eyes flash to me. “If Trey had bothered reading the contract, he would have discovered that you were not bought, Neah." "You are not a slave, but to be my bride. MY TENTH BRIDE.” Crap. He's that ruthless man who rumored to have killed all his nine mates?!! | LEARN_MORE | https://wwwedb.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=11783& | New world publications | https://www.facebook.com/100090352943774/ | 3,808 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn more | 0 | wwwedb.com | VIDEO | 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/t39.35426-6/474141954_1136077707870605_2051018425677699591_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=jjoymu6FJUsQ7kNvgEHzpZn&_nc_oc=Adgt0qbjhEDH8uwkaEZe1ekweywab4U9ZSVS-IEmePIHVf-CKahgRXZGE231EENAiA8&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AkdIPAMwIBhm7S_x1iUvJ26&oh=00_AYBoe-dVrLOM82F43tbFvLrHIjxEKGQquLquHoAgZhyG_A&oe=67C2F6F4 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | New world publications | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Creative Trim and Performance | Empower your High School Senior to reach new heights by nominating them for our Off to College Giveaway! One exceptional Senior will rise above to win this Remote Start and Security System with Installation. All you need to do is share the post and drop a comment on why they shine bright and deserve to be our winner! Well will take entries till the end of February #senior2025 #college #safety #highschool | CALL_NOW | Creative Trim and Performance | https://www.facebook.com/CreativeTrim/ | 1,451 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Call now | 0 | IMAGE | Creative Trim offers a wide variety of car and truck accessories along with the best names in car au | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480593323_1137637707631642_3553981733355727701_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=3hxZ6k-CRoEQ7kNvgGDrsx9&_nc_oc=AdhcNnd_QBbzdfRCtwI2VZce8Dnka2efEnHDOWROIOWk37BD05jEgtXvOsx5HChbG6u4uc9SwBA_o5B3_nc-YO7r&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A695keWGISiOYzT0clvbRi4&oh=00_AYCmSh6VbG3iTiJf5qAChJjsCETrTcLGzD0s8cVt6M7XHA&oe=67C2DFC9 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Creative Trim and Performance | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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The Sarver Group at Keller Williams Realty | 🏀Who's ready for some March Madness?! 🏀 We're giving away tickets to the first SIX NCAA tournament games in Raleigh as our GRAND PRIZE! Think you know who will make it to the final four? Tell us in the comments! Then, contact your Sarver Group agent or call 980-375-5057 to enter for a chance to win this $2,500 prize and join our ACC watch party at Lost Worlds Brewery in Cornelius on March 11th (3-8pm)! Enjoy food, drinks, and basketball fun! The raffle drawing will be held at 6:55 PM (just before the 7:00 PM ACC game!). Drawings for Second and Third place prizes will be held as well. We can't wait to see you there! Don't forget to call and register today! Your Real Estate Advisors for Life, The Sarver Group @lostworldsbeer @knipplaw @crosscountrymtg Dave Talbott @johnhassellinsurance #MarchMadness #NCAATournament #Giveaway #Basketball #thesarvergroup #LostWorldsBrewery #CorneliusNC #NCAA #FreeTickets #MarchMadnessGiveaway | CALL_NOW | The Sarver Group at Keller Williams Realty | https://www.facebook.com/TheSarverGroup/ | 1,711 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Call now | 0 | IMAGE | The Sarver Group is the #1 Real Estate Team in the Lake Norman Area. | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481066010_824395323177862_8756813008259189085_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=LGR7_Lk7xW8Q7kNvgGRtIWf&_nc_oc=AdjQmm1FQA9VDFTf-Yu3i7biGUFgDLILBKt-4_3ufAtgaJYXcDg2MCQd34R7WKSVv0Mo4LdV_LLGIR2pP5qn-vnO&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AbV19gJ5tz_vzR7skcOqBkm&oh=00_AYB6YmHwD2Ribw35Mb5F_CJgqpNQABD39xWaLeEiyc4CNQ&oe=67C2CC53 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | The Sarver Group at Keller Williams Realty | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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LEARN_MORE | http://UpperEquine.com/ | upperequinecollective | https://www.instagram.com/_u/upperequinecollective | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn More | 0 | upperequine.com | CAROUSEL | http://UpperEquine.com/ | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-19/480800611_977279371031930_8522043014173797516_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s206x206_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=525117&_nc_ohc=YkGhKuIlA7MQ7kNvgEtknQd&_nc_oc=AdigJHDMtYyRsRgsx7C_te4sBAj63ZNH-5AtAgkNBYHdhDOkzjbz9o3BcpRMkrap-GC9TMCjh-Y9If-wrFYr5FzN&_nc_zt=24&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com&oh=00_AYD62RagK4o_NhgTBUvcCy4UePxOQ8dA5ptJZpjLTOlCoA&oe=67C2EA30 | IG_ADS_IDENTITY | 1 | 0 | 0 | upperequinecollective | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE | http://instagram.com/snapemall__ | snapemall__ | https://www.instagram.com/_u/snapemall__ | 0 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Visit Instagram Profile | 0 | instagram.com | CAROUSEL | http://instagram.com/snapemall__ | 1969-12-31 18:00 | https://scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-19/476677219_1000587295309449_6330091600417699698_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s206x206_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=525117&_nc_ohc=vZHnNaVzNC8Q7kNvgFb_eNf&_nc_oc=AdhToxnOhsAKXMFnleaFG4Z4t11qyEv-Yh5GzVRq1Lnw1W_dNcX6CgpXz-L9f3TyAhhm5Vw92QQfdUk3lSuxG3Rs&_nc_zt=24&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com&oh=00_AYAZozW0yIBIQhHc2wDKEypIjepRx1ig-O0YqudMKJ839w&oe=67C2D2FD | IG_ADS_IDENTITY | 1 | 0 | 0 | snapemall__ | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Yes | 2025-02-24 19:43 | active | 2625 | 0 | 😍Read the next chapters👉 | Chapter 1 As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer. Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs. While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen: “Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford." The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress. Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and posted a photo of our marriage certificate in the comments section: "Is your troupe’s new production called the Union of Illegitimates?" Before long, Julian called me. "Victoria Dean, what stupid thing are you doing now? How many times do I have to tell you that Averil and I are just putting on a show." I sniffled. "Julian, what gives you the right to take away my lead dancer role?" There was a brief silence on the other end. "Are you part of Redwood?" After a pause, he added nonchalantly, "Averil wanted the lead role in this tour as her birthday gift. I didn’t realize that role was yours. Go online and clarify immediately. Tell everyone that the marriage certificate was doctored." I found it laughable. He didn’t even know where I worked but remembered Averil’s birthday gift request. "And then? Why would I fake a marriage certificate?" Julian replied calmly, "You can say you’re just a fan of mine." "Julian Ford, what do you take me for?" He sighed softly on the other end. "Victoria, we’ve been married for seven years. We’re practically an old married couple. Averil is young; there’s no need to compete with her." He must have forgotten that I married him before finishing college. Though we’d been married for seven years, I was only a year older than Averil. "Julian, I fell down the stairs, and my leg hurts." "Victoria, it’s just an apology and a clarification. It’s not that hard." Julian sounded genuinely disappointed. "When did you turn into such a shameless liar?" Drip. Drip. Tears, mingled with blood from my nose, splattered onto the back of my hand. Pressing a hand over my mouth, I hung up the call. Julian called again, but I immediately put his number on silent. I called for an ambulance myself. When the paramedics arrived, they asked if I had any family to accompany me. "No," I replied numbly, tilting my head back. "They're all gone." On the way to the hospital, Julian sent me a message, "Victoria, Averil was so upset by you that she fainted. You need to come to the hospital immediately to apologize in person. Bring an appropriate gift; there will be reporters present. Don’t worry about your reputation. This mess is your fault to begin with." My hands trembled as I typed a two-word reply, “Keep dreaming." Then I turned off my phone, shutting myself away in solitude. While waiting in the hospital hallway for my X-ray results, I unexpectedly heard a familiar voice: "Mr. Watson, I’m Victoria’s boyfriend. If there’s anything she needs moving forward, feel free to contact me directly." I looked up, locking eyes with Julian as he walked in. His steps faltered for a moment, his movements stiff, but he quickly acted as if he didn’t recognize me. Continuing his conversation with Benjamin Watson, he passed me without a second glance. The faint citrus scent clinging to him twisted my stomach in knots. I almost bolted, but Julian turned back. He seemed to have rushed over, and when he noticed I was still there, a flicker of exasperation crossed his face. "Victoria, have you thought it through?" "I told you to keep dreaming." I pushed past him, limping away in the opposite direction. I felt Julian's gaze linger on my injured leg for a moment, growing colder by the second. "Victoria, are you really stooping to this kind of ploy just to avoid apologizing?" I didn’t want to respond. All I wanted was to get away from this hallway, thick with the scent of Averil’s perfume. A large hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back. I stumbled, barely able to steady myself as a sharp pain shot through my leg. "Ah!" I couldn’t hold back a cry of pain. Julian’s brow furrowed in irritation, his tone laced with displeasure. "You’ve really let me down." With practiced ease, he reached into my pocket and took my phone. "Give it back!" I stretched my arm to snatch it, but Julian, clearly annoyed, gave me a firm shove. "Hank, hold her." The bodyguard, tall and imposing, pinned me effortlessly. I couldn’t break free. "Julian Ford!!" Chapter 2 A mask was tossed over. "Cover her mouth. Stop her from screaming." My wrist was locked in a crushing grip, my legs throbbed with pain, and my mouth was tightly covered. All I could do was let my tears flow helplessly. I could only watch as Julian took my phone, logged into my account, and posted an apology and clarification in my name. "I’ve changed your password and replaced your verification number with mine. For now, just stay out of trouble." When Julian finally looked up and saw my state, he seemed startled. He pushed Hank, away, glaring at him in reproach. "Did you really have to use that much force?" He rubbed my wrist gently. "Does it hurt? If you’d listened earlier, this wouldn’t have happened." I snatched my phone back and reluctantly opened my social media, only to find a post uploaded from my account that read: "I apologize for my earlier comment on Redwood Dance Troupe’s post. I am not married to Mr. Julian Ford. As a fan, I acted on selfish impulses. I also want to apologize to Ms. Averil Wells and Mr. Julian Ford for any trouble I’ve caused." My hands trembled as I tried to open the comments section. "Victoria, have you no shame?" “Victoria, my God, your desperation to become the other woman practically oozes through the screen." "Victoria, people like you are a disgrace to dancers everywhere. Get out of this industry!" ... Julian took the phone from my hand again. "Don’t look." I moved my lips, my voice low and unsteady. "Julian, is this what you wanted?" He turned his face away. "People online forget quickly. I’ll have someone redirect the narrative later. Just stay off your phone for a few days." I shook my head slowly, my vision unfocused. "Julian, you’ve destroyed me." I couldn’t make out his expression, but his voice, tinged with irritation, rang in my ears. "I already told you I’ll handle it. Why are you making a scene? If you hadn’t caused all this trouble yourself, would things be this messy? Victoria, you have to understand that even if I deliberately put you in the spotlight, it’s your own fault you ended up like this!" A sharp ringing filled my ears, drowning out everything else as a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Julian, let’s get a divorce." He seemed to chuckle, his voice indulgent yet exasperated. "You’re upset right now. If venting helps, go ahead." He was convinced I wouldn’t divorce him, using his supposed tolerance to display his magnanimity. Surprisingly, Julian’s laughter brought me an eerie sense of calm. Just then, the doctor called my name from the other end of the hallway. "Victoria Dean, your test results are ready." Julian froze for a moment and followed after me. "What test results?" "Julian,” a soft voice called out from behind him. “Why have you been gone so long?" He immediately turned back, heading toward Averil, who stood at the doorway of her hospital room. "Averil, why did you come out? You should be resting. Get back to bed," he said, his tone filled with concern. Dragging my numb, pain-ridden leg, I walked in the opposite direction, completely away from him. It felt as though I were stepping on razor blades. Every step sliced through my flesh. Every step tore through my soul. The doctor handed me the results and warned me that I needed to rest for the next month. Without it, dancing again would be out of the question. I hailed a cab and returned home to face the cold emptiness of my apartment alone. Because of our secret marriage, Julian and I maintained separate residences. He’d deliberately chosen the unit right above mine. On my first night there, he pinned me against the wall and kissed me. "Now I can sneak into your bed every night.” Julian seemed to take particular pleasure in this illicit game, as though the secrecy added a thrill. I once thought it was just a peculiar quirk beneath his otherwise serious exterior. But I was wrong. The thrill wasn’t about secrecy—it was about betrayal. He had grown bored of me and set his sights on the newer, more enticing Averil. Chapter 3 At nine in the evening, Julian arrived with a bag of fruit. "Victoria, I got you some cherries. Want to have some now?" I tossed my phone at him. The screen displayed Averil’s latest post: "I said I wanted sweet-and-sour cherries, and he ended up buying regular ones instead. Hilarious." "Did she not want them, so you decided to throw them my way?" Julian frowned. "Don’t be like this..." He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my waist in a familiar gesture. "Is this because I haven’t touched you for so long? Are you upset about that?" I shoved him away with all my strength, then made a point of gagging a few times right in front of him. Dark clouds gathered on his face. "Victoria Dean, that’s enough. Stop acting like this." "Acting like what?" My heart ached, tears streaming down my face. "Do you have any idea how many hateful calls I’ve received? Do you know I’ve been blacklisted by every major dance troupe? My career is ruined! Julian Ford, what did I do wrong to deserve this?" I’ve always been the quiet, mild-tempered type—in other words, easy to push around. Julian used to playfully tug on my earlobe, his voice full of affection. "Victoria, you’re so easy to bully. What would you do without me?" I never once imagined he’d leave me behind. Years ago, when my parents took their own lives under a cloud of scandal, the entire world turned its back on me. Julian was the one who pulled me out of the mud. He stood up to his family for me, and I still remember how he knelt in the rain for hours, defying their disapproval. He took me far away from the pain and gave us a fresh start in a new city. Even when I was at my lowest, broken and worthless, Julian didn’t give up on me The hardest days were behind us, yet now I faced his betrayal. “Let’s divorce,” I said, closing my eyes. “At least let me keep some dignity.” "Victoria..." Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, looking weary. "This isn’t the first time you got insulted, so why are you acting so delicate now?" My eyes flew open in disbelief, and I stared at him, stunned. “What did you just say?” Julian pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression dark. “When your parents took their lives, the whole country was cursing you—” “Get out!” I screamed, grabbing a cushion from the sofa and hurling it at him. “Get out!” Julian looked utterly taken aback. He had never seen me so hysterical. After a moment of stunned silence, he stormed out, taking the bag of cherries with him. “Don’t need my leftovers, huh? Fine. Let’s see how long you can hold out,” he snapped as he left. Not even ten minutes later, Averil posted another update. "First day in the new place—this décor is so tacky. What kind of tasteless guy thought this up?" The photograph showed his upstairs apartment. The so-called "tacky décor" was all my work. Julian even replied to her post, "Yeah, it’s pretty bad. Let’s tear it down and redo it." I rubbed my sore eyes, my tears long dried. A house could be redecorated. A partner could be replaced. To him, I was nothing more than an old, discarded toy. When yet another harassing phone call came through, I finally pulled out my SIM card and replaced it with the number I’d used during my overseas performances. Back then, a prestigious international dance troupe had extended me an offer, but I had turned down the opportunity because I couldn’t bear to part with Julian. Now, with my heart pounding, I nervously dialed the number that had contacted me back then. “Hello, is this Mr. Jason Yates?” There was silence on the other end. If not for the faint sound of breathing, I would have thought the call had been disconnected. Why wasn’t he speaking? Had he seen the trending news? Clutching the phone tightly, my palms grew damp with sweat. “Mr. Yates, please listen to me. I didn’t do any of those things. I’ve tried to post a clarification, but my social media account has been taken over. Every time I create a new one, my post gets deleted within seconds. I…” “Wait for me.” A low, muffled male voice interrupted me. It sounded unexpectedly familiar but was completely different from the blond-haired Jason I remembered. I froze. “You’re not Jason?” “Wait for me,” the voice repeated before abruptly hanging up. I stood there, bewildered, trying to make sense of what just happened. As I was still in a daze, a text message came through, "Taking off. Turning off my phone." A few seconds later, another message arrived, "Wait for me to return. I’ll take you away." Chapter 4 Although his words were vague, they made his stance clear. I exhaled in relief. Over the next few days, I started packing my belongings and handling the necessary paperwork. I didn’t have much—just one suitcase in total. I left behind everything Julian had ever bought for me. It wasn’t because I was virtuous, nor was it because I still had feelings for him. He had cheated, leaving me utterly broken. When my world crumbled, my parents died in disgrace, and I became a pariah hounded by those who blamed me for the children’s deaths, it was Julian who saved me. I didn’t know how he convinced his father, but after that long night kneeling in the rain, he was cast out of the Ford family. At the same time, the relentless attacks against me online suddenly disappeared. He gave me a new name, a new identity, and a new life. He truly caught me as I was falling, staying by my side through the darkest of days. For that alone, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. All I wanted now was for us to part on good terms. After three days of silence, Julian showed up again. "Have you come to your senses after taking some time to cool off?" I nodded, calm and collected. "I have." He misunderstood me, a smug arc lifting his brow. "Good. That’s more like it, Victoria. Remember your place. If you behave, I’ll take care of you. But if you overstep your boundaries, I’ll make sure you’re left with nothing." He delivered his threats, but when I stayed silent, his gaze wavered, a hint of confusion flickering in his eyes. "Are you done talking?" I placed the divorce papers on the table. "If so, just sign them." Julian’s gaze darkened as he stared at the document. His cold eyes turned even frostier. "Victoria, you’ve known about my relationship with Averil for a long time. Why couldn’t you, like before, just pretend nothing happened? Why not turn a blind eye and continue enjoying the comfort of being Mrs. Ford? "Everything she has, you have too. And what she doesn’t have, I can give you. Victoria, you shouldn’t be so ungrateful." I stared at Julian in shock, unable to believe those words had come out of his mouth. I still remembered back in high school, when Julian found out his father had cheated. His mother discovered the affair, and the resulting chaos rocked the entire family. Julian’s father shouted at his mother, "Men in my position are expected to have mistresses. I’m not divorcing you, so stop making a scene." At fifteen, Julian had grabbed a baseball bat and shattered a porcelain vase next to his father. Amid the scattered shards, he said coldly, "A man without responsibility doesn’t deserve to be called a man." At that moment, I thought Julian was the coolest person in the world. But now, fifteen years later, that once-principled boy had grown into the exact kind of man he had once despised. The thirty-year-old Julian had become a mirror image of the father he loathed. The realization made me sick to my stomach. "Not a chance," I said, pushing the divorce papers closer to him again. "After the divorce, you can keep as many women as you like." Julian stared at me for a long moment before finally picking up the papers between two fingers, his expression unreadable. "You want a divorce? Fine. But don’t you think it’s time we settle the debt you owe me for all these years?" I nodded and took out a bank card. "There’s one million in this account. It’s more than enough to cover the cost of my living expenses over the years." Julian’s brows furrowed as he looked at the card I had clearly prepared in advance. "One million? Do you think that’s enough?" "It’s enough." I met his gaze firmly. "I’ve kept track of every household expense. The records are in the study if you want to verify them. The luxury items and jewelry you bought me are all accounted for as well. The ones I used have already been depreciated and factored into the total. "Julian Ford, I owe you nothing." He was silent for so long that I thought he might refuse. But then, to my surprise, he let out a low chuckle. "I was planning to take you to a charity gala tomorrow night. But since you don’t need me, let’s forget about it." His gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds, as though he were searching for a hint of regret. But he was destined to be disappointed. My expression remained calm, devoid of any emotional fluctuation. "We’re in a secret marriage, Julian. The role of Mrs. Ford can be replaced anytime." His lips pressed into a thin line before he tossed an invitation onto the table. "Your name is on it. Come with me tomorrow night, and I’ll agree to the divorce." Chapter 5 I had no idea what Julian was trying to accomplish. But I had no other choice but to agree. When I changed into the gown Julian sent over and arrived at the venue, chauffeured by his driver, I realized I had underestimated his cruelty. This wasn’t a private gala at all. The red carpet was lined with media reporters and cameras, while fans holding flowers and banners screamed the names of their idols. I barely had time to process it before someone noticed me. "Look! Isn’t that the fake marriage fraudster?" Ever since Julian used my account to post that forced apology, I’d been labeled as the "fake marriage fraudster." I had seen countless insults online, but no amount of text could compare to the humiliation of hearing the taunts whispered directly in my ear. "Victoria Dean, how do you even have the nerve to show your face here?" "Look at her dress. Averil’s wearing white, and so is she. Typical attention-seeking move." "Don’t even try to compare her to our idol, Averil. She’s not worthy!" "Exactly. Averil’s dress is haute couture, straight off the runway, and hers? Looks like a two-year-old knockoff." The vicious jeers flooded my ears. I tried to turn and escape, but a "staff member" grabbed my arm. Looking up, I recognized him instantly—it was Hank, Julian’s bodyguard. He smiled at me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Miss Dean, Mr. Ford said you must enter the venue." Hank was a distant relative of Averil. Last time at the hospital, he had purposely gripped me so hard that bruises bloomed all over my arm. Julian had seen it but only gave a cursory reprimand. Now, he had unleashed him on me again. The Julian who once cherished me like I was his whole world was long gone. Bitterness welled up inside me, sharp and sour, but there was no escaping. Hank dragged me forward, half-pulling, half-shoving. "Look at Victoria’s awkward walk! Doesn’t she look like a lame old mule?" "She’s probably trying to crash the red carpet and got shut down by the bodyguard!" "Victoria, you’re a trashy parasite!" Before I could react, a sharp insult was followed by a sudden blow—a drink bottle hurtled toward me out of nowhere, hitting me squarely. I tried to dodge, but Hank deliberately blocked my way, even shoving me toward the incoming bottle. “Ah!” Purple grape juice splattered all over me, soaking my white gown and leaving it stained and blotchy. "Ha! Doesn’t she look like she’s on her period?" "Fake marriage fraudster, don’t you have any shame? Get out of here!" "If I were you, I’d just jump off a building and be done with it. The thicker the skin, the cheaper the person!" Amid the harsh laughter, I struggled to wrench free from Hank’s grip. "Let me go! I need to change!" Hank gave me a mocking glance. "Sorry, but even if you’re barely breathing, you’re going into the venue tonight. Mr. Ford said if you want the divorce, you’ll get through tonight’s event first. Otherwise, you’ll face the consequences." I froze in place. Of course. How could I forget? Julian was now the rising star of the Harbor City elite. And me? A woman whose very identity couldn’t even see the light of day—what leverage did I have to fight him? I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine. Let go of me. I’ll walk myself." Hank had no intention of making things easy. Not only did he refuse to let go, but he also quickened his pace, deliberately dragging me along. Stumbling and disheveled, I was hauled through the venue, drawing more jeers and mocking stares with every step. By the time we reached Julian, Hank had transformed back into his obedient and unassuming self. Julian’s cold gaze swept over me, taking in my ruined dress. "What happened?" I glared at him, seething with anger. "Why bother pretending? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to see?" His brow furrowed, just as a slender, pale arm reached out from behind, curling around his own. "Victoria, I’m so sorry! It was one of my fans who spilled juice on you." Averil, dressed in a flawless white couture gown, clung tightly to Julian’s side. "She probably got upset seeing you wear a dress so similar to mine. Surely you wouldn’t mind, right, Victoria?" In the past, her deliberate provocations would have ignited my anger. But now, all I wanted was to leave. "Julian Ford, you wanted me here. I showed up. You set me up for humiliation, and I endured it. You’ve made your point. Can I go now?" Though framed as a question, I had no intention of waiting for his response. I turned away, desperate to escape. "Don’t leave." Someone stepped into my path, blocking my way. Chapter 6 "Well, if it isn’t Victoria Dean, the great dancer herself. Since you’re here, why not give us a performance before you leave?" I didn’t recognize the man in front of me, but it was obvious that he was just one of Julian’s pawns sent to humiliate me. "Move," I said coldly, my expression hardened. "Oh, look at that attitude." The man sized me up as if I were a product on display. "Still think you’re the rising star of the dance world? You do know, don’t you? You’ve already been blacklisted from the industry." His words knocked the breath out of me, leaving me feeling like I’d plunged into icy water. "Julian," I said, turning to him. "Is he telling the truth?" Julian swirled the wine in his glass, his gaze distant and cold. "This is your punishment for what you did wrong." I couldn’t hold back anymore and pressed him. "What did I do wrong? What could possibly justify you ruining my career and cutting off all my opportunities? Julian Ford, answer me!" His lips tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "You know very well what you did." Averil laughed softly. "Victoria, I’m performing tonight. Since your reputation hasn’t been great lately, why not dance too? There are plenty of influential people here. Maybe someone will take an interest in you." I stared at Averil, my gaze unflinching until her smile faded. "Julian," she said, shrinking behind him. "Victoria looks so scary." Julian patted her hand, his eyes fixed on me. "Victoria, didn’t you want to cozy up to the right people? There are several entertainment executives here tonight. This is your chance. Why not make the most of it?" I took in a sharp breath, unable to recognize the man standing before me. I thought back to the year Julian first started his business. He was desperate for seed money, and without it, he would have missed a golden opportunity. I had secretly taken a job dancing at a nightclub to make quick cash, but when Julian found out, he’d rather sell his blood than let me expose myself like that. "You know how jealous I am," he had said back then. "I can’t stand the thought of any man looking at you, even for a second." He had loved me so fiercely back then. We spent nights wrapped in each other’s arms in that tiny, run-down apartment, finding joy in the simplest things—even sharing a single apple felt like a feast. And now? He seemed indifferent, almost eager, to push me toward other men. My voice came out dry and hoarse, barely recognizable. "Alright, as you wish." I pushed past the person blocking my way and headed toward a director I had once worked with. "Look, Victoria’s still limping. Could she really be injured?" "Ignore her. She’s faking it." Julian’s voice, filled with arrogance and disdain, blended seamlessly with the mocking laughter around me, creating a suffocating web of humiliation. I forced myself to reach the director, but before I could even greet him, he quickly stepped aside, avoiding me like the plague. I froze, knowing there was no point in asking. But I couldn’t accept it. I had always been known as one of the most hardworking dancers in the industry. My low-key and professional demeanor had earned me a solid reputation. So many people had once begged me for collaborations, making grand promises. I refused to believe that all my accomplishments could be completely erased by Julian’s words. I dragged my injured leg forward, lowering myself to approach others I recognized in the crowd. Yet every one of them avoided me as if I were poison. Some walked away the moment they spotted me, while others sided with Averil, mocking me openly. I swallowed my pride and endured every insult, but by the time I had exhausted every option in the vast banquet hall, I finally realized just how pathetic I had become. I was nothing more than a clown under the spotlight, put on display for everyone’s amusement. They couldn’t resist stepping on me, mocking me. And leading the charge was the man I had once believed I could entrust with my life. Julian looked at me, his expression grim. "Victoria, haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?" Averil chimed in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Julian, Victoria is my senior after all. Why not just let it go?" He didn’t respond, but the tight furrow of his brows relaxed slightly. "Let it go? No way!" someone shouted deliberately. "A dancer daring to put on airs—if word gets out, won’t it tarnish Mr. Ford’s reputation?" "Exactly. Even if Mr. Ford doesn’t stoop to her level, she still needs to be taught a lesson. She has to learn what lines she shouldn’t cross." "Victoria, drink this glass of liquor, and we’ll consider giving you another chance," one of Julian’s lackeys said, shoving a full glass of vodka into my hand. "What do you all think?" The crowd erupted in enthusiastic agreement, their jeers echoing around me. I turned to Julian and asked, "Is this what you want?" Chapter 7 There were three steps between Julian and me. He didn’t move forward, and I had no desire to close the gap. I knew he was waiting for me to back down. In every argument we’d ever had, I was always the first to surrender—not because he was right, but because I couldn’t forget the salvation he’d given me during my darkest times. In front of him, I always felt a step lower, and I had been willing to tolerate his misplaced anger because of it. Even when he flirted with Averil time and time again, even when he bought her a house to keep her hidden away, I pretended not to see. But today, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I asked again, “Forcing me to drink as an apology—is that what you want?” Julian’s anger flashed across his face when I didn’t apologize as expected. "Yes, it is." I shook my head with a bitter smile, staring at the vodka swirling in the glass. He knew I was allergic to wine. Yet, to defend Averil, he was willing to push me this far. The boy who once couldn’t bear to see me get hurt had finally disappeared with time. Crack. It felt like I heard something shatter. It was the ten years I had shared with Julian. A phrase suddenly came to mind, “There’s no use crying over spilled milk.” “Fine.” I raised the glass and drank it all in one gulp, ignoring the hesitation flickering across Julian’s face. The sharp burn of wine scorched my throat, making me cough until my face flushed red. “Great drinking! Let’s pour her another glass!” Someone tried to refill my glass, but Julian barked, “That’s enough,” shoving them aside. Just as he took a step toward me, Averil latched onto his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Julian," Averil said with a feigned tone of concern. "It seems like Victoria has shown enough sincerity. How about this? When I perform later, let her join me on stage." She smiled innocently at me, pretending to consider my feelings. "Of course, it might mean Victoria will have to take a supporting role as my backup dancer. What do you think?" "Not happening." The wine still burned in my stomach, and I could feel the heat rising rapidly under my skin. "Averil, that stage is going to be live-streamed, isn’t it? Do you really want to use it to step on me? Or is it that you don’t have any confidence in your own abilities and can only rely on cheap tricks like this to feel relevant?" After swallowing my pride for so long, I finally threw all caution aside, releasing my pent-up anger in one blow. Averil clung to Julian’s arm, swaying it back and forth. "Julian, explain this to her. Victoria must be misunderstanding me." Julian’s face darkened, and his voice carried nothing but disappointment. "Victoria, if you still want to dance, you’ll get up on that stage, whether you want to or not. With your position, you should feel lucky to be dancing alongside Averil." His words were a final ultimatum, shattering the last shred of affection I had left for him. "Julian Ford, what am I to you? A toy? A source of amusement? Or just a prop to make you and Averil look good together? This game of pleasing you—I’m done playing." I pulled off my wedding ring and hurled it back at him, watching as his face turned an ugly shade of blue. Then, in front of the stunned crowd, I took the divorce papers out of my handbag and scattered them at Julian’s feet. "Julian Ford, since you’re so eager to distance yourself from me, fine. As you wish. Sign these papers, and we’re done. From now on, we’re strangers. I wish you and Averil a lifetime together, and don’t ever show your faces in front of me again!" | LEARN_MORE | https://www.qknymufd.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=1 | Random Reading | https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/ | 373 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn more | 0 | www.qknymufd.com | VIDEO | https://www.qknymufd.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=17636&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/t39.35426-6/474042084_8812139008892445_2737090370293392520_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=v-fo2Znqk1MQ7kNvgFQ9oGf&_nc_oc=AdiqGmr1XtCTHRTJIloOhaEqAclc9LVsOBD7ctNPmVahREOqcAfNhm3gVvo9yWTewK4ahJIOr2Me3e4muCZ_qfZt&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AOOw6L62R9Rrxi26UEK5_oV&oh=00_AYCVO7tmlgzZp3vNqL3hMoPkgQyDBMbAVgQNQOAZmpS8xw&oe=67C2EB83 | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Random Reading | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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Yes | 2025-02-24 19:43 | active | 2625 | 0 | 😍Read the next chapters👉 | Chapter 1 As the upcoming tour approached, the dance troupe suddenly revoked my position as the lead dancer. Anxious to get an explanation in person, I lost my footing due to my distracted state and tumbled down the stairs. While enduring the sharp pain and preparing to call for emergency services, a notification popped up on my phone screen: “Redwood Dance Troupe: Welcome our new lead dancer, Averil Wells, and our generous sponsor, Julian Ford." The accompanying photo featured two smiling faces—my husband of seven years, whom I had secretly married, and his pampered mistress. Julian had his arm wrapped around Averil's waist as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, Averil clung to Julian's neck, her face radiating shyness and delight. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and posted a photo of our marriage certificate in the comments section: "Is your troupe’s new production called the Union of Illegitimates?" Before long, Julian called me. "Victoria Dean, what stupid thing are you doing now? How many times do I have to tell you that Averil and I are just putting on a show." I sniffled. "Julian, what gives you the right to take away my lead dancer role?" There was a brief silence on the other end. "Are you part of Redwood?" After a pause, he added nonchalantly, "Averil wanted the lead role in this tour as her birthday gift. I didn’t realize that role was yours. Go online and clarify immediately. Tell everyone that the marriage certificate was doctored." I found it laughable. He didn’t even know where I worked but remembered Averil’s birthday gift request. "And then? Why would I fake a marriage certificate?" Julian replied calmly, "You can say you’re just a fan of mine." "Julian Ford, what do you take me for?" He sighed softly on the other end. "Victoria, we’ve been married for seven years. We’re practically an old married couple. Averil is young; there’s no need to compete with her." He must have forgotten that I married him before finishing college. Though we’d been married for seven years, I was only a year older than Averil. "Julian, I fell down the stairs, and my leg hurts." "Victoria, it’s just an apology and a clarification. It’s not that hard." Julian sounded genuinely disappointed. "When did you turn into such a shameless liar?" Drip. Drip. Tears, mingled with blood from my nose, splattered onto the back of my hand. Pressing a hand over my mouth, I hung up the call. Julian called again, but I immediately put his number on silent. I called for an ambulance myself. When the paramedics arrived, they asked if I had any family to accompany me. "No," I replied numbly, tilting my head back. "They're all gone." On the way to the hospital, Julian sent me a message, "Victoria, Averil was so upset by you that she fainted. You need to come to the hospital immediately to apologize in person. Bring an appropriate gift; there will be reporters present. Don’t worry about your reputation. This mess is your fault to begin with." My hands trembled as I typed a two-word reply, “Keep dreaming." Then I turned off my phone, shutting myself away in solitude. While waiting in the hospital hallway for my X-ray results, I unexpectedly heard a familiar voice: "Mr. Watson, I’m Victoria’s boyfriend. If there’s anything she needs moving forward, feel free to contact me directly." I looked up, locking eyes with Julian as he walked in. His steps faltered for a moment, his movements stiff, but he quickly acted as if he didn’t recognize me. Continuing his conversation with Benjamin Watson, he passed me without a second glance. The faint citrus scent clinging to him twisted my stomach in knots. I almost bolted, but Julian turned back. He seemed to have rushed over, and when he noticed I was still there, a flicker of exasperation crossed his face. "Victoria, have you thought it through?" "I told you to keep dreaming." I pushed past him, limping away in the opposite direction. I felt Julian's gaze linger on my injured leg for a moment, growing colder by the second. "Victoria, are you really stooping to this kind of ploy just to avoid apologizing?" I didn’t want to respond. All I wanted was to get away from this hallway, thick with the scent of Averil’s perfume. A large hand grabbed my shoulder, yanking me back. I stumbled, barely able to steady myself as a sharp pain shot through my leg. "Ah!" I couldn’t hold back a cry of pain. Julian’s brow furrowed in irritation, his tone laced with displeasure. "You’ve really let me down." With practiced ease, he reached into my pocket and took my phone. "Give it back!" I stretched my arm to snatch it, but Julian, clearly annoyed, gave me a firm shove. "Hank, hold her." The bodyguard, tall and imposing, pinned me effortlessly. I couldn’t break free. "Julian Ford!!" Chapter 2 A mask was tossed over. "Cover her mouth. Stop her from screaming." My wrist was locked in a crushing grip, my legs throbbed with pain, and my mouth was tightly covered. All I could do was let my tears flow helplessly. I could only watch as Julian took my phone, logged into my account, and posted an apology and clarification in my name. "I’ve changed your password and replaced your verification number with mine. For now, just stay out of trouble." When Julian finally looked up and saw my state, he seemed startled. He pushed Hank, away, glaring at him in reproach. "Did you really have to use that much force?" He rubbed my wrist gently. "Does it hurt? If you’d listened earlier, this wouldn’t have happened." I snatched my phone back and reluctantly opened my social media, only to find a post uploaded from my account that read: "I apologize for my earlier comment on Redwood Dance Troupe’s post. I am not married to Mr. Julian Ford. As a fan, I acted on selfish impulses. I also want to apologize to Ms. Averil Wells and Mr. Julian Ford for any trouble I’ve caused." My hands trembled as I tried to open the comments section. "Victoria, have you no shame?" “Victoria, my God, your desperation to become the other woman practically oozes through the screen." "Victoria, people like you are a disgrace to dancers everywhere. Get out of this industry!" ... Julian took the phone from my hand again. "Don’t look." I moved my lips, my voice low and unsteady. "Julian, is this what you wanted?" He turned his face away. "People online forget quickly. I’ll have someone redirect the narrative later. Just stay off your phone for a few days." I shook my head slowly, my vision unfocused. "Julian, you’ve destroyed me." I couldn’t make out his expression, but his voice, tinged with irritation, rang in my ears. "I already told you I’ll handle it. Why are you making a scene? If you hadn’t caused all this trouble yourself, would things be this messy? Victoria, you have to understand that even if I deliberately put you in the spotlight, it’s your own fault you ended up like this!" A sharp ringing filled my ears, drowning out everything else as a bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Julian, let’s get a divorce." He seemed to chuckle, his voice indulgent yet exasperated. "You’re upset right now. If venting helps, go ahead." He was convinced I wouldn’t divorce him, using his supposed tolerance to display his magnanimity. Surprisingly, Julian’s laughter brought me an eerie sense of calm. Just then, the doctor called my name from the other end of the hallway. "Victoria Dean, your test results are ready." Julian froze for a moment and followed after me. "What test results?" "Julian,” a soft voice called out from behind him. “Why have you been gone so long?" He immediately turned back, heading toward Averil, who stood at the doorway of her hospital room. "Averil, why did you come out? You should be resting. Get back to bed," he said, his tone filled with concern. Dragging my numb, pain-ridden leg, I walked in the opposite direction, completely away from him. It felt as though I were stepping on razor blades. Every step sliced through my flesh. Every step tore through my soul. The doctor handed me the results and warned me that I needed to rest for the next month. Without it, dancing again would be out of the question. I hailed a cab and returned home to face the cold emptiness of my apartment alone. Because of our secret marriage, Julian and I maintained separate residences. He’d deliberately chosen the unit right above mine. On my first night there, he pinned me against the wall and kissed me. "Now I can sneak into your bed every night.” Julian seemed to take particular pleasure in this illicit game, as though the secrecy added a thrill. I once thought it was just a peculiar quirk beneath his otherwise serious exterior. But I was wrong. The thrill wasn’t about secrecy—it was about betrayal. He had grown bored of me and set his sights on the newer, more enticing Averil. Chapter 3 At nine in the evening, Julian arrived with a bag of fruit. "Victoria, I got you some cherries. Want to have some now?" I tossed my phone at him. The screen displayed Averil’s latest post: "I said I wanted sweet-and-sour cherries, and he ended up buying regular ones instead. Hilarious." "Did she not want them, so you decided to throw them my way?" Julian frowned. "Don’t be like this..." He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my waist in a familiar gesture. "Is this because I haven’t touched you for so long? Are you upset about that?" I shoved him away with all my strength, then made a point of gagging a few times right in front of him. Dark clouds gathered on his face. "Victoria Dean, that’s enough. Stop acting like this." "Acting like what?" My heart ached, tears streaming down my face. "Do you have any idea how many hateful calls I’ve received? Do you know I’ve been blacklisted by every major dance troupe? My career is ruined! Julian Ford, what did I do wrong to deserve this?" I’ve always been the quiet, mild-tempered type—in other words, easy to push around. Julian used to playfully tug on my earlobe, his voice full of affection. "Victoria, you’re so easy to bully. What would you do without me?" I never once imagined he’d leave me behind. Years ago, when my parents took their own lives under a cloud of scandal, the entire world turned its back on me. Julian was the one who pulled me out of the mud. He stood up to his family for me, and I still remember how he knelt in the rain for hours, defying their disapproval. He took me far away from the pain and gave us a fresh start in a new city. Even when I was at my lowest, broken and worthless, Julian didn’t give up on me The hardest days were behind us, yet now I faced his betrayal. “Let’s divorce,” I said, closing my eyes. “At least let me keep some dignity.” "Victoria..." Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, looking weary. "This isn’t the first time you got insulted, so why are you acting so delicate now?" My eyes flew open in disbelief, and I stared at him, stunned. “What did you just say?” Julian pressed his lips into a thin line, his expression dark. “When your parents took their lives, the whole country was cursing you—” “Get out!” I screamed, grabbing a cushion from the sofa and hurling it at him. “Get out!” Julian looked utterly taken aback. He had never seen me so hysterical. After a moment of stunned silence, he stormed out, taking the bag of cherries with him. “Don’t need my leftovers, huh? Fine. Let’s see how long you can hold out,” he snapped as he left. Not even ten minutes later, Averil posted another update. "First day in the new place—this décor is so tacky. What kind of tasteless guy thought this up?" The photograph showed his upstairs apartment. The so-called "tacky décor" was all my work. Julian even replied to her post, "Yeah, it’s pretty bad. Let’s tear it down and redo it." I rubbed my sore eyes, my tears long dried. A house could be redecorated. A partner could be replaced. To him, I was nothing more than an old, discarded toy. When yet another harassing phone call came through, I finally pulled out my SIM card and replaced it with the number I’d used during my overseas performances. Back then, a prestigious international dance troupe had extended me an offer, but I had turned down the opportunity because I couldn’t bear to part with Julian. Now, with my heart pounding, I nervously dialed the number that had contacted me back then. “Hello, is this Mr. Jason Yates?” There was silence on the other end. If not for the faint sound of breathing, I would have thought the call had been disconnected. Why wasn’t he speaking? Had he seen the trending news? Clutching the phone tightly, my palms grew damp with sweat. “Mr. Yates, please listen to me. I didn’t do any of those things. I’ve tried to post a clarification, but my social media account has been taken over. Every time I create a new one, my post gets deleted within seconds. I…” “Wait for me.” A low, muffled male voice interrupted me. It sounded unexpectedly familiar but was completely different from the blond-haired Jason I remembered. I froze. “You’re not Jason?” “Wait for me,” the voice repeated before abruptly hanging up. I stood there, bewildered, trying to make sense of what just happened. As I was still in a daze, a text message came through, "Taking off. Turning off my phone." A few seconds later, another message arrived, "Wait for me to return. I’ll take you away." Chapter 4 Although his words were vague, they made his stance clear. I exhaled in relief. Over the next few days, I started packing my belongings and handling the necessary paperwork. I didn’t have much—just one suitcase in total. I left behind everything Julian had ever bought for me. It wasn’t because I was virtuous, nor was it because I still had feelings for him. He had cheated, leaving me utterly broken. When my world crumbled, my parents died in disgrace, and I became a pariah hounded by those who blamed me for the children’s deaths, it was Julian who saved me. I didn’t know how he convinced his father, but after that long night kneeling in the rain, he was cast out of the Ford family. At the same time, the relentless attacks against me online suddenly disappeared. He gave me a new name, a new identity, and a new life. He truly caught me as I was falling, staying by my side through the darkest of days. For that alone, I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. All I wanted now was for us to part on good terms. After three days of silence, Julian showed up again. "Have you come to your senses after taking some time to cool off?" I nodded, calm and collected. "I have." He misunderstood me, a smug arc lifting his brow. "Good. That’s more like it, Victoria. Remember your place. If you behave, I’ll take care of you. But if you overstep your boundaries, I’ll make sure you’re left with nothing." He delivered his threats, but when I stayed silent, his gaze wavered, a hint of confusion flickering in his eyes. "Are you done talking?" I placed the divorce papers on the table. "If so, just sign them." Julian’s gaze darkened as he stared at the document. His cold eyes turned even frostier. "Victoria, you’ve known about my relationship with Averil for a long time. Why couldn’t you, like before, just pretend nothing happened? Why not turn a blind eye and continue enjoying the comfort of being Mrs. Ford? "Everything she has, you have too. And what she doesn’t have, I can give you. Victoria, you shouldn’t be so ungrateful." I stared at Julian in shock, unable to believe those words had come out of his mouth. I still remembered back in high school, when Julian found out his father had cheated. His mother discovered the affair, and the resulting chaos rocked the entire family. Julian’s father shouted at his mother, "Men in my position are expected to have mistresses. I’m not divorcing you, so stop making a scene." At fifteen, Julian had grabbed a baseball bat and shattered a porcelain vase next to his father. Amid the scattered shards, he said coldly, "A man without responsibility doesn’t deserve to be called a man." At that moment, I thought Julian was the coolest person in the world. But now, fifteen years later, that once-principled boy had grown into the exact kind of man he had once despised. The thirty-year-old Julian had become a mirror image of the father he loathed. The realization made me sick to my stomach. "Not a chance," I said, pushing the divorce papers closer to him again. "After the divorce, you can keep as many women as you like." Julian stared at me for a long moment before finally picking up the papers between two fingers, his expression unreadable. "You want a divorce? Fine. But don’t you think it’s time we settle the debt you owe me for all these years?" I nodded and took out a bank card. "There’s one million in this account. It’s more than enough to cover the cost of my living expenses over the years." Julian’s brows furrowed as he looked at the card I had clearly prepared in advance. "One million? Do you think that’s enough?" "It’s enough." I met his gaze firmly. "I’ve kept track of every household expense. The records are in the study if you want to verify them. The luxury items and jewelry you bought me are all accounted for as well. The ones I used have already been depreciated and factored into the total. "Julian Ford, I owe you nothing." He was silent for so long that I thought he might refuse. But then, to my surprise, he let out a low chuckle. "I was planning to take you to a charity gala tomorrow night. But since you don’t need me, let’s forget about it." His gaze lingered on my face for a few seconds, as though he were searching for a hint of regret. But he was destined to be disappointed. My expression remained calm, devoid of any emotional fluctuation. "We’re in a secret marriage, Julian. The role of Mrs. Ford can be replaced anytime." His lips pressed into a thin line before he tossed an invitation onto the table. "Your name is on it. Come with me tomorrow night, and I’ll agree to the divorce." Chapter 5 I had no idea what Julian was trying to accomplish. But I had no other choice but to agree. When I changed into the gown Julian sent over and arrived at the venue, chauffeured by his driver, I realized I had underestimated his cruelty. This wasn’t a private gala at all. The red carpet was lined with media reporters and cameras, while fans holding flowers and banners screamed the names of their idols. I barely had time to process it before someone noticed me. "Look! Isn’t that the fake marriage fraudster?" Ever since Julian used my account to post that forced apology, I’d been labeled as the "fake marriage fraudster." I had seen countless insults online, but no amount of text could compare to the humiliation of hearing the taunts whispered directly in my ear. "Victoria Dean, how do you even have the nerve to show your face here?" "Look at her dress. Averil’s wearing white, and so is she. Typical attention-seeking move." "Don’t even try to compare her to our idol, Averil. She’s not worthy!" "Exactly. Averil’s dress is haute couture, straight off the runway, and hers? Looks like a two-year-old knockoff." The vicious jeers flooded my ears. I tried to turn and escape, but a "staff member" grabbed my arm. Looking up, I recognized him instantly—it was Hank, Julian’s bodyguard. He smiled at me, his eyes glinting with malice. "Miss Dean, Mr. Ford said you must enter the venue." Hank was a distant relative of Averil. Last time at the hospital, he had purposely gripped me so hard that bruises bloomed all over my arm. Julian had seen it but only gave a cursory reprimand. Now, he had unleashed him on me again. The Julian who once cherished me like I was his whole world was long gone. Bitterness welled up inside me, sharp and sour, but there was no escaping. Hank dragged me forward, half-pulling, half-shoving. "Look at Victoria’s awkward walk! Doesn’t she look like a lame old mule?" "She’s probably trying to crash the red carpet and got shut down by the bodyguard!" "Victoria, you’re a trashy parasite!" Before I could react, a sharp insult was followed by a sudden blow—a drink bottle hurtled toward me out of nowhere, hitting me squarely. I tried to dodge, but Hank deliberately blocked my way, even shoving me toward the incoming bottle. “Ah!” Purple grape juice splattered all over me, soaking my white gown and leaving it stained and blotchy. "Ha! Doesn’t she look like she’s on her period?" "Fake marriage fraudster, don’t you have any shame? Get out of here!" "If I were you, I’d just jump off a building and be done with it. The thicker the skin, the cheaper the person!" Amid the harsh laughter, I struggled to wrench free from Hank’s grip. "Let me go! I need to change!" Hank gave me a mocking glance. "Sorry, but even if you’re barely breathing, you’re going into the venue tonight. Mr. Ford said if you want the divorce, you’ll get through tonight’s event first. Otherwise, you’ll face the consequences." I froze in place. Of course. How could I forget? Julian was now the rising star of the Harbor City elite. And me? A woman whose very identity couldn’t even see the light of day—what leverage did I have to fight him? I let out a bitter laugh. "Fine. Let go of me. I’ll walk myself." Hank had no intention of making things easy. Not only did he refuse to let go, but he also quickened his pace, deliberately dragging me along. Stumbling and disheveled, I was hauled through the venue, drawing more jeers and mocking stares with every step. By the time we reached Julian, Hank had transformed back into his obedient and unassuming self. Julian’s cold gaze swept over me, taking in my ruined dress. "What happened?" I glared at him, seething with anger. "Why bother pretending? Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to see?" His brow furrowed, just as a slender, pale arm reached out from behind, curling around his own. "Victoria, I’m so sorry! It was one of my fans who spilled juice on you." Averil, dressed in a flawless white couture gown, clung tightly to Julian’s side. "She probably got upset seeing you wear a dress so similar to mine. Surely you wouldn’t mind, right, Victoria?" In the past, her deliberate provocations would have ignited my anger. But now, all I wanted was to leave. "Julian Ford, you wanted me here. I showed up. You set me up for humiliation, and I endured it. You’ve made your point. Can I go now?" Though framed as a question, I had no intention of waiting for his response. I turned away, desperate to escape. "Don’t leave." Someone stepped into my path, blocking my way. Chapter 6 "Well, if it isn’t Victoria Dean, the great dancer herself. Since you’re here, why not give us a performance before you leave?" I didn’t recognize the man in front of me, but it was obvious that he was just one of Julian’s pawns sent to humiliate me. "Move," I said coldly, my expression hardened. "Oh, look at that attitude." The man sized me up as if I were a product on display. "Still think you’re the rising star of the dance world? You do know, don’t you? You’ve already been blacklisted from the industry." His words knocked the breath out of me, leaving me feeling like I’d plunged into icy water. "Julian," I said, turning to him. "Is he telling the truth?" Julian swirled the wine in his glass, his gaze distant and cold. "This is your punishment for what you did wrong." I couldn’t hold back anymore and pressed him. "What did I do wrong? What could possibly justify you ruining my career and cutting off all my opportunities? Julian Ford, answer me!" His lips tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "You know very well what you did." Averil laughed softly. "Victoria, I’m performing tonight. Since your reputation hasn’t been great lately, why not dance too? There are plenty of influential people here. Maybe someone will take an interest in you." I stared at Averil, my gaze unflinching until her smile faded. "Julian," she said, shrinking behind him. "Victoria looks so scary." Julian patted her hand, his eyes fixed on me. "Victoria, didn’t you want to cozy up to the right people? There are several entertainment executives here tonight. This is your chance. Why not make the most of it?" I took in a sharp breath, unable to recognize the man standing before me. I thought back to the year Julian first started his business. He was desperate for seed money, and without it, he would have missed a golden opportunity. I had secretly taken a job dancing at a nightclub to make quick cash, but when Julian found out, he’d rather sell his blood than let me expose myself like that. "You know how jealous I am," he had said back then. "I can’t stand the thought of any man looking at you, even for a second." He had loved me so fiercely back then. We spent nights wrapped in each other’s arms in that tiny, run-down apartment, finding joy in the simplest things—even sharing a single apple felt like a feast. And now? He seemed indifferent, almost eager, to push me toward other men. My voice came out dry and hoarse, barely recognizable. "Alright, as you wish." I pushed past the person blocking my way and headed toward a director I had once worked with. "Look, Victoria’s still limping. Could she really be injured?" "Ignore her. She’s faking it." Julian’s voice, filled with arrogance and disdain, blended seamlessly with the mocking laughter around me, creating a suffocating web of humiliation. I forced myself to reach the director, but before I could even greet him, he quickly stepped aside, avoiding me like the plague. I froze, knowing there was no point in asking. But I couldn’t accept it. I had always been known as one of the most hardworking dancers in the industry. My low-key and professional demeanor had earned me a solid reputation. So many people had once begged me for collaborations, making grand promises. I refused to believe that all my accomplishments could be completely erased by Julian’s words. I dragged my injured leg forward, lowering myself to approach others I recognized in the crowd. Yet every one of them avoided me as if I were poison. Some walked away the moment they spotted me, while others sided with Averil, mocking me openly. I swallowed my pride and endured every insult, but by the time I had exhausted every option in the vast banquet hall, I finally realized just how pathetic I had become. I was nothing more than a clown under the spotlight, put on display for everyone’s amusement. They couldn’t resist stepping on me, mocking me. And leading the charge was the man I had once believed I could entrust with my life. Julian looked at me, his expression grim. "Victoria, haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?" Averil chimed in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Julian, Victoria is my senior after all. Why not just let it go?" He didn’t respond, but the tight furrow of his brows relaxed slightly. "Let it go? No way!" someone shouted deliberately. "A dancer daring to put on airs—if word gets out, won’t it tarnish Mr. Ford’s reputation?" "Exactly. Even if Mr. Ford doesn’t stoop to her level, she still needs to be taught a lesson. She has to learn what lines she shouldn’t cross." "Victoria, drink this glass of liquor, and we’ll consider giving you another chance," one of Julian’s lackeys said, shoving a full glass of vodka into my hand. "What do you all think?" The crowd erupted in enthusiastic agreement, their jeers echoing around me. I turned to Julian and asked, "Is this what you want?" Chapter 7 There were three steps between Julian and me. He didn’t move forward, and I had no desire to close the gap. I knew he was waiting for me to back down. In every argument we’d ever had, I was always the first to surrender—not because he was right, but because I couldn’t forget the salvation he’d given me during my darkest times. In front of him, I always felt a step lower, and I had been willing to tolerate his misplaced anger because of it. Even when he flirted with Averil time and time again, even when he bought her a house to keep her hidden away, I pretended not to see. But today, I couldn’t pretend anymore. I asked again, “Forcing me to drink as an apology—is that what you want?” Julian’s anger flashed across his face when I didn’t apologize as expected. "Yes, it is." I shook my head with a bitter smile, staring at the vodka swirling in the glass. He knew I was allergic to wine. Yet, to defend Averil, he was willing to push me this far. The boy who once couldn’t bear to see me get hurt had finally disappeared with time. Crack. It felt like I heard something shatter. It was the ten years I had shared with Julian. A phrase suddenly came to mind, “There’s no use crying over spilled milk.” “Fine.” I raised the glass and drank it all in one gulp, ignoring the hesitation flickering across Julian’s face. The sharp burn of wine scorched my throat, making me cough until my face flushed red. “Great drinking! Let’s pour her another glass!” Someone tried to refill my glass, but Julian barked, “That’s enough,” shoving them aside. Just as he took a step toward me, Averil latched onto his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "Julian," Averil said with a feigned tone of concern. "It seems like Victoria has shown enough sincerity. How about this? When I perform later, let her join me on stage." She smiled innocently at me, pretending to consider my feelings. "Of course, it might mean Victoria will have to take a supporting role as my backup dancer. What do you think?" "Not happening." The wine still burned in my stomach, and I could feel the heat rising rapidly under my skin. "Averil, that stage is going to be live-streamed, isn’t it? Do you really want to use it to step on me? Or is it that you don’t have any confidence in your own abilities and can only rely on cheap tricks like this to feel relevant?" After swallowing my pride for so long, I finally threw all caution aside, releasing my pent-up anger in one blow. Averil clung to Julian’s arm, swaying it back and forth. "Julian, explain this to her. Victoria must be misunderstanding me." Julian’s face darkened, and his voice carried nothing but disappointment. "Victoria, if you still want to dance, you’ll get up on that stage, whether you want to or not. With your position, you should feel lucky to be dancing alongside Averil." His words were a final ultimatum, shattering the last shred of affection I had left for him. "Julian Ford, what am I to you? A toy? A source of amusement? Or just a prop to make you and Averil look good together? This game of pleasing you—I’m done playing." I pulled off my wedding ring and hurled it back at him, watching as his face turned an ugly shade of blue. Then, in front of the stunned crowd, I took the divorce papers out of my handbag and scattered them at Julian’s feet. "Julian Ford, since you’re so eager to distance yourself from me, fine. As you wish. Sign these papers, and we’re done. From now on, we’re strangers. I wish you and Averil a lifetime together, and don’t ever show your faces in front of me again!" | LEARN_MORE | https://www.qknymufd.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=1 | Random Reading | https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/ | 373 | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | 0 | Learn more | 0 | www.qknymufd.com | VIDEO | https://www.qknymufd.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=17636&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/t39.35426-6/474550800_602035029435590_5295013870615145001_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=111&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=5A7vsmAIy3gQ7kNvgHpq36t&_nc_oc=AdgzzHV9YVBYq9rJsUqRU3l-6G_39_aVMynObR-dowN0mGckqZYb7MIiO1d4OZ9DoHrS1sh63AK-ppi0dibIYo0c&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AOOw6L62R9Rrxi26UEK5_oV&oh=00_AYAtSQEz3TCGmX3bF-cTD3hDVARgSsG9NUebHAYF1NaidQ&oe=67C304AF | PERSON_PROFILE | 0 | 0 | 0 | Random Reading | 0 | 0 | 1969-12-31 18:00 | View Edit Delete |
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