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2,693,925	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-25 17:24	active	2628	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	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-enp26_6-1226-core3.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=124213&accid=2030515880733998&exdata=E3D95798EE9F212C13564A5C0565B1FE5F503B7E7684893C	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480665500_1308710070375724_3899124569292897673_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=6_i-8Tipbl4Q7kNvgFBgf7h&_nc_oc=AdgWextDDVoYb6Zkgol-6CRHiTqn06BkG5nigCWaJN1jAuCfa1oWW9Xc7wq8MCoIBOY&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AhZNUM-451F-uj55t_bYzrK&oh=00_AYDjtdYAls-B6fWWxJW1euhnLrzyPltvy1P8GFNrkJ_yIw&oe=67C41DF9	PERSON_PROFILE	Lime novel-E	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,693,819	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"is_bh_simple_request":false,"simple_request_ratio":1,"is_bh_selenium":false,"selenium_ratio":1,"ratio_threshold":0.8}'	Yes	2025-02-25 17:24	active	2628	Read next chapter	It was a contractual marriage for both of them to get what they wanted, yet she fell in love first. But when she was in a life-threatening situation during a fire and needed him the most, he chose to stay by the side of his first love instead. She finally let it go, divorced him, and made a grand comeback as a great screenwriter. ===== "Saved! They've been saved." 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 bre. A flush of embarrassment washed over her as she instinctively clutched her hands over her chst. 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 sen*ality 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 bre?" 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 chst 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. "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 dires. 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 leaned in close to Carrie. 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. 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. The impact of her slp 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. Lise didn't have to lift a finger, and Carrie had already fallen, utterly broken and beyond redemption. Seething with fury, Carrie quaked like a leaf swept into a storm. She had arrived here with nothing but a suitcase and a heart full of dreams, and now she was leaving, dreams crumbled, utterly alone. It was time for her to pursue her acting career and give it her all... ...... ==== It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but Carrie made the mistake of falling in love with Kristopher. When the time came that she needed him the most, her husband was in the company of another woman. Enough was enough. Carrie chose to divorce Kristopher and move on with her life. Only when she left did Kristopher realize how important she was to him... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &3&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-e	Fun Novel	https://www.facebook.com/100090881055588/	1,342	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-enp26_6-1226-core3.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=1435595577085911&exdata=3B6BDC606D33F83310D3EDDD3D076093B76A7C0C0547E772	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/472571738_615430001066465_3848642536020222646_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=A6C2Y8jZ2SAQ7kNvgFiAF5w&_nc_oc=Adivc4F-CsGTZcvZ7O6Npety6knfOjbyerxQHlLeRTloWZ4E8pFZv8rPF1p9mtNwb8I&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AleldS3D8vIK9tVNUpA6W-P&oh=00_AYD3Hx8aY3CtOOb14uf6y2Roykl83kjPxwW7uyADpRxASw&oe=67C42A84	PERSON_PROFILE	Fun Novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,691,555	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691523}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	😍Read the next chapters👉	[Mrs. Gardner, are you sure you want to hire our team to stage a fire and fake your death in ten days?] Camellia Shaw paused for a moment. Just as she was about to reply to the message, a video call suddenly popped up. "Camellia, look! Andres is spending a fortune on you again!" The video was of an auction in progress. At the front, a man of striking elegance and charm was decisively bidding on several antique collectibles worth hundreds of millions. The crowd was already abuzz with excitement. "Mr. Gardner is so good to his wife! He bought all these antiques just to make her smile!" "$400 million is nothing! I heard Mr. Gardner even built her a private estate and named it Eterna Haven. Just the name alone is proof of how much he loves her." A wealthy businessman nearby sneered. "It's all for show. Who knows what he's really like behind closed doors?" That comment immediately sparked a wave of backlash. Many argued back, talking about how devoted Andres Gardner was to his wife. "If anyone in our circle could make me believe in love, it would be those two." "Mr. Gardner had risen to fame as a genius young painter, but it was his masterpiece, 'Beyond the Ordinary,' that made him a household name. "He once said his wife was his muse and source of inspiration. You can see his affection for her in every stroke and in every shadow of his paintings." As she listened to their murmurs, Camellia forced a bitter smile. She and Andres had entered an arranged marriage to merge their powerful families, meeting for the first time at the county clerk's office. Her family had never given her much love, so she assumed her marriage would be just as emotionless. However, Andres unexpectedly showered her with a special kind of affection. He remembered her peanut allergy and lactose intolerance, and he always prepared exquisite, expensive gifts for her birthday. Her heart softened over time. She even took him to visit her late mother's grave. Andres had solemnly vowed in front of the gravestone, "Mom, I swear that if I ever betray Cam, may I lose the one I love the most." Camellia laughed bitterly to herself. When did things start to change? Perhaps it was when she learned about his first love, who had passed away long ago, and found out he had taken in her younger sister to care for her. Maybe it was the day Valentina Dawson returned from abroad, throwing herself into his arms with a familiar intimacy he did not even try to refuse. Perhaps it was the faint lipstick stains on his shirt and the barely visible bite marks on his collarbone... That was when Camellia could no longer lie to herself. "Mr. Gardner, can you tell us if these are birthday gifts for Mrs. Gardner?" The question from the video snapped her back to the present. Andres' clear and steady voice rang out from the phone, "No, these are just small trinkets. I've prepared something far better for her birthday." This response drew envious gasps from the wealthy socialites watching. As Camellia prepared to end the call, she caught fragments of teasing voices in the background. "Andres, are you really planning to throw a grand wedding for Camellia in ten days?" "Of course. Anything to do with Camellia is a top priority. Make sure it's perfect!" "Understood. So… should we invite her to Val's celebration tomorrow night?" "No need. Don't let her find out." After that, Camellia could not hear anything else that Andres said. She hung up the call, staring at the message asking for her final decision. Slowly but firmly, she typed out her reply. [I'm sure.] Chapter 2 Not long after, Andres rushed home, looking travel-worn. Camellia wobbled slightly when she stood up—perhaps because she had not eaten all day—but Andres firmly caught her. "You didn't eat properly again today, did you?" he asked, his eyes full of concern as he gently scooped her into his arms. As they drew close, the sweet, cloying scent of fruit filled the air. Camellia never used perfume, so it was obvious who the scent belonged to. "What are you thinking, baby?" Andres teased while tapping her nose affectionately. Camellia's sharp eyes caught a faint red lipstick stain on his finger. On the second day of their marriage, Andres had secretly tattooed a camellia on his ring finger. He had told her that the ring finger had a blood vessel that led directly to the heart. This was a symbol of their shared bond and how she would always be connected to his heart, but that spot now bore a mark that did not belong to her. A dull pain rose in her chest. It was heavy and piercing, like a sharp blade chiseling away bit by bit. "Are you starving yourself so much you've lost your braincells?" Andres joked, kissing her forehead lightly before asking Eva Longford to serve the food that had been kept warm for dinner. Andres used to cook for her himself every day. However, some time into their marriage, his work grew busier, and the task naturally passed to the housekeeper. "Let me join you for dinner, okay? Skipping meals can really mess up your stomach," he said while carefully setting her down on a dining chair and placing the utensils by her hand. Then, he washed his hands and began peeling apples for her. "Okay," Camellia murmured, swallowing the bitterness in her heart and eating the food he placed on her plate in small bites. They had not been eating for long when Andres' phone began ringing incessantly. He glanced at the caller ID and frowned slightly before wiping his hands and stepping aside to take the call. When he returned, his expression was frantic. "Cam, something came up at the studio. I have to go handle it. Don't wait up for me tonight. You should go to bed early." He grabbed the antiques he had bought earlier. He promised to get her something even better another day and left in a rush. Once the meal was completely cold, Camellia finally stood up and went upstairs. As soon as she lay down, she scrolled through Valentina's latest post on social media. [I only had a low fever, but my boyfriend insisted on taking care of me. He even made me a table full of delicious food. Do you know how special a meal made for you by a loved one is?] The accompanying picture showed a close-up of a man in an apron cutting vegetables. As a rising name in the art world, Valentina had tens of thousands of followers on her account. The post caused a stir among her fans. [So this is the senior of hers with a nine-figure insurance policy on his right hand that Val mentioned!] [Where can I find a man like this? Can the government issue one to everyone, please?] Camellia stared at the hands in the photo and thought of Andres' promises. Her heart felt like it was being torn apart, leaving it shattered and unrecognizable. [That's nothing! Our Mr. Gardner is the gold standard for a devoted husband!] Someone had uploaded a video of the auction from earlier that day, and the buzz quickly overtook Valentina's post. [Damn, he really spoils his wife! $400 million! That's enough to buy my entire life hundreds of times over!] [Oh my God! Has anyone not been overwhelmed by Mr. Gardner's love for his wife yet? When his wife had a car accident and was scared, he risked his life to make sure he was the first person she saw when she woke up!] [Mr. Gardner is like a saint in our elite circle. He still wears the rosary beads Camellia gave him, perfectly polished from years of use. He never takes them off!] Valentina's fans went quiet under the video. Compared to Andres' public displays of devotion, a single meal could not measure up. However, a newly-registered user suddenly posted three photos. One showed the transfer of ownership for an Aurelia winery, another depicted a necklace worth $200 million called ‘The Heart of the Ocean’, and the last featured Valentina holding car keys while sitting on the hood of a Ferrari. The user captioned it: [If someone else has it, our Val can't be without it.] Fans exploded in praise, calling her senior powerful and declaring him on par with Andres. Just then, a text message from an unsaved number came through to Camellia's phone. "You absolutely can't miss the celebration my senior is throwing for me tomorrow night!" Though she did not say anything, Camellia could almost hear Valentina's smugness. The message ended with the address of the venue. 742, Ocean Middle Road, Camellia Street. It was the restaurant where Camellia and Andres had their first meal together. He had promised her it would always remain closed to the public, so it would belong only to the two of them. Camellia stared at the address until her eyes stung. Her hand slipped, and the phone dropped onto her face. The sharp pain from the impact pushed her over the edge, and the tears she had been holding back spilled silently into the darkness. Chapter 3 Andres did not return home all night. Camellia ended up sitting alone in the empty living room, waiting from early morning until noon. Her phone buzzed with a social media notification. [Renowned artist Andres Gardner stands in support of his junior. What a deep camaraderie between peers!] Camellia let out a bitter laugh. Of course he did. She stopped waiting and went alone to visit her mother's grave. She bought a bouquet of lisianthus on her way over. At the cemetery, she carefully cleaned her mother's tombstone, placed the flowers in front of it, and leaned gently against the stone. It was as if she was trying to feel the warmth of her mother's embrace. Andres returned home late at night. Just as he was about to ask why Camellia had not gone to bed yet, he noticed a bundle of lisianthus peeking out of her bag. It suddenly hit him that today was her mother's death anniversary. Panic flashed across his face. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I've been so busy today that I completely forgot. It's all my fault," he stammered, cupping her face and instinctively stroking the beauty mark at the corner of her eye. Camellia noticed the faint trace of a lipstick mark on his hairline just behind his ear. She gently pushed him away, her voice calm as she said, "It's fine." Trying to ease the tension, Andres suggested, "How about we have an artist paint a portrait of us tomorrow? Once it's done, we can take a photo with it and place it at your mother's grave to give her peace of mind." Camellia wanted to refuse, but Andres was insistent, so she reluctantly agreed. The next morning at ten, the artist he had arranged for arrived. "Nice to meet you, Cam. I'm Valentina Dawson, Andres'… junior." Seeing Valentina, Andres' face betrayed a flicker of unease. Clearly, she was not the artist he had called. "Mr. Wilson had something come up, so I'm filling in for him," Valentina explained, her gaze sweeping over Camellia with a faint, inscrutable smile. "Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like my sister, Cam?" she asked. "My sister had a beauty mark in the exact same spot as yours. The only difference is that hers was real, while yours… is drawn on." The room fell silent. Andres' expression darkened as he snapped, "Val, that's enough. "No one is more important to me than Camellia," he said firmly. Valentina blinked in surprise, then playfully stuck out her tongue at him. "Alright. I was just joking." She hooked one arm around Camellia's and led her toward the studio. With her other hand, she reached behind, tracing lazy circles on Andres' palm. Her gaze was sultry and inviting. "Andres, you're standing all wrong," she complained moments after starting the painting. Setting her brush down, she stood up and walked over to him. She caressed his face with one hand while the other trailed down his chest. Her fingers brushed over his Adam's apple, then came to rest on his shoulder. Leaning in close, she breathed warm air into his ear. "Why so tense, Andres?" His eyes darkened instantly. Camellia caught a glimpse of their interaction from the corner of her eye. Pain stabbed through her chest, and she forced herself to look away. Barely a few minutes later, Valentina suggested that Camellia's pose was not intimate enough. "Let me show you how it's done, Cam," she said with a sly smile. She pushed Camellia aside and tugged Andres forward by his tie. Her full figure pressed against his chest as her thumb brushed deliberately over the corner of his lips. Finally, she left a bold kiss on his mouth. Turning to Camellia, she tilted her head with a brazen expression. "Do you get it now, Cam?" When he saw Camellia's reaction, Andres quickly explained, "In the art world, we're a bit more… uninhibited." Camellia said nothing, merely clenching her trembling hands to keep herself composed. She excused herself to the bathroom, needing to escape. When she returned, muffled sounds from inside the room made her stop in her tracks. "Andres, no… You're going to ruin me," a woman's voice purred breathlessly. As she peeked inside, Camellia saw Valentina with one leg wrapped around Andres' lean waist. Her back was pressed against the windowsill, and she was moving in rhythm with him. Andres' eyes burned with passion as he kissed her fiercely. "You came all the way to my house! Wasn't this what you wanted?" he growled. Chapter 4 Camellia collapsed at the doorway of the studio, tears streaming down her face. She thought she was strong enough to endure anything, but witnessing this scene shattered her heart. She did not know how much time passed before she heard the rustling sound of clothes being put on from inside the room. Andres came to the bathroom looking for her and froze when he saw her red, swollen eyes. "Baby, why are you crying?" he asked. Camellia shook her head. "It's nothing. I accidentally got soap in my eyes." He let out a sigh of relief and playfully pinched her cheek. "You're still such a little troublemaker," he teased. When the painting was nearly finished, Andres was called away by his agent. With him gone, Valentina dropped the act entirely. "I know you saw it, Cam. Well, what can you do about it? Andres seems to love me more than you." She unbuttoned her shirt, revealing bruises on her skin. "When's the last time you were with him? Was it as passionate as just now? Can you even satisfy him?" Valentina stepped closer, her gaze condescending. She seemed to relish the idea of seeing Camellia break down, and she looked was expecting pain or hysteria. However, Camellia's expression remained calm and even unreadable. Underneath, her heart was shattered into countless pieces, leaving her barely able to breathe. After Valentina left, Camellia wandered aimlessly back to the studio. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to look at the paintings. Without turning on the light, she stumbled up to the third floor. She ended up twisting her ankle in the dark. Even so, the sharp pain from her ankle was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Every painting that was celebrated by the public as symbols of her and Andre’s ‘perfect love’ now stared back at her. Each prominently featured the beauty mark that now felt like a mocking lie. Camellia pulled a craft knife from the penholder and slashed through the beauty marks in each painting one by one. With every cut, she severed another piece of the beautiful memories she once shared with Andres. When Andres returned home, Camellia had already freshened up and was lying in bed, ready to sleep. He barged into the bedroom, carrying a keyboard from his study in one hand and takeout from her favorite restaurant in the other. Without hesitation, he dropped the keyboard onto the floor, knelt on it, and faced her. "Honey, I know what happened today upset you. I've already reprimanded Val," he said earnestly. "I only think of her as a younger sister. She's still immature and doesn't know any better. As for her sister… That ended a long time ago. Besides, she's not even here anymore. "If you don't like it, I swear I won't see her again. But no matter how angry you are, please don't ruin your health by skipping meals…" The man who had been utterly consumed with Valentina earlier that day was now kneeling humbly before her, his tone desperate and full of affection. It was as if he could not live without her. For a moment, Camellia could not tell which version of Andres was real. If he loved her so much, how could he forget the vows he once made? If he loved her so much, why did he betray her? As Andres passed a dish toward her, he accidentally creased a page in the book lying on the bedside table. Camellia glanced over, and he casually smoothed it out and closed the book. "I fixed it. Now, eat," he said with a smile. The familiar aroma of the dish wafted from the bowl. Camellia took a few bites before saying, "But once a page is creased, it can never be perfectly smooth again." Andres, who was already sensitive about the day, tensed at her words. He knew it carried a deeper meaning. "Then I'll buy a new book. It'll be as good as new," he said, his bright eyes fixed on her. It was like his entire world revolved around her. "I'd pluck the stars from the sky for you if you asked." Camellia stayed silent, swallowing the words she wanted to say. Even if he had bought a new one, it would only be a replacement—it would no longer be the same book. She understood this truth, and he should have understood it even more. The two spent the night in silence. Over the next few days, perhaps out of guilt, Andres canceled all his work and stayed glued to Camellia's side. One day, he accompanied her to restore artifacts, buying a few antique treasures worth millions. The next day, he took her shopping and bought her an entire collection of the season's limited-edition items. The day after, he somehow got his hands on a pink Rolls-Royce Cullinan, parking it dramatically at the entrance of Eterna Haven in the city center as a grand gesture of love. This display led to a wave of online ridicule, with netizens mocking Andres' for being wrapped around his wife’s finger. Andres posted a self-deprecating tweet with a picture of himself kneeling on a keyboard. [I made my wife mad. How do I fix this if nothing works?] Only then did people realize Andres' predicament, with many pleading for Camellia to forgive him. With two days left until Camellia's birthday, she still had things to take care of. Seeing Andres' desperate efforts, she decided to go along with it and let the matter drop. Andres was overjoyed, lifting her in his arms and spinning her around several times. "Baby, I love you more than anything in this life! You’re my only love!" On the way to dinner, Andres received several phone calls. The number flashing on the screen was one Camellia knew well—Valentina's. He declined the calls four times before finally receiving a message. When he opened it, a single glance made his expression falter. "Baby, my agent says there's an issue with the new painting contract. I need to handle it right away," Andres said apologetically. Camellia did not call out his lie and let him leave. She then bought a baseball cap and mask from a roadside shop and hailed a car to follow him. She trailed him into a mall and all the way to her once-favorite bridal boutique. The dressing room curtain opened, and there stood Valentina, radiant in the wedding dress Camellia had loved most. "Do I look beautiful, Andres?" Valentina asked. She reached out, her hand sliding from Andres' shoulder, tracing his Adam's apple, and stopping just shy of his lips in a teasing caress. Andres' eyes darkened. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply. Both of them were breathless by the time they pulled apart. Valentina curled into Andres' chest, tracing lazy circles on it with her finger. "Andres, if Cam finds out I wore this dress first, she'll probably lose it," she murmured. Andres' breathing grew heavier as he pulled her into the dressing room and drew the curtain shut. "She won't know. I owe you a wedding, and it's my fault you've been wronged," he replied. "Today, you're my most beautiful bride." With those words, the sound of running water filled the dressing room, accompanied by intimate whispers. Chapter 5 Camellia stood in a distant corner, watching through the gap in the dressing room curtains as Valentina and Andres’ entwined figures moved. Her heart twisted in unbearable pain. Her stomach churned violently, and she could not suppress the urge to dry heave. Her entire body was now convulsing uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face, draining all her strength. She collapsed onto the floor, feeling utterly spent. As she turned to leave, she did not get to see the satisfied smile on Valentina's face inside the dressing room. Back home, the oppressive silence was suffocating. Camellia turned on the television, flipping to a random channel. It was broadcasting a segment on Andres' latest art exhibition. The painting featured a girl in a bright yellow dress running freely through a field. The commentators remarked on how drastically different this piece was from Andres' earlier works. It no longer exuded a soft, reserved gentleness but instead brimmed with vitality and energy. Though the girl's face was not visible, her back displayed the painter's tenderness and love for her. One critic observed sharply, "Even the strands of her flying hair are perfect, like the wind itself favors her." Online, viewers joked about Andres' newfound spark, saying his marriage with Camellia must have entered a second spring. Only Camellia knew the truth. That was not her. It was Valentina, or perhaps it was Nelina Dawson, the woman from his dreams. Taking a deep breath, she tried to suppress the ache in her chest and called her best friend, Penelope Hall. While waiting for Penelope's arrival, Camellia began sorting through the gifts Andres had given her over the years. In the first year of their marriage, he noticed her concerns and gave her a diamond bangle. "I've locked you in for this lifetime. You belong to me now, so don't even think about leaving," he had said. In their second year, he noticed how much she missed her mother and folded her a jar of wishing stars. "When you miss your mom, open one. No matter where I am or what time it is, I'll come back to make your wish come true. This life might be long, but I'll always be here with you." Camellia began unwrapping the stars one by one. [Plant a little tree.] [Adopt a corgi.] [Grow old together.] … She picked up her phone, snapped a picture of one of the stars, and sent it to Andres. Her phone screen remained dark. There was no response from him. Half an hour later, a package arrived. It was the painting Valentina had made for them that day. However, instead of depicting the two of them sitting side by side, the image showed two entangled figures of Andres and Valentina in bed. Something cold slid down Camellia's cheek. She raised her hand to wipe it away and realized her face was already soaked with tears. In a daze, she placed the painting with all of Andres' other works in the studio. Then, she gathered every gift he had ever given her into a box, carried it into the yard, and set it ablaze. Later, Penelope would recall the moment she saw Camellia that day. She felt as if Camellia was on the verge of breaking into pieces. Penelope walked over and held her close without saying a word, letting Camellia lean on her silently. After a long while, once Camellia calmed down, she made another request. "Help me arrange a funeral. But Andres must not attend it. Only then, reveal the truth about my 'death' to him." Camellia handed Penelope an envelope containing evidence of Valentina's relentless provocations over the past few months. Penelope glanced through it and nodded firmly while suppressing her anger. Once everything was set, it was already late at night. That day, Andres quietly slipped into the house at 2 a.m. Seeing Camellia still awake did not surprise him. He approached her like a child with a prize, his eyes brimming with excitement. "I knew you'd still be up. I was too busy earlier to check my messages, but look—I'm here to make your wish come true!" He moved the small tea table by the window to the bed, fetched two bowls, and divided the seafood boil he had brought home into portions. The wish on the paper star Camellia had sent to Andres earlier in the day was to eat her favorite food with him. For some reason, Camellia's mind wandered back to the first time they went to that seafood restaurant together. It might have been Andres' first time eating at a small roadside restaurant. Before eating, he had wiped the oily table repeatedly with napkins and was clearly uncomfortable. However, he smiled at her with mock innocence when she looked his way, almost playfully. "Cam, feed me," he had said. "I'll try anything if it makes you happy." "Andres." Camellia fixed her gaze on his face. "If you could do it all over again, would you still choose this?" Andres did not think much of her question and assumed she was feeling insecure again. He gently stroked her dark hair and answered with certainty. "I would. I'd make the same choices every time. "I'd love you, spoil you, and stay devoted to you for the rest of my life." Chapter 6 The following day, Andres did not leave the house early like he usually did. He squeezed toothpaste onto Camellia's toothbrush and stood by, watching as she finished washing her face. "It's extremely windy today. We can't let it ruin my baby's delicate little face," he said with playful affection. Then, he told her he had a big surprise planned for the next day with an air of mystery. Before he could finish explaining, Cohen Palmer called a few times, saying there was an issue he could not resolve and needed Andres to come immediately. Andres gave Camellia an apologetic glance, and when she reassured him that she understood, he left. Once he was gone, Camellia contacted the team she had hired to confirm every detail for the next day. Then, she drove to Eterna Haven. She had not visited in several days, and everything felt unfamiliar. She called the Saltsburg Museum, and the curator arrived in person an hour later. "Cam, are you sure you want to donate all of this to the country for free?" The curator, Felix Cross, was a fellow apprentice of her mentor. Camellia nodded without hesitation. "You can tell me if you're facing any difficulties. Don't try to handle it all on your own," he said with concern. Camellia remained silent, her gaze fixed on the goddess statue in the center of the room. With its head bowed and its elegant, serene posture, the statue seemed to smile compassionately. Covered in moss and denied the light of day, it exuded a quiet sorrow toward the world. Camellia was leaving, but these artifacts should not be buried with her. "It's nothing, Felix. Don't worry about me," she said softly. Seeing her unwillingness to elaborate, Felix did not press further. After instructing his assistants to carefully transport the artifacts, he patted her shoulder before leaving. "Take care of yourself," he said as he departed. Once again, she was alone. The once vibrant Eterna Haven now felt hollow and empty. Her phone buzzed with a notification. It was about Valentina's online book signing event for her new illustration collection. The clickbaity title read: [The Beautiful Artist Who Once Had a Miscarriage for Love.] Camellia's fingers moved almost involuntarily to click on the link. The video cut to Valentina showing a scar on her abdomen. "Back then, he said I was too young, and the pregnancy was on the risky side. Out of concern for me, he stayed by my side for the procedure," Valentina said with a blissful expression. "It must have been about three years ago when he went to Faren to further his studies… "He even picked out a name for our lost baby—Cale. He said he hoped she'd return to us one day and live a life full of brilliance and light…" Camellia's phone slipped from her grasp, crashing to the floor. The screen shattered, forming a spider web of cracks. Cale? That was the nickname Andres had given their child after their first night together. He had held her tenderly afterward, murmuring the name as if it were a promise. Him and Valentina… had a child… Not to mention that it was three years ago. It had not just been going on for the past three months. Andres had lied to her for three entire years. Suddenly, Valentina was pulled into the frame as someone's arm draped around her shoulders. The sound of kissing filled the audio feed. When she reappeared on screen, her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were flushed pink. She giggled, saying her boyfriend was jealous and insisted they should ‘work harder’ to bring Cale back soon. Her fans erupted in excitement, flooding the chat with playful teasing, though their blessings were genuine. The illustration book sold well, as though it was part of their celebratory gift. Camellia did not know when the signing event ended. The last rays of sunlight disappeared from the room, leaving behind a suffocating darkness. It felt like a giant beast was ready to devour her. She simply sat motionless in her chair with the lights off. Suddenly, her phone screen lit up and became blindingly bright. It was a video message from Valentina, accompanied by a single line. "I told you I'd have you under my feet one day." The video showed two intertwined, bare legs. Camellia was about to delete it when something caught her eye—the rosary beads she had once given Andres. She had it blessed for him, but now they were wrapped around Valentina's ankle. The beads that were slightly large for her looped around her ankle twice. The excess length dangled, with a few beads pressed under Valentina's toe. "They're just rosary beads. If you want them, they're yours," Andres' voice in the video sounded indifferent and dismissive. Camellia's mind flashed back to the day Andres received the beads. "Cam, I'll always keep these with me, even in death," he had promised. The color drained from Camellia's face. She wanted to cry and let out all the pain, but no tears came. The light in her eyes had faded completely. Late at night, as the world slept, no one noticed when Eterna Haven went up in roaring flames. Andres was up early the next morning, preparing for the day. He had just arrived at Quaint Hotel and finished tidying up when Cohen burst in, pale and clutching at his phone. "Andres! Something terrible has happened!" Before Cohen could continue, Andres' phone rang. He held up a finger to silence him and answered the call. As he listened, his gaze shifted to Cohen's phone, where an image stopped him cold. The once-familiar pink Cullinan was now charred black, surrounded by the smoldering remains of Eterna Haven. Smoke billowed from the scene, and a stretcher held a body covered by a white sheet nearby. The voice on the phone interrupted his thoughts. "Hello, is this Mr. Andres Gardner? This is the Saltsburg Police Department. We regret to inform you of a tragic incident. "The property under your wife's name, Eterna Haven, caught fire last night. Unfortunately, your wife did not survive. Our condolences."	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2,691,563	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691523}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	😍Read the next chapters👉	[Mrs. Gardner, are you sure you want to hire our team to stage a fire and fake your death in ten days?] Camellia Shaw paused for a moment. Just as she was about to reply to the message, a video call suddenly popped up. "Camellia, look! Andres is spending a fortune on you again!" The video was of an auction in progress. At the front, a man of striking elegance and charm was decisively bidding on several antique collectibles worth hundreds of millions. The crowd was already abuzz with excitement. "Mr. Gardner is so good to his wife! He bought all these antiques just to make her smile!" "$400 million is nothing! I heard Mr. Gardner even built her a private estate and named it Eterna Haven. Just the name alone is proof of how much he loves her." A wealthy businessman nearby sneered. "It's all for show. Who knows what he's really like behind closed doors?" That comment immediately sparked a wave of backlash. Many argued back, talking about how devoted Andres Gardner was to his wife. "If anyone in our circle could make me believe in love, it would be those two." "Mr. Gardner had risen to fame as a genius young painter, but it was his masterpiece, 'Beyond the Ordinary,' that made him a household name. "He once said his wife was his muse and source of inspiration. You can see his affection for her in every stroke and in every shadow of his paintings." As she listened to their murmurs, Camellia forced a bitter smile. She and Andres had entered an arranged marriage to merge their powerful families, meeting for the first time at the county clerk's office. Her family had never given her much love, so she assumed her marriage would be just as emotionless. However, Andres unexpectedly showered her with a special kind of affection. He remembered her peanut allergy and lactose intolerance, and he always prepared exquisite, expensive gifts for her birthday. Her heart softened over time. She even took him to visit her late mother's grave. Andres had solemnly vowed in front of the gravestone, "Mom, I swear that if I ever betray Cam, may I lose the one I love the most." Camellia laughed bitterly to herself. When did things start to change? Perhaps it was when she learned about his first love, who had passed away long ago, and found out he had taken in her younger sister to care for her. Maybe it was the day Valentina Dawson returned from abroad, throwing herself into his arms with a familiar intimacy he did not even try to refuse. Perhaps it was the faint lipstick stains on his shirt and the barely visible bite marks on his collarbone... That was when Camellia could no longer lie to herself. "Mr. Gardner, can you tell us if these are birthday gifts for Mrs. Gardner?" The question from the video snapped her back to the present. Andres' clear and steady voice rang out from the phone, "No, these are just small trinkets. I've prepared something far better for her birthday." This response drew envious gasps from the wealthy socialites watching. As Camellia prepared to end the call, she caught fragments of teasing voices in the background. "Andres, are you really planning to throw a grand wedding for Camellia in ten days?" "Of course. Anything to do with Camellia is a top priority. Make sure it's perfect!" "Understood. So… should we invite her to Val's celebration tomorrow night?" "No need. Don't let her find out." After that, Camellia could not hear anything else that Andres said. She hung up the call, staring at the message asking for her final decision. Slowly but firmly, she typed out her reply. [I'm sure.] Chapter 2 Not long after, Andres rushed home, looking travel-worn. Camellia wobbled slightly when she stood up—perhaps because she had not eaten all day—but Andres firmly caught her. "You didn't eat properly again today, did you?" he asked, his eyes full of concern as he gently scooped her into his arms. As they drew close, the sweet, cloying scent of fruit filled the air. Camellia never used perfume, so it was obvious who the scent belonged to. "What are you thinking, baby?" Andres teased while tapping her nose affectionately. Camellia's sharp eyes caught a faint red lipstick stain on his finger. On the second day of their marriage, Andres had secretly tattooed a camellia on his ring finger. He had told her that the ring finger had a blood vessel that led directly to the heart. This was a symbol of their shared bond and how she would always be connected to his heart, but that spot now bore a mark that did not belong to her. A dull pain rose in her chest. It was heavy and piercing, like a sharp blade chiseling away bit by bit. "Are you starving yourself so much you've lost your braincells?" Andres joked, kissing her forehead lightly before asking Eva Longford to serve the food that had been kept warm for dinner. Andres used to cook for her himself every day. However, some time into their marriage, his work grew busier, and the task naturally passed to the housekeeper. "Let me join you for dinner, okay? Skipping meals can really mess up your stomach," he said while carefully setting her down on a dining chair and placing the utensils by her hand. Then, he washed his hands and began peeling apples for her. "Okay," Camellia murmured, swallowing the bitterness in her heart and eating the food he placed on her plate in small bites. They had not been eating for long when Andres' phone began ringing incessantly. He glanced at the caller ID and frowned slightly before wiping his hands and stepping aside to take the call. When he returned, his expression was frantic. "Cam, something came up at the studio. I have to go handle it. Don't wait up for me tonight. You should go to bed early." He grabbed the antiques he had bought earlier. He promised to get her something even better another day and left in a rush. Once the meal was completely cold, Camellia finally stood up and went upstairs. As soon as she lay down, she scrolled through Valentina's latest post on social media. [I only had a low fever, but my boyfriend insisted on taking care of me. He even made me a table full of delicious food. Do you know how special a meal made for you by a loved one is?] The accompanying picture showed a close-up of a man in an apron cutting vegetables. As a rising name in the art world, Valentina had tens of thousands of followers on her account. The post caused a stir among her fans. [So this is the senior of hers with a nine-figure insurance policy on his right hand that Val mentioned!] [Where can I find a man like this? Can the government issue one to everyone, please?] Camellia stared at the hands in the photo and thought of Andres' promises. Her heart felt like it was being torn apart, leaving it shattered and unrecognizable. [That's nothing! Our Mr. Gardner is the gold standard for a devoted husband!] Someone had uploaded a video of the auction from earlier that day, and the buzz quickly overtook Valentina's post. [Damn, he really spoils his wife! $400 million! That's enough to buy my entire life hundreds of times over!] [Oh my God! Has anyone not been overwhelmed by Mr. Gardner's love for his wife yet? When his wife had a car accident and was scared, he risked his life to make sure he was the first person she saw when she woke up!] [Mr. Gardner is like a saint in our elite circle. He still wears the rosary beads Camellia gave him, perfectly polished from years of use. He never takes them off!] Valentina's fans went quiet under the video. Compared to Andres' public displays of devotion, a single meal could not measure up. However, a newly-registered user suddenly posted three photos. One showed the transfer of ownership for an Aurelia winery, another depicted a necklace worth $200 million called ‘The Heart of the Ocean’, and the last featured Valentina holding car keys while sitting on the hood of a Ferrari. The user captioned it: [If someone else has it, our Val can't be without it.] Fans exploded in praise, calling her senior powerful and declaring him on par with Andres. Just then, a text message from an unsaved number came through to Camellia's phone. "You absolutely can't miss the celebration my senior is throwing for me tomorrow night!" Though she did not say anything, Camellia could almost hear Valentina's smugness. The message ended with the address of the venue. 742, Ocean Middle Road, Camellia Street. It was the restaurant where Camellia and Andres had their first meal together. He had promised her it would always remain closed to the public, so it would belong only to the two of them. Camellia stared at the address until her eyes stung. Her hand slipped, and the phone dropped onto her face. The sharp pain from the impact pushed her over the edge, and the tears she had been holding back spilled silently into the darkness. Chapter 3 Andres did not return home all night. Camellia ended up sitting alone in the empty living room, waiting from early morning until noon. Her phone buzzed with a social media notification. [Renowned artist Andres Gardner stands in support of his junior. What a deep camaraderie between peers!] Camellia let out a bitter laugh. Of course he did. She stopped waiting and went alone to visit her mother's grave. She bought a bouquet of lisianthus on her way over. At the cemetery, she carefully cleaned her mother's tombstone, placed the flowers in front of it, and leaned gently against the stone. It was as if she was trying to feel the warmth of her mother's embrace. Andres returned home late at night. Just as he was about to ask why Camellia had not gone to bed yet, he noticed a bundle of lisianthus peeking out of her bag. It suddenly hit him that today was her mother's death anniversary. Panic flashed across his face. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I've been so busy today that I completely forgot. It's all my fault," he stammered, cupping her face and instinctively stroking the beauty mark at the corner of her eye. Camellia noticed the faint trace of a lipstick mark on his hairline just behind his ear. She gently pushed him away, her voice calm as she said, "It's fine." Trying to ease the tension, Andres suggested, "How about we have an artist paint a portrait of us tomorrow? Once it's done, we can take a photo with it and place it at your mother's grave to give her peace of mind." Camellia wanted to refuse, but Andres was insistent, so she reluctantly agreed. The next morning at ten, the artist he had arranged for arrived. "Nice to meet you, Cam. I'm Valentina Dawson, Andres'… junior." Seeing Valentina, Andres' face betrayed a flicker of unease. Clearly, she was not the artist he had called. "Mr. Wilson had something come up, so I'm filling in for him," Valentina explained, her gaze sweeping over Camellia with a faint, inscrutable smile. "Has anyone ever told you that you look a lot like my sister, Cam?" she asked. "My sister had a beauty mark in the exact same spot as yours. The only difference is that hers was real, while yours… is drawn on." The room fell silent. Andres' expression darkened as he snapped, "Val, that's enough. "No one is more important to me than Camellia," he said firmly. Valentina blinked in surprise, then playfully stuck out her tongue at him. "Alright. I was just joking." She hooked one arm around Camellia's and led her toward the studio. With her other hand, she reached behind, tracing lazy circles on Andres' palm. Her gaze was sultry and inviting. "Andres, you're standing all wrong," she complained moments after starting the painting. Setting her brush down, she stood up and walked over to him. She caressed his face with one hand while the other trailed down his chest. Her fingers brushed over his Adam's apple, then came to rest on his shoulder. Leaning in close, she breathed warm air into his ear. "Why so tense, Andres?" His eyes darkened instantly. Camellia caught a glimpse of their interaction from the corner of her eye. Pain stabbed through her chest, and she forced herself to look away. Barely a few minutes later, Valentina suggested that Camellia's pose was not intimate enough. "Let me show you how it's done, Cam," she said with a sly smile. She pushed Camellia aside and tugged Andres forward by his tie. Her full figure pressed against his chest as her thumb brushed deliberately over the corner of his lips. Finally, she left a bold kiss on his mouth. Turning to Camellia, she tilted her head with a brazen expression. "Do you get it now, Cam?" When he saw Camellia's reaction, Andres quickly explained, "In the art world, we're a bit more… uninhibited." Camellia said nothing, merely clenching her trembling hands to keep herself composed. She excused herself to the bathroom, needing to escape. When she returned, muffled sounds from inside the room made her stop in her tracks. "Andres, no… You're going to ruin me," a woman's voice purred breathlessly. As she peeked inside, Camellia saw Valentina with one leg wrapped around Andres' lean waist. Her back was pressed against the windowsill, and she was moving in rhythm with him. Andres' eyes burned with passion as he kissed her fiercely. "You came all the way to my house! Wasn't this what you wanted?" he growled. Chapter 4 Camellia collapsed at the doorway of the studio, tears streaming down her face. She thought she was strong enough to endure anything, but witnessing this scene shattered her heart. She did not know how much time passed before she heard the rustling sound of clothes being put on from inside the room. Andres came to the bathroom looking for her and froze when he saw her red, swollen eyes. "Baby, why are you crying?" he asked. Camellia shook her head. "It's nothing. I accidentally got soap in my eyes." He let out a sigh of relief and playfully pinched her cheek. "You're still such a little troublemaker," he teased. When the painting was nearly finished, Andres was called away by his agent. With him gone, Valentina dropped the act entirely. "I know you saw it, Cam. Well, what can you do about it? Andres seems to love me more than you." She unbuttoned her shirt, revealing bruises on her skin. "When's the last time you were with him? Was it as passionate as just now? Can you even satisfy him?" Valentina stepped closer, her gaze condescending. She seemed to relish the idea of seeing Camellia break down, and she looked was expecting pain or hysteria. However, Camellia's expression remained calm and even unreadable. Underneath, her heart was shattered into countless pieces, leaving her barely able to breathe. After Valentina left, Camellia wandered aimlessly back to the studio. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to look at the paintings. Without turning on the light, she stumbled up to the third floor. She ended up twisting her ankle in the dark. Even so, the sharp pain from her ankle was nothing compared to the ache in her heart. Every painting that was celebrated by the public as symbols of her and Andre’s ‘perfect love’ now stared back at her. Each prominently featured the beauty mark that now felt like a mocking lie. Camellia pulled a craft knife from the penholder and slashed through the beauty marks in each painting one by one. With every cut, she severed another piece of the beautiful memories she once shared with Andres. When Andres returned home, Camellia had already freshened up and was lying in bed, ready to sleep. He barged into the bedroom, carrying a keyboard from his study in one hand and takeout from her favorite restaurant in the other. Without hesitation, he dropped the keyboard onto the floor, knelt on it, and faced her. "Honey, I know what happened today upset you. I've already reprimanded Val," he said earnestly. "I only think of her as a younger sister. She's still immature and doesn't know any better. As for her sister… That ended a long time ago. Besides, she's not even here anymore. "If you don't like it, I swear I won't see her again. But no matter how angry you are, please don't ruin your health by skipping meals…" The man who had been utterly consumed with Valentina earlier that day was now kneeling humbly before her, his tone desperate and full of affection. It was as if he could not live without her. For a moment, Camellia could not tell which version of Andres was real. If he loved her so much, how could he forget the vows he once made? If he loved her so much, why did he betray her? As Andres passed a dish toward her, he accidentally creased a page in the book lying on the bedside table. Camellia glanced over, and he casually smoothed it out and closed the book. "I fixed it. Now, eat," he said with a smile. The familiar aroma of the dish wafted from the bowl. Camellia took a few bites before saying, "But once a page is creased, it can never be perfectly smooth again." Andres, who was already sensitive about the day, tensed at her words. He knew it carried a deeper meaning. "Then I'll buy a new book. It'll be as good as new," he said, his bright eyes fixed on her. It was like his entire world revolved around her. "I'd pluck the stars from the sky for you if you asked." Camellia stayed silent, swallowing the words she wanted to say. Even if he had bought a new one, it would only be a replacement—it would no longer be the same book. She understood this truth, and he should have understood it even more. The two spent the night in silence. Over the next few days, perhaps out of guilt, Andres canceled all his work and stayed glued to Camellia's side. One day, he accompanied her to restore artifacts, buying a few antique treasures worth millions. The next day, he took her shopping and bought her an entire collection of the season's limited-edition items. The day after, he somehow got his hands on a pink Rolls-Royce Cullinan, parking it dramatically at the entrance of Eterna Haven in the city center as a grand gesture of love. This display led to a wave of online ridicule, with netizens mocking Andres' for being wrapped around his wife’s finger. Andres posted a self-deprecating tweet with a picture of himself kneeling on a keyboard. [I made my wife mad. How do I fix this if nothing works?] Only then did people realize Andres' predicament, with many pleading for Camellia to forgive him. With two days left until Camellia's birthday, she still had things to take care of. Seeing Andres' desperate efforts, she decided to go along with it and let the matter drop. Andres was overjoyed, lifting her in his arms and spinning her around several times. "Baby, I love you more than anything in this life! You’re my only love!" On the way to dinner, Andres received several phone calls. The number flashing on the screen was one Camellia knew well—Valentina's. He declined the calls four times before finally receiving a message. When he opened it, a single glance made his expression falter. "Baby, my agent says there's an issue with the new painting contract. I need to handle it right away," Andres said apologetically. Camellia did not call out his lie and let him leave. She then bought a baseball cap and mask from a roadside shop and hailed a car to follow him. She trailed him into a mall and all the way to her once-favorite bridal boutique. The dressing room curtain opened, and there stood Valentina, radiant in the wedding dress Camellia had loved most. "Do I look beautiful, Andres?" Valentina asked. She reached out, her hand sliding from Andres' shoulder, tracing his Adam's apple, and stopping just shy of his lips in a teasing caress. Andres' eyes darkened. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply. Both of them were breathless by the time they pulled apart. Valentina curled into Andres' chest, tracing lazy circles on it with her finger. "Andres, if Cam finds out I wore this dress first, she'll probably lose it," she murmured. Andres' breathing grew heavier as he pulled her into the dressing room and drew the curtain shut. "She won't know. I owe you a wedding, and it's my fault you've been wronged," he replied. "Today, you're my most beautiful bride." With those words, the sound of running water filled the dressing room, accompanied by intimate whispers. Chapter 5 Camellia stood in a distant corner, watching through the gap in the dressing room curtains as Valentina and Andres’ entwined figures moved. Her heart twisted in unbearable pain. Her stomach churned violently, and she could not suppress the urge to dry heave. Her entire body was now convulsing uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face, draining all her strength. She collapsed onto the floor, feeling utterly spent. As she turned to leave, she did not get to see the satisfied smile on Valentina's face inside the dressing room. Back home, the oppressive silence was suffocating. Camellia turned on the television, flipping to a random channel. It was broadcasting a segment on Andres' latest art exhibition. The painting featured a girl in a bright yellow dress running freely through a field. The commentators remarked on how drastically different this piece was from Andres' earlier works. It no longer exuded a soft, reserved gentleness but instead brimmed with vitality and energy. Though the girl's face was not visible, her back displayed the painter's tenderness and love for her. One critic observed sharply, "Even the strands of her flying hair are perfect, like the wind itself favors her." Online, viewers joked about Andres' newfound spark, saying his marriage with Camellia must have entered a second spring. Only Camellia knew the truth. That was not her. It was Valentina, or perhaps it was Nelina Dawson, the woman from his dreams. Taking a deep breath, she tried to suppress the ache in her chest and called her best friend, Penelope Hall. While waiting for Penelope's arrival, Camellia began sorting through the gifts Andres had given her over the years. In the first year of their marriage, he noticed her concerns and gave her a diamond bangle. "I've locked you in for this lifetime. You belong to me now, so don't even think about leaving," he had said. In their second year, he noticed how much she missed her mother and folded her a jar of wishing stars. "When you miss your mom, open one. No matter where I am or what time it is, I'll come back to make your wish come true. This life might be long, but I'll always be here with you." Camellia began unwrapping the stars one by one. [Plant a little tree.] [Adopt a corgi.] [Grow old together.] … She picked up her phone, snapped a picture of one of the stars, and sent it to Andres. Her phone screen remained dark. There was no response from him. Half an hour later, a package arrived. It was the painting Valentina had made for them that day. However, instead of depicting the two of them sitting side by side, the image showed two entangled figures of Andres and Valentina in bed. Something cold slid down Camellia's cheek. She raised her hand to wipe it away and realized her face was already soaked with tears. In a daze, she placed the painting with all of Andres' other works in the studio. Then, she gathered every gift he had ever given her into a box, carried it into the yard, and set it ablaze. Later, Penelope would recall the moment she saw Camellia that day. She felt as if Camellia was on the verge of breaking into pieces. Penelope walked over and held her close without saying a word, letting Camellia lean on her silently. After a long while, once Camellia calmed down, she made another request. "Help me arrange a funeral. But Andres must not attend it. Only then, reveal the truth about my 'death' to him." Camellia handed Penelope an envelope containing evidence of Valentina's relentless provocations over the past few months. Penelope glanced through it and nodded firmly while suppressing her anger. Once everything was set, it was already late at night. That day, Andres quietly slipped into the house at 2 a.m. Seeing Camellia still awake did not surprise him. He approached her like a child with a prize, his eyes brimming with excitement. "I knew you'd still be up. I was too busy earlier to check my messages, but look—I'm here to make your wish come true!" He moved the small tea table by the window to the bed, fetched two bowls, and divided the seafood boil he had brought home into portions. The wish on the paper star Camellia had sent to Andres earlier in the day was to eat her favorite food with him. For some reason, Camellia's mind wandered back to the first time they went to that seafood restaurant together. It might have been Andres' first time eating at a small roadside restaurant. Before eating, he had wiped the oily table repeatedly with napkins and was clearly uncomfortable. However, he smiled at her with mock innocence when she looked his way, almost playfully. "Cam, feed me," he had said. "I'll try anything if it makes you happy." "Andres." Camellia fixed her gaze on his face. "If you could do it all over again, would you still choose this?" Andres did not think much of her question and assumed she was feeling insecure again. He gently stroked her dark hair and answered with certainty. "I would. I'd make the same choices every time. "I'd love you, spoil you, and stay devoted to you for the rest of my life." Chapter 6 The following day, Andres did not leave the house early like he usually did. He squeezed toothpaste onto Camellia's toothbrush and stood by, watching as she finished washing her face. "It's extremely windy today. We can't let it ruin my baby's delicate little face," he said with playful affection. Then, he told her he had a big surprise planned for the next day with an air of mystery. Before he could finish explaining, Cohen Palmer called a few times, saying there was an issue he could not resolve and needed Andres to come immediately. Andres gave Camellia an apologetic glance, and when she reassured him that she understood, he left. Once he was gone, Camellia contacted the team she had hired to confirm every detail for the next day. Then, she drove to Eterna Haven. She had not visited in several days, and everything felt unfamiliar. She called the Saltsburg Museum, and the curator arrived in person an hour later. "Cam, are you sure you want to donate all of this to the country for free?" The curator, Felix Cross, was a fellow apprentice of her mentor. Camellia nodded without hesitation. "You can tell me if you're facing any difficulties. Don't try to handle it all on your own," he said with concern. Camellia remained silent, her gaze fixed on the goddess statue in the center of the room. With its head bowed and its elegant, serene posture, the statue seemed to smile compassionately. Covered in moss and denied the light of day, it exuded a quiet sorrow toward the world. Camellia was leaving, but these artifacts should not be buried with her. "It's nothing, Felix. Don't worry about me," she said softly. Seeing her unwillingness to elaborate, Felix did not press further. After instructing his assistants to carefully transport the artifacts, he patted her shoulder before leaving. "Take care of yourself," he said as he departed. Once again, she was alone. The once vibrant Eterna Haven now felt hollow and empty. Her phone buzzed with a notification. It was about Valentina's online book signing event for her new illustration collection. The clickbaity title read: [The Beautiful Artist Who Once Had a Miscarriage for Love.] Camellia's fingers moved almost involuntarily to click on the link. The video cut to Valentina showing a scar on her abdomen. "Back then, he said I was too young, and the pregnancy was on the risky side. Out of concern for me, he stayed by my side for the procedure," Valentina said with a blissful expression. "It must have been about three years ago when he went to Faren to further his studies… "He even picked out a name for our lost baby—Cale. He said he hoped she'd return to us one day and live a life full of brilliance and light…" Camellia's phone slipped from her grasp, crashing to the floor. The screen shattered, forming a spider web of cracks. Cale? That was the nickname Andres had given their child after their first night together. He had held her tenderly afterward, murmuring the name as if it were a promise. Him and Valentina… had a child… Not to mention that it was three years ago. It had not just been going on for the past three months. Andres had lied to her for three entire years. Suddenly, Valentina was pulled into the frame as someone's arm draped around her shoulders. The sound of kissing filled the audio feed. When she reappeared on screen, her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were flushed pink. She giggled, saying her boyfriend was jealous and insisted they should ‘work harder’ to bring Cale back soon. Her fans erupted in excitement, flooding the chat with playful teasing, though their blessings were genuine. The illustration book sold well, as though it was part of their celebratory gift. Camellia did not know when the signing event ended. The last rays of sunlight disappeared from the room, leaving behind a suffocating darkness. It felt like a giant beast was ready to devour her. She simply sat motionless in her chair with the lights off. Suddenly, her phone screen lit up and became blindingly bright. It was a video message from Valentina, accompanied by a single line. "I told you I'd have you under my feet one day." The video showed two intertwined, bare legs. Camellia was about to delete it when something caught her eye—the rosary beads she had once given Andres. She had it blessed for him, but now they were wrapped around Valentina's ankle. The beads that were slightly large for her looped around her ankle twice. The excess length dangled, with a few beads pressed under Valentina's toe. "They're just rosary beads. If you want them, they're yours," Andres' voice in the video sounded indifferent and dismissive. Camellia's mind flashed back to the day Andres received the beads. "Cam, I'll always keep these with me, even in death," he had promised. The color drained from Camellia's face. She wanted to cry and let out all the pain, but no tears came. The light in her eyes had faded completely. Late at night, as the world slept, no one noticed when Eterna Haven went up in roaring flames. Andres was up early the next morning, preparing for the day. He had just arrived at Quaint Hotel and finished tidying up when Cohen burst in, pale and clutching at his phone. "Andres! Something terrible has happened!" Before Cohen could continue, Andres' phone rang. He held up a finger to silence him and answered the call. As he listened, his gaze shifted to Cohen's phone, where an image stopped him cold. The once-familiar pink Cullinan was now charred black, surrounded by the smoldering remains of Eterna Haven. Smoke billowed from the scene, and a stretcher held a body covered by a white sheet nearby. The voice on the phone interrupted his thoughts. "Hello, is this Mr. Andres Gardner? This is the Saltsburg Police Department. We regret to inform you of a tragic incident. "The property under your wife's name, Eterna Haven, caught fire last night. Unfortunately, your wife did not survive. Our condolences."	LEARN_MORE	https://www.qknymufd.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=1	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	373	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	www.qknymufd.com	VIDEO		https://www.qknymufd.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=18306&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/t39.35426-6/476975388_1290329172220855_5408382462327441799_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=uRAJwx79rwQQ7kNvgG7UsNR&_nc_oc=AdgwQLgEm2nY8wdlIiweZsVfDGKOhtsyPi4y2r6_Iod4pPYZTw3NrnXjr5MNhH0GFvI&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ak_lkhYsQKQnf98yqp8uEsr&oh=00_AYB9fE9U2j-UA5QdTOZDtQJyKNZfbReGXu3LGBSaMoqXTw&oe=67C2E1B9	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,691,940	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691875}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:43	active	2625	🔥🔥Click to read the next chapter for free👉	The brilliant lights in the hall dimmed, leaving a concentrated glow upon the stage. The bride and groom stood bathed in radiance—she in her flowing white gown, he in his impeccably tailored suit. They were the perfect picture of beauty and elegance. The background music shifted, rising into a crescendo, infusing the air with a palpable sense of excitement. The wedding ceremony had reached its peak. Deidre clasped her left hand over her right, her palms damp with sweat beneath the delicate white gloves. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. She was so nervous it felt as though her heart might leap into her throat. Her gaze settled on the man before her, a mix of elation and unease swirling within her. Micah Landon—one of Salve City's most eligible bachelors, heir to one of its most powerful families—was about to marry her. It felt surreal, like a fairy tale come to life. A Cinderella marrying her prince, with all the incredulity that entailed. Micah stood tall in his sharply cut suit, his handsome face composed, his demeanor radiating charm and distinction. The unframed glasses perched on his high-bridged nose softened the sharpness of his features, lending his eyes a gentle warmth that seemed deeper than usual. "And now, let's have the bride and groom exchange rings!" The emcee's voice was vibrant, his enthusiasm infectious. A poised bridesmaid stepped forward, carrying a tray with a red velvet base upon which the wedding rings rested. Micah's gaze lowered to the open ring box, and for a fleeting moment, his calm façade faltered. His gentle, smiling expression froze ever so slightly. The warmth and softness in his eyes disappeared entirely, replaced by an unfamiliar coldness. Deidre followed his gaze to the rings, her brow furrowing in confusion. These weren't the rings they had chosen together. What was going on? Micah's hand hovered over the ring box but didn't move to pick one up. An awkward pause settled over the ceremony. The emcee hesitated, his expression reflecting the growing tension in the room. Then a shout broke through the silence. "What's that on the screen?" Heads turned toward the massive display behind them. Deidre instinctively followed their gaze. The screen, which had been playing a slideshow of their sweet, romantic pre-wedding photos, now displayed a completely different set of images. The pictures still showed a man and a woman, but the man wasn't Micah. The first photo revealed Deidre being intimately embraced by a stranger outside a hotel. The next showed her leaning into the same man in a hotel room, their bodies close on a bed. The lively background music continued to play, a jarring contrast to the now stifling atmosphere. Whispers swept through the crowd, their eyes darting toward Deidre. Daring to humiliate Micah, the powerful and revered heir, on his wedding day? And this bride, from her modest family background, had the audacity to wear such a scandalous stain on her character? Deidre felt as if lightning had struck her. Panic surged through her as she snapped her gaze toward Micah. His attention was fixed on the screen. The light from the display reflected off his glasses, making it impossible for Deidre to discern his expression. But the tight line of his lips and the vein bulging at his temple revealed enough. A cold blade seemed to pierce her chest, twisting sharply. The once cheerful wedding music now felt like a cruel mockery. "Micah, I didn't—" Deidre started, her voice trembling. Micah's gaze finally shifted to her, his eyes icy and unreadable behind his glasses. The storm brewing in them made her heart sink further. "I…" She wanted to explain, but no words came. The images on the screen were a mystery to her. She had no memory of them, no explanation for their existence. Who would do this to her? Who would want to ruin her like this? Micah's expression grew colder, a mocking glint appearing in his eyes. He didn't say a word. Instead, he glanced at the bridesmaid holding the tray of rings. He picked up one of the rings, turned sharply, and walked away. "Micah, don't go!" Deidre cried, lifting the hem of her gown as she rushed after him. She grabbed his hand, desperate to stop him. He halted briefly, turning to look at her. His lips curved in a faint, mocking smile, his voice low and biting. "This wedding…" He trailed off, his gaze flicking back to the screen where yet another photo appeared—Deidre asleep in bed, her features serene. Beside her, the same stranger propped his head on one hand, gazing at her with a tenderness that seemed all too intimate. Micah's faint smirk turned into a derisive laugh. "…is off." Each word struck Deidre like an arrow, sinking deep into her heart and leaving a searing pain in their wake. He shook off her hand with enough force to send her stumbling backward. She staggered, unable to steady herself, and fell to the ground, her pristine white gown pooling around her like a defeated flag. Chapter 2 The wedding host, visibly flustered as the groom turned and walked away, hastily gestured to the sound engineer to cut the music. As the cheerful background tunes abruptly ceased, the atmosphere shifted, the murmur of the crowd swelling into an unabashed roar of judgment and speculation. "They've been engaged for over a year, and now this scene unfolds at the wedding? Utter humiliation," someone remarked loudly. "She looks so pure, doesn't she? But clearly, she's got other, shall we say, talents that hooked Micah. Guess she practiced those talents with plenty of others. Walk along the river long enough, and you'll get your feet wet. Someone probably got fed up and exposed her. Tsk, tsk." That particular comment sliced through the air like a shard of glass, sharp and cutting. "Nonsense! I didn't do any of that!" Deidre screamed, her voice raw with desperation. Her outburst only added fuel to the fire. None of the attendees spared her even a modicum of sympathy. They were there for the prestige of the Landon family. Now that she had been abandoned by Micah, who was she to them? A nobody, someone to ridicule without consequence. "Look at her, losing her temper. How unsightly." "Exactly. Instead of finding a hole to crawl into, she's still yelling at others." "Such shameless defiance. Playing the victim while pretending to be saintly—what a joke." "If my daughter ever turned out like this, I'd beat her to death." "Let's go. The wedding's clearly over." The voices piled up, overlapping in waves of cruelty. Deidre's head buzzed with a hollow static. None of it made sense. How had the day turned into this nightmare? No. It couldn't end like this. She slipped off her high heels, hoisting up the heavy layers of her wedding gown, and ran after Micah. Outside the hotel, Micah stood by the open door of his car, flipping through some documents. The sight of him brought a glimmer of hope to Deidre's heart, and she quickened her steps. "Micah!" she called out, her voice trembling with both fear and longing. His hand froze mid-turn, but he didn't look up. Tears welled in Deidre's reddened eyes. "How can you just leave me like this? How can you believe those photos without even hearing me out?" Micah finally lifted his gaze, his eyes cold and detached, like a winter wind slicing through her skin. "One week ago," he began, his voice steady but unyielding, "Westin Hotel, Room 309. Was it you?" The precision of his words hit her like a jolt. A specific time, a specific place—her memory stirred reluctantly to life. Her breath hitched as fragments resurfaced. She had been there. It was her sister Valerie's 18th birthday party, and they'd forced a bottle of whiskey down her throat. The next thing she remembered was waking up alone in that hotel room with a splitting headache. The images from the wedding screen replayed in her mind, overlapping with her fragmented recollection. Could it be? But no—when she had woken up that morning, she was alone. There had been no one else, she was sure of it. Her silence spoke volumes. "Can't answer, can you?" Micah's voice dripped with disdain, dragging her back to the present. "I was there, yes, but—" she began, desperate to explain. "Spare me your excuses," he cut her off icily. He thrust the documents in his hand toward her. "Take a good look. No one's an idiot here." Mechanically, Deidre accepted them, her hands trembling. Her eyes skimmed over the pages—photographs, so many photographs. Many were the same ones that had been displayed on the wedding screen, but these… these included more. Her breath caught in her throat. Among the images, her sister Valerie appeared too, unmistakably linked to the events captured. "This isn't real," Deidre stammered. "I'll call Valerie—she'll explain. This is all a misunderstanding. That night—she—" Her frantic words were abruptly silenced as Micah seized her chin, forcing her to look at him. "It's over, Deidre," he said quietly. His gaze locked onto hers, unyielding. She saw her own desperation reflected in the lenses of his frameless glasses, his eyes devoid of warmth or mercy. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. "If only you'd stayed obedient. But there are no 'if onlys.' You hid it well these past two years. I almost believed in you, fooled by that face of yours. But you're tainted. In the end, it was my mistake for thinking you could ever compare to her." Her mind stumbled over his words, catching on one fragment: "Her." Who was he talking about? Before she could grasp it, Micah let out a bitter laugh. With his free hand, he pulled a ring box from his pocket, opening it with a flick of his thumb. Chapter 3 Deidre recognized the wedding ring—it was the same unfamiliar one that had appeared earlier at the ceremony. Micah's voice broke through the heavy air, low and dripping with disdain. "You're not worthy of this ring." Her heart shuddered at his words, and pain flared across her jaw as he harshly released her. Without so much as a glance back, he stepped into the car, slamming the door shut with finality. His expression remained cold as he instructed the driver, "Drive." Desperate, Deidre chased after the car, her bare feet burning against the scorching pavement. The southern Salve City was in the grip of a relentless summer heat, but she barely noticed. The pain in her feet seemed distant, insignificant compared to the ache in her chest. She ran with abandon, her cumbersome wedding gown tangling around her legs, until she tripped and fell hard onto the unforgiving ground. Her knees and elbows scraped against the rough asphalt, bleeding slightly. She looked utterly disheveled, a far cry from the radiant bride she had been moments ago. The driver, catching sight of her pitiful state in the rearview mirror, hesitated. His foot eased off the gas, and he ventured cautiously, "Young Master Micah, Miss Deidre is—" "Did you not understand what I said earlier?" Micah's tone was sharp, cutting. "Yes, sir!" The driver stiffened, not daring to say another word. He pressed harder on the accelerator, and the car sped away. For a fleeting moment, Deidre thought she saw the car slow down. A glimmer of hope ignited in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came. The car roared forward, disappearing into the distance, leaving her behind. She sat where she had fallen, her meticulously applied bridal makeup now smeared and ruined. The oppressive summer sun bore down on her, but she didn't care. Perhaps if her body suffered enough, her heart might hurt a little less. The sound of approaching heels broke through her haze. A shadow loomed over her, and Deidre slowly looked up to see Casey Landon standing before her, her elegant face frosty with disdain. Casey crouched down, bringing their gazes level. Her lips curled into a cold smile as she produced her phone, unlocking it and flipping through her photo album. She held it out for Deidre to see. "Take a good look. This is my brother's first love." Deidre's face drained of color the moment her eyes landed on the photo. The girl in the picture was young, no older than eighteen or nineteen. Her delicate features radiated joy, her hand raised in a playful gesture that highlighted the ring on her slender finger—a ring identical to the one Micah had just dismissed as unworthy of Deidre. Her breath caught. The resemblance was uncanny. The girl's eyes, especially, bore a startling similarity to her own. "This photo," Casey said coolly, "is why my brother took an interest in you." Deidre's mind reeled. 'You're not worthy of this ring.' Micah's words came rushing back, sharper than ever. "So, I'm… her—" Deidre began, her voice trembling. "Her replacement," Casey finished mercilessly. Her tone was detached, but each syllable landed like a dagger to Deidre's heart. "No… that can't be," Deidre murmured, her voice barely audible. Yet her body betrayed her denial, trembling uncontrollably. Though the summer heat was oppressive, she felt as if she had been plunged into an icy abyss. She was a joke. Right from the start, she had been nothing more than a substitute. Casey watched Deidre descent into despair with evident satisfaction, though her anger hadn't quite abated. She raised her hand and struck Deidre across the face. The slap echoed sharply. Deidre's head snapped to the side, her cheek instantly stinging with heat. A vivid red mark bloomed across her pale skin, the outline of fingers clear and unrelenting. "Today, you humiliated my brother in front of everyone," Casey said coldly. "You turned this wedding into the laughingstock of the entire Salve City's elite. You should be thankful my parents left in disgust early on. If they were still here, you wouldn't have gotten off with just a slap." Deidre bit her lip, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. Slowly, she turned her face back to Casey, her eyes red-rimmed but resolute. Tears welled up but refused to fall. "I didn't do anything to betray him," she said through clenched teeth. "Spare me the pitiful act," Casey sneered. "Who do you think you're fooling?" Her disgust was unmistakable, simmering just beneath the surface. She straightened, slipping her phone back into her pocket. With a final disdainful glance, she added, "You're just a shameless woman clinging to lies and excuses. Disgusting." Without another word, Casey turned on her heel and walked away. Chapter 4 The reporters had trailed after Micah's car for a good while, hoping to intercept him, but when it became clear that their efforts were futile, they shifted their attention. Like a tidal wave, they surged toward Deidre instead. Vincent Winsley, who had also rushed out, caught sight of Deidre slumped on the ground, her hair disheveled, her expression blank. A surge of fury erupted within him. "You've disgraced me completely!" he spat, his teeth clenched in rage. Without waiting for a response, he stormed over and yanked her up forcefully. Deidre stumbled as he dragged her toward the parking lot, his movements sharp and brimming with frustration. Like a discarded, soulless rag doll, Deidre let herself be shoved into the car. Her mind was elsewhere, caught in an unending loop of Micah's cold words and Casey's venomous taunts. A replacement. The phrase clung to her, refusing to loosen its grip. Deidre's lips curled into a silent, bitter smile. Of course. It all made sense now. No wonder Micah had believed those photos, no wonder he had so readily embraced such absurd accusations. Trust? There had never been any between them. How could there be trust when all along, he had seen her as someone else? To him, she was merely a shadow, an echo of his lost love. A stand-in needed no trust—only convenience. When she no longer suited his mood, he could cast her aside without hesitation, without remorse. After all, she was just a replacement. Nothing more. For two whole years, she had been ensnared in the illusion of Micah's tenderness, his feigned affection. Even until this very day, she had dared to dream of a future together, of growing old by his side. But now, the illusion was shattered. The truth lay bare, unrelenting in its cruelty. She was nothing but a substitute. And if she had paid closer attention, she might have seen it all along. The signs were there. The way Micah would often stare at her, lost in thought—as if seeing through her, seeing someone else entirely. The pain clawed at her chest, raw and relentless. Why? Why did Micah have to do this to her? Just because she happened to resemble his first love? Did that alone condemn her to this undeserved heartbreak, this torment? "You still have the audacity to cry after committing such shameless acts!" Her father's enraged scolding pierced her thoughts. Deidre didn't even have the strength to argue anymore. Exhaustion weighed down every fiber of her being. She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall silently. But behind her closed lids, she couldn't stop the image from resurfacing—Micah's cold, disdainful gaze, those eyes filled with nothing but contempt. Again and again, the memory replayed, refusing to fade. Her heart felt as though it were being torn apart, over and over, each tear exposing fresh wounds, each wound bleeding pain she couldn't contain. … The moment Deidre stepped into the house, pushed forward by Vincent, she stumbled through the doorway into the entryway. As soon as the door clicked shut, his palm came down hard across her face. It struck the same spot Casey had hit earlier—her left cheek—and the sharp sting of pain flared up once more, searing and numb all at once. Deidre's expression didn't even flicker. She had no tears left to shed; the journey home had wrung her dry. All that remained was the dull ache behind her eyes. She stood there like a wooden doll, her gaze hollow and detached, staring at Vincent without truly seeing him. "How dare you humiliate the Landon family like this? How dare you cheat on Micah!" he roared. There was no questioning, no attempt to understand—just an immediate verdict of guilt, a judgment passed without trial. This was her father, Vincent. He had always been like this. The rage that had been simmering within him on the way home boiled over entirely now, erupting with full force. He raised his hand again, his voice thunderous. "I'll beat you to death today. That way, the Landon family won't come after me for this disgrace!" Deidre didn't move. She didn't even flinch. She knew better than to try. It wouldn't make a difference. Another slap landed squarely on her cheek, hard and unrelenting. The pain was distant now, buried under layers of numbness. Her expression remained as lifeless as before. "Look at you! Always that dead, useless look!" Her passive indifference only fueled Vincent's anger further, like oil thrown onto an open flame. His veins bulged at his neck, his face twisted with fury. "Fine! I'll end your life right here!" He glanced around, his eyes landing on a shoehorn resting by the entryway. He grabbed it without hesitation and swung it at her. Blow after blow rained down on her, relentless and furious. The shoehorn struck her arms, leaving bright red welts on her pale skin, each mark stark and startling against its canvas. The door opened again, and Kiera Winsley, her stepmother, appeared. She took in the scene, her voice laced with feigned concern as she exclaimed, "What's going on here? Why are you hitting Deidre?" "Stay out of it!" Vincent snapped, his grip tightening on the shoehorn. "This disgraceful wretch deserves it. end her life would be doing us all a favor." "Now, now," Kiera replied, stepping between Vincent and Deidre, her tone calm yet firm. "She's still your daughter. You can't say things like that." Her words seemed protective, but her eyes betrayed her indifference. There wasn't the faintest glimmer of worry in them. Deidre's gaze drifted to the silhouette of Kiera standing in front of her, shielding her from further blows. For the first time in what felt like forever, her empty eyes focused again. Her voice, hoarse and strained, broke the silence. "Where's Valerie?" Kiera blinked, startled by the unexpected question. She hesitated for a moment before responding, "Your sister and brother took a different car. They'll be home soon." Deidre said nothing more. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the living room. "Look at her! Look at the way she acts!" Vincent fumed behind her, his rage still simmering. Kiera stepped closer to him, her voice soothing as she tried to calm him down. But even as she murmured words of comfort, her gaze followed Deidre, scrutinizing her retreating figure with a calculating glint in her eyes. Chapter 5 After a long string of coaxing and placating, Kiera finally managed to calm Vincent's seething anger to a simmer. She tugged at his arm, steering him towards their room to change out of the formal attire they'd worn for the wedding. As they reached the stairs, Kiera glanced back and saw Deidre sitting quietly on the living room sofa. Her gaze was fixed on the front door, unblinking, her expression unreadable but for the faint furrow in her brows. Kiera hesitated, then called out, "Deidre, go change into something else, won't you?" Deidre didn't move. It was as if her ears had turned deaf to the sound of her stepmother's voice. "That girl's just like her mother—a cursed woman through and through!" Vincent spat as he ascended the stairs. "What bad luck it's been to have a daughter like that!" Deidre's eyes flickered for a moment, a ripple disturbing their stillness. Her hands clenched tightly, nails digging into her palms. It wasn't long before Valerie and Johnny returned. The atmosphere in the house had barely settled when their chatter filled the space again. "What a disaster today turned out to be," Valerie muttered as she stepped inside, slipping off her shoes. She paid no attention to the figure rising slowly from the living room sofa. "I told you from the beginning—this match was doomed from the start. Why force it? Marrying into wealth, what a joke..." Johnny trailed behind her, nodding absentmindedly as she spoke. But before she could take another step, she found herself face-to-face with Deidre. Startled, Valerie took a step back, her eyes scanning the figure before her. Deidre stood there in her wedding dress—filthy, tattered, with her hair in disarray. The left side of her pale face was swollen. For a brief moment, Valerie froze, as though she'd seen a ghost. Then her expression twisted into irritation. "What are you doing, standing there looking like that? Trying to scare someone to death?" Deidre's voice was calm, so calm it was unnerving. "It was you, wasn't it? On your eighteenth birthday, you forced me to drink, sent me to that hotel. And the pictures on the wedding screen—those were your doing too." The tone carried no inflection, just a straightforward certainty. It wasn't a question. It was a fact laid bare. Valerie faltered, her bravado wavering under Deidre's steady gaze. "You… I…" Her voice stumbled, and her eyes darted away, the guilt she tried to suppress bubbling to the surface. Before she could stammer out a denial, Deidre's hand moved swiftly. The slap landed on Valerie's cheek. Johnny snapped to attention, rushing forward to push Deidre away. "Don't hit my sister!" Johnny shouted, his fourteen-year-old frame trembling with indignation. The shove was forceful, and Deidre stumbled back several steps before regaining her balance. Valerie, clutching her cheek, finally processed what had happened. Her shock quickly morphed into rage. "Even Dad has never hit me! How dare you?!" she shrieked, rushing toward Deidre with hands outstretched, aiming for her face. But Deidre caught her by the wrist, her grip unyielding. Another slap followed, sharp and deliberate. Her voice, low and icy, cut through the chaos. "You deserve it." "You… you hit me again?!" Valerie's voice cracked into a wail. But before she could retaliate, Deidre's hand moved for the third time, another slap echoing in the room. "Stop hitting Valerie, you useless freak!" Johnny yelled. He rushed over, intending to help his older sister. But when his eyes met Deidre's gaze, he froze. As a fourteen-year-old boy who had been pampered his whole life, he had never seen anyone with such a murderous look in their eyes. Terrified, he hesitated. "Stop it this instant!" Kiera's voice rang out as she descended the stairs, her heels clacking rapidly against the steps. Her sharp eyes took in the scene—her daughter red-faced and wailing, Deidre standing unmoved, cold as stone. "How dare you hit your sister? Have you lost your mind?" Vincent wasn't far behind, his fury reignited at the sight of his precious daughter's reddened cheeks. He stormed down the stairs, his voice shaking with anger. "Hitting your sister like this? I'll end you life myself!" Deidre watched them all—the righteous fury on her father's face, the manufactured concern in her stepmother's eyes, and the unbridled hatred radiating from Valerie. Her chest tightened, the ache so deep it numbed her. Valerie broke through the cacophony with a scream, her voice shrill with rage. "Yes! I did it! I made you drunk that night and sent you to that hotel! And those photos on the screen—I had those taken! You think you deserve to marry into wealth? You're nothing! A crow pretending to be a phoenix—know your place!" Chapter 6 Vincent had been spewing curses at Deidre just moments ago, but upon hearing Valerie's confession, his lips pressed into a rare, tight line. He said nothing. Deidre let out a derisive laugh, her gaze shifting from Valerie to settle on her father. "You heard her, didn't you? You know now who orchestrated today's wedding fiasco. Weren't you so eager to beat me to death earlier? Why aren't you laying a hand on Valerie now?" Vincent remained still, his brows furrowing deeper as he finally spoke. "She's your sister. Watch your tone." "And when she humiliated me in front of an entire banquet hall, did she ever stop to think that I was her sister?" Deidre's voice cracked as she shouted, her anger no longer contained. "She's your daughter. Am I not your daughter, too?" "You're the older one. You should let her have her way," Vincent said, as if his words were carved in stone. "Yes, that's always your answer. Whenever there's a conflict between me and Valerie, you tell me I'm the older one, so I have to give in to her," Deidre said quietly now, her tone steeped in irony. She stood a few steps away, staring at the four people before her, her eyes cold, filled with disdain. Her mother had passed away before she was old enough to form memories. Not long after, Vincent had remarried, bringing Kiera into their home. With her came Valerie and Johnny. In the suffocating silence that followed, Deidre let out a bitter laugh. "I'm just an outsider, aren't I? You're the real family here." Her words pierced through the thin veneer of harmony that had barely held their household together. It shattered like glass. "What kind of look is that? Don't forget, I'm your father!" Vincent barked, enraged by the unmasked contempt in Deidre's eyes. "Following the passing of your mother, you ate my food, wore the clothes I bought. Did you call yourself an outsider then? Don't think earning a scholarship every year makes you someone special. If you're so capable, get out of this house right now and see how far you get without my support! Starve for all I care—just don't come crawling back!" Kiera's eyes gleamed at his words, though her tone remained measured, even gentle. "Why say such harsh things? Deidre is only twenty, and she's still in university. You can't talk to a child like that." Turning to Deidre, she added with a hypocritical kindness, "Deidre, don't take your father's words to heart. Apologize and make peace." "Fine," Deidre replied curtly. Her compliance startled Kiera, who hesitated, unsure what to make of it. This girl had never shown her any respect before, and now, all of a sudden, she was so obedient? The thought didn't sit well. If Deidre were truly driven out of the house, Kiera would no longer have to keep up the facade of a benevolent stepmother. Yet, despite herself, she felt unsettled, as if she had just swallowed a fly. Vincent was equally taken aback by his daughter's uncharacteristic acquiescence. He paused, his expression softening slightly. Clearing his throat, he assumed a more commanding tone. "The matter with the photos at the wedding—Valerie is still young and made a mistake. You've already hit her. Let's put it behind us. If you've done nothing to wrong the Landon family, find a time to clear things up and reschedule the wedding." Running a construction materials company, Vincent's business had been thriving, especially with the Landon family connection. A marriage alliance with the Landons would secure even greater opportunities. Naturally, he hoped Deidre would still marry into that family. The thought of returning the Landon family's generous bride price gnawed at him. That money alone had already covered the cost of raising Deidre for twenty years, and then some. It could ever cover her living costs for another forty years. The idea of losing it was unbearable. "You were engaged to Micah a year ago," he continued, his voice laced with warning. "You've been a part of the Landon family ever since. If they decide they don't want you after this mess, don't think anyone else will have you." "Reschedule the wedding?" Deidre repeated, as though the suggestion was the most absurd thing she'd ever heard. She began to laugh—a deep, bitter laugh that only grew louder, carrying with it a sadness so profound it filled the room. This was her father. A man so blinded by favoritism, he had lost all sense of reason. "What are you laughing at?" Vincent snapped, his brows knitting together tightly. Chapter 7 "I'd rather never get married in this lifetime than marry Micah. Never!" Deidre stopped laughing, her face freezing over, her voice sharp: "I think you've misunderstood something. When I said 'fine,' I meant I'll leave this house, and you can all go ahead and live your happy little lives." Since middle school, Deidre had been a boarding student, and the bond between her and her father, Vincent, had always been tenuous. The estrangement between them was as thin as the paper separating two worlds. In a blended family, when there are children from previous marriages, someone always ends up hurt. Vincent's fatherly love had been doled out almost entirely to his other children, Valerie and Johnny, leaving only the scraps for her. It was like charity, barely a gesture. Now, standing on the edge of her limits, she had had enough. Absolutely enough. "Fine! Fine then!" Vincent, enraged, his face contorted, pointed toward the door and bellowed, "I'll cut ties with you today! Get out! Get out of this house—now!" "Don't worry, I'm leaving." The deepest sorrow wasn't in the confrontation itself but in the stillness that followed it. Deidre had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was happening, she felt a strange tranquility—almost a sense of release. Like her presence in this house had always been superfluous, an eyesore. She should have left long ago. Calmly, Deidre turned and went upstairs to her room to pack her things. Kiera, thrilled on the inside, masked her joy with an expression of feigned concern and helplessness. She muttered, "Don't be so upset. Why argue with a twenty-year-old? I'll go check on her." When Valerie heard Deidre's words, the sting of the slap on her face lightened. A wicked smile spread across her face, and sweetly, she said, "Dad, you still have me. I'll be a good daughter from now on." Vincent had been angry with Valerie earlier, but seeing her with that slap mark on her face, now with her pitiful, submissive expression, all the anger drained away. His tone softened as he looked at her, a far cry from the venomous words he had thrown at Deidre. He spoke gently, as a father would to a daughter he cherished, his voice full of indulgence. "Yes, having you is enough, my dear." Johnny watched Deidre walk up the stairs, his face contorted with disdain and contempt. This burden had been long overdue to leave. Upstairs, Deidre entered her room, changed out of the wedding dress, and began packing her suitcase. She heard footsteps stop at the door. Turning, she saw Kiera leaning against the doorframe, a smile plastered on her face. It was clear to Deidre that Kiera's smile was full of unmasked triumph, as if her goal had been achieved. "You don't need to stand there. Don't worry, I won't take anything valuable." Kiera chuckled lightly. "What valuable things could you even have in this room? Compared to Valerie's, yours is barely furnished. Take whatever you want—it's all just the last little bit of charity our family has given you." Deidre eyed Kiera for a moment, then silently walked past her and slammed the door shut. Kiera raised an eyebrow, unfazed by the gesture. Her mood was too good to argue with the brat now. She turned, adopting a concerned expression, and went downstairs. … Inside the room, Deidre slid down to the floor, leaning against the door, her eyes closed, her face etched with sorrow. From this moment on, she would be alone. She was only twenty, but why did it feel as though she had already lived an entire life? She didn't want to stay in Salve City anymore. She needed to leave, to disappear far away. But now, she had no money. Where could she go? Would she ask Vincent for money? She had to keep living, to prove to everyone who had mocked her that one day, she would slap their faces with her achievements. But what other choice did she have? How could she escape this place, this city, if not through death? Her eyes still closed, Deidre's mind scrambled through every possible future, searching for some shred of hope. Then, suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind. She opened her eyes, her gaze trembling slightly. Perhaps she still had one chance left. She stood up, found her phone, and dialed her mentor's number. After a few beeps, the call was answered, and her mentor's voice, warm with a smile, came through the receiver. "Deidre?" "It's me, Professor." Deidre's voice was hoarse. "Congratulations on your wedding today. If I hadn't been abroad for an academic exchange this week, I would have definitely come to your wedding." Deidre's throat tightened, her nose burning. Her voice cracked as she responded, "Professor, I… I want to ask you something." "Go ahead." Deidre took a deep breath, summoning all the strength she had left before speaking, "Is it… possible for me to reclaim my study-abroad spot?" There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by her mentor's surprised voice. "Didn't you say you were planning to stay in Salve City after marriage? What's changed? Has your husband agreed to it?" The wedding had been canceled. She didn't have a husband. Deidre barely managed a smile, her lips twitching silently, before speaking as calmly as she could. "No… I just think the opportunity to study abroad with a full scholarship is too rare." "Yes, it is. There are only three spots in the whole school, and you were the top choice. You know, for your field—finance—the offers from top international universities are extremely precious. This means you could stay in a foreign country and work there after graduation." Deidre opened her mouth but couldn't find the words. What was there to say? She had given up a brilliant future for a man she had believed was her one true love, only to end up as a fool, tossed aside in a fleeting illusion. "Deidre?" Her mentor's voice cut through the silence, noticing the quiet on the other end. "Professor, is there still a chance?" "Well, that's hard to say. The spot you gave up has already been filled by someone else." Deidre bit her lip, and the sharp pain in her mouth made her bite down harder, blood filling her mouth. She gripped the phone tightly, her voice laced with desperation. "Really... no chance at all?" Chapter 8 It seemed that the professor had sensed the unease in Deidre's voice. After a moment, the warm, familiar tone of her mentor returned over the phone. "There could still be a chance. Let me make a call and try to secure it for you." Deidre had always been a top student. Even though she hadn't finished high school, she had been exempted from exams and directly enrolled in the prestigious university in Salve City, completing both her undergraduate and master's degrees in one continuous stretch. Her mentor, who had always kept a close eye on such promising talent, was not one to let someone like Deidre miss out on such an opportunity. "Thank you. I'll wait for your call," Deidre said, her fingers tightening around the phone, turning pale as she bit down hard on her lower lip. Her heart pounded, the anxiety spreading like fire. She waited for an answer. Each second dragged on painfully, like she was being fried alive in a pan. She gripped her phone, staring at the screen, willing it to bring some resolution. Finally, the screen lit up. It was a call from her mentor. With a nervous breath, Deidre answered. "Good news," came the professor's voice. "A spot's available, and it's yours. Deidre, cherish this opportunity. Remember, no matter what others do, your future is yours to hold in your hands. That's the safest bet." Tears welled up in Deidre's eyes, and she started to cry, her joy so overwhelming that it spilled out of her like a river. She bit her lip, trying to control her shaking voice, and spoke each word slowly and deliberately. "Thank you... Thank you, Professor." "Alright, we'll talk later. I've got a lecture to begin." The screen darkened as the call ended, and Deidre, eyes still brimming with tears, looked out the window. Through her blurred vision, she could make out the faint blue sky, the soft white clouds. The vast expanse of the heavens stretched out before her. There was a way after all. The road had not been completely closed off. … Time passed swiftly. Seven years slipped by unnoticed. In Zemenia City, a bustling commercial hub neighboring Salve City, the evening descended, and the lights flickered on in their dazzling array. In the heart of this prime real estate stood the prestigious Wilton Grand Hotel, a symbol of high society, where the city's elite gathered for their business soirées. Outside the hotel, a barrier of security personnel kept the press at bay, forcing the journalists to crane their necks, helplessly watching the spectacle from a distance. This particular business banquet, however, was by invitation only. Among the luxury cars parked outside, one stood out above the rest: a limited-edition car, the kind that only the ultra-wealthy could afford. Its gleaming body spun gracefully before coming to a halt right in front of the hotel, catching the attention of all those gathered. The door to the driver's side opened, and the man who emerged was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, the kind that made his figure appear long and sharp. He pushed up his rimless glasses, and his finely chiseled face caught the light, his lips curving into the faintest of smiles. His eyes shimmered behind the lenses, and the sight instantly drew gasps of admiration from the women in the crowd. "That's Micah Landon from the Landon Group in Salve City, isn't it?" "He's even more handsome and refined in person than in his photos!" Micah glanced around, his gaze cool and detached, masking a momentary flicker of impatience. A smile, barely perceptible, touched his lips as he adjusted the buttons of his suit jacket, walking swiftly around the car to open the door to the passenger side. A slender, pale hand emerged from the car, resting lightly on Micah's arm as a woman gracefully stepped out. Her custom-made gown, an extravagant piece from this season's collection, hugged her slender form. She smiled as she looked up, her face radiant with the kind of poise that made everyone around her hold their breath. The man was elegant, the woman, stunning. They were the perfect picture of grace and beauty, drawing all eyes. "Look! A limited-edition extended Luxury car! My goodness!" The crowd's attention quickly shifted from Micah and the woman beside him to the new arrival. Micah, too, turned his gaze in response to the sound. Soon, a tall, imposing figure emerged from the luxury car. As he looked closer, Micah recognized the man immediately—Connor Halls, the young heir to the Halls family from a country called Milwarke. But just as quickly, Micah's gaze turned to one of astonishment. Standing by the car, the distinguished and handsome man offered a gentlemanly smile, bending slightly as he extended his hand. From the extended luxury car, a graceful woman emerged. Her delicate arm raised, her soft hand resting in Connor's as she descended. Her gown, a hand-crafted European design, clung to her figure, accentuating every curve, while the blue fabric highlighted her fair skin. The simple pearl necklace around her neck caught the light, and Micah—being an expert in jewelry design—immediately recognized it: a rare, limited-edition piece by renowned European designer Laire, a treasure impossible to acquire. But all Micah could feel was shock, as the woman's appearance completely stole his attention. How could it be her? A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd as people wondered about the identity of this poised and beautiful woman. Micah's gaze finally fixed on her face, her flawless features, the delicate oval of her face framed by perfect makeup.	LEARN_MORE	https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=17042&ut	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	373	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	beokn.com	IMAGE		https://beokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=17042&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/t39.35426-6/474618850_958054552942632_6492755990956656938_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=111&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=91u8Y1wWHtQQ7kNvgHzi_rs&_nc_oc=AdgkA1S4rpsHND3hDzyiWF4tc1SaKWou4e6iDRjff5DSkZk2JbrCB5NvIzOsa-DkeUHuYNlofPRT_HTMglvog-t9&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AEuzSsXDq8SZmlzHMkchiqB&oh=00_AYBh5q3ztAQ-YDhriwu0tQ0awX0rK8haOUBkCQe9Y55i8Q&oe=67C2D69A	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,693,593	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-25 16:51	active	2627	🔥 Coming Soon on Kickstarter – 60% OFF! 🎉	✨ Launching Soon on Kickstarter ✨ From Da Vinci’s machines to Tesla’s marvels, The Codex covers it all!📚 Join now for 47% OFF and be a part of history. 👉 https://subscribepage.io/rebel-thinkers	SIGN_UP	https://subscribepage.io/rebel-thinkers	The Codex. Inventions of the Human Mind	https://www.facebook.com/codex.of.inventions/	3,977	1969-12-31 18:00	Sign Up	subscribepage.io	DCO		https://subscribepage.io/rebel-thinkers	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/465677675_554159453916726_4731001010959523508_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=w-o6rWlshHUQ7kNvgFaB2B1&_nc_oc=AdghGMHOW6urINsoQPt5FEoU1OmCRnoPJPerCDhiEoDIzqvmB694L-cU_KDKUgmWgkTjo0tiISQDnmaA0ayua_5d&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AMbnMpBiBejDgG_rdxSaMrO&oh=00_AYCaBwXZQB3Rrqhkp3-v5NoVhUtrzKYhKmBELSpGJn8zMA&oe=67C41D19	PERSON_PROFILE	The Codex. Inventions of the Human Mind	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,691,674	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	Read next chapter	To survive, she climbed into her so-called uncle's bed. Two years later, she realized she was just a toy. Heartbroken, she left after seeing him at his first love's prenatal checkup. ===== The winters in Ulares were bone-chilling, but inside Cloudscape Mansion, the air was thick with warmth and passion. "Uncle Ethan…" Nyla Green gasped, her voice catching. Ethan's lips quirked into a satisfied smirk. "Being so well-behaved tonight, aren't you?" "Don't you like it when I'm well-behaved?" The hunger in Ethan's eyes was undeniable. "What is it you want?" Settling into the armchair by the window, he asked, his mood seemingly lighter than usual. "Will you give me anything I ask for?" Nyla's voice was soft, hesitant, her hopeful gaze fixed on his sharp, handsome face. "Depends on what it is," Ethan replied evenly. "I want to be Mrs. Brooks." The warmth in Ethan's expression disappeared, replaced by a glacial stare that sent a chill down her spine. Nyla's heart sank as he let out a mocking laugh. "I've been too soft on you," he said coldly. "You think that gives you the right to ask for something like that?" Nyla bit her lip, "Callie's back, isn't she? You're planning to marry her, aren't you?" Callie Higgins--the name itself was enough to twist Nyla's gut. She was Ethan's first love--the woman who had once saved his life from kidnappers when he was eighteen. After the incident, their families agreed that Ethan and Callie would get engaged when the time was right. Ethan's expression flickered, just for a moment, but it was enough for Nyla to know she'd struck a nerve. She'd been with him for two years; she knew him well. "I just want a status. You know how hard it is for me in the Brooks family. Without protection, I--" "Protection?" Ethan cut her off, his tone sharp. In a flash, he was in front of her, gripping her chin firmly. His dark eyes bored into hers, fierce and unyielding. "Do you think I don't see through you, Nyla? You think you're worthy of being Mrs. Brooks?" Chapter 2 Time To Let Go "Ethan Brooks, you haven't changed a bit--still as cold-hearted as ever," Nyla snapped. The warm atmosphere had long since turned to ice. Nyla's expression was calm, though her intentions were anything but hidden. Tears glimmered in her defiant eyes. "If you're not willing to give me what I want, then this is it. From today, we're done. Beyond being my step-uncle, you have nothing to do with me anymore." Ethan's sneer was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blde. "You're the one who climbed into my bd back then. And now you want to walk away? Nyla, do you really think I'm that easy to deal with?" It had been a while since the Green family's sudden collapse. Overnight, Nyla's world unraveled. Her father, Lorenzo Green, took his own life to prove his innocence, and her brother was thrown behind bars. Her mother, desperate to survive, became the mi*ress of Ethan's elder brother, Ryland Brooks. When Ryland's wife passed away, Nyla's mother--pregnant with Ryland's child--married him. The Brooks family made no secret of their disdain. Nyla had always known her place, keeping her distance from the Brooks family whenever possible. But they never intended to stop tormenting her. Out of options, she had turned to Ethan. As the current leader of the Brooks family and one of the most powerful men in Ulares, Ethan was the only one who could offer her protection. "So, what do we call this... arrangement?" Her voice was low, almost mocking. Ethan's gaze lingered on her face--dangerously beautiful, the kind that brought chaos wherever it went. "If you want something else, I might consider it," he said, his tone indifferent as he released her. The implication was clear: he wasn't letting go, not yet. Bitterness rose in Nyla's throat. She could endure being his bdmates, but she wouldn't let herself become the other woman. That was one boundary she refused to cross. "Ethan, I'm tired. This... whatever it is, it's over." The word "over" felt hollow--Ethan had never acknowledged what they had in the first place. She pulled her torn dress over her body, her hands trembling but her resolve firm. Ethan's expression darkened. "What are you trying to prove with this tantrum?" Nyla paused, holding herself together with every ounce of willpower. She stood tall, meeting his gaze. "Mr. Brooks, if you can't give me what I want, then let's not waste any more time. I need to move on." Her words struck a nerve. Ethan grabbed her arm, "Move on? To who?" His voice dripped with menace. "Who else could ever satisfy you like I do? Don't act like this was all some mistake. You crawled into my bd, Nyla. Don't think I'll let you forget that." Nyla's composure cracked as anger flared in her chest. She glared at him, tears brimming. "So what if I did? I regret it! You're going to marry Callie, and I'm supposed to sit here and wait for your scraps? I may be shameless, Ethan, but I'm not that pathetic." The air between them was suffocating, heavy with unspoken truths and unbearable tension. A sudden ring shattered the silence. Ethan glanced at his phone, irritation flickering across his face. He was about to ignore the call until he saw the name. Callie. He released Nyla and answered without hesitation. Nyla watched in silence, her heart sinking at his gentle tone. He'd only ever used it with her in bd. She felt the humiliation settle deep in her chst. "I'll be there soon." Ethan finished the called and then dressed. He turned to Nyla. "I'll have Jackson transfer the money to your account. Don't even think about leaving." The door clicked shut behind him. Nyla sat still, staring at the empty space he left behind. Then, with a bitter laugh, she wiped her tears away. If she couldn't have what she wanted, then she'd take back what little was left of her dignity. It was time to let go. Chapter 3 So What If I Am? Nyla, now in her senior year of college, had already begun her internship while managing her own studio--a venture she had started during her junior year. She specialized in fashion design, and her studio was her pride and joy. But lately, the pressure from competitors had been relentless. Someone clearly wanted her out of Ulares. Despite the frustration, Nyla refused to back down. After a restless night, her body ached as she got ready for the day. She couldn't bring herself to wear her usual professional attire, opting instead for a casual outfit. Even in simple clothes, her elegance and charisma turned heads wherever she went. As she walked into the studio, her receptionist hesitated before approaching her. "Miss Green... um, your mother is here," she said nervously. "We tried to stop her, but... she's holding a baby, and we didn't want to risk anything." Nyla gave her a reassuring smile. Her mother, Vicki Brooks, was difficult to deal with. "It's fine. I understand. You can get back to work." Relieved, the receptionist nodded and returned to her desk. Nyla's studio wasn't large, but every inch of it reflected her touch. She had designed the interior herself, favoring a minimalist elegance that radiated sophistication. In the lounge area, she spotted her mother cradling a baby in her arms. Nolan Brooks, a premature baby, had come into the world when Vicki was in her forties. His arrival had nearly cost both their lives, and since then, Vicki's world revolved entirely around him. Standing silently in the doorway, Nyla observed her mother. Vicki's expression softened as she gently rocked Nolan, her maternal warmth unmistakable. For a fleeting moment, Nyla saw the woman Vicki used to be--a gentle, understanding wife and mother, back when the Green family was intact. But that version of her mother was gone. Now, Vicki was only a mother to Nolan. The thought stung, but Nyla pushed the feeling aside and walked into the lounge. She sat across from Vicki, who glanced up briefly before returning her attention to Nolan. Nyla's assistant quickly brought over a cup of coffee and slipped away without a word. Picking up the cup, Nyla stirred it slowly, the clinking of the spoon breaking the silence. "Why are you here?" she asked, her tone even. Vicki's gaze flickered disapprovingly over Nyla's casual outfit. "You're going out dressed like that? Don't you realize you're representing the Brooks family now? Everything you do reflects on us." Leaning back on the sofa, Nyla replied with a calm, measured voice, "My last name is Green. I've never been part of the Brooks family." Vicki's lips tightened, her frustration evident. "You--" She stopped herself, glancing down at Nolan, who stirred in her arms. Lowering her voice, she continued, "Ryland has arranged a date for you tomorrow at Delight Restaurant. You'll be meeting the second son of the Fowler family. He's from a respectable background, and it's time you start thinking about your future." Nyla raised an eyebrow, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. The second son of the Fowler family had recently been released from prison. Ryland certainly had a knack for picking matches. "I don't have time," Nyla replied dismissively, taking a sip of her coffee. Vicki's composure cracked. "No time? You didn't go to school or your studio yesterday. And you didn't come home last night either. I heard you were at a bar." She had done her homework. Nyla's late-night escapades and partying were the reason Vicki had stormed over. That kind of behavior was unacceptable. If it weren't for Nolan dozing off in her arms, she'd have already started yelling. Then Vicki's sharp eyes zeroed in on a faint red mrk on Nyla's neck. Her expression darkened. "What's that on your neck?" she hissed. "I'm warning you, Nyla. If you're fooling around, I won't tolerate it!" Nyla paused mid-sip, setting her cup down deliberately. She met Vicki's glare with calm indifference. Her mother still looked youthful despite her age. Money sure did wonders, Nyla mused. "And what if I am?" she said, leaning back. "You haven't cared about me in years, so why pretend now? Take your precious son and leave." Chapter 4 Family Dinner "Nyla!" Vicki shot to her feet, her sudden movement jolting Nolan awake in her arms. The baby let out a wail that pierced through the studio. "It's okay, Nolan. Shh, you're okay," Vicki murmured, turning her attention to him and pointedly ignoring Nyla. "We'll go home soon, sweetheart. Be good for Mommy." Nyla rubbed her ears, the irony of the scene grating on her nerves. Without a word, she turned to leave. "Don't forget." Vicki's strained voice rang out behind her. "I've always been the one begging for help for your brother. Do you have any idea how much he's suffered in prison? And your sister-in-law? I've been the one sending her money to survive. If you had even a shred of consideration for me, you'd listen to what I say!" Nyla froze mid-step, her gaze drifting up to the ceiling as a wave of helplessness rolled over her. After the incident all those years ago, her brother had been jailed, and her pregnant sister-in-law had been so traumatized she ended up hospitalized. The baby--already five months along--couldn't be saved, and her sister-in-law's health had never recovered. The family sold everything they owned, borrowed from anyone who'd listen, and still came up short. Eventually, their options ran dry, and even close relatives cut ties. Nyla's sister-in-law finally gave up, saying she didn't want to be a burden. Vicki's marriage into the wealthy Brooks family had brought temporary relief, but her sister-in-law's lingering illness had turned into a lifelong battle--one that drained both money and hope. And Vicki, to her credit, had been the one subsidizing the expensive treatments. Nyla's fingers curled and relaxed along the edge of her sleeve--a quiet gesture of powerless compromise. "Fine. I'll go." Vicki let out a relieved sigh, her tone softening. "There's a family dinner at the Brooks Mansion tonight. Leave work early and make sure you're there. You can't miss it." Nyla felt an immediate headache brewing. She'd planned to avoid Ethan for at least a little while longer, but her plans were thwarted before they'd even begun. "I know you hate going to these things, but think about me. Think about your little brother. He's just a child, Nyla. If you don't look out for him, who will? Please, just do this for me." Vicki's words left no room for refusal. Nyla was at a loss for words. Her mother asked her to protect Nolan, but who would protect her? The Brooks family wore their civility like sheep's clothing, but beneath it, she knew better. They were wolves--every single one of them--and none would spare her if given the chance. And yet, Nyla never voiced these grievances to Vicki. It would only be pointless. Vicki would call her immature, blame her for the Brooks family's hostility, insist that Nyla brought it all upon herself. So Nyla could only swallow her resentment. Later that afternoon, Nyla left work early as instructed. She took her time getting home and changed clothes, knowing Vicki would nitpick if she didn't look the part. She settled on a gray, short tweed jacket over a black skirt--poised, polished, and appropriately elegant. Nyla despised the cold. If it weren't for the Brooks family gathering, she would have bundled herself in two down jackets and called it a day. These social charades were a performance she loathed--hollow and suffocating. But Vicki insisted she need to integrate. Half an hour later, Nyla stepped out of the taxi in front of the imposing Brooks Mansion. Just as she turned to head inside, a sleek Maybach pulled up beside her. Nyla didn't intend to acknowledge anyone--until the license plate caught her eye. Ethan's car. The tinted window rolled down slowly, and two faces came into view--elegant, pristine, and altogether too perfect. "Hello, Nyla." A woman's voice broke the moment. "I'm Callie." Chapter 5 Rivals In Love Nyla had imagined meeting Callie in countless scenarios. Maybe it would happen during one of those stolen moments with Ethan, where they'd be caught red-handed. Or perhaps at Callie and Ethan's engagement party, where Nyla would dutifully offer her congratulations as a younger member of the Brooks family. But never like this--never with Callie deliberately approaching her. Nyla glanced at Ethan, suspicious. Was he behind this? But Ethan's gaze remained locked on her, his dark eyes betraying nothing. Those eyes had a way of pulling people in. She quickly looked away, her voice cold. "Hello. Did you need something?" Nyla didn't like the Brooks family, and she liked Callie even less. Callie was, after all, a rival in love. "Oh, nothing at all. I'd just heard Ethan had a breathtakingly beautiful niece, and I couldn't resist coming to meet you. I hope that's all right," Callie replied, her voice soft and syrupy, the kind of tone that made others instinctively want to protect her, a stark contrast to Nyla's cool tone. "You're exaggerating. I'm just an ordinary person." An ordinary person who was all too easy to manipulate. The moment the words left her mouth, Nyla felt Ethan's gaze on her--sharp, teasing. She met his eyes, her expression frosty, but he didn't look away. Instead, his lips parted, and his cool voice cut through the air. "Let's go. Don't waste time on people who don't matter." Callie offered an apologetic smile. "We'll head in, then. Would you like to join us? It's a bit of a walk." The words "people who don't matter" stung more than Nyla cared to admit. Last night, Ethan had been so close--so possessive he wouldn't let her leave--and now he was acting like a stranger. Huh. If Ethan chose acting as his career, he would win the Best Actor award, and Nyla would gladly be the one throwing tomatoes at his acceptance speech. Plastering on a bitter smile, she replied, "No thanks. I don't feel comfortable riding in a stranger's car." Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away. Behind her, the sleek Maybach sped off, its icy wind brushing her cheeks and nearly drawing tears from her eyes. But she refused to cry--not here, not at the Brooks family estate. The sprawling Brooks Mansion loomed ahead, its gardens and private villas spread across more than seven thousand square feet. It was the largest private residence in Ulares and an unyielding symbol of the Brooks family's influence. The family dinner was held in the main house of the estate, and by the time Nyla arrived, the room was already packed. Her eyes immediately found Ethan, standing beside Callie, who was chatting amicably with the wife of Ethan's second brother. They looked disturbingly at ease with one another. "Why are you so late? Didn't I tell you to leave work early?" The voice belonged to Vicki, who appeared beside Nyla in a black gown and white mink shawl, exuding effortless grace. Nyla forced a smile, though she detested the way Vicki had shed her real self to fit into the Brooks family mold. "It's a long drive. Besides, I'm here now, aren't I?" Her eyes roved over the crowd. Faces turned her way, some barely hiding their disdain. "Honestly, we shouldn't have bothered coming." Vicki tightened her grip on Nyla's hand, her voice dropping to a whisper. "If you listened to Ryland and made connections with the Fowler family, we wouldn't be in this position." Nyla's tone sharpened. "If you're in such a rush, feel free to go see my blind date yourself." "Don't be ridiculous!" Vicki hissed, glancing around nervously. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene here. "Then stop nagging me," Nyla retorted. "Unless you want me to make a real fuss." Vicki bit back her frustration, unwilling to press further. Nyla slipped away and found an empty corner, determined to stay invisible until the endless family dinner wrapped up. But, of course, the peace didn't last. "Nyla, why are you sitting here all by yourself? Are you feeling out of place?" Callie's sugary voice rang in her ear. "I can show you around if you'd like." Chapter 6 Definition Of Decorum "Thank you, I appreciate your concern, Miss Higgins, but that won't be necessary." Nyla blinked leisurely, suppressing a yawn. The previous night had been relentless and exhausting, and as she sat in the quiet corner, weary and disinterested, she had thought no one would disturb her. Unexpectedly, Callie had come over, initiating conversation. As Nyla observed the gentle expression on Callie's face, a sardonic grin took root in her thoughts. She now understood Ethan's distaste for her; he evidently preferred someone more like Callie. "Leave her be, Callie. That woman is nothing but trouble. Who knows who she'll charm next? You're too good for her." These words came from Stella Brooks, the daughter of Ethan's second brother. Nyla turned toward Stella, her expression teasingly challenging. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe I should seek out Lukas for an enlightening chat in his bedroom. He'd probably appreciate it. And perhaps tomorrow I'll drop by Austen's place--I still know how to get in." Lukas Brooks, Stella's younger brother, had been captivated by Nyla from the start, wanting nothing more than to stay by her side. His family, convinced of Nyla's manipulative charm, met her with cold disdain. Consequently, Lukas found himself transferred to a distant boarding school. Austen Mitchell, the focus of Stella's unrequited affections, had grown up next door to Nyla. Their families were intertwined, and he always saw Nyla as kin, a fact unknown to many. This was the root of Stella's vehement animosity toward Nyla. Originally, Nyla endured her insults, but Stella's escalation to physical threats forced Nyla to retaliate. "Shame on you!" Stella seethed, her cheeks burning. "Don't think for a moment you belong in the Brooks household just because you share our roof! You're no better than your mother. It's clear now why your family crumbled--you thrive on being a shameless intruder!" Shadows flickered in Nyla's eyes, her fist tightening inside her sleeve, though her expression remained calm. "Has Austen actually accepted your advances? You seem to be the one relentlessly pursuing him. He freely opens his door to me. Can you say the same? Your efforts seem futile. He shows no interest in you." Stella's eyes welled up, her hand lifted for a slap, but Callie intervened just in time. "Stella, that was uncalled for. Why would you say such things?" Callie's voice carried the weight of a mentor scolding a student. Flushed and tearful, Stella bit her tongue following Callie's sharp scolding. With a restrained smile but firm voice, Callie maintained her composed aristocratic air. "You're under the Brooks' roof now, Nyla. It's high time to leave your old ways behind. We expect decorum in a family of the Brooks family's standing." Nyla noted Callie's attempt to shame her and wondered about her motives. Her secret with Ethan was safe. What was driving Callie's hostility? Was it just a personal dislike? Nyla's lethargy vanished, replaced by simmering annoyance. "Stella called me a shameless intruder and hurled insults, yet you don't accuse her of indecorum. I merely stated some facts, less harshly than her, and yet here you are, Miss Higgins, accusing me of impropriety." Nyla's voice was measured as she locked eyes with Callie, her laughter tinged with scorn. "So, this is your definition of decorum, Miss Higgins? Your upbringing must indeed be exemplary." Chapter 7 Lecture Me On Callie's Behalf? Callie's expression shifted, her eyes softening with a tinge of apology. "I didn't mean it like that," she said gently. "I just thought… it might help you to fit in better with the Brooks family." Nyla's gaze swept over the two women in front of her. Stella still looked like she was ready to tear her apart, while Callie's carefully composed friendliness had started to crumble. Suddenly, the family dinner didn't seem so dull after all. One person warned her not to dream too big about the Brooks family, and the other subtly reminded her of her place as an outsider. How delightfully amusing. "And what does that have to do with you, Miss Higgins?" Nyla asked, standing abruptly. A sly smile curved her lips as she added, "Stella does have a point, though. Who knows who I'll charm next? Maybe one day… Ethan will end up in my bd too. Instead of worrying about me, Miss Higgins, you might want to keep an eye on yourself." The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Without waiting for a response, Nyla turned and strode toward the garden. "You bch! How dare you even think about Uncle Ethan!" Stella's shrill voice pierced the air. "Callie, see? She doesn't deserve your kindness. She's shameless!" Callie's eyes lingered on Nyla's retreating figure, all pretense of kindness gone. Her voice was cold and measured. "Just an outsider. Does she really think the Brooks family will protect her? Let's see how long she lasts." The garden, though chilled by the winter air, offered a quiet sanctuary to Nyla. Dinner still hadn't been served--Roger Brooks, Ethan's father, hadn't arrived yet. Nyla was grateful she wasn't particularly hungry. Otherwise, she might have had an outright clash with Vicki and left. Most of the flowers had withered, leaving the once vibrant landscape barren and forlorn. She studied the decayed flowers, finding an odd comfort in their desolation. Settling onto a swing tucked in the corner of the garden, Nyla pushed herself back and forth lightly, lost in thought. The Ethan situation was spiraling. If things ended between them now, her carefully laid plans would collapse. When she first approached Ethan, she'd told herself it was all calculated--a means to an end. But somewhere along the way, her emotions had betrayed her. She'd been starved of love for so long that the taste of it--however fleeting--had made her greedy. She didn't want to let him go. "Do you think you can hide out here after stirring trouble?" Ethan's voice cut through the stillness, sharp yet calm. "Do you think the Brooks family is that forgiving?" Nyla froze for a second before resuming her lazy swaying. The light from the house spilled onto her figure, casting her in an ethereal glow that made her seem almost otherworldly--a delicate flower in a crumbling garden. She tilted her head slightly, her hair spilling across her chest, and smiled faintly. "So, are you here to lecture me on your future fiancée's behalf?" Her eyes, glimmering with playful defiance, locked onto his. Ethan hated and loved those eyes--the mischievous glint that made her look like a sly little fox, always drawing him closer. "You're getting bolder." "If that's your reason, you can save your breath," Nyla retorted, bitterness threading her words. "I won't apologize. And you don't have to remind me of my place either. Whether the Brooks family hates me or not is none of your concern. After all, I'm just… insignificant, right?" Ethan's expression darkened instantly. He crossed the distance between them in a few long strides and pulled her down onto his lap as sat on the swing, its frame graning under their combined weight. "Have you already forgotten who was in my b*d yesterday, pleasing me?" Nyla's eyes widened as she struggled against him, "Let go of me! Ethan, this is the Brooks Mansion. Someone will see!" ...... 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/67687322-fb_contact-e	Fun Novel	https://www.facebook.com/100090881055588/	1,343	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/67687322-fb_contact-ena255_2-0124-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=233925549638247&exdata=B7502C52902DDDD93145C21B499C54E200386B3A0F14372F	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/477007565_2519474525203641_7763817460836196571_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=i0q0KXDpJ7YQ7kNvgHTvs7J&_nc_oc=Adhf8Q5b9mLeV1eAWu7j0MDQo83-3PJSf4VZnxBUV1sL1yc2uE3L29JcCcI8iAS1Q3c&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AxjvwCy64Ug7sl5duKGdpH6&oh=00_AYCqAbhk7Bt5YvCba5MgTrtsobpWaFATWlGCQxr_QAAhrQ&oe=67C2EA67	PERSON_PROFILE	Fun Novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,691,295	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691257}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	"Are... are you sure, Esther?" I ask with a broken voice. My heart races, filled with happiness. "Very sure, Luna. You're carrying a little wolf!" "Why haven't I been able to smell it, or his father?" I ask, worried. "It's very recent, perhaps that's why. Give it a few more days and you should be able to sense the pheromones." She replies, and I nod, my eyes blurred with tears. I am the Luna of the "Autumn Forest" pack. Three years ago, I married the man I love madly, despite not being destined mates, my Alpha Dorian. I've given everything to be the perfect Luna, the pillar he can lean on. However, a shadow looms over my marriage—the topic of an heir. I've never been able to get pregnant, and I admit I don't share the bed with Dorian as often. But I know his duties as Alpha keep him extremely busy and stressed. "Please, don't tell anyone in the pack. I want to surprise my husband." "Don't worry, Luna, I won't say anything. Congratulations!" She smiles at me, and I return the smile, overflowing with excitement and happiness. Despite being a foreigner, not originally belonging to this pack, ever since my parents died and the previous Alpha took me in, I've never felt rejected or looked down upon. That's why I've devoted myself fully to my duties as Luna. I'm grateful for my life and the wonderful man I'm married to. *** "What's with all this food? Is there going to be a party?" "Hands off!" I swat away the greedy claws of Sophia, my best friend, who sneaked in through the back kitchen door. "But wow, puff pastry tart and everything!" she says, sitting on a stool. Honestly, I may have gone a bit overboard with the dishes, but I'm so happy I want everything to be perfect. All my Alpha's favorite foods are ready! "Well, today is Dorian's and my anniversary. I want to celebrate with an intimate dinner," I say, turning back to the caramel on the stove. I don't hear her respond, so I turn halfway, curious. "What's wrong?" "N-nothing, nothing... I just heard the Alpha had an emergency today. Didn't he tell you?" she asks, and I frown. Actually, Dorian doesn't usually explain much about his work. I guess it's to avoid worrying me. "No, but he'll come back anyway. He knows today is special." I respond, completely convinced. She looks at me strangely. Lately, I can't quite understand her, but she's the first person who approached me in this pack and has always supported me. I value her greatly as a friend. "Sophie, there's something I want to tell you, but... I'll tell you tomorrow. It's very important to me," I say suddenly, wanting to share the good news with her, but not before confessing it to Dorian. "Really? Can't you tell me now?" she asks, gossip-mode activated, leaning over the counter while munching on a homemade cookie. "No, no. Tomorrow. I promise you'll be the second to know," I reply, and I can feel my happiness radiating from every pore. "Fine, I'll leave you with your mystery then. I've got things to do. Happy anniversary," she grumbles, frustrated I didn't spill the secret, and leaves the same way she came. I check the clock. There's still time. I take off my apron and head to the second floor to shower and get dressed nicely. Everything has to be perfect tonight, celebrating with my beloved mate. * I glance at the clock for the thousandth time, sitting on the sofa. It's past midnight, and Dorian hasn't arrived. I look at the cold dishes on the dining table and get up, resigned to reheating them again. I'm in the middle of that task when I hear the front door open and close. His delicious scent tingles my nose, warming my stomach. I glance at my burgundy dress, smoothing it out and fixing my hair in the hallway mirror. My jet-black hair is tied in a high ponytail, and my intensely blue eyes, highlighted with makeup, stare back at me. I step into the foyer, watching my imposing Alpha enter the door. "My love, how was your day? Lots of work, right?" I grab the coat he's holding to hang it up. I see him clutching some documents, but I assume they're pack matters. I move closer to kiss him, but he steps back. "I'm sweaty and dirty from the road. Don't contaminate yourself," he says, his piercing honey eyes staring at me—eyes I adore despite their constant coldness. It's just part of his nature. He carries too many responsibilities after inheriting the role so young when his father died. His blond hair is messily handsome, and for some reason, damp. I can even catch the scent of an unfamiliar shower gel. Why would he shower before coming home? And he said he was dirty, yet it's clear he just bathed. "S-sure, give me a second to reheat dinner. You must be hungry..." "I'm not hungry. Valeria, we need to talk." "But the dinner—" "Forget dinner. Let's go to the living room. I need to tell you something," his authoritative voice makes me tense. I follow him, starting to feel deeply worried. My hand slips into my skirt pocket, clutching the folded document stating I'm having his baby. "Why was the table so full of dishes? Were you planning a party?" he asks, glancing at the dining room. My heart clenches. "Love, I know you've been busy with pack duties. But... don't tell me you forgot our anniversary? Today marks three years since we mated," I say, sitting on the couch. I expect him to sit beside me, but instead, he chooses the armchair opposite. Dorian has never been overly affectionate, but tonight he's too distant. Too cold. An alarm goes off inside me. "Of course, I remembered. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for our third anniversary," he replies, but I don't see a trace of joy in his expression. I know everything will change with my news. Our relationship hasn't been great because of this. The pack elders keep pressuring him for an heir. When I tell him about the baby, he'll be happy. "I'll be quick because I can't stand this any—" "Wait! Wait, Dorian. Let me show you something first, and then you can tell me what you wanted to say," I interrupt him, feeling a strong premonition, I won't like his next words. Lowering my head, I take out the folded paper and hand it to him, my heart racing with emotion. He takes it, reading silently as I watch him, anxious, waiting for his joy to match mine. "I'm pregnant! I'm carrying your pup! We'll have an heir for the pack. I'm sure the Goddess has blessed us with a son!" I can't hold back and blurt it out directly. Tears in my eyes, I rise and move toward him, wanting to embrace him. But as in love as I am, even I can see this isn't the reaction I expected from the father of my child. "Are you sure about this, or is it just a trick to keep me tied to you?" he suddenly says, rising and pushing me away when I try to hug him. "Dorian... Of course, I'm sure. Look, that's the midwife's handwriting. Why would I lie about something so important? My love, what's wrong? What's happening, my Alpha?" "No, no. Damn it!" I watch him pace like a caged wolf around the living room. "This can't be happening. Not now!" "Dorian..." "Did you tell my mother? Anyone else?!" he asks suddenly, approaching me and gripping my shoulders tightly. "N-no, love. I was waiting to tell you first. I thought... you'd be happy. I know they've been pressuring you. Alpha, you don't have to be tense anymore. We'll have our family." I raise a trembling hand to caress his cheek, but he just stares at me with those golden eyes, silent. I can't figure out what's going on in his head. "You're right... I've been very stressed. I'm sorry," he suddenly pulls me into his arms, and I finally sigh, relieved, hugging him back tenderly. For a second, I feared he wasn't happy. "We'll get through this together, my Alpha. I'll be the perfect Luna so no one will judge you," I whisper, lifting my head. I want him to kiss me, to make love to me like we haven't in a long time. "Let's go for a run. A wild, unrestricted anniversary night." He suddenly suggests it, taking my hand and pulling me toward the back of our house, which borders the pack's forest. "Shift into your she-wolf," he commands, and I watch him undressing. He's so charming and strong. His hair glows under the moonlight, and I begin the transformation into my "she-wolf," one of the greatest lies and secrets of my life—something not even Dorian knows. * We run freely across the pack's lands. But I notice how we keep going farther and farther, even crossing the borders, yet I just follow Dorian's massive white wolf racing wildly ahead of me. We reach a remote place, at the edge of a deep cliff, but above us, the moon shines intensely, and the forest landscape stretches far below. "Where is this? We're outside our pack's territory... Aren't we trespassing on someone's land?" I gaze into the distance from the edge, mesmerized by the view, having already shifted back into human form, but no one responds. I feel uneasy and start to turn around. However, something inside me stirs with alarm. A crow caws in the distance—but it's already too late. "Do... Dorian, wha—?! Aaaaaahhh!" I scream as I feel wolf claws tearing into my abdomen, deeply ripping through me. Terrified and shocked by the sudden attack, I try to run. I attempt to shift back into my wolf to escape into the forest, away from whatever is happening, away from this rabid Alpha wolf whose blood-red eyes glare at me with pure hatred—but it's impossible to flee. "Ahhh! Let me go! Dorian, what are you doing?! What are you doing?! Ahhh! Help! Help!" I scream as he jumps on me when I try to escape. C2 THE WORST BETRAYAL VALERIA He bites my thigh viciously and drags me beneath his body, controlling me mercilessly. I try to resist, to call for help, my hands clutching my stomach, trying to protect my pup, but his claws, like deadly weapons, pierce my skin, tearing apart my small, vulnerable body. I have to raise my arms instinctively when his sharp claws aim for my face, and I scream in agony as a deep wound slices across my cheek from my forehead. Leaving my belly exposed, he struck our child. "Nooo, not the pup, please, Dorian, not our son!" Tears poured endlessly from my eyes as I begged him, but his canines tore through my flesh, and his claws dug into the depths of my insides with chilling cruelty, seeking to rip out the life growing inside me. I don’t know how long this agony lasted—I sobbed, pleading as long as I could speak. The pain in my entire body was unbearable, but worse was the pain in my soul, bleeding and shattered. I was discarded on the ground like trash, on the edge of a precipice, my consciousness nearly slipping away from the pain when I saw him shift into his human form. "You thought you could keep me tied to you forever?" he yelled furiously. His eyes were cold and disgusted, a look I had never seen before. "Did you really think I loved you, that I was dying to have a child with you? What a waste!" He kicked me with rage, but I no longer had the strength to even moan in pain. "Three damn years I've been separated from my mate because of you!" he roared, pouring out all the hatred he'd stored up over time. "Why…?" I barely managed to whisper, my face swollen, my tongue heavy, and my throat bleeding from a deep wound. "Because you came to the pack, the miserable orphan, and that old lady said you would give birth to the strongest Alphas, powerful enough to elevate my bloodline." "Pure nonsense from that crazy old hag, but my mother believed her and forced me to give up my mate for you because you were infatuated with me! She gave me three damn years—that was our deal. If you didn’t succeed, I’d be free." "So, today I come, ready to rid myself of an obstacle like you, and you say that you’re carrying my son," he laughed like a psychopath. "I won’t let you do it again, Valeria. You won't ruin my life again. This is the end for you!" He walked toward me, and I saw death staring me in the face. I wanted to say so many things... «I didn't know you already loved someone else. I was just a foolish, infatuated girl, but I never forced you to love me back. How could you deceive me, fake everything all this time? Our child… how could you… how could you do this…?!» I felt so powerless as I lay there, sobbing, bloody, and dying. I wished I could connect with his wolf, scream out this injustice, but I couldn’t—not even that. I didn’t have an inner she-wolf. I could only shift my body and pretend. Some said it was trauma from my adoptive parents’ violent death, where only I survived. Others claimed it was a curse, but I knew that wasn't true. I had never felt the presence of a wolf spirit within me. "Goodbye, dear wife. You don't seem so special after all," he said cynically, and with his foot, he kicked me over the cliff's edge. The last thing I knew was the sensation of falling into the cold void. I looked up at the dark sky as shadows of crows circled above my head, like messengers of death. "I'm so sorry, baby. I couldn't protect you." * "Why aren't her wounds healing properly?" "I can't waste the pack's blood on a stranger. Jake already did too much rescuing her from the rogue woods. She has to heal on her own." "Honestly, I don't even know how this woman is still alive. Poor thing… her body is horribly damaged, especially her belly… and her face." I heard voices talking nearby, hands examining me. An unbearable pain worse than death itself burned through my body, dragging me between consciousness and darkness. I don’t know how much time passed or where I was, but when I opened my eyes, I saw a white ceiling. I looked around and saw a small room, lying on a personal bed. "You're awake?" a female voice spoke suddenly beside me, and I saw an unfamiliar face. I tried to speak, but for some reason, I couldn't—it was as if my vocal cords refused to work. "Don't strain yourself. Stay calm. You… I don't think you can talk right now because of the wound on your neck," she explained with a troubled expression. And then, my foggy mind remembered—everything. The first thing I did was reach for my belly, trying to sit up despite the dizziness and searing pain. "Don't move! Wait, calm down, calm down!" she stopped me and eased me back down, but I needed to know—desperately—I had to know if a miracle had occurred. I looked at her intensely and then at my stomach, wrapped in thick bandages. "Yes… I understand what you're asking, but… I'm sorry… your belly was completely torn. Your womb was destroyed, and your pup… didn't make it. It was impossible to save him. We don't even know how you're still alive." I felt the tears pouring uncontrollably from my eyes. I closed them in pure agony, my soul shattering. My lips trembled, my entire body shook, and ragged sobs escaped my torn throat. Why did this have to happen to me? Why did everything around me have to turn into a nightmare? My baby, my pup was innocent. Why did something so horrible have to happen to him? "Calm down, please! You can't get like this! Aston, I need you here! Bring the sedative! Now, Aston, hurry!" "Aaaahh! Aaaahh!" I heard distorted screams, a cry so raw it could freeze the blood and shatter hearts. A desperate, broken woman wailed—and then I realized… it was me. That wretched woman who had lost everything… was me. * Days have passed. I know a man rescued me from the forest beneath the cliff. I'm staying in a small pack not far from Autumn Forest. With my hands still covered in wounds, I try to splash water on my face, but I can't even bear to touch my skin. I lift my head, and as I do every time that I face a mirror, I have to summon all my courage. My face, once beautiful and envied by many she-wolves, now bears a horrific scar running across my forehead and another deep one on my left cheek. Dorian not only destroyed my child's life, my womb, but he also scarred my face. It should have healed, but I know it won't. I don't possess the rapid healing ability of werewolves. Yes, I heal—but slower, and scars remain. I step outside the small room and hear the healer and the she-wolf who treated me speaking quietly. They're discussing how I've used too many resources and how they may have to ask me to leave soon since packs rarely welcome outsiders so easily. But the she-wolf argues that I’m still in terrible condition. I appreciate her care and empathy, but it won't be necessary to cast me out. I've already decided—I’ll leave tonight on my own. * Hours later, I walk through the dark forest like a lost soul, the damp bandages soaked with reopened wounds, bleeding. I don't care—my legs keep moving in a single direction. Hiding in the bushes, I watch the patrol line carefully. I know exactly how to slip past without being detected—I designed this defense rotation myself for Dorian. Like so many things I did for him and the pack. I slip away into the shadows, as quickly as my battered body allows. The night and darkness are my allies. It's as if they amplify my strange abilities. I hear voices, laughter, and lights in the distance—from the backyard of what had been my home for three long years. I walk as if in slow motion, wearing old sneakers and a worn-out dress that the she-wolf from the hospital gave me. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've gathered you all here today because I could no longer hide my happiness. I’m finally marrying my beloved mate, the woman of my life, my sweet Sophia, your future Luna." I feel like I'm falling into a cavern of ice as I watch them, smiling and kissing in front of those who once called me Luna. It was my "best friend" Sophia and my traitorous Alpha Dorian, celebrating their union while my body should have been rotting beneath that cliff if their plan had worked. Traitorous hypocrite! That woman was even wearing one of my evening dresses, made up with my things, stealing my life without a trace of remorse. She had deceived me all this time, just as I had been blind to everyone in this pack, and worse, to the man who lay beside me every night while thinking of another woman. Even the midwife who told me about my pregnancy was there! Dorian must have promised her something to keep her silent. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, my teeth chattering with rage. I waited, waited like the deranged psychopath I had become, watching their entire celebration until the lights went out and everyone left for their homes. * I climbed the stairs to the second floor, walked down the dimly lit hallway, but I could hear them perfectly—making love in the master bedroom. Her feminine moans slipped through the crack of the slightly open door. I saw myself pushing it open gently. The moonlight streamed in through the large window, illuminating that figure riding Dorian, her back facing the entrance. "Alpha, tell me I'm better than her… Mmm… Come on, Dorian, tell me I'm better than that frigid Valeria." "You're the best, baby… don't even compare yourself to that stiff. Do me in her bed, come on… wasn't that what you always wanted?" Their filthy words hit my ears, and it was the final trigger I needed for everything to spiral out of control in an instant. I lunged at them on the bed. C3 THE OWNER OF THE CASTLE VALERIA I hear piercing screams, the sound of shattering glass, a savage roar, an Alpha's growls, struggling, and fighting. Something hot splashes against my face and arms. My claws shred, and my canines teared. I can't stop. I can't. Rage consumes me from the inside, demanding release. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not conscious of myself. All I know is that when I regain control of my body, the first thing I see is my red hands. I'm kneeling on the floor, everything around me drenched in red, wreckage, and pieces of what once was a powerful Alpha—Dorian. What have I done? What in the name of the Goddess have I done?! I stare at his severed head, lying just a meter away from me. Those honey-colored eyes still stare back at me in frozen terror, and I feel bile rising in my throat. I vomit to the side, unable to hold it back, disgusted by this scene of death and violence. Did I do all this? There's no one else here. I scan the area, not knowing where Sophia went. The only thing I'm sure of is that someone was thrown through the shattered glass window. I stand up on trembling legs, glance down, but all I see is the forest behind the house and bloodstains across the grass. "Don't let her escape! Sophia, stop crying and tell me clearly what happened!" Voices shouted, hurried footsteps ascending the stairs. It was my mother-in-law's voice. I had to get out of here. I had killed the Alpha, and only a painful death awaited me. Desperately, I looked down. It seemed I had thrown that wretch Sophia out the window. I decided to jump out myself, from the second floor. BAM! The door burst open during my hesitation, and my eyes locked with Anaís, my mother-in-law, the former Luna—Dorian's mother. I saw the shock, the pain, and the fury in her eyes as she took in the scene. "You miserable! You killed my son! You murdered my Dorian! Seize her! Restrain her! I'm going to tear her apart with my bare hands!" She screamed, and the warriors behind her charged at me. I jumped without thinking. "Aaagghhh!" I groaned in pain as I crashed onto the grass, rolling over, but I forced my body to shift into my wolf form and ran with all the strength I had left. I fled into the forest as fast as my weakened legs allowed, escaping death. I don't know if it was adrenaline or sheer will to live, but I ran like a madwoman through unfamiliar lands and tangled woods. Days passed that way, where I only stopped to rest when I was on the verge of collapse, drinking water from mountain streams and feeding on prey that somehow appeared dead before me. Yes, yet another strange thing about my life. The few times I dared to close my eyes, every time I woke up, a small dead animal lay in front of my muzzle. I devoured them without knowing if they were poisonous or where they came from—I just needed energy. All I could think about was surviving. One night, I felt them again. I thought they had grown tired of chasing my trail, but that wasn’t the case. The sound of multiple wolves' footsteps echoed not far away. Desperation and exhaustion consumed me—I couldn't keep running forever. I had been skirting the borders of various packs, trying not to get caught, but that wasn't a solution. "She's just ahead! I can smell her! She will pay for this!" I heard a snarl—already so close to my trail. I could practically feel the danger breathing down my neck as I pushed my legs and lungs past their limit. I was done. They were going to catch me after all this effort. Then I lifted my blue eyes and saw them—above me, a flock of crows. Cawing, circling over my wolf form, as if trying to lead me somewhere. And for some reason, I followed them. I followed their sign and ventured deeper into unfamiliar lands—into the forbidden forest where no one dared enter without an invitation. But I had nothing left to lose. If I was going to die, at least let it be quick and without torture. That's how I crossed through the mist, leading me to the Golden Moon pack, the territory guarded by the Guardians—the land ruled by the Lycan King. * I felt like no one was following me anymore. I had no idea how far I had gone into Golden Moon territory, but suddenly, several powerful warriors blocked my path, surrounding me. "Who are you, and why have you trespassed into our pack?" a massive gray wolf asked coldly, approaching me menacingly. The black wolf I shifted into, so small and fragile, would be considered an Omega—the lowest rank in the pack, the weakest, often reduced to servitude. That was why, when I became Luna, I had felt foolishly grateful to Dorian. "I'm only seeking refuge to rest… I’m sorry for entering your forest. Just a few days, please… I only need a few days to recover and leave." I pleaded, praying my pursuers wouldn't dare follow me here. "Where do you come from? Speak! Why did you cross the Forbidden Forest? No one comes here for no reason! Tell the truth, or I'll rip your head off right now!" He growled, shoving me with his shoulder. I let out a low whimper of pain, unable to resist. Before he could take further action or carry out his threats, darkness consumed my vision, and I felt my body collapse unconscious to the ground. Maybe this time, I wouldn't wake up again. * The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a dark, damp cell, wearing tattered clothes barely covering my battered human body. Only the Goddess knows how I'm still alive. It seems she wants me to suffer—slowly and torturously. BAM! The sound of a metal door slamming jolted me. "So, you're finally awake! Take her out!" A massive, bald, intimidating man ordered two guards, who dragged me out. It was that gray wolf. I didn’t even have the strength to walk, let alone resist. They took me to a small room where the questioning began—trying to dominate me with his Alpha presence. But it didn’t work. I had no inner wolf to submit. I spent hours there, sitting on a hard chair, my hands tied behind me with ropes cutting into my skin. No matter how much freezing water they threw at me, how much they shouted or threatened, I kept my story and waited to die. My head hung limply, eyes closed, exhausted. At least they hadn’t beaten me or done worse. I've heard horrible stories about this pack of barbarians. "Fine. Since you refuse to talk, you know what awaits you. I've given you the chance to confess." His dark eyes locked on mine, giving me his final warning, but I had nothing more to say. He drew a dagger, yanked my hair back, exposing my neck, ready to slit my throat. I saw hesitation in his eyes when my black hair fell away, revealing my hideous scars. Maybe I looked pitiful—but he had a job to do. And I was ready for it to end. The dagger lowered, and I resigned myself. But a knock on the door interrupted my death once again, sending my emotions from one extreme to the other. "Now what the hell…? M-Madam… I mean, Housekeeper, what brings you here?" His previously harsh voice turned nearly submissive. Curious, I looked toward the door and saw a short woman with blonde hair tied up neatly, elegant yet stern. "What were you doing here?" Her cold green eyes fixed on mine, and I lowered my head. "She’s an intruder. Pack business—" "You were going to kill her, weren’t you?" she accused. "M-Madam, can we discuss this outside? It's protocol with intruders—" I heard his words stop short as a pair of black boots entered the room, standing right before me. "What's your name, girl?" "Valeria," I whispered weakly. "Look at me when I speak to you!" she ordered, and I lifted my head. She has a superior, imposing aura, and honestly, I think she's more terrifying than the massive brute. "Tell me, Valeria, do you want to live or die? You can survive if you agree to work for me. If not, pretend you never saw me," she offered, leaving me stunned. "W-what kind of work would it be?" "Work for the Guardians, in the castle kitchen or wherever you're needed—as a maid. I offer you shelter and food in exchange, a new chance to live," she said without breaking eye contact. I hesitated, feeling like I was selling my soul to another ruthless ruler. The Guardians were the Lycans, and the worst of them all was their leader, Aldric, the "Specter Slayer," whom all werewolves considered their king, though he didn’t seem to care about the title. "I don't have all day. Are you coming or not?" she pressed. "Housekeeper, this woman is a stranger… how can she enter the castle with the Guardians? We don't know her intentions—" "I don't care why you entered these cursed lands. Your past stays behind if you accept my offer. But if you betray me or plot anything behind my back, slitting your throat will be the least of my punishments," the woman threatened, leaving me with only a second to decide. Live or die. Start anew in a strange place, possibly filled with more humiliation and suffering—or die now and end my miserable existence. "I'll go with you. I accept the job," I finally chose to survive. * The Golden Moon pack was located in a valley, surrounded by dense forest with thick fog, and perched atop a hill in the distance was an imposing ancient stone castle. We traveled there in a carriage, rolling along cobblestone streets. This pack was massive, far more powerful than my former one. I remained silent the entire way, my black hair always hiding the scars on my face, my head bowed, not wanting to draw attention. The enormous ebony doors opened, carved stone walls rising tall and powerful, with strange statues perched on the dark eaves. At last, we arrived at an inner courtyard, and I stepped down from the carriage with some discomfort. I stared at the looming castle, half-shrouded in mist, more nightmarish than inviting. "Come. I'll give you your uniform and show you your room," she ordered, and I followed her inside. The moment we crossed the entrance, we were greeted by a massive hall. A chandelier filled with candles hung in the center, illuminating the spiraling staircases that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. I was distracted for a moment, staring at the glossy black-and-white marble floor, when something seemed to fall from the ceiling. BAM! I stumbled back, startled, barely containing a scream of pure panic as a woman's corpse crashed at my feet. She was headless, and blood still gushed from her severed neck, staining the entire floor—and even my legs. The head rolled down next; lifeless eyes frozen in a horrified expression. I looked up, trembling, and at the top of the stairs, a pair of gray, lupine, savage eyes stared back at me for a few seconds, chilling my blood to the core. C4 TAKING OUT THEIR LOVERS VALERIA His entire demeanor screamed, I'm the damn master of everything here, the absolute ruler. I immediately lowered my head, trembling. It didn’t matter that I lacked an inner she-wolf— the power radiating from that man felt like it could suffocate you, crush your soul, and he wasn't even standing that close to me. He was a Lycan, the superior species of werewolves, the ultimate evolution, and I was almost certain this was the most powerful of them all—Aldric Thorne, the Lycan King. "Sasha, take out the trash and make sure my next personal maid isn’t a scheming one, or she'll lose more than her head," his deep, cold, and intimidating voice echoed, followed by the sound of footsteps retreating. "This is a disaster. That's the fifth one in two months. I don’t know what goes through these girls' heads. I warned them," the housekeeper muttered as she approached, pulling a small vial from the dead woman’s hand. "Another one who tried to please the King thinking she could be different and rise. Brainless. I'll call a servant to take her away. And your first task begins now—clean up this mess." And so, my work in the Lycan King's castle began. The first lesson I learned: never, ever try to mess with that dangerous man, or you'll end up headless. Unfortunately, I soon found myself on the razor's edge again. * Sasha introduced me to the staff, a group of she-wolves and wolves working in the castle, attending to the Guardians. They all stared at me as if they were looking at a monster. I didn’t care—I just wanted to keep existing and stay invisible. "The Guardians"—that’s what they called the five Lycans who lived in this ancient, dark castle. They enforced the laws of our world, or at least those affecting werewolves, maintaining balance with other supernatural creatures. They delivered justice, protection, and punishment—often in the most brutal, merciless ways. Especially the Lycan King. At least, that's what I had always heard. I was forbidden from climbing the stairs or wandering beyond the service quarters. And honestly, I didn’t plan to try. I focused on working and healing with the medicine the housekeeper gave me. The food here was good too. Except for the first day, I had gone three days without seeing any of the other Guardians. Until this morning. * "Hey, I heard the housekeeper saying she still hasn’t found a suitable candidate for the King's maid. Maybe she'll give us a chance." I was scrubbing the floor on my knees, listening to the whispers echoing through the castle's massive kitchen. My head stayed down, and my long black bangs nearly covered my eyes, helping to conceal the disfigurement on my face. My hands kept moving the cloth over the tiles, but ignoring the gossip was impossible. Suddenly, the room went silent. Heels echoed from the hallway, and tension filled the air— it was the housekeeper. "Stop what you're doing. I want all of you in a line," she ordered, her voice sharp. The cooks, maids, and even me—the lowly cleaner—all lined up like prisoners, standing side by side. She began her inspection, passing each trembling figure, heads bowed low. When her shadow passed in front of me, I thought she would move on. She didn’t. "What was your name again?" she asked. "Valeria, ma'am," I replied softly. Her cold finger pressed beneath my chin, forcing me to raise my head. My blue eyes met her intimidating green gaze. "Good. I think I'll try a different strategy this time. Come with me," she ordered, and a sense of dread twisted in my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the stares from the other women in the line. Bitter glares filled with jealousy, anger, envy. Nothing good. That much was certain. "Listen carefully, Valeria. You're going to be King Aldric's personal maid," she dropped the bombshell casually, as if it were nothing, walking toward the other side of the kitchen. "Do you know how to cook, iron, organize a man’s things, his clothes, and so on?" "Y-yes, ma'am. But… I don’t think I'm the right choice for the position. Perhaps someone more—" "It's not optional," she cut me off, turning abruptly. "You either accept it, or you leave. I don't need a floor cleaner right now. I need a maid for the King. Understood?" I had no choice but to nod. Sometimes, I forgot that this harsh woman had saved my life. Though, honestly, I still didn’t know why—especially now that she was sending me straight into the Lycan's den. "Memorize everything I'm about to say. The King wakes up at… He doesn’t like… Prefers it this way… And his meals are only prepared by the cook from this section. Make sure it’s always her… And you must taste it before serving him." She paced through the kitchen, the laundry area, practically the entire service zone, listing the King's preferences and dislikes. I followed, my brain nearly short-circuiting from the overwhelming information. I need to write all this down later! "Alright. You'll deliver his first breakfast now. Do exactly as I tell you,” she said, placing a silver tray full of covered dishes in my hands. "And Valeria… remember, head down. Stay invisible. You're nothing but a piece of furniture." "And I trust you haven't forgotten the scene from your first day here. If you try anything against the King, believe me, he was merciful with that woman." Her warning made me swallow hard as I nodded. I didn’t consider myself a coward, but it felt like I was marching straight to the gallows as I climbed the forbidden stairs, moving through the dim candlelit corridors leading to the Guardian leader's quarters. I reached the only door in this wing—an enormous wooden door with intricate carvings—and tried to recall every instruction. "Don't knock at this hour. Go straight inside." So, I did. Balancing the tray carefully, I twisted the heavy doorknob. Step by step, I entered the den of the big bad wolf, avoiding unnecessary glances around. I immediately noticed the large wooden table at the center, the dim lighting, and I focused on setting the breakfast properly. But then I heard it—and smelled it. The scent of lust. Through my bangs, I glanced toward a black door, slightly ajar. Muffled female moans seeped through, despite being closed. More than one woman’s voice. The rhythmic sound of something hitting a wall echoed. Maybe the bed—I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. The most important rule: head down, stay invisible. Don't speak. Don't look. Don't listen. I was so focused on remembering every detail of his preferences, circling the table, that I didn’t even notice when the sounds stopped. "Who are you?" a dominant voice behind me made me flinch. My trembling fists tightened, and I turned, staring down at the gray rug. "Your Majesty, my name is Valeria. I am your new maid," I managed without stuttering. A massive shadow loomed over me, every instinct screaming danger, run—but I stood firm as he placed a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. I expected disgust at my scarred face. Instead, I saw fierce, intimidating gray eyes studying me—so captivating they resembled lethal steel. "Where's your inner wolf?" he asked, frowning. How had he noticed with just one glance? "I… I’m not entirely sure, sir. I suffered a traumatic experience before I turned eighteen, and her spirit never appeared. But… I can shift into my wolf form. Others say it's a curse." I added quickly, half-expecting to be dismissed on my first day. Scarred, cursed—what a perfect maid. "Is that why your face hasn't healed?" he asked, his voice calm but piercing. "I suppose so, sir. My healing is… slower than others." He said nothing, but his intense scrutiny made my skin crawl. Did I say the wrong thing? I avoided lingering on his rugged features, but it was becoming clear why so many women risked losing their heads just for a night in his bed. Aldric Thorne was a man built for sin. A towering figure, nearly two meters tall, with a powerful, scarred body, bold and commanding. Muscular, rough, impossibly attractive. And despite his icy aura, his long shoulder-length hair was deep crimson, just like his short beard—like fire, like blood he could spill without flinching. "I don't care about your peculiarities, but I do expect you to have understood the rules clearly because I won't tolerate disobedience or tricks," he warned me, his voice dangerously low and guttural. I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, your maje—" "And call me Sir. I don't like that Your Majesty nonsense," he clarified, finally releasing me and walking toward the other side of the room. I exhaled, realizing I had been holding my breath the entire time. Yet, I could still catch that scent lingering from his skin, something like aged wine—rich, and intoxicating. Could it be some cologne? I couldn't detect the pheromones of werewolves like others could. "They'll be here soon to collect those women. Make sure they leave and clean up everything," he ordered without even sparing me a glance, then disappeared through a door leading to what seemed like another room. I remained standing there in the dim light, frozen for a moment. Then, clenching my fists, I gathered my resolve and moved to deal with his lovers still in bed. I opened the door and stared in shock at the chaotic scene inside. The room was dimly lit, clothes strewn across the floor, and in the center, three women lay sprawled. The heavy scent filled the air, making it hard to breathe. "Umm… ladies, it's time to leave," I said softly, but none of them reacted, their eyes shut as if completely oblivious. They looked exhausted, their bodies marked with bites, bruises, and a mess of fluids staining their thighs. "The King ordered you to leave. You need to—" "Shut up, you annoying brat!" snarled the blonde lying in the middle of the two brunettes, even throwing a pillow at me, which I narrowly dodged. Well, they still have some energy left, it seems. Okay, this wasn’t going as smoothly as I had imagined, and they were already settling back down as if planning to sleep there. Aren't they uncomfortable covered in all that… stuff? But I couldn't fail my first task. I knew he had done this on purpose—to test me. I headed to the bathroom, filled a basin with cold water, and placed it near the bed. Rolling up my sleeves, exposing my pale arms, I then walked over to the massive crimson curtains, grabbed the heavy fabric, and yanked them open with force. "Aaaahh! Close it, right now! Close the curtain!" they screeched like the possessed, even though the sky was overcast. The sun never really shone brightly here—this land was always cloaked in thick fog. Grabbing the basin, I lifted it and—splash! —drenched them in icy water to snap them out of it. "Have you lost your damn mind, maid?!" C5 THE KING'S MAID VALERIA "Aahh, it’s horrible, she’s deformed!" "You’re just jealous, that’s why you want to keep us away from the King!" "The Lord has said you must leave now," I repeated impassively, while they hurled insults at me. But I felt nothing—not cold, not heat. I thought about how to get them out since, weakened or not, there were three of them and only one of me. Just then, loud knocks echoed from the side door leading to the hallway, a door I hadn’t even noticed before. It had to be the person sent to remove them from the castle. I walked over and opened it, revealing two sturdy servants who entered without a word. The women began to resist, screaming that their bodies were only for the King, threatening that our heads would roll. I didn’t need to be here long to see through their lies. That man had used them like disposable objects and was now discarding them like trash. The blonde rushed toward the door leading to the dining hall, but I stepped in front of her, standing firm and blocking her way. "Have some dignity and leave already. The King has ordered it. Don’t risk dying." "I want him to tell me himself! Last night, he showed me otherwise! Get out of my way!" she lunged at me, baring her fangs. I defended myself, grabbing her arms mid-air as we struggled. Her long claws scratched me in her fury, and I knew I could control her because, right now, she was weak. This she-wolf was stronger than me—honestly, anyone was stronger than me. With the help of the servants, we managed to drag the last crazed woman out of the room. I shut the door, breathing heavily. "Quite the first day on the job," I muttered in resignation, staring at the disaster I now had to clean. * I wiped the sweat from my forehead, taking a moment to catch my breath, surveying the nearly tidy room. The worst part was the bed. Even after removing the dirty sheets, I had gone overboard with the water. So, I thought of pushing the mattress closer to the window to let it air out and catch some sun. "Mmnn," I grunted, yanking at the heavy king-size mattress, my hands trembling. I doubted I could move it. I kept struggling when— "How many centuries does it take you to organize a room?" His voice startled me—I hadn’t heard him enter. I turned to apologize, but a wrong step, my nerves, and apparently a sticky substance I’d left on the floor caused me to lose my balance and fall forward. By instinct, I grabbed onto the first thing I could, falling to my knees with my eyes shut tight. Something had slipped from my hands, and now another thing, thick, brushed against my nose. A dark, musky, intoxicating scent assaulted my senses. When I opened my eyes again and saw the sight before me, I wished I could die right there without needing him to kill me. In my hands was a black towel—I assumed it had been around the King's hips—and I was on my knees, clutching his powerful thighs, with a massive, veiny member right in front of my wide eyes. «Girl, this could make you cry» was the first thing that crossed my mind in my nervous breakdown. And to think it was only half... not even Dorian’s compared in detail. "Should I fetch a tape measure so you can size it up too?" His cold voice snapped me out of my frozen state. Terrified, I raised my gaze to see him completely naked, in all his glory, his burgundy hair loose and tousled, damp from the shower, and I could swear his gray eyes held a mocking glint. "Your Majesty, I’m so sorry! Please, spare the life of this humble servant who doesn’t deserve your mercy!" I threw myself to the ground, pressing my forehead against the hard surface, begging him. What I had done was unforgivable. By the Goddess, I had even stayed there... staring at it. His threatening shadow loomed over my trembling body. I clenched my eyes shut, bracing for the end. "I’ll leave right away... I beg you... I’ll leave the castle... please..." "I don’t have the patience to find a new servant every day. You leave when I decide so. Now get up." His deep voice rumbled close to my ear, and I felt him tugging at the towel I still clutched in my hands. I released it immediately, sweat trailing down my back as my entire body trembled. "Besides, if you’re going to serve me, it won’t be the last time you see it. It’s not a big deal. Come to the dining room," he added before his bare footsteps echoed away from the room. Swallowing nervously, I stood on shaky legs. «Come on, Valeria, focus, please. » "Try the breakfast," he ordered, gesturing to the food set on the table. He sat, dominating the large chair, observing my every move. I picked up the fork and cut a small piece from each dish, tasting everything bite by bite. "If something is not to your liking, I can ask the kitchen to—" "That won’t be necessary. Everything’s fine," he interrupted and then fell silent. I kept my gaze on the floor, unsure of what he was waiting for, frantically reviewing every rule in my mind. "Do you think I’m a savage who eats with his hands?" "What? No, no, Your Maj... Sir..." I quickly lifted my gaze and saw him glancing at the fork still in my hand. Holy Goddess, I had covered the only utensil with saliva! The housekeeper hadn’t mentioned I had to taste the food here too! "I... I’ll get another, I’m so sorry—" "You seem to apologize well," he said as he took the fork from my hand. "It’s dirty, I... I ate with it—" I didn’t finish because he wiped it with a napkin and began eating calmly. I stepped back, standing in the corner, awaiting his orders. Through my bangs, I occasionally stole glances at him. He looked relaxed wearing just the towel, eating and reviewing some documents beside him. No matter what the Lycan King did, his aggressive aura filled the entire space, demanding only obedience and submission. This was my new master. And honestly, I was starting to wonder if I’d be better off running far away from this castle... and this pack. Aldric Thorne was the most dangerous thing I could have crossed paths with. *** Days passed, and despite my rookie mistakes, I managed to survive. The Lord wasn’t constantly present at the castle either—he often traveled between packs or faced dangerous situations. I hadn’t even seen the other “Guardians” until one morning. "Phew, I honestly don’t know how you handle the pressure and temptation," said Juliette. She was the only staff member who had approached me. An extroverted, cheerful girl. I didn’t consider her a friend, though—I'd never trust a woman like that again. But at least her chatter kept me entertained. We were walking through the underground corridor carrying laundry baskets when a side door leading to one of the many training gyms opened. A massive Lycan emerged. I knew by the powerful aura he projected. We immediately lowered our heads, waiting for him to pass, but his steps approached us instead. "Are these clean towels?" asked a strong but calm male voice. "Yes, yes, Sir," I answered, realizing I was the one carrying them. I glanced up for a second. Enchanting golden eyes stared back at me. I quickly lowered my gaze to the carpet and handed him a towel, but as he reached out, our fingers brushed for a moment. His touch was warm. Despite being intimidating, this Lycan projected a protective aura—not as sharp and wild as the King's. "I’m sorry... I’m so sorry—" "Relax, it’s fine. Thank you," he replied, taking the towel and walking away down the hallway. And then I dared to look at his back. Blond hair, massive like all Lycans, powerful, his muscular, sweaty back glistening, dressed in black combat gear. It seemed like he had been training. For some reason, the combination of his eyes and hair reminded me a bit of Dorian. I didn’t want to remember him at all, but the mind could be a traitor. He had been the first—and only—man I’d loved. "Right? He’s so handsome! I mean, they’re all attractive and hot, but for me, the best ones are the King and Guardian Quinn... Though the King, ugh, that man is pure fire. I’m torn—what do you think, Valeria? Would you prefer the King or Quinn?" Before I could scold her for talking so carelessly, her face turned pale, staring behind me in panic. A powerful presence pressed against my back, hot breath brushing against my ear. "I’d like to know too, Valeria. Who would you prefer? And why did you let another man touch what’s mine?" The basket in my hands begins to tremble along with my hands. I'm done for. And even though I know he’s talking about the towels, for some reason, it feels like he’s talking about me. "Ss… Sir..." "Get out!" he ordered Juliette, who looked at me for a second with guilt but had no choice but to flee almost running. I remained with my back to him. Could I run too? "I'm still waiting, Valeria. Tell me, are you unhappy with the position you were given? Would you prefer to be Quinn's personal maid instead? Turn around!"	LEARN_MORE	https://befant.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=18151&u	Galaxy in the Story	https://www.facebook.com/61555427913037/	2,414	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	befant.com	VIDEO		https://befant.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=18151&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/t39.35426-6/476247228_1947263202431388_3482282609108717794_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=JzxNIyiNrBUQ7kNvgFjTKlV&_nc_oc=AdgVsvBSqqMejmYXCzPto8jGg64hbta2l7Xg35KNw3kpL8t9cG72WIma7DPXONNNPDI&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AM-IiibpyT2bQy24R0aY0WE&oh=00_AYBlp1c8og0IxWNO71Scy8XkaZqKHiURW3oohjIT9lTQ7A&oe=67C2DCF7	PERSON_PROFILE	Galaxy in the Story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,693,481	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-25 16:51	active	2627	🔥Click to Read more about📜<Rejected by the Titan Alpha>📜	It rained hell the day I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet and I watched the scary Titan wolves descend from the volcano hilltop. Chaos ensued and people ran and screamed in terror. I found myself paralyzed, my legs rooted on spot and my mind unwilling to register to my brain that if I didn't move right now, I would be a dead little weak Omega soon. But the white wolves mesmerized me. And I couldn't reap my eyes off their glowing golden eyes even though they looked angry. "Effie, let's go!" After a considerable amount of my little sister's urgent inaudible voice on the background, I finally heard her clear scream, her hand pulling me with urgency. Finally, my legs gave way and we started to run. "Mom is going to kill us, Effie!" My little sister, Gage screamed as we ran. "Is that really your concern right now?!" I screamed back. Hot flames erupted from the ground just a step away from us, forcing us into an abrupt stop. Just then, we felt a heavy spark from behind us, like some bomb had went off. I looked behind me to catch the transformation of one of the wolves into a Titan wolf. I was seeing this for the first time and their height was massive, more than we heard in stories. He roars and caught sight of me. Fear caught hold of me, but before I could pull Gage away, he was throwing a thunder at me, causing us to fall over in the mix of sands and dirt. I tried to open my eyes but everywhere looked dark. Gage..... I peeled my eyes open and tried to look for my sister. But something else suddenly caught my attention. A smell that stung my nostril so hard, I wanted to get rid of it. The smell was the best I've ever smelled since all my eighteen years alive. It was happening. My mate was here. Why did he have to be here right now? I didn't find him two days ago after my birthday so why now? As I looked around, I found Gage's unconscious body laid beneath the dirt. "Gage!" I screamed and attempted to leap over to her but before I could, something big came over me. One of the White wolves. His eyes glistened with thunder as they watched me with anger. The fur on the body stood out as he growled slowly at me. He completely caged me so I couldn't escape. My heart beat rose up at his appearance, but it slowly went down as I realized the smell I perceived was now directly from him. He had found me here. Because he's my mate. I'm Mated to a white mountain wolf? But he looked pissed at me, like he was angry that I was his mate. I was weak and he didn't want me. I wouldn't want me either. Another big wolf comes and stands over my unconscious sister. As he looked away to see the second wolf, I notice an ornament around on of his arm. A beautiful clear crystal bracelet surrounding one arm. "Take the little girl." He said to the second wolf, his voice bold and instilling fear. "No! That's my sister!" I screamed. But my sister was already disappearing before my eyes, in the back of the second wolf as he ran away towards the volcano hill. Then my mate's eyes watched me. There was so much hate, so much disgust in them as they watched me. He looks above me and spoke "all the titans should fall back, today is not the day." Quickly, the entire place cleared in my eyes. Every last one of them disappeared, including him too. I hurried back to the village. The entire place was deserted. Some of the houses had fallen to the ground. Where did everybody go. I ran to my house but there wasn't a soul there. The last time Gage and I had seen our parents was when we took off this morning to go see the descent of the White wolves. What we didn't expect was a war between them and our people. They came out and killed everyone. Bodies laid piled up on the dirty ground. Nobody has ever seen where the Titan wolves lived but I needed to get my sister back. I dashed Into the house and took the only thing I had to fight, a crossbow my father had gifted me on my seventeen birthday. Then I dashed Into the woods, switching into my wolf form in order to be able to pick Gage's scent more quickly. I spent a considerable amount of time in the bushes, not finding a trail of her. I lost her scent. As I rounded around the volcano, I discovered a dark opening. Bracing myself, I fit myself into it and slipped inside. I landed on a can of rubbish. I peeped out and found a completely different world, a few people walking around. Exiting the can, I walked so people didn't notice me. I tried to pick my sister's scent but couldn't. I noticed a bridge and I climbed it, only to me stinged by that same scent from earlier. My mate's scent. Quickly, I followed it. As I walked, I noticed a tall building resembling a castle. There's plenty of large windows. I bent over and climbed the wall, the scent getting heavier and heavier. Then I saw the person whose wolf form I'd seen earlier. He is dressed in what looked like a royal robe, a crown seated firmly on his head. He's a prince? A king? The room was filled with a lot of fancy dressed people. There seemed to be an occasion going on but I couldn't give a care in the world. I rose the bow up and stroke the glass windows, letting myself in. I jumped inside the broken window and rolled on the floor until I was standing right in front of my mate and pointing my arrow at him, everyone gasping behind us. My eyes watched him with anger and fear, as his watched me without an emotion. With fire in my eyes, and a trembling voice, I asked "where is my sister?" ------------------------ As I retreated away from the girl, I was compelled to go back to her. It was harder for me to leave like that but I have a mate chosen for me already and I needed to make it back to make her my mate. I found my mate, but I couldn't hurt my best friend for her. "Your Highness," My beta, Eli called "I think we should meet everyone now. It is time." We were standing in my room, both dressed. Today, Anisa and I will be wedded and mated. She would be my Queen and most of all, she will be my Luna. "I found my mate, Eli." I muttered to him. "You did what was best. That Omega girl is weak. She is not a royal blood." He's right. From the beginning of time, the Titan wolves of the royal descent must be mated to only those from the royal blood too. They didn't follow the moon goddess's rule of mating who has been chosen for you. "And her sister?" I asked. "The doctor is taking care of her. I'm sure she's fine now." I nodded before we headed out. Just as I was about stepping out of my room, I caught her scent. I looked out the window but couldn't see her. Was she here, in white steel pack? Stepping into the room full of people waiting for my arrival, I caught Anisa's eyes watching me with delight. I sit next to her but I couldn't help perceive the scent around me. It was getting stronger and stronger. She was here. The window shattered from across the room and somebody threw herself in. Then she was in front of me in one second, her crossbow pointing at me, rage in her eyes. I'm turned on by her fierce entrance. "Where is my sister?" She had come for her sister? Her voice has some fear in them, but she was brave. "Your sister is now our prisoner" I told her coldly. Every second that I watched her, I wanted to hold her in my arms. But I had my duties to my family and my people. Then she did something that completely shocked me. She lowered her crossbow and stood up. Then pointed a finger at me and said "this man right here is my mate!" Everyone gasped. "And he knows that!" "I am getting married to my rightful mate!" I shot back, pulling Anisa's hand into mine. There's a shock in her eyes at this revelation. What did she think we were gathered here for? A tea party? I saw the pain in her eyes. But as quickly as they came, they disappeared, replaced by anger. She points her crossbow at me again. "I, Effie Owens reject you as my mate, Alpha." She said, disgust and pain emitting from her voice. She looked like if I even made a move she would put that arrow inside of me. "I, Alpha and Prince Cain Malachi do not accept your rejection." I said with gritted teeth. Whispers rose from the people in the room but I didn't care. She didn't get to reject me. She was a weak and low Omega, without even a royal bloodline. I am the one who gets to reject her. "Seize her." I commanded, my eyes watching hers intensely. She doesn't shoot the arrow even when it's pointed at my chest, tears welling up in her eyes. The sight breaks my heart. It shatters my entire being. I know that I have a lot of questions to answer later, but so be it. My men apprehends her, dragging her to the corner. EFFIE's P. O V. "The king and queen has arrived !" Someone announced as the large glass doors pulled open and two couple whom I assumed to be this arrogant prince's parents to be walked in. They were filled with so much grace, I'd never seen anything like this before. A man dressed in a cloak follows them, stopping where Cain is now standing, the blond woman rising now to stand before him. My heart broke when he said that he had a mate. But I did the only thing I could to protect my heart: rejecting him first. After all, I'd only come here for my sister, not to be mated with him. I watched in horror as the cloaked man said some things, uniting them, and Cain leaning over her and digging his fangs into her neck, marking her. I watched, my heart beat accelerating painfully. Cain gives me a look, a look intended to hurt me and yes he was winning. Because I was hurt. That should be me. As the guards pulled me out of the room, my eyes lingered on Cain. I will never be with my mate. The guards were talked me to completely different building. I didn't realize it was a cell section until I was seeing some people from my village caged inside. They all gasped as they saw me. "Effie?" I heard my mother's voice and I turned immediately to see her against the cell bar, tears smeared all over her face. "Mother?" I called, my heart growing heavy. But the guards pushed me forward before I could reach her. I screamed and tried to fight them before they bundled me up and threw me into an empty cell. I spent the entire night sobbing. I had no idea where my little sister was, and I'd lost my mate the same way I met him. I was a weak Omega. My life has always been worthless. Why wasn't I one of those people who died back at the village? I didn't know I slept off until the next morning's light was burning my eyes through the window. I heard the bar doors opening with urgency, and a man picking my arm and dragging me out. I didn't find my mother in the cell I'd seen her last night as we went outside. I was dragged and dropped in the middle of two huge Titan wolf statues. That scent stung my nostrils again and I looked up to find Cain standing high above me, his parents right next to him along with some guards. Around us where his pack members, waiting for what was about to happen. Just as I was. Cain's father steps forward, silencing the crowd before speaking "this little Omega before you all here entered into my city illegally last night and tried to murder my son on his wedding night!" "Your son murdered my people!" I roared back, enough that everyone would hear me "and he kidnapped my little sister!" I lost my sister and my mate already. Might as well die. "If my son took your sister or did any of the things that you accuse him of, then he had his reasons." He replied, much to my surprise. What? The father steps away and Alpha Cain comes forward, his eyes watching me intimidatingly. "For punishment of her crimes, she will be exiled from the entire northern territories....." Wait, can he do that? I don't even belong to his pack. But he's a king, so does that mean he has the power to do that? "She will be blindfolded and taken far away, where she would never come back to harm our king again!" The person I assumed to be his Beta standing right next to him said. He couldn't do this to me. I haven't even seen my sister yet. I cannot leave my parents here as slaves to him. I thought he was supposed to be my mate. Why was he being so cruel when he didn't even know me? I was pulled away by the same guards and into a different building now. I was dumped inside a room with a large bed and other bedroom necessities. A few seconds later, I felt presence behind me. I started to turn, but I was pinned down on the bed before I could. My eyes grew wide as I watched Cain's face above mine, his big body caging my smaller one beneath him. He had his palm against my mouth, muffling my screams. "You didn't think I was going to let you go just like that, did you?" His voice is still and venomous. His hand slides in between my thighs. If this was a different situation, I'd have loved every touch. But instead, tears ran down my eyes. I tried to fight him but it seemed impossible against him. So I just laid there and watched his cold eyes as he rose my dress up and pushed himself in between my legs. He pulls his short down. I was aware of what he was going to do to me but I didn't have any strength left to fight him. In one swift move, he drove himself inside me. I've never had sex with any man before, but he pinned me here and stole my virginity from me. Pain shot through me like a knife as he pushed himself inside of me, forcefully. I cried painfully but he didn't care. He pulls out and turns me face down on the bed. Then he continued to me harder. I cried onto the bed but he didn't stop. After what felt like forever, he stopped and whispered into my ear "I do not want to ever see you again." And then he was gone.	LEARN_MORE	https://www.novel-oasis.com/share/middle/txvc2ntpb	Novel Yang Booming	https://www.facebook.com/100077426966140/	110	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	novel-oasis.com	IMAGE	It rained hell the day I felt the ground rumble beneath my feet and I watched the scary Titan wolves descend from the volcano hilltop.	https://www.novel-oasis.com/share/middle/txvc2ntpbo4mkctfuwrpcm0l?ad_id={{ad.id}}&sid=120213798846300429&campaign={{campaign.name}}&adgroup={{adset.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-lga3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/466850052_8192373787533787_5841792936332062560_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=M49g52P37_kQ7kNvgH6EqY9&_nc_oc=AdiEYnMVZpAfiKia-Rj4THYWW3HTlFOgtb8KJ6PjOxbT5o46UbjLwbWxBh9jC4nbzfs9BRqeBy1c33NxpSmEfcqL&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-lga3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AsXXl9JgtAmwuorL4K2BbK6&oh=00_AYBviSJ9TapNJwMvTwi3llpECEYgKrKjFbrZ92UNDCPt0Q&oe=67C405F6	PERSON_PROFILE	Novel Yang Booming	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,692,067	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-24 19:43	active	2625	Read next chapter	She was overjoyed when she found out she was pregnant, but she saw her husband having intimate with his first love. She left the divorce agreement in tears, hiding her pregnant belly and departing with a broken heart... ===== "Ms. Wright, congratulations! Your baby's very healthy." Jenessa Wright walked out of the hospital in a daze, clutching the pregnancy test result close to her chest. She was pregnant with Ryan's baby! Looking down, she absentmindedly caressed her still-flat belly and broke into a smile. Grinning like silly, Jenessa hurriedly took out her phone to call Ryan Haynes, her husband, excited to share the wonderful news. However, just as she was about to dial his number, her phone buzzed. It read, "Come to Imodon Hotel right now." It was a message from Ryan. Imodon Hotel? Why'd he want her to go there all of a sudden? Jenessa was puzzled, but she didn't hesitate for long. She hailed a cab and headed straight to the hotel. Since Ryan wanted to see her, she figured she might as well tell him the good news in person. With her heart pounding in anticipation, Jenessa arrived at the hotel. As soon as she stepped out of the car, she noticed the lobby was adorned with flowers and a brand-new red carpet, clearly prepared for a celebration. Jenessa paused, momentarily stunned, before remembering that today was their wedding anniversary. Could it be that Ryan had asked her to come here to surprise her? She smiled to herself, wondering idly how Ryan would react to the news of her pregnancy. Jenessa wove her way through the crowd, her plain attire blending into the festive scene unnoticed. It didn't take long for her to spot the dazzlingly handsome man, who easily stood out among the crowd. He was none other than her husband, Ryan Haynes, the father of their child. Just as a smile started to form on her lips, she spotted the woman standing next to Ryan, and her smile froze. That woman was Ryan's first love, Maisie Powell! Since when was Maisie back in town? Jenessa stood glued to her spot, paralyzed as she watched Ryan and Maisie entertain the guests like a perfect couple. Friends surrounded the two, and they seemed to be offering them their congratulations. "Maisie, you're finally home. This deserves a toast!" "Ryan, after all these years, you and Maisie have finally reunited. Doesn't that call for a celebratory drink?" Gradually, the teasing grew louder. Maisie, dressed to the nines in a s*xy red dress and exquisite makeup, chuckled graciously. "Quit teasing us, you guys. Ryan already has a wife." At the mention of Jenessa, the people around showed disdain. "Jenessa? Please! Ryan only married her to appease his grandma!" "Exactly! Ryan has always wanted to marry you. Right, Ryan?" Ryan, looking like a prince in his custom-tailored suit, radiated a cool, unique charisma. "Alright, enough already; stop teasing Maisie," he said coolly. "She can't drink; let me drink on her behalf." As soon as he said this, his friends' laughter and teasing grew even more intense. "Hey, Ryan, what the heck? You're being so protective of her, aren't you? Fine! If she can't drink, then you'll have to drink her share! And you're not allowed to leave until you've finished!" Amidst the boisterous teasing, Ryan remained cool and collected, but there was an unmistakable hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Next to him, Maisie lowered her head and blushed shyly. This loving scene was so glaring that it pierced Jenessa's heart. She didn't know when or how, but she somehow ended up outside the hotel, only realizing it when the cold raindrops hit her face. The chilly wind and drizzling rain enveloped her, and in no time, a fierce storm broke out, soaking her to her bones. Still, she didn't move an inch and simply stared blankly at the rain. Why had Ryan called her over? Was this all just a ploy to make her witness their affection and gracefully surrender her place as his wife to his beloved Maisie? Jenessa's breathing grew heavy. Looking around in a daze, she figured there was nothing she could do but leave this wretched place. With stiff, deliberate steps, she trudged home in the rain. Standing at the doorway, she gazed at the familiar house, her thoughts drifting. Two years ago, when her family was on the brink of bankruptcy, they tried salvaging their situation by marrying her off into the Haynes family. Ryan was initially unwilling, but because his gravely ill grandma kept pressuring him, he reluctantly agreed to the arranged marriage. Now that his grandma's health had improved and Maisie was back from abroad, Jenessa thought maybe it was time for her to pack her things and leave Ryan. Jenessa didn't know how long she stood in front of the house before the sound of a car engine reached her ears. Then, Ryan's deep voice spoke beside her. "Jenessa, why are you standing here, out in the rain?" Chapter 2 I Want A Divorce In a daze, Jenessa looked up, only to meet the stern gaze of the man standing before her. Was she seeing things? What was Ryan doing here? Maisie had just returned from abroad; shouldn't he be spending time with the woman he loved? Ryan couldn't help but frown when he didn't receive a response from Jenessa. Jenessa, soaking wet from the rain, looked like a drowned rat. With her long, dark hair plastered to her pale cheeks, water dripping steadily from the ends, she seemed so helpless and pitiful. "What on earth happened to you?" Ryan questioned, his tone sounding a bit harsher than intended. Jenessa recalled how gentle and affectionate he was with Maisie at the hotel earlier, causing her heart to ache. It was painfully clear that Ryan's attitude towards the woman he loved and the one he didn't were worlds apart. Trying hard to swallow the bitter taste in her mouth, Jenessa forced a smile and softly explained, "It started raining on my way back home, and I didn't have an umbrella, so I got drenched-" While speaking, her nose suddenly itched unbearably, and she couldn't help but sneeze loudly. But instead of pitying her, Ryan only frowned deeper. "You're not a child anymore. If you get caught in the rain, the first thing you should do when you get home is dry off and change your clothes. Do I really need to spell things out for you?" The smile on Jenessa's face stiffened. "I-I'm sorry..." "Go get changed quickly, or else you'll catch a cold." Ryan seemed too impatient with her to say anything more, so he bypassed her and walked inside the house. Catch a cold? Only then did Jenessa remember that she was pregnant; she couldn't afford to get sick, lest she put the baby in harm's way. With that in mind, she hurried to her room, took a hot shower, and let the warm water chase away the chill. Wrapped in a towel, she stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, only to find Ryan standing in her way. She gasped in surprise and instinctively clutched her towel more tightly around her chest. Ryan's sharp gaze remained fixed on her, and upon noticing her reaction, he asked indifferently, "Why should you be nervous? It's nothing I haven't already seen." Jenessa's face flushed bright red as memories of their passionate, intimate nights together flashed before her eyes. Without waiting for a response, Ryan casually held out a cold medicine pill and a glass of water. "Here, take this." Jenessa hesitantly glanced at the pill in his hand, worried that it might not be good for the baby. "Well, I think I'll be fine without it. After all, I was only in the rain for a while." Unexpectedly, Ryan refused to let her off the hook. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror? You're as pale as a ghost. We're visiting Grandma tomorrow, so you'd better not get sick, you hear me?" But Jenessa, worried about the baby, stubbornly resisted. "I just need to drink something warm, that's all. I'm fine, really." At this point, Ryan's patience wore thin. He decisively popped the pill in his mouth and drank some water from the glass. "Ryan, what're you- Agh!" Before Jenessa could get another word out, Ryan leaned closer, his tall frame looming over her, and grabbed her delicate chin. Forcing her to raise her head, he planted his lips firmly on hers. The pill and water then flowed into her mouth, and he didn't loosen his grip until he was certain that she had swallowed the pill. The sudden kiss made Jenessa dizzy, washing away all her inhibitions. Ryan's desires were stirred, and he carried her over to the bed. He pulled away from her for the briefest of moments to undo his tie, his eyes burning with an all-consuming desire for her. When Jenessa met his intense gaze, she snapped back to reality and cried out, "No!" Trembling, she pushed against his rock-hard chest. "Hmm?" Ryan stopped in his tracks, wondering if he had misheard. He tried to kiss Jenessa again, but she decisively turned her head away, avoiding his eyes. "Ryan, I..." She gulped, struggling to get the words out. "I want a divorce." Her words extinguished Ryan's desires in the blink of an eye. Annoyance flashing across his face, he coldly grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him, his deep eyes staring piercingly into hers. "Say that again?" Jenessa's heart skipped a beat. Still, she managed to suppress the turbulent emotions inside her and bravely met Ryan's intense gaze. "I said, I want a divorce." A flicker of unreadable emotion crossed Ryan's eyes. "Why?" Jenessa was taken aback by his question, confusion and bewilderment evident on her face. Why else? To fulfill his wish to marry his beloved Maisie, of course. "Because..." Her voice trailed off feebly, unable to utter the obvious. "Is your family in financial trouble again? This is about money?" Ryan looked down at her icily. "Jenessa, don't you know your place? If you need something, just say it. Don't play these little games with me, because I do not have the patience for this bullshit." Jenessa quietly clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. So, Ryan assumed that her request for a divorce was just one of her games, an attempt to leverage the situation for her benefit? Jenessa smiled bitterly, but her eyes showed a look of uncharacteristically fierce determination. "Don't worry. I don't want anything but a divorce. Ryan, we were going to get a divorce sooner or later, so what difference does it make?" Ryan didn't respond immediately. He just stared at her with a strange, serious look in his eyes. His silence sent Jenessa into a trance, a mix of anxiety and inexplicable flicker of hope taking root in her heart. "Or... do you not want a divorce?" Chapter 3 Look Out, World! The thought that Ryan might want to stay married made Jenessa's heart skip a beat, her chest heaving from anticipation. However, under her hopeful gaze, Ryan scoffed coldly. "Jenessa, don't kid yourself." His tone was full of mockery, each word piercing her heart like a knife. "Do you really think I'd say 'no' to a divorce?" He locked eyes with her, his gaze icy cold. "Remember this, Jenessa-you're the one who asked for a divorce. You'd better not come crawling back to me when it's all said and done." With that, he got out of bed and left, slamming the door behind him. Jenessa lay despondently on the bed, her heart heavy with disappointment. Tears rolling down her cheeks, she gently placed a hand on her belly, feeling the little life growing inside her. She had originally planned to tell Ryan the good news, but in the span of just a few hours, they were on the brink of divorce. After thinking about it a moment or two, she decided it was best to keep Ryan in the dark about her pregnancy. Even if they separated ways, she could raise the baby on her own. Then, thinking about her job as Ryan's secretary, she felt a pang of helplessness. Ryan's grandma had arranged for her to work under Ryan to nurture their relationship, and back then, it seemed like a good idea. But now, things were different, and it was high time she left that job. The following morning, as soon as Jenessa arrived at the WorldLink Group's headquarters, a few of her more gossipy colleagues surrounded her. "Jenessa, we've been waiting for you all morning! What's going on with Mr. Haynes and that Maisie girl? Are they an item now?" "News of Mr. Haynes throwing a welcome-home party for international supermodel Maisie Powell went viral overnight. He even invited all his friends. Looks like he's planning to make their relationship public soon!" "I heard that after the party, they spent the night together. Maybe she's his future wife!" Jenessa felt a pang of bitterness as she listened. After a brief hesitation, she replied despondently, "I don't know much about it." Her colleagues exchanged glances and rolled eyes. Obviously, they didn't believe her. "Come on, Jenessa! You're Mr. Haynes' secretary. You know him better than anyone. How could you not know any insider information? Just spill the beans already!" Jenessa forced a weak smile. Everyone knew that she was Ryan's secretary, but very few people knew that she was also Ryan's wife. He was even reluctant to make their relationship public. With a soft sigh, she stood her ground more firmly. "I really don't know, okay? Enough with the gossip." The colleagues wanted to press her further, but Jenessa cut them off before they could get another word out. "I said there's nothing to say, so quit pestering me. Were you all hired just to gossip? Get back to work, all of you!" Her stern expression made them uneasy, but she was right; they had to comply. "Okay, okay, we get it." As Jenessa walked away, they couldn't help but mutter and grumble among themselves. "Who does she think she is? Acting all high and mighty. Humph! She's not the only secretary here." "Yeah, when she started working here out of the blue three years ago, we all thought she had some kind of relationship with Mr. Haynes. But in the end, he didn't pay her any special attention-never took her to meetings with clients. She's his personal secretary, but what of it? Just eye candy!" "Her days here are numbered. Once Maisie marries Mr. Haynes, Jenessa will be the first one to go. After all, who would trust a pretty secretary around their man?" "Exactly!" Their laughter and unrestrained chatter filled the office, but Jenessa turned a deaf ear to it all and walked straight to her desk, immersing herself in her work. She knew how those seemingly friendly colleagues truly saw her. But she couldn't argue with them, because even she herself felt like a joke. Before she knew it, it was time to get off work, and most of the secretaries had already gone home. Just as Jenessa was packing her things, she received a call from her best friend, Brinley Lloyd. "Hey, I saw the news this morning. What the hell is going on with Ryan and that Maisie girl? Just rumors, right?" Hearing the disbelief in Brinley's voice, Jenessa sighed heavily. "It's true." Brinley gasped in shock mixed with horror. "What the hell?!" Throughout the day, Jenessa had thought things through, so she was relatively calm as she explained, "In the first place, Ryan and I only got married as part of an agreement. I always knew he had no feelings for me; he only married me because his grandma insisted. Now that the woman he loves is back in the picture, there's no reason for me to stay. It's time to let them be together." Brinley felt both incredulous and indignant. "But... What about the baby? Weren't you going to surprise him?" "Would it be a wonderful surprise to him? Or a horrifying shock?" Jenessa instinctively touched her flat belly, a bitter smile on her lips. "Anyway, what matters is I've made up my mind- I want a divorce, and I'll raise this baby on my own. There's no need for him to know." "Seriously, a divorce? Are you sure about that?" Brinley sounded very concerned. "If you don't want him to know you're pregnant, then you can't keep working at WorldLink. Your belly will get bigger and bigger." "Don't worry, I'm way ahead of you. I'll resign soon. Then, I can finally go back to doing what I truly love." The mention of her long-lost dreams brought a rare smile to Jenessa's face. "Oh, my God! Jenessa, are you going back to your old career?" Brinley was thrilled. "That's fantastic! I always believed in you! You're a genius designer! Look out, world-Sloane Todd, a legend in the fashion design world, is coming! You shouldn't have wasted your talents as Ryan's secretary all these years. He's not worth it!" "Sloane Todd..." Jenessa felt a bit dazed at the mention of that long-forgotten pseudonym. For Ryan, she had lost herself for so long. She almost forgot who she truly was. "Jenessa." A magnetic, masculine voice suddenly sounded behind her. Startled, Jenessa whirled around to find a stern-looking Ryan standing behind her. Chapter 4 A Bun In The Oven "Ry-I mean, Mr. Haynes! What are you doing here?" Jenessa was so startled that she fumbled for the right words, having been caught completely off guard. She hurriedly ended the call, her jittery gaze searching Ryan's face for any signs of anger, feeling inexplicably scared and flustered. When had Ryan arrived? How much had he overheard? "Weren't we supposed to visit Grandma at the hospital today?" Ryan asked, impatience evident in his tone. Only then did Jenessa remember that they had indeed made plans that day. Lowering her head apologetically, she murmured, "I... I'm sorry." "Hmph," Ryan grunted indifferently. As though unwilling to spare another glance at her, he turned around and walked out, saying briskly, "Let's go." It took the dazed Jenessa a second before she snapped to her senses and quickly caught up to him. On the way to the hospital, her mind was in turmoil. A complex mix of emotions plagued her heart as she anxiously wondered if Ryan had overheard her conversation with Brinley. But then she figured, if Ryan had heard that she planned to secretly raise their baby on her own, he wouldn't be so calm now. The two sat side by side in the back seat in complete silence. Naturally, Jenessa's distracted demeanor was a bit hard to ignore. Ryan couldn't stand it anymore. Brows furrowed, he turned his head slightly and demanded, "What's going on with you?" His deep voice startled Jenessa, interrupting her thoughts. "N-nothing," she stammered hastily. "Is that so?" Ryan spoke slowly, his tone carrying a hint of doubt. Jenessa's racing heart pounded in her chest. Just as she opened her mouth to defend herself, Ryan's magnetic voice suddenly sounded again, this time a lot closer to her ear. "If it really is nothing, then why are you avoiding me? Why won't you look at me, hmm?" Jenessa, frozen in place, dared not move an inch. A barely audible scoff escaped Ryan as he reached out one hand, gently grasping the back of her neck. From the corner of her eye, Jenessa saw him leaning in slowly...... ...... ==== To the public, she was the CEO's executive secretary. Behind closed doors, she was the wife he never officially acknowledged. Jenessa was elated when she learned that she was pregnant. But that joy was replaced with dread as her husband, Ryan, showered his affections on his first love. With a heavy heart, she chose to set him free and leave, only to be caught by Ryan... 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/57632322-fb_contact-e	Fun Novel	https://www.facebook.com/100090881055588/	1,343	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/57632322-fb_contact-enr25_2-c1-0719-core1.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=233925549638247&exdata=388F74B9C8FF9F6BDC07B5C0C675F5480EB05E9C4F5E6FFE	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/476090748_1345885983509839_115625653913014228_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=ww5k0MDPLmkQ7kNvgG62oxa&_nc_oc=AdiVEACCIou9bEVM9NsOShc_tAYdvxtzkLtCZj-Ed-nrZChk-m6mpgXQ9Wax98Jqm6ko7RCS1f8aPITVVLILyDgt&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AxUCfqHCRhS8-4F7doSzs-U&oh=00_AYBR_3GbePWEjEb4iOoNtY5Eo3ccsZXlRz2PRqRVKjyJtg&oe=67C2E237	PERSON_PROFILE	Fun Novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,691,258	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691257}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	"Are... are you sure, Esther?" I ask with a broken voice. My heart races, filled with happiness. "Very sure, Luna. You're carrying a little wolf!" "Why haven't I been able to smell it, or his father?" I ask, worried. "It's very recent, perhaps that's why. Give it a few more days and you should be able to sense the pheromones." She replies, and I nod, my eyes blurred with tears. I am the Luna of the "Autumn Forest" pack. Three years ago, I married the man I love madly, despite not being destined mates, my Alpha Dorian. I've given everything to be the perfect Luna, the pillar he can lean on. However, a shadow looms over my marriage—the topic of an heir. I've never been able to get pregnant, and I admit I don't share the bed with Dorian as often. But I know his duties as Alpha keep him extremely busy and stressed. "Please, don't tell anyone in the pack. I want to surprise my husband." "Don't worry, Luna, I won't say anything. Congratulations!" She smiles at me, and I return the smile, overflowing with excitement and happiness. Despite being a foreigner, not originally belonging to this pack, ever since my parents died and the previous Alpha took me in, I've never felt rejected or looked down upon. That's why I've devoted myself fully to my duties as Luna. I'm grateful for my life and the wonderful man I'm married to. *** "What's with all this food? Is there going to be a party?" "Hands off!" I swat away the greedy claws of Sophia, my best friend, who sneaked in through the back kitchen door. "But wow, puff pastry tart and everything!" she says, sitting on a stool. Honestly, I may have gone a bit overboard with the dishes, but I'm so happy I want everything to be perfect. All my Alpha's favorite foods are ready! "Well, today is Dorian's and my anniversary. I want to celebrate with an intimate dinner," I say, turning back to the caramel on the stove. I don't hear her respond, so I turn halfway, curious. "What's wrong?" "N-nothing, nothing... I just heard the Alpha had an emergency today. Didn't he tell you?" she asks, and I frown. Actually, Dorian doesn't usually explain much about his work. I guess it's to avoid worrying me. "No, but he'll come back anyway. He knows today is special." I respond, completely convinced. She looks at me strangely. Lately, I can't quite understand her, but she's the first person who approached me in this pack and has always supported me. I value her greatly as a friend. "Sophie, there's something I want to tell you, but... I'll tell you tomorrow. It's very important to me," I say suddenly, wanting to share the good news with her, but not before confessing it to Dorian. "Really? Can't you tell me now?" she asks, gossip-mode activated, leaning over the counter while munching on a homemade cookie. "No, no. Tomorrow. I promise you'll be the second to know," I reply, and I can feel my happiness radiating from every pore. "Fine, I'll leave you with your mystery then. I've got things to do. Happy anniversary," she grumbles, frustrated I didn't spill the secret, and leaves the same way she came. I check the clock. There's still time. I take off my apron and head to the second floor to shower and get dressed nicely. Everything has to be perfect tonight, celebrating with my beloved mate. * I glance at the clock for the thousandth time, sitting on the sofa. It's past midnight, and Dorian hasn't arrived. I look at the cold dishes on the dining table and get up, resigned to reheating them again. I'm in the middle of that task when I hear the front door open and close. His delicious scent tingles my nose, warming my stomach. I glance at my burgundy dress, smoothing it out and fixing my hair in the hallway mirror. My jet-black hair is tied in a high ponytail, and my intensely blue eyes, highlighted with makeup, stare back at me. I step into the foyer, watching my imposing Alpha enter the door. "My love, how was your day? Lots of work, right?" I grab the coat he's holding to hang it up. I see him clutching some documents, but I assume they're pack matters. I move closer to kiss him, but he steps back. "I'm sweaty and dirty from the road. Don't contaminate yourself," he says, his piercing honey eyes staring at me—eyes I adore despite their constant coldness. It's just part of his nature. He carries too many responsibilities after inheriting the role so young when his father died. His blond hair is messily handsome, and for some reason, damp. I can even catch the scent of an unfamiliar shower gel. Why would he shower before coming home? And he said he was dirty, yet it's clear he just bathed. "S-sure, give me a second to reheat dinner. You must be hungry..." "I'm not hungry. Valeria, we need to talk." "But the dinner—" "Forget dinner. Let's go to the living room. I need to tell you something," his authoritative voice makes me tense. I follow him, starting to feel deeply worried. My hand slips into my skirt pocket, clutching the folded document stating I'm having his baby. "Why was the table so full of dishes? Were you planning a party?" he asks, glancing at the dining room. My heart clenches. "Love, I know you've been busy with pack duties. But... don't tell me you forgot our anniversary? Today marks three years since we mated," I say, sitting on the couch. I expect him to sit beside me, but instead, he chooses the armchair opposite. Dorian has never been overly affectionate, but tonight he's too distant. Too cold. An alarm goes off inside me. "Of course, I remembered. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for our third anniversary," he replies, but I don't see a trace of joy in his expression. I know everything will change with my news. Our relationship hasn't been great because of this. The pack elders keep pressuring him for an heir. When I tell him about the baby, he'll be happy. "I'll be quick because I can't stand this any—" "Wait! Wait, Dorian. Let me show you something first, and then you can tell me what you wanted to say," I interrupt him, feeling a strong premonition, I won't like his next words. Lowering my head, I take out the folded paper and hand it to him, my heart racing with emotion. He takes it, reading silently as I watch him, anxious, waiting for his joy to match mine. "I'm pregnant! I'm carrying your pup! We'll have an heir for the pack. I'm sure the Goddess has blessed us with a son!" I can't hold back and blurt it out directly. Tears in my eyes, I rise and move toward him, wanting to embrace him. But as in love as I am, even I can see this isn't the reaction I expected from the father of my child. "Are you sure about this, or is it just a trick to keep me tied to you?" he suddenly says, rising and pushing me away when I try to hug him. "Dorian... Of course, I'm sure. Look, that's the midwife's handwriting. Why would I lie about something so important? My love, what's wrong? What's happening, my Alpha?" "No, no. Damn it!" I watch him pace like a caged wolf around the living room. "This can't be happening. Not now!" "Dorian..." "Did you tell my mother? Anyone else?!" he asks suddenly, approaching me and gripping my shoulders tightly. "N-no, love. I was waiting to tell you first. I thought... you'd be happy. I know they've been pressuring you. Alpha, you don't have to be tense anymore. We'll have our family." I raise a trembling hand to caress his cheek, but he just stares at me with those golden eyes, silent. I can't figure out what's going on in his head. "You're right... I've been very stressed. I'm sorry," he suddenly pulls me into his arms, and I finally sigh, relieved, hugging him back tenderly. For a second, I feared he wasn't happy. "We'll get through this together, my Alpha. I'll be the perfect Luna so no one will judge you," I whisper, lifting my head. I want him to kiss me, to make love to me like we haven't in a long time. "Let's go for a run. A wild, unrestricted anniversary night." He suddenly suggests it, taking my hand and pulling me toward the back of our house, which borders the pack's forest. "Shift into your she-wolf," he commands, and I watch him undressing. He's so charming and strong. His hair glows under the moonlight, and I begin the transformation into my "she-wolf," one of the greatest lies and secrets of my life—something not even Dorian knows. * We run freely across the pack's lands. But I notice how we keep going farther and farther, even crossing the borders, yet I just follow Dorian's massive white wolf racing wildly ahead of me. We reach a remote place, at the edge of a deep cliff, but above us, the moon shines intensely, and the forest landscape stretches far below. "Where is this? We're outside our pack's territory... Aren't we trespassing on someone's land?" I gaze into the distance from the edge, mesmerized by the view, having already shifted back into human form, but no one responds. I feel uneasy and start to turn around. However, something inside me stirs with alarm. A crow caws in the distance—but it's already too late. "Do... Dorian, wha—?! Aaaaaahhh!" I scream as I feel wolf claws tearing into my abdomen, deeply ripping through me. Terrified and shocked by the sudden attack, I try to run. I attempt to shift back into my wolf to escape into the forest, away from whatever is happening, away from this rabid Alpha wolf whose blood-red eyes glare at me with pure hatred—but it's impossible to flee. "Ahhh! Let me go! Dorian, what are you doing?! What are you doing?! Ahhh! Help! Help!" I scream as he jumps on me when I try to escape. C2 THE WORST BETRAYAL VALERIA He bites my thigh viciously and drags me beneath his body, controlling me mercilessly. I try to resist, to call for help, my hands clutching my stomach, trying to protect my pup, but his claws, like deadly weapons, pierce my skin, tearing apart my small, vulnerable body. I have to raise my arms instinctively when his sharp claws aim for my face, and I scream in agony as a deep wound slices across my cheek from my forehead. Leaving my belly exposed, he struck our child. "Nooo, not the pup, please, Dorian, not our son!" Tears poured endlessly from my eyes as I begged him, but his canines tore through my flesh, and his claws dug into the depths of my insides with chilling cruelty, seeking to rip out the life growing inside me. I don’t know how long this agony lasted—I sobbed, pleading as long as I could speak. The pain in my entire body was unbearable, but worse was the pain in my soul, bleeding and shattered. I was discarded on the ground like trash, on the edge of a precipice, my consciousness nearly slipping away from the pain when I saw him shift into his human form. "You thought you could keep me tied to you forever?" he yelled furiously. His eyes were cold and disgusted, a look I had never seen before. "Did you really think I loved you, that I was dying to have a child with you? What a waste!" He kicked me with rage, but I no longer had the strength to even moan in pain. "Three damn years I've been separated from my mate because of you!" he roared, pouring out all the hatred he'd stored up over time. "Why…?" I barely managed to whisper, my face swollen, my tongue heavy, and my throat bleeding from a deep wound. "Because you came to the pack, the miserable orphan, and that old lady said you would give birth to the strongest Alphas, powerful enough to elevate my bloodline." "Pure nonsense from that crazy old hag, but my mother believed her and forced me to give up my mate for you because you were infatuated with me! She gave me three damn years—that was our deal. If you didn’t succeed, I’d be free." "So, today I come, ready to rid myself of an obstacle like you, and you say that you’re carrying my son," he laughed like a psychopath. "I won’t let you do it again, Valeria. You won't ruin my life again. This is the end for you!" He walked toward me, and I saw death staring me in the face. I wanted to say so many things... «I didn't know you already loved someone else. I was just a foolish, infatuated girl, but I never forced you to love me back. How could you deceive me, fake everything all this time? Our child… how could you… how could you do this…?!» I felt so powerless as I lay there, sobbing, bloody, and dying. I wished I could connect with his wolf, scream out this injustice, but I couldn’t—not even that. I didn’t have an inner she-wolf. I could only shift my body and pretend. Some said it was trauma from my adoptive parents’ violent death, where only I survived. Others claimed it was a curse, but I knew that wasn't true. I had never felt the presence of a wolf spirit within me. "Goodbye, dear wife. You don't seem so special after all," he said cynically, and with his foot, he kicked me over the cliff's edge. The last thing I knew was the sensation of falling into the cold void. I looked up at the dark sky as shadows of crows circled above my head, like messengers of death. "I'm so sorry, baby. I couldn't protect you." * "Why aren't her wounds healing properly?" "I can't waste the pack's blood on a stranger. Jake already did too much rescuing her from the rogue woods. She has to heal on her own." "Honestly, I don't even know how this woman is still alive. Poor thing… her body is horribly damaged, especially her belly… and her face." I heard voices talking nearby, hands examining me. An unbearable pain worse than death itself burned through my body, dragging me between consciousness and darkness. I don’t know how much time passed or where I was, but when I opened my eyes, I saw a white ceiling. I looked around and saw a small room, lying on a personal bed. "You're awake?" a female voice spoke suddenly beside me, and I saw an unfamiliar face. I tried to speak, but for some reason, I couldn't—it was as if my vocal cords refused to work. "Don't strain yourself. Stay calm. You… I don't think you can talk right now because of the wound on your neck," she explained with a troubled expression. And then, my foggy mind remembered—everything. The first thing I did was reach for my belly, trying to sit up despite the dizziness and searing pain. "Don't move! Wait, calm down, calm down!" she stopped me and eased me back down, but I needed to know—desperately—I had to know if a miracle had occurred. I looked at her intensely and then at my stomach, wrapped in thick bandages. "Yes… I understand what you're asking, but… I'm sorry… your belly was completely torn. Your womb was destroyed, and your pup… didn't make it. It was impossible to save him. We don't even know how you're still alive." I felt the tears pouring uncontrollably from my eyes. I closed them in pure agony, my soul shattering. My lips trembled, my entire body shook, and ragged sobs escaped my torn throat. Why did this have to happen to me? Why did everything around me have to turn into a nightmare? My baby, my pup was innocent. Why did something so horrible have to happen to him? "Calm down, please! You can't get like this! Aston, I need you here! Bring the sedative! Now, Aston, hurry!" "Aaaahh! Aaaahh!" I heard distorted screams, a cry so raw it could freeze the blood and shatter hearts. A desperate, broken woman wailed—and then I realized… it was me. That wretched woman who had lost everything… was me. * Days have passed. I know a man rescued me from the forest beneath the cliff. I'm staying in a small pack not far from Autumn Forest. With my hands still covered in wounds, I try to splash water on my face, but I can't even bear to touch my skin. I lift my head, and as I do every time that I face a mirror, I have to summon all my courage. My face, once beautiful and envied by many she-wolves, now bears a horrific scar running across my forehead and another deep one on my left cheek. Dorian not only destroyed my child's life, my womb, but he also scarred my face. It should have healed, but I know it won't. I don't possess the rapid healing ability of werewolves. Yes, I heal—but slower, and scars remain. I step outside the small room and hear the healer and the she-wolf who treated me speaking quietly. They're discussing how I've used too many resources and how they may have to ask me to leave soon since packs rarely welcome outsiders so easily. But the she-wolf argues that I’m still in terrible condition. I appreciate her care and empathy, but it won't be necessary to cast me out. I've already decided—I’ll leave tonight on my own. * Hours later, I walk through the dark forest like a lost soul, the damp bandages soaked with reopened wounds, bleeding. I don't care—my legs keep moving in a single direction. Hiding in the bushes, I watch the patrol line carefully. I know exactly how to slip past without being detected—I designed this defense rotation myself for Dorian. Like so many things I did for him and the pack. I slip away into the shadows, as quickly as my battered body allows. The night and darkness are my allies. It's as if they amplify my strange abilities. I hear voices, laughter, and lights in the distance—from the backyard of what had been my home for three long years. I walk as if in slow motion, wearing old sneakers and a worn-out dress that the she-wolf from the hospital gave me. "Ladies and gentlemen, I've gathered you all here today because I could no longer hide my happiness. I’m finally marrying my beloved mate, the woman of my life, my sweet Sophia, your future Luna." I feel like I'm falling into a cavern of ice as I watch them, smiling and kissing in front of those who once called me Luna. It was my "best friend" Sophia and my traitorous Alpha Dorian, celebrating their union while my body should have been rotting beneath that cliff if their plan had worked. Traitorous hypocrite! That woman was even wearing one of my evening dresses, made up with my things, stealing my life without a trace of remorse. She had deceived me all this time, just as I had been blind to everyone in this pack, and worse, to the man who lay beside me every night while thinking of another woman. Even the midwife who told me about my pregnancy was there! Dorian must have promised her something to keep her silent. I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, my teeth chattering with rage. I waited, waited like the deranged psychopath I had become, watching their entire celebration until the lights went out and everyone left for their homes. * I climbed the stairs to the second floor, walked down the dimly lit hallway, but I could hear them perfectly—making love in the master bedroom. Her feminine moans slipped through the crack of the slightly open door. I saw myself pushing it open gently. The moonlight streamed in through the large window, illuminating that figure riding Dorian, her back facing the entrance. "Alpha, tell me I'm better than her… Mmm… Come on, Dorian, tell me I'm better than that frigid Valeria." "You're the best, baby… don't even compare yourself to that stiff. Do me in her bed, come on… wasn't that what you always wanted?" Their filthy words hit my ears, and it was the final trigger I needed for everything to spiral out of control in an instant. I lunged at them on the bed. C3 THE OWNER OF THE CASTLE VALERIA I hear piercing screams, the sound of shattering glass, a savage roar, an Alpha's growls, struggling, and fighting. Something hot splashes against my face and arms. My claws shred, and my canines teared. I can't stop. I can't. Rage consumes me from the inside, demanding release. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not conscious of myself. All I know is that when I regain control of my body, the first thing I see is my red hands. I'm kneeling on the floor, everything around me drenched in red, wreckage, and pieces of what once was a powerful Alpha—Dorian. What have I done? What in the name of the Goddess have I done?! I stare at his severed head, lying just a meter away from me. Those honey-colored eyes still stare back at me in frozen terror, and I feel bile rising in my throat. I vomit to the side, unable to hold it back, disgusted by this scene of death and violence. Did I do all this? There's no one else here. I scan the area, not knowing where Sophia went. The only thing I'm sure of is that someone was thrown through the shattered glass window. I stand up on trembling legs, glance down, but all I see is the forest behind the house and bloodstains across the grass. "Don't let her escape! Sophia, stop crying and tell me clearly what happened!" Voices shouted, hurried footsteps ascending the stairs. It was my mother-in-law's voice. I had to get out of here. I had killed the Alpha, and only a painful death awaited me. Desperately, I looked down. It seemed I had thrown that wretch Sophia out the window. I decided to jump out myself, from the second floor. BAM! The door burst open during my hesitation, and my eyes locked with Anaís, my mother-in-law, the former Luna—Dorian's mother. I saw the shock, the pain, and the fury in her eyes as she took in the scene. "You miserable! You killed my son! You murdered my Dorian! Seize her! Restrain her! I'm going to tear her apart with my bare hands!" She screamed, and the warriors behind her charged at me. I jumped without thinking. "Aaagghhh!" I groaned in pain as I crashed onto the grass, rolling over, but I forced my body to shift into my wolf form and ran with all the strength I had left. I fled into the forest as fast as my weakened legs allowed, escaping death. I don't know if it was adrenaline or sheer will to live, but I ran like a madwoman through unfamiliar lands and tangled woods. Days passed that way, where I only stopped to rest when I was on the verge of collapse, drinking water from mountain streams and feeding on prey that somehow appeared dead before me. Yes, yet another strange thing about my life. The few times I dared to close my eyes, every time I woke up, a small dead animal lay in front of my muzzle. I devoured them without knowing if they were poisonous or where they came from—I just needed energy. All I could think about was surviving. One night, I felt them again. I thought they had grown tired of chasing my trail, but that wasn’t the case. The sound of multiple wolves' footsteps echoed not far away. Desperation and exhaustion consumed me—I couldn't keep running forever. I had been skirting the borders of various packs, trying not to get caught, but that wasn't a solution. "She's just ahead! I can smell her! She will pay for this!" I heard a snarl—already so close to my trail. I could practically feel the danger breathing down my neck as I pushed my legs and lungs past their limit. I was done. They were going to catch me after all this effort. Then I lifted my blue eyes and saw them—above me, a flock of crows. Cawing, circling over my wolf form, as if trying to lead me somewhere. And for some reason, I followed them. I followed their sign and ventured deeper into unfamiliar lands—into the forbidden forest where no one dared enter without an invitation. But I had nothing left to lose. If I was going to die, at least let it be quick and without torture. That's how I crossed through the mist, leading me to the Golden Moon pack, the territory guarded by the Guardians—the land ruled by the Lycan King. * I felt like no one was following me anymore. I had no idea how far I had gone into Golden Moon territory, but suddenly, several powerful warriors blocked my path, surrounding me. "Who are you, and why have you trespassed into our pack?" a massive gray wolf asked coldly, approaching me menacingly. The black wolf I shifted into, so small and fragile, would be considered an Omega—the lowest rank in the pack, the weakest, often reduced to servitude. That was why, when I became Luna, I had felt foolishly grateful to Dorian. "I'm only seeking refuge to rest… I’m sorry for entering your forest. Just a few days, please… I only need a few days to recover and leave." I pleaded, praying my pursuers wouldn't dare follow me here. "Where do you come from? Speak! Why did you cross the Forbidden Forest? No one comes here for no reason! Tell the truth, or I'll rip your head off right now!" He growled, shoving me with his shoulder. I let out a low whimper of pain, unable to resist. Before he could take further action or carry out his threats, darkness consumed my vision, and I felt my body collapse unconscious to the ground. Maybe this time, I wouldn't wake up again. * The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a dark, damp cell, wearing tattered clothes barely covering my battered human body. Only the Goddess knows how I'm still alive. It seems she wants me to suffer—slowly and torturously. BAM! The sound of a metal door slamming jolted me. "So, you're finally awake! Take her out!" A massive, bald, intimidating man ordered two guards, who dragged me out. It was that gray wolf. I didn’t even have the strength to walk, let alone resist. They took me to a small room where the questioning began—trying to dominate me with his Alpha presence. But it didn’t work. I had no inner wolf to submit. I spent hours there, sitting on a hard chair, my hands tied behind me with ropes cutting into my skin. No matter how much freezing water they threw at me, how much they shouted or threatened, I kept my story and waited to die. My head hung limply, eyes closed, exhausted. At least they hadn’t beaten me or done worse. I've heard horrible stories about this pack of barbarians. "Fine. Since you refuse to talk, you know what awaits you. I've given you the chance to confess." His dark eyes locked on mine, giving me his final warning, but I had nothing more to say. He drew a dagger, yanked my hair back, exposing my neck, ready to slit my throat. I saw hesitation in his eyes when my black hair fell away, revealing my hideous scars. Maybe I looked pitiful—but he had a job to do. And I was ready for it to end. The dagger lowered, and I resigned myself. But a knock on the door interrupted my death once again, sending my emotions from one extreme to the other. "Now what the hell…? M-Madam… I mean, Housekeeper, what brings you here?" His previously harsh voice turned nearly submissive. Curious, I looked toward the door and saw a short woman with blonde hair tied up neatly, elegant yet stern. "What were you doing here?" Her cold green eyes fixed on mine, and I lowered my head. "She’s an intruder. Pack business—" "You were going to kill her, weren’t you?" she accused. "M-Madam, can we discuss this outside? It's protocol with intruders—" I heard his words stop short as a pair of black boots entered the room, standing right before me. "What's your name, girl?" "Valeria," I whispered weakly. "Look at me when I speak to you!" she ordered, and I lifted my head. She has a superior, imposing aura, and honestly, I think she's more terrifying than the massive brute. "Tell me, Valeria, do you want to live or die? You can survive if you agree to work for me. If not, pretend you never saw me," she offered, leaving me stunned. "W-what kind of work would it be?" "Work for the Guardians, in the castle kitchen or wherever you're needed—as a maid. I offer you shelter and food in exchange, a new chance to live," she said without breaking eye contact. I hesitated, feeling like I was selling my soul to another ruthless ruler. The Guardians were the Lycans, and the worst of them all was their leader, Aldric, the "Specter Slayer," whom all werewolves considered their king, though he didn’t seem to care about the title. "I don't have all day. Are you coming or not?" she pressed. "Housekeeper, this woman is a stranger… how can she enter the castle with the Guardians? We don't know her intentions—" "I don't care why you entered these cursed lands. Your past stays behind if you accept my offer. But if you betray me or plot anything behind my back, slitting your throat will be the least of my punishments," the woman threatened, leaving me with only a second to decide. Live or die. Start anew in a strange place, possibly filled with more humiliation and suffering—or die now and end my miserable existence. "I'll go with you. I accept the job," I finally chose to survive. * The Golden Moon pack was located in a valley, surrounded by dense forest with thick fog, and perched atop a hill in the distance was an imposing ancient stone castle. We traveled there in a carriage, rolling along cobblestone streets. This pack was massive, far more powerful than my former one. I remained silent the entire way, my black hair always hiding the scars on my face, my head bowed, not wanting to draw attention. The enormous ebony doors opened, carved stone walls rising tall and powerful, with strange statues perched on the dark eaves. At last, we arrived at an inner courtyard, and I stepped down from the carriage with some discomfort. I stared at the looming castle, half-shrouded in mist, more nightmarish than inviting. "Come. I'll give you your uniform and show you your room," she ordered, and I followed her inside. The moment we crossed the entrance, we were greeted by a massive hall. A chandelier filled with candles hung in the center, illuminating the spiraling staircases that seemed to stretch endlessly upward. I was distracted for a moment, staring at the glossy black-and-white marble floor, when something seemed to fall from the ceiling. BAM! I stumbled back, startled, barely containing a scream of pure panic as a woman's corpse crashed at my feet. She was headless, and blood still gushed from her severed neck, staining the entire floor—and even my legs. The head rolled down next; lifeless eyes frozen in a horrified expression. I looked up, trembling, and at the top of the stairs, a pair of gray, lupine, savage eyes stared back at me for a few seconds, chilling my blood to the core. C4 TAKING OUT THEIR LOVERS VALERIA His entire demeanor screamed, I'm the damn master of everything here, the absolute ruler. I immediately lowered my head, trembling. It didn’t matter that I lacked an inner she-wolf— the power radiating from that man felt like it could suffocate you, crush your soul, and he wasn't even standing that close to me. He was a Lycan, the superior species of werewolves, the ultimate evolution, and I was almost certain this was the most powerful of them all—Aldric Thorne, the Lycan King. "Sasha, take out the trash and make sure my next personal maid isn’t a scheming one, or she'll lose more than her head," his deep, cold, and intimidating voice echoed, followed by the sound of footsteps retreating. "This is a disaster. That's the fifth one in two months. I don’t know what goes through these girls' heads. I warned them," the housekeeper muttered as she approached, pulling a small vial from the dead woman’s hand. "Another one who tried to please the King thinking she could be different and rise. Brainless. I'll call a servant to take her away. And your first task begins now—clean up this mess." And so, my work in the Lycan King's castle began. The first lesson I learned: never, ever try to mess with that dangerous man, or you'll end up headless. Unfortunately, I soon found myself on the razor's edge again. * Sasha introduced me to the staff, a group of she-wolves and wolves working in the castle, attending to the Guardians. They all stared at me as if they were looking at a monster. I didn’t care—I just wanted to keep existing and stay invisible. "The Guardians"—that’s what they called the five Lycans who lived in this ancient, dark castle. They enforced the laws of our world, or at least those affecting werewolves, maintaining balance with other supernatural creatures. They delivered justice, protection, and punishment—often in the most brutal, merciless ways. Especially the Lycan King. At least, that's what I had always heard. I was forbidden from climbing the stairs or wandering beyond the service quarters. And honestly, I didn’t plan to try. I focused on working and healing with the medicine the housekeeper gave me. The food here was good too. Except for the first day, I had gone three days without seeing any of the other Guardians. Until this morning. * "Hey, I heard the housekeeper saying she still hasn’t found a suitable candidate for the King's maid. Maybe she'll give us a chance." I was scrubbing the floor on my knees, listening to the whispers echoing through the castle's massive kitchen. My head stayed down, and my long black bangs nearly covered my eyes, helping to conceal the disfigurement on my face. My hands kept moving the cloth over the tiles, but ignoring the gossip was impossible. Suddenly, the room went silent. Heels echoed from the hallway, and tension filled the air— it was the housekeeper. "Stop what you're doing. I want all of you in a line," she ordered, her voice sharp. The cooks, maids, and even me—the lowly cleaner—all lined up like prisoners, standing side by side. She began her inspection, passing each trembling figure, heads bowed low. When her shadow passed in front of me, I thought she would move on. She didn’t. "What was your name again?" she asked. "Valeria, ma'am," I replied softly. Her cold finger pressed beneath my chin, forcing me to raise my head. My blue eyes met her intimidating green gaze. "Good. I think I'll try a different strategy this time. Come with me," she ordered, and a sense of dread twisted in my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the stares from the other women in the line. Bitter glares filled with jealousy, anger, envy. Nothing good. That much was certain. "Listen carefully, Valeria. You're going to be King Aldric's personal maid," she dropped the bombshell casually, as if it were nothing, walking toward the other side of the kitchen. "Do you know how to cook, iron, organize a man’s things, his clothes, and so on?" "Y-yes, ma'am. But… I don’t think I'm the right choice for the position. Perhaps someone more—" "It's not optional," she cut me off, turning abruptly. "You either accept it, or you leave. I don't need a floor cleaner right now. I need a maid for the King. Understood?" I had no choice but to nod. Sometimes, I forgot that this harsh woman had saved my life. Though, honestly, I still didn’t know why—especially now that she was sending me straight into the Lycan's den. "Memorize everything I'm about to say. The King wakes up at… He doesn’t like… Prefers it this way… And his meals are only prepared by the cook from this section. Make sure it’s always her… And you must taste it before serving him." She paced through the kitchen, the laundry area, practically the entire service zone, listing the King's preferences and dislikes. I followed, my brain nearly short-circuiting from the overwhelming information. I need to write all this down later! "Alright. You'll deliver his first breakfast now. Do exactly as I tell you,” she said, placing a silver tray full of covered dishes in my hands. "And Valeria… remember, head down. Stay invisible. You're nothing but a piece of furniture." "And I trust you haven't forgotten the scene from your first day here. If you try anything against the King, believe me, he was merciful with that woman." Her warning made me swallow hard as I nodded. I didn’t consider myself a coward, but it felt like I was marching straight to the gallows as I climbed the forbidden stairs, moving through the dim candlelit corridors leading to the Guardian leader's quarters. I reached the only door in this wing—an enormous wooden door with intricate carvings—and tried to recall every instruction. "Don't knock at this hour. Go straight inside." So, I did. Balancing the tray carefully, I twisted the heavy doorknob. Step by step, I entered the den of the big bad wolf, avoiding unnecessary glances around. I immediately noticed the large wooden table at the center, the dim lighting, and I focused on setting the breakfast properly. But then I heard it—and smelled it. The scent of lust. Through my bangs, I glanced toward a black door, slightly ajar. Muffled female moans seeped through, despite being closed. More than one woman’s voice. The rhythmic sound of something hitting a wall echoed. Maybe the bed—I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. The most important rule: head down, stay invisible. Don't speak. Don't look. Don't listen. I was so focused on remembering every detail of his preferences, circling the table, that I didn’t even notice when the sounds stopped. "Who are you?" a dominant voice behind me made me flinch. My trembling fists tightened, and I turned, staring down at the gray rug. "Your Majesty, my name is Valeria. I am your new maid," I managed without stuttering. A massive shadow loomed over me, every instinct screaming danger, run—but I stood firm as he placed a finger beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. I expected disgust at my scarred face. Instead, I saw fierce, intimidating gray eyes studying me—so captivating they resembled lethal steel. "Where's your inner wolf?" he asked, frowning. How had he noticed with just one glance? "I… I’m not entirely sure, sir. I suffered a traumatic experience before I turned eighteen, and her spirit never appeared. But… I can shift into my wolf form. Others say it's a curse." I added quickly, half-expecting to be dismissed on my first day. Scarred, cursed—what a perfect maid. "Is that why your face hasn't healed?" he asked, his voice calm but piercing. "I suppose so, sir. My healing is… slower than others." He said nothing, but his intense scrutiny made my skin crawl. Did I say the wrong thing? I avoided lingering on his rugged features, but it was becoming clear why so many women risked losing their heads just for a night in his bed. Aldric Thorne was a man built for sin. A towering figure, nearly two meters tall, with a powerful, scarred body, bold and commanding. Muscular, rough, impossibly attractive. And despite his icy aura, his long shoulder-length hair was deep crimson, just like his short beard—like fire, like blood he could spill without flinching. "I don't care about your peculiarities, but I do expect you to have understood the rules clearly because I won't tolerate disobedience or tricks," he warned me, his voice dangerously low and guttural. I nodded, swallowing hard. "Yes, your maje—" "And call me Sir. I don't like that Your Majesty nonsense," he clarified, finally releasing me and walking toward the other side of the room. I exhaled, realizing I had been holding my breath the entire time. Yet, I could still catch that scent lingering from his skin, something like aged wine—rich, and intoxicating. Could it be some cologne? I couldn't detect the pheromones of werewolves like others could. "They'll be here soon to collect those women. Make sure they leave and clean up everything," he ordered without even sparing me a glance, then disappeared through a door leading to what seemed like another room. I remained standing there in the dim light, frozen for a moment. Then, clenching my fists, I gathered my resolve and moved to deal with his lovers still in bed. I opened the door and stared in shock at the chaotic scene inside. The room was dimly lit, clothes strewn across the floor, and in the center, three women lay sprawled. The heavy scent filled the air, making it hard to breathe. "Umm… ladies, it's time to leave," I said softly, but none of them reacted, their eyes shut as if completely oblivious. They looked exhausted, their bodies marked with bites, bruises, and a mess of fluids staining their thighs. "The King ordered you to leave. You need to—" "Shut up, you annoying brat!" snarled the blonde lying in the middle of the two brunettes, even throwing a pillow at me, which I narrowly dodged. Well, they still have some energy left, it seems. Okay, this wasn’t going as smoothly as I had imagined, and they were already settling back down as if planning to sleep there. Aren't they uncomfortable covered in all that… stuff? But I couldn't fail my first task. I knew he had done this on purpose—to test me. I headed to the bathroom, filled a basin with cold water, and placed it near the bed. Rolling up my sleeves, exposing my pale arms, I then walked over to the massive crimson curtains, grabbed the heavy fabric, and yanked them open with force. "Aaaahh! Close it, right now! Close the curtain!" they screeched like the possessed, even though the sky was overcast. The sun never really shone brightly here—this land was always cloaked in thick fog. Grabbing the basin, I lifted it and—splash! —drenched them in icy water to snap them out of it. "Have you lost your damn mind, maid?!" C5 THE KING'S MAID VALERIA "Aahh, it’s horrible, she’s deformed!" "You’re just jealous, that’s why you want to keep us away from the King!" "The Lord has said you must leave now," I repeated impassively, while they hurled insults at me. But I felt nothing—not cold, not heat. I thought about how to get them out since, weakened or not, there were three of them and only one of me. Just then, loud knocks echoed from the side door leading to the hallway, a door I hadn’t even noticed before. It had to be the person sent to remove them from the castle. I walked over and opened it, revealing two sturdy servants who entered without a word. The women began to resist, screaming that their bodies were only for the King, threatening that our heads would roll. I didn’t need to be here long to see through their lies. That man had used them like disposable objects and was now discarding them like trash. The blonde rushed toward the door leading to the dining hall, but I stepped in front of her, standing firm and blocking her way. "Have some dignity and leave already. The King has ordered it. Don’t risk dying." "I want him to tell me himself! Last night, he showed me otherwise! Get out of my way!" she lunged at me, baring her fangs. I defended myself, grabbing her arms mid-air as we struggled. Her long claws scratched me in her fury, and I knew I could control her because, right now, she was weak. This she-wolf was stronger than me—honestly, anyone was stronger than me. With the help of the servants, we managed to drag the last crazed woman out of the room. I shut the door, breathing heavily. "Quite the first day on the job," I muttered in resignation, staring at the disaster I now had to clean. * I wiped the sweat from my forehead, taking a moment to catch my breath, surveying the nearly tidy room. The worst part was the bed. Even after removing the dirty sheets, I had gone overboard with the water. So, I thought of pushing the mattress closer to the window to let it air out and catch some sun. "Mmnn," I grunted, yanking at the heavy king-size mattress, my hands trembling. I doubted I could move it. I kept struggling when— "How many centuries does it take you to organize a room?" His voice startled me—I hadn’t heard him enter. I turned to apologize, but a wrong step, my nerves, and apparently a sticky substance I’d left on the floor caused me to lose my balance and fall forward. By instinct, I grabbed onto the first thing I could, falling to my knees with my eyes shut tight. Something had slipped from my hands, and now another thing, thick, brushed against my nose. A dark, musky, intoxicating scent assaulted my senses. When I opened my eyes again and saw the sight before me, I wished I could die right there without needing him to kill me. In my hands was a black towel—I assumed it had been around the King's hips—and I was on my knees, clutching his powerful thighs, with a massive, veiny member right in front of my wide eyes. «Girl, this could make you cry» was the first thing that crossed my mind in my nervous breakdown. And to think it was only half... not even Dorian’s compared in detail. "Should I fetch a tape measure so you can size it up too?" His cold voice snapped me out of my frozen state. Terrified, I raised my gaze to see him completely naked, in all his glory, his burgundy hair loose and tousled, damp from the shower, and I could swear his gray eyes held a mocking glint. "Your Majesty, I’m so sorry! Please, spare the life of this humble servant who doesn’t deserve your mercy!" I threw myself to the ground, pressing my forehead against the hard surface, begging him. What I had done was unforgivable. By the Goddess, I had even stayed there... staring at it. His threatening shadow loomed over my trembling body. I clenched my eyes shut, bracing for the end. "I’ll leave right away... I beg you... I’ll leave the castle... please..." "I don’t have the patience to find a new servant every day. You leave when I decide so. Now get up." His deep voice rumbled close to my ear, and I felt him tugging at the towel I still clutched in my hands. I released it immediately, sweat trailing down my back as my entire body trembled. "Besides, if you’re going to serve me, it won’t be the last time you see it. It’s not a big deal. Come to the dining room," he added before his bare footsteps echoed away from the room. Swallowing nervously, I stood on shaky legs. «Come on, Valeria, focus, please. » "Try the breakfast," he ordered, gesturing to the food set on the table. He sat, dominating the large chair, observing my every move. I picked up the fork and cut a small piece from each dish, tasting everything bite by bite. "If something is not to your liking, I can ask the kitchen to—" "That won’t be necessary. Everything’s fine," he interrupted and then fell silent. I kept my gaze on the floor, unsure of what he was waiting for, frantically reviewing every rule in my mind. "Do you think I’m a savage who eats with his hands?" "What? No, no, Your Maj... Sir..." I quickly lifted my gaze and saw him glancing at the fork still in my hand. Holy Goddess, I had covered the only utensil with saliva! The housekeeper hadn’t mentioned I had to taste the food here too! "I... I’ll get another, I’m so sorry—" "You seem to apologize well," he said as he took the fork from my hand. "It’s dirty, I... I ate with it—" I didn’t finish because he wiped it with a napkin and began eating calmly. I stepped back, standing in the corner, awaiting his orders. Through my bangs, I occasionally stole glances at him. He looked relaxed wearing just the towel, eating and reviewing some documents beside him. No matter what the Lycan King did, his aggressive aura filled the entire space, demanding only obedience and submission. This was my new master. And honestly, I was starting to wonder if I’d be better off running far away from this castle... and this pack. Aldric Thorne was the most dangerous thing I could have crossed paths with. *** Days passed, and despite my rookie mistakes, I managed to survive. The Lord wasn’t constantly present at the castle either—he often traveled between packs or faced dangerous situations. I hadn’t even seen the other “Guardians” until one morning. "Phew, I honestly don’t know how you handle the pressure and temptation," said Juliette. She was the only staff member who had approached me. An extroverted, cheerful girl. I didn’t consider her a friend, though—I'd never trust a woman like that again. But at least her chatter kept me entertained. We were walking through the underground corridor carrying laundry baskets when a side door leading to one of the many training gyms opened. A massive Lycan emerged. I knew by the powerful aura he projected. We immediately lowered our heads, waiting for him to pass, but his steps approached us instead. "Are these clean towels?" asked a strong but calm male voice. "Yes, yes, Sir," I answered, realizing I was the one carrying them. I glanced up for a second. Enchanting golden eyes stared back at me. I quickly lowered my gaze to the carpet and handed him a towel, but as he reached out, our fingers brushed for a moment. His touch was warm. Despite being intimidating, this Lycan projected a protective aura—not as sharp and wild as the King's. "I’m sorry... I’m so sorry—" "Relax, it’s fine. Thank you," he replied, taking the towel and walking away down the hallway. And then I dared to look at his back. Blond hair, massive like all Lycans, powerful, his muscular, sweaty back glistening, dressed in black combat gear. It seemed like he had been training. For some reason, the combination of his eyes and hair reminded me a bit of Dorian. I didn’t want to remember him at all, but the mind could be a traitor. He had been the first—and only—man I’d loved. "Right? He’s so handsome! I mean, they’re all attractive and hot, but for me, the best ones are the King and Guardian Quinn... Though the King, ugh, that man is pure fire. I’m torn—what do you think, Valeria? Would you prefer the King or Quinn?" Before I could scold her for talking so carelessly, her face turned pale, staring behind me in panic. A powerful presence pressed against my back, hot breath brushing against my ear. "I’d like to know too, Valeria. Who would you prefer? And why did you let another man touch what’s mine?" The basket in my hands begins to tremble along with my hands. I'm done for. And even though I know he’s talking about the towels, for some reason, it feels like he’s talking about me. "Ss… Sir..." "Get out!" he ordered Juliette, who looked at me for a second with guilt but had no choice but to flee almost running. I remained with my back to him. Could I run too? "I'm still waiting, Valeria. Tell me, are you unhappy with the position you were given? Would you prefer to be Quinn's personal maid instead? Turn around!"	LEARN_MORE	https://befant.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=18151&u	Galaxy in the Story	https://www.facebook.com/61555427913037/	2,414	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	befant.com	VIDEO		https://befant.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=18151&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/t39.35426-6/476466315_9277115289001531_2722867936871916318_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=nVRs-h0CK00Q7kNvgG_a5P3&_nc_oc=AdiDirw2Vdl66-h_v5K8Bows5DyyXzjQj_RtvKkogYGfXTzmb2JNYFdNI06w0RssKtM&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ar761Qi1d1zhgwY7u7VGJsV&oh=00_AYAZZx-wN9BWicXvLmLSWCom5eQstRISocDDTfnVxEvDsg&oe=67C2F592	PERSON_PROFILE	Galaxy in the Story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,690,389	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623		GIVEAWAY ALERT! 🔥 Win the CT3 Pro Headphones. Beat You Can Feel.🎶 👇 1️⃣Follow us @blitzrock_official 2️⃣Like this post 3️⃣Tag 2 friends US, DE, FR only. Ends on 02/27/2025. Two winners will be announced via an Instagram post and story on 02/28/2025. The final interpretation right belongs to Blitzrock. Not sponsored or endorsed by Instagram/Facebook. Join now! 👏GOOD LUCK! #Blitzrock #CT3pro #headphone #NewProduct #tech #MusicLovers #Comfort #PerfectSound #Sport #Giveaway	SHOP_NOW	https://www.instagram.com/blitzrock_official/	Blitzrock	https://www.facebook.com/blitzrock.official/	2,322	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop now	instagram.com	IMAGE		https://www.instagram.com/blitzrock_official/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480633911_1196057928784200_2724730190079026986_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=d3YPu9vFmc4Q7kNvgH2HlmH&_nc_oc=AdiwM64FETqpjJmGeOHw_SmvNYaLXXc-g-h0v_hgT61fd19mbm9QPLIHihAHEm93pAkoAV4z4i4b44El4EH7e48A&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AfkSbQe7ctmJAkqKbZ5GDhG&oh=00_AYADm-_CLjuIKK3P3naCb6pk1oPbNdIjBVNt7Pu2bMLqFA&oe=67C2F4FE	PERSON_PROFILE	Blitzrock	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,691,541	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691522}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	😍Read the next chapters👉	In Merika State, the two of them lay close together on the hotel bed. As their passion grew, Justin Yates’s husky voice, filled with allure, murmured, “Em, how about having a child with me?” Caught up in the moment, Emily Yates replied without thinking. It wasn’t until they were lying together afterward that she remembered what he had said. “A child?” she repeated, a trace of intimacy lingering in her eyes. The look stirred Justin’s desire again. She was a constant temptation to him. Pushing those thoughts aside, he pulled out a ring and slipped it onto her left hand. “Are you proposing to me?” she asked. “Yes.” “Can I finally have your child now?” Justin asked, smiling. His eyes were warm, but there was no love in them, as if he were gazing past her, waiting for someone else’s answer. “I’ll give you plenty,” she replied, momentarily surprised. Proposing in bed wasn’t exactly romantic or formal, but she didn’t mind. She had waited three years for this moment, and it was worth it. Three years ago, she had been injured near the beach, hitting her head on a rock. When she woke up, she had no memory. Justin had saved her. The first thing she saw when she woke was his face, and one look left her captivated. Later, she learned that Justin had paid her hospital bills. She also learned of his identity. He was the CEO of RC Corporation. He proposed that she be his contract lover, and without hesitation, she agreed. They signed an agreement, defining their relationship, and he gave her the name Emily Yates. Yes, she was drawn to his looks. Despite their arrangement, the past three years felt like any other relationship. In the first year, she was a hidden lover. In the second, he introduced her as his girlfriend to his circle. Now, with three years approaching, he was proposing. Once she was part of his social circle, she heard whispers about a woman who had been his first love, someone he cherished deeply in college. She had disappeared without a trace, and he had been searching for her ever since. Over the years, Justin had lost hope she was still alive. That was why he finally proposed. Emily didn’t mind. Everyone has a past. Looking at the diamond ring on her left ring finger, she felt like it had all been worth it. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. Justin was showering. Calming down, Emily wrapped a towel around herself and got out of bed to pick up their scattered clothes. A soft clink echoed as something hit the floor. It was Justin’s cardholder. She bent down to pick it up, and a photo slipped out. It was old, with frayed edges, as if it had been looked at countless times. The woman in the photo looked like her but younger, just how she would have looked three years ago. Emily didn’t remember ever taking this photo, but she had lost her memory. Maybe she had forgotten. She was just about to put the cardholder back when a large, slender hand appeared, taking it from her. Justin emerged from the bathroom, his hair still damp and falling over his eyes, now tinged with a hint of displeasure. “Don’t touch my things,” he said coldly, his tone a sharp contrast to the intimacy they had just shared. Turning away from her, he put the cardholder back in his briefcase, his whole demeanor suddenly distant and guarded. Emily froze. Was he really getting defensive over a photo? She looked at him, confused. Wasn’t that her old picture? Before she could ask, Justin seemed to realize that his reaction had been out of line. He turned back and grasped her chin. With a playful glint in his eye, he ran his thumb over her still-swollen lips, toying with them. His voice was cool, devoid of warmth, but his words were deeply suggestive, clearly aiming to change the subject. “We’re going to be late for the art exhibit. If you rather stay here, I wouldn’t mind going another round.” Her cheeks flushed at his teasing, and she gently pushed him away. Her thoughts were scattered, and she quickly forgot about the photo. Justin had come to Merika State on business and had received an invitation to an art exhibition by Haley Quinn. He brought Emily along, planning to take her to the show once his work was done. Haley, a painter who had withdrawn from the public eye three years ago, rarely held exhibitions, making this one a rare event. Emily dressed quickly, while Justin had already changed into a fresh suit. The gallery was close to the hotel, so they walked there. Arm in arm, they strolled down the street, enjoying the perfect atmosphere. Just as Emily felt an overwhelming sense of happiness, Justin suddenly stopped. “Justin, what’s wrong?” She followed his gaze. Across the street, a disheveled woman, her clothes too dirty to recognize their original color, was recklessly crossing the traffic, oblivious to the danger. The woman pushed Emily aside and wrapped her arms tightly around Justin’s waist. She sobbed uncontrollably, gasping for air. “Justin, I finally found you. You came looking for me, didn’t you?” Emily stumbled from the shove, the bright sunlight momentarily blinding her. The woman looked eerily familiar. She resembled the one in the photo from the cardholder and, in a way, even looked like Emily herself. “Emma? Is that really you?” Justin’s voice trembled, his eyes locked onto the woman in his arms, as if afraid she might disappear again. Just moments ago, he had proposed to Emily. Now, right there in the street, he held another woman. He gently wiped away the woman’s tears with a tenderness so delicate, as if afraid of breaking something precious. “Yes, it’s me,” the woman sobbed, nodding desperately. Frail as she was, she clung to him. Justin was known for his fastidiousness and love of cleanliness, but he now held her tightly. He was soothing her with gentle words, as if she were a lost treasure he had finally recovered. He was afraid that even the slightest rough movement might hurt her. They seemed oblivious to everything around them, including Emily. Justin seemed to have forgotten Emily was still there. The woman in his arms had cried herself into unconsciousness. He took off his expensive jacket and draped it over her. He then slipped his arms under her knees and held her tightly as he carried her back toward the hotel. Emily stood there, feeling like an outsider. Her arm still ached from where she had been shoved, and she could still feel the warmth of Justin’s touch lingering around her waist. Just minutes ago, he had been tangled up with her in bed, proposing marriage. Now, he was leaving her in the middle of the street, carrying a woman who seemed to come out of nowhere. He had tossed aside his usual grace, holding this woman, who looked like a beggar, and rushed back to the hotel. The people around them pointed and whispered, like they were watching some sort of spectacle. Emily wanted to follow him, but her first step faltered. She steadied herself against a nearby building, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window. Her flawless makeup now showed a hint of disarray. Chapter 2 Tears had fallen without her noticing, smudging the fresh makeup around her eyes. Emily glanced down at the diamond ring on her left hand, a sense of foreboding spreading through her. The sudden appearance of this woman might shatter the happiness she had been waiting for. She couldn’t just stand here. She had to know who this woman was. After a moment to gather herself, she headed back to the hotel. The plane flew from Merika State back to Haven State. At Lichfield Hospital, Emily stood at the door of a hospital room, arms crossed, trying to see inside through the window. Justin’s friend, Zac White, the director of Lichfield Hospital, along with other doctors, were examining the restless woman on the hospital bed. Two female nurses held her steady as they conducted their checks. On the plane, her face had already been cleaned, and she had been given fresh clothes. “Emma Xander? Hasn’t she... disappeared for the past four years?” Zac was shocked. Where had Justin found her? The Yates and White families had pulled every string they could to find Emma, but after four years with no trace, they had finally given up. And now, here she was. After completing their examination, the doctors and nurses left the room. A heavy silence fell over the space. A moment later, Justin’s voice seemed to echo from a distance as he gazed at the woman, now sound asleep after a sedative. “How is she doing?” “She’s malnourished, traumatized, and a bit disoriented, but otherwise fine. She just needs some time to recover.” Justin stood by her bedside, clearly prepared to stay with her. Zac hesitated, wanting to say something, but thought better of it and left the room. He opened the door to find Emily waiting outside. Feeling awkward for his friend, Zac adjusted his silver-framed glasses and greeted her with a polite smile. “Hi, Miss Yates.” Emily nodded in acknowledgment. “Dr. White, what’s her name? And what is her relationship with Justin?” she asked bluntly, desperate to know who this woman was. Zac hesitated, uncertain how to explain that Emma was Justin’s long-lost first love. This was his friend’s private matter, after all, and not his to reveal. Before he could find the words, Justin opened the door and saw them standing outside. He frowned, clearly displeased. “Didn’t I tell you to go home? Why are you still here?” Justin’s voice dripped with disdain and impatience, as if his irritation had taken on a life of its own. Emily stood her ground, unafraid. She needed answers. “You proposed to me in Merika State just 16 hours ago, but now you’re holding another woman and completely ignoring me. And you’re not even coming home? Staying out all night?” “Stop being unreasonable. Leave. Now,” he ordered, his voice cold and commanding, his gaze on her as though she were an unruly employee who had crossed the line. Seeing Justin’s dark expression, Zac stepped in, concerned that Emily might end up on the losing side of this argument. When Justin was angry, it rarely boded well for anyone. “It’s late. Let me arrange a car to take Miss Yates home,” Zac offered, trying to ease the tension. Emily, however, refused Zac’s offer. She wasn’t leaving without answers. “You think I’m being unreasonable? I’m your fiancée. You left me on the street in a foreign country to carry another woman away without a second thought. Did you ever consider how I felt? “I’ll go, but only if you leave the hospital with me. There are doctors and nurses here to care for that woman. Right now, you’re coming home with me.” Desperate, Emily reached out to grab Justin’s arm. But before she could make contact, her arm was blocked by Justin’s personal bodyguard, William Carter. Emily was stunned, unable to believe what she was seeing. It felt as though her heart was being torn in two. Justin had always been there for her, always caring, always the first to pick up her calls, no matter if he was in a meeting or on a business trip. If she ever needed him, he would show up immediately. If she couldn’t be reached, he would search the whole city until he found her. But now, with this woman in the hospital room, he wouldn’t even let her near him? “What do you mean by this?” Emily’s voice trembled, mirroring the unease in her heart. Justin didn’t respond. He stared at her with cold, detached eyes, as if she were a stranger and not the fiancée he had just proposed to. Time seemed to stretch, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, he spoke, his words sharp and emotionless. “Don’t be childish.” Childish? Once, he had said he loved how she depended on him, how she claimed him for herself. And now he was calling her childish? “If you want to stay here with her, then what about our marriage? You proposed to me just today!” Emily’s heart ached, squeezing painfully in her chest. She knew it wasn’t the right moment to bring this up, but she couldn’t accept the idea that her future husband would spend the night in the hospital with another woman. Zac stood nearby, listening in shock. Marriage? Had Justin really proposed to Emily? And what about Emma in the hospital room? Justin glanced over his shoulder, worried that the woman asleep in the hospital bed might hear them and wake up. Emily noticed the concern in his eyes. It was an expression she had seen many times when he had worried about her. But now, that look was for someone else. He turned back to Emily, his voice still icy. “If you don’t want to get married, we can call it off. This isn’t the place for your drama. William, have the driver take her home.” He didn’t like being threatened, especially when it came to his marriage. Without another glance at her, he opened the door to the hospital room and went back inside. William stepped forward, maintaining his respectful tone. “Miss Yates, please don’t make this difficult for me. It’s time for you to go home.” Zac looked at Emily with sympathy. “Miss Yates, it’s late. Maybe it’s best to talk things over with Justin another time.” But how could they ever discuss this again? Her fiancé had just left her humiliated, choosing to stay with another woman without a care for her dignity. The hospital hallway lights felt harsh, blinding her with their brightness. Realizing that staying there made her look like a fool, Emily decided she wouldn’t let herself be a spectacle for others to watch. Clenching her purse tightly, Emily turned to leave. As she took a step, her vision blurred, and she nearly collapsed. Both Zac and William rushed to steady her, their grip gentlemanly but firm. “I’ll walk you to the car,” Zac offered. Leaning against the wall, Emily took a moment to steady herself, then shook her head. “I’m fine. I can get back on my own.” Her footsteps wobbled as she walked down the hallway, but she managed to keep her head high until she was out of their sight. After returning to the hospital room, Justin glanced down at Emma, who lay pale and frail on the bed. A strange weight settled in his chest, and the pervasive smell of antiseptic only added to his irritation. He tugged at his shirt collar, unbuttoning the top two buttons, but the air still felt suffocating. He stepped back out into the hallway, finding Zac and William waiting there. Emily was gone. “She left?” he asked, visibly more at ease now that she was no longer around. He didn’t want her disturbing Emma’s rest. “Yes, she’s gone,” Zac replied, hands in the pockets of his lab coat, nodding. With both of them standing there, Justin didn’t bother asking how Emily had left. “I’m stepping out for a break,” he said. Chapter 3 “So, Emma Xander’s back. What are you going to do?” Zac asked, breaking the silence. He didn’t mention Emily, but they both knew what he meant. One woman was the college sweetheart, the first love who had once saved Justin’s life. The other was the girlfriend who had been with him for three years, sharing his most intimate moments, and now, his fiancée. After a long pause, Justin replied, his voice cold and detached. “She was just a stand-in. She could never compare to Emma.” He went on, his tone utterly indifferent, as if he hadn’t been the one to propose to Emily in Merika State. “The role of Mrs. Yates will never be hers. It can only belong to Emma.” In a way, Emily had saved him the trouble of saying it himself when she had brought up their marriage in the hallway. Zac and Justin had been close friends since childhood, both growing up in privileged families, each carrying a bit of that self-centered mindset typical of their social circle. But this time, Zac couldn’t help feeling sorry for Emily. Emily, though an orphan with no family or wealth, was straightforward and honest. Over the past three years, she had complemented Justin perfectly, and in Zac’s eyes, they had seemed genuinely happy together. On the other hand, considering how long Emma had been abroad, it wasn’t hard to guess what she might have gone through. Zac didn’t care about things like V-card or a woman’s past, but he had always found Emma to be somewhat pretentious. Even back in college, she often disregarded Justin’s concerns, running off on her own without a second thought. After graduation, she mysteriously vanished during an overseas reunion party organized by a close group of alumni. Despite mobilizing every possible connection, they never found her. Even the police suggested they give up, implying that a young woman disappearing overseas was likely gone for good. At that time, Justin hadn’t fully taken over the company and wasn’t yet experienced in handling crises like these. Around the same time, his father, Henry Yates, was in a car accident and died despite emergency treatment. After the funeral, Justin was suddenly thrust into the dual responsibilities of inheriting the company and fending off his uncle, Harry Yates, who was trying to seize control. Thanks to his grandfather’s intervention, Justin managed to stabilize the corporation. By then, the critical window to find Emma had long passed, and any chance of finding her had all but disappeared. Zac clearly remembered how Justin had been consumed with frustration and self-blame during those days. And then Emily had come into his life, bringing him some peace. For that, Zac was truly grateful to her. “Emily’s been with you for three years,” Zac said, trying to speak up for her. “She’s an orphan, with no one else in the world. Isn’t it a bit cruel to treat her like this?” “Then I’ll keep her around,” Justin replied casually, brushing it off like it was no big deal. “But marriage? That’s not going to happen.” His tone was so offhanded, as if having another woman around didn’t matter at all. He didn’t see a problem with it. Keep her around? Really? Was he expecting her to stay hidden away as his stand-in lover, someone he kept out of sight? A mistress? A side piece? Emily didn’t leave the hospital right away. She sat on a bench behind the flower bed, letting the cold night air wash over her. She hadn’t expected to find out the truth like this. It turned out she was only here because she happened to look almost exactly like his lost one true love. And since she had lost her memory, he saw the perfect opportunity to mold her into the image of the woman he truly missed, hiding the truth from her and using her as a substitute. All the affection and indulgence he had shown her, it was never really for her. It was for the woman he had lost. Emma Xander. So that was her name, the one he had loved all his life. That was why he named her Emily, a name that allowed him to keep calling out for the one he had always loved. Even in their most intimate moments, he would call her “Em.” Whenever he whispered “Em” in that deep, seductive voice, full of passion, she would lose herself completely, sinking further into him. It turned out he was simply looking at her face and calling out another woman’s name all along. It dawned on her that the photo in Justin’s wallet must have been of Emma, not her. She had foolishly assumed the woman in that picture was herself. What a joke. From start to finish, Justin had shaped her into the image of his hidden love, his one true love. And she had naively believed that she had won him over, making him fall in love with her. In truth, she was nothing more than a piece in their story. Emily felt her heart plunge from a mountaintop to the depths of despair. She had gone from being a proud fiancée to a hidden stand-in, a shadow. She had liked, maybe even loved Justin. But her pride couldn’t accept that she had been someone else’s replacement all along, or that she was now the secret other woman. Resolved to leave, she felt a small sense of relief that Justin had only proposed. They weren’t married yet, and breaking up would be far easier than going through a divorce. For a moment, she felt grateful for Emma’s sudden appearance. “Miss Yates, where are you?” the driver called, stepping out of the car after waiting a while. “I’m here.” Emily pulled herself from her thoughts, putting on her usual calm expression. “Is it just you? Where’s Mr. Yates?” he asked. “He’s not coming back.” Emily rose from the bench by the flower bed and walked back to the car with the driver. She wore a cream-colored, knee-length dress in a sweet, innocent style. As an artist, she was open to trying any look, but it was Justin who had said he liked this style. So, for the past three years, she had dressed this way for him. The spring breeze brushed her bare calves, sending a chill through her. Zac looked a bit uncomfortable, “Emily didn’t leave?” So, she had heard everything they had said. Justin’s tone was just as indifferent, cold, and unfeeling. “Good. Let her hear it. She needs to know her place and avoid causing any more scenes like tonight.” With that, he turned and walked away from the garden, completely unfazed by the fact that Emily had overheard him. Emily sat quietly during the ride back to Villa One. Mrs. Zimmer greeted her at the door, her face lighting up warmly after a few days apart. “You’re back! It must’ve been tiring, traveling with Mr. Yates.” Emily nodded wearily, barely acknowledging her. “Yes.” “Where’s Mr. Yates?” Mrs. Zimmer glanced behind her, looking for Justin. “He won’t be back tonight.” Emily’s voice was detached, as if his return made no difference to her. Mrs. Zimmer looked slightly disappointed at first, but then her face lit up with a knowing smile, the kind that came from having seen a lot in life. She took Emily’s suitcase and gently urged her to go get some rest in the bedroom. Once inside, Emily understood Mrs. Zimmer’s smile. The room was dimly lit, with candles arranged at various heights, casting a soft, romantic glow. Flowers and scented candles adorned the surfaces, and a bottle of champagne sat open on the table. Even the usual heavy gray curtains had been replaced with delicate lace, adding an air of intimacy. The bed was covered in thick rose petals, the entire room transformed into a romantic setting. Clearly, this had been Justin’s arrangement before their trip. Exhausted, Emily didn’t have the energy to clean up, and it was too late to bother Mrs. Zimmer. Chapter 4 Emily found the remote to turn on the lights, then looked for something handy to snuff out each candle one by one. Afterward, she retrieved her nightgown from the closet and headed for a shower. As she walked into the bathroom, she noticed the ring still on her left hand. She slipped it off and tossed it into the corner of her jewelry box. When she returned to the bedroom, she brushed all the rose petals off the bed and settled under the covers, pulling them over her head. She instinctively lay on the left side of the bed, where she was used to sleeping. Justin would always hold her close, gradually shifting over to the left with her until they were practically glued together. Now, the right side of the bed was glaringly empty. To fill the space, she scooted to the center, tossing the extra pillow onto the floor, finally feeling comfortable. She turned off the lights and went to sleep. Two days passed without any word from Justin. He was likely at the hospital with Emma or busy with work. Emily didn’t care and hadn’t reached out, maintaining a complete radio silence. The morning sun was bright, and the spring breeze was warm as she lounged on a deck chair in the villa’s garden, enjoying a face mask. Her mind wandered to practical matters. She had spent some time reviewing the contract she signed three years ago to be Justin’s “contract lover.” It was set to expire automatically after three years, which was now less than four months away. When it ended, she would receive a payout of twenty million. Between that, and the allowance and holiday bonuses he had given her over the years, she had saved nearly six million. She had barely spent any of it, so it was all tucked away. It seemed she would be in decent shape financially, and finding a job after leaving wouldn’t be too hard. As for a place to live, she could buy a similarly sized home, and maybe invite Helen to move in as a roommate. It would be nice to have company. She did regret not being able to take Mrs. Zimmer with her. If she could, it would be perfect. The phone on the coffee table buzzed, interrupting her thoughts. Emily picked it up, unlocked it with her fingerprint, and a new message notification popped up at the top of the screen. She tapped to open it. It was from her friend, Helen Walker. They had met a year ago while shopping, when Helen insisted on becoming friends after seeing her just once. With no memory of any past friendships, Emily had found Helen easy to talk to, and they had gradually become close. “How was your time in Merika State? When are you coming back?” Helen had attached a mischievous emoji with a smirk. “I’m already back.” “Already? That was quick.” “I thought Justin looked strong. Guess he didn’t last long? Not up to it?” “Not just ‘not up to it’. He can’t even get started.” Emily replied, seizing the chance to curse him. On the other end, Helen raised an eyebrow. It looked like Justin had managed to tick off her friend. But she wasn’t too concerned as they had argued before. Couples fought, and it usually blew over. “Perfect timing then. I’m heading to the TC Mall in a bit to stock up on some new clothes. Let’s hit the mall together and grab some food afterward. Get ready and meet me there.” “Sounds good. I’ll see you at the mall.” Emily agreed readily. She had spent the past couple of days clearing out the sweet, youthful clothes she didn’t like. Her wardrobe could use a refresh. She put down the phone and washed off her face mask. Glancing at the nearly empty wardrobe, she picked out a casual athletic outfit and did a quick, simple makeup look. Fresh and tidy, she got ready to head out. “Mrs. Zimmer, I’m meeting a friend to go shopping. I’ll have lunch out,” Emily said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, Miss Yates. Will you be back for dinner?” Mrs. Zimmer, who was supervising the housekeeper’s cleaning, looked up to ask. Emily paused while slipping on her shoes, thinking about how unpredictable Helen could be and that they hadn’t seen each other in a while. She might not be back for dinner. “Not sure yet. I’ll text you later if I’ll be back in time.” “Understood.” As Emily opened the door, she found Justin’s assistant, Sam Spencer, just about to knock. “Hi, Sam,” she greeted him coolly, planning to step around him to leave. “Hi, Miss Yates. Mr. Yates has a flight out of town this afternoon for a business trip. Could I trouble you to help pack his things before you go?” Sam’s tone was respectful, as usual. Emily didn’t move. “Mrs. Zimmer, Justin’s going on a trip. Could you please help with his packing?” “Miss Yates, this…?” Sam’s face showed confusion. “What? Before I came along, didn’t Justin have someone to handle his luggage?” Her expression was calm, her tone light. “Of course. You’re absolutely right, Miss Yates,” Sam replied, beads of sweat forming as he carefully balanced his response, not daring to offend either side. In the past, Emily had always packed for Justin’s business trips. She had done it so many times that she knew exactly what he would need for any occasion. But now, she had no desire to continue. He had used her as a stand-in, and every time he watched her pack his bags, he must have thought she looked foolish. Three years. Now that she thought back, there had been plenty of strange looks and behaviors from Justin that she hadn’t picked up on. She had been utterly blind. But she wouldn’t be foolish anymore. Emily was ready to leave, but Sam was blocking the door, preventing her from going. She urged Mrs. Zimmer to hurry with the packing. Mrs. Zimmer quickly filled the suitcase and handed it to Sam, who was waiting in the living room. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had barely passed. That was fast. "Mrs. Zimmer, are you sure it’s all packed? Should we check to make sure nothing’s missing?" he asked cautiously. Emily replied without emotion, “Isn’t the flight at noon? If you keep dragging your feet, he’ll miss it. Besides, anything he needs can be bought over there.” She checked her watch, starting to feel a bit pressed for time. If she delayed much longer, Helen would end up waiting impatiently, and they would miss out on shopping before lunch. And who wanted to try on clothes with a full stomach? “Of course, Miss Yates. I’ll head over to the office to pick up Mr. Yates,” Sam said with a polite smile, making his way out. Emily nodded and headed down to the garage. She chose a white luxury car and drove off. Meanwhile, Sam took the suitcase to the sleek black car parked discreetly by the curb. He placed it in the trunk, then settled into the front passenger seat. The driver, Justin’s bodyguard, William, started the car. But instead of heading to the airport, they were bound for Lichfield Hospital. “How much longer until Emily’s contract is up?” Justin’s voice was calm and emotionless, as if he were discussing a routine business matter. Sam immediately understood that the question was directed at him. He quickly recalled the contract details. “Less than four months, Mr. Yates.” “Draft a new agreement and deliver it to her when the time comes,” Justin instructed. Keeping her around for three years had cost him little, and continuing to support her wasn’t an issue. But he was done with her. He wouldn’t touch her again or return to Villa One. Recalling the scene from the hospital hallway two nights ago, he added without hesitation, “Include a clause that ensures she never shows up in front of Emma again.” Sam was momentarily taken aback but quickly regained his professional composure. “Understood, Mr. Yates.” Chapter 5 People said billionaires were cold and indifferent in their personal lives, switching women as easily as they changed clothes. For the past three years, Mr. Yates had only been with Miss Yates, making him seem like a devoted man. But it looked like he could move on in an instant. Who knew how long Miss Xander would last by his side? Sam had joined the company three years ago, right when Justin took over RC Corporation, so he wasn’t familiar with the complicated history between Emma and Justin. Inside TC Mall, Emily was browsing through clothes, each piece a far cry from her usual sweet and innocent style. “Babe, switching things up?” Helen asked, watching as Emily picked up a long black dress with a slitted hem. It would look stunning on Emily’s curves. Emily held the dress up to herself in the mirror, unfazed. “Yep, time for a change. Do you think this would look better with a shawl or a jacket?” She turned to give Helen a look. “A shawl, definitely. It’ll highlight your figure beautifully,” Helen replied with her usual style advice. “That’s what I thought too.” Helen eyed the dress. “That dress is so feminine. Will your guy even let you wear it out? Doesn’t Justin only let you wear those sweet, innocent schoolgirl outfits?” Helen couldn’t help but mentally criticize Justin’s taste. What kind of fashion sense did he have anyway? A multinational CEO, a man with a grip on the Haven State economy, yet he liked her to dress like a schoolgirl. “His taste doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not something I’m concerned about,” Emily replied casually, completely indifferent. She handed the dress to a fitting assistant with a similar build, having her try it on for her. High-end stores like this one often had staff who modeled the clothes for clients, so she didn’t have to try them on herself. Emily picked out a few more items in different styles for the assistant to model. If she liked them, she would buy them. When she was satisfied with her choices, she scanned her card and paid, then filled out the delivery details for Villa One. The clothes would be sent straight there. After they had finished shopping, they went for lunch. With no one else around, Emily finally shared her situation with Helen that she had been Justin’s stand-in for his one true love. Now that his true love had returned, she was planning to leave him. “That despicable man!” Helen burst out, her emotions flaring. “Keep it down.” Emily quickly covered Helen’s mouth and glanced around to see if anyone at nearby tables was paying attention to them. Helen lowered her voice but was still fuming. “Justin might look put-together, but he’s not even half a man. His first love disappears, so he goes and finds a stand-in? “Why didn’t he just get plastic surgery to look like her? Then he could see her every time he looked in the mirror. “Good for you for walking away. You should break up with him. No! Just breaking up is too good for that pompous human garbage! You need to dump him into the sewers!” LMAO, where did Helen even learn these insults from? Just then, the server brought out a tray with seasoned meats, fresh vegetables, and a variety of salsas. Emily began assembling her own tacos, adding the toppings she liked best. “The contract’s up in four months. I’m planning to buy a place.” “What for? Just stay with me. I’ve got a room for you.” “My address is still tied to Justin’s place. Since I’ve decided to leave, I need a clean break. I’ll need my own place to change everything over,” Emily explained, outlining her plan. Her heart felt numb now, no longer as raw as it had been the night she’d learned the truth in the hospital garden. “Then you can cancel your lease and move in with me! We’ll be family!" Emily suggested excitedly. Helen suppressed the impulse to tell Emily that they were already family. Given Emily's amnesia, she didn’t want to overwhelm her with too much information all at once. Instead, she nodded. “Alright, I’ll move in with you. I’ll start looking around for a place for you. Actually the place I rent now is quite nice. The location and neighborhood are perfect. I’ll check if the landlord’s interested in selling, though it’s a resale property.” “I don’t care if it’s new or used. As long as it’s clean and ready to go, I’m good.” Emily didn’t need much. After leaving the cushy life she had been used to, she was perfectly fine doing things on her own. She found the independence kind of refreshing. After lunch, they picked up some accessories to go with the new outfits, light enough to carry back on her own. Emily said goodbye to Helen and drove back to Villa One. By the time she got back, the clothes she had bought that morning had already been delivered, ironed, and neatly hung in the walk-in closet by the house staff. She hadn’t bought much, just enough to last the next few months and to keep the move as hassle-free as possible. The women’s side of the closet was nearly empty, with only a few of her favorite pieces hanging. She grabbed a new loungewear set to change into and happened to glance over at the men’s side, packed with Justin’s clothes. Emily didn’t linger. She strode past it without a second thought. As she was heading to the bathroom, her phone rang from the sofa. She put down the clothes and picked up the call. “Hello, is this Miss Yates?” “Yes, this is.” “I’m a nurse from Lichfield Hospital. Your health screening results are in. When would be a convenient time for you to come pick them up?” Emily remembered that Justin had taken her for a checkup just before their trip to Merika State. She had forgotten all about it until this call. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning.” “Very well. Have a nice day.” The next day, Emily went to Lichfield Hospital. “Plan to have a baby?” “That’s right. Mr. Yates specifically requested it during his screening. Your health is excellent, Miss Yates. Your ovulation cycle is regular, so we recommend folic acid, Vitamin B1, and plenty of protein. With the right timing and frequency, you should be expecting good news soon.” The doctor adjusted his glasses and smiled warmly. Emily’s fingers tightened around the report, a heavy feeling settling in her chest. She had been trying hard not to think about Justin lately, but this report hit her unexpectedly hard. “Miss Yates, I’ll prescribe you two boxes of folic acid and Vitamin B1. Be sure to take them regularly.” Emily interrupted him, finding an excuse to refuse. “Thanks, doctor, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll get them on my own.” The doctor wasn’t surprised. Wealthy women like her often had access to premium brands from various sources, so declining hospital-prescribed supplements wasn’t unusual. Emily left the hospital in a daze, only coming to her senses when she reached a sunny spot outside. She tossed the health report into the trash bin. With Emma back, Justin clearly had no intention of having children with her. And she certainly didn’t want to give him one, either. It was easier to pretend she didn’t know what the checkup had really been for. Meanwhile, in the hospital’s garden, the spring sunlight was warm and gentle. Justin was pushing Emma’s wheelchair, letting her enjoy the sunshine. “Justin, you’re busy with work. You don’t have to be here with me all the time. I can manage on my own,” Emma said, her voice soft and considerate. “Focus on getting better. Don’t worry about anything else.” Justin felt a deep guilt about Emma’s disappearance, blaming himself for not protecting her better. He believed his negligence had allowed her to be taken and vanish without a trace. Over the past few days, he had tried to gather clues from her about what happened, but whenever he brought it up, she would break down, unable to share any details. Emily hadn’t expected to see Justin at the hospital. Hadn’t Sam said Justin was out of town on a business trip?	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2,693,868	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-25 17:24	active	2628	Read next chapter	It was a contractual marriage for both of them to get what they wanted, yet she fell in love first. But when she was in a life-threatening situation during a fire and needed him the most, he chose to stay by the side of his first love instead. She finally let it go, divorced him, and made a grand comeback as a great screenwriter. ===== "Saved! They've been saved." 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 bre. A flush of embarrassment washed over her as she instinctively clutched her hands over her chst. 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 sen*ality 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 bre?" 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 chst 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. "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 dires. 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 leaned in close to Carrie. 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. 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. The impact of her slp 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. Lise didn't have to lift a finger, and Carrie had already fallen, utterly broken and beyond redemption. Seething with fury, Carrie quaked like a leaf swept into a storm. She had arrived here with nothing but a suitcase and a heart full of dreams, and now she was leaving, dreams crumbled, utterly alone. It was time for her to pursue her acting career and give it her all... ...... ==== It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, but Carrie made the mistake of falling in love with Kristopher. When the time came that she needed him the most, her husband was in the company of another woman. Enough was enough. Carrie chose to divorce Kristopher and move on with her life. Only when she left did Kristopher realize how important she was to him... What happens next? Available chapters here are limited, click the button below to install the App and enjoy more exciting chapters (Automatically jump to this novel when you open the app) &3&	LEARN_MORE	https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-e	Good Story		0	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/65282322-fb_contact-enp26_6-1226-core2.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=638434121690371&rawadid=120218036500960091	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/471564946_601408092260850_8007908270372114864_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=medXl2FZBY0Q7kNvgE01Rg5&_nc_oc=AdhDy76Dxq9cahokLXEmWxSc2yxl395wXu_vaov5AgSZwdiVsIXyN65HbasrCLu7VIA&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A4hSvKlk7DO9vN9I6AMof7q&oh=00_AYDz0iZOTNWDQp3qyFNHtQuv7pXAMBtZsLxVvO-PdPJB1A&oe=67C41D0F	REGULAR_PAGE		1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,691,489	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691498}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	🔥🔥Click to read the next chapter for free👉	I got home after a long day, and my parents were waiting for me in the living room. "Catherine, sit down. We need to talk," my father said, looking quite agitated. "What's going on, Dad?" I asked tiredly. I had worked all day, gone to college at night, and upon getting home, all I wanted was to take a shower and crash into bed. But that wasn't possible. "Catherine, your cousin's wedding invitation has arrived," my mother said. "That little tramp is not my cousin!" I snapped, already getting angry. "Catherine, she is your cousin," my mother insisted. "You need to stop this childish behavior. Melissa already hit her and caused a scene here at home. Enough! She's my sister's daughter, which makes her your cousin." "I'm sorry, Mom, but she means nothing to me," I tried to stay calm. "She slept with my boyfriend in my bed. That's not something she should do." I had been dating Claude for four years; he was my first boyfriend, and I found him in my bed, in my room, sleeping with Kelly, my cousin! I was in shock. Of course, Melissa, my best friend, went after them. Since then, things had been tensed at home because my parents insisted it was silly and that I should act as if nothing had happened and go back to being around my cousin. "He was wrong, Catherine, since he was your boyfriend," my mother argued. "Kelly, poor thing, was seduced. He dishonored her, now he's marrying her so she won't be talked about badly in town." "Oh, Mom! Spare me! The whole town knows Kelly is a shameless woman..." I lost my patience. "Catherine, watch your language!" my father scolded me. "Look, if you don't want to be around Kelly, fine, but you're going to this wedding. And enough with this rude behavior." "I'm what?" I thought I had heard wrong. "You're going to your cousin's wedding, Catherine. That's an order! We're your parents, and you'll obey," my mother spoke angrily at me as if I were the one in the wrong. "I'm sorry, Mom, but I won't! I follow your rules, I'm a good daughter, but this time I can't. I was the one who was wronged! I have every right not to want to be the family joke anymore," I said, already crying. "ENOUGH, CATHERINE!" my father shouted, startling me. "You're going to this wedding, and that's final." "But, Dad..." "I don't want to hear it, Catherine! It's important to your mother to keep peace in the family. So you're going, period," my father said, leaving no room for argument. I spent the night crying in my room. The next day, I told Melissa everything. She wasted no time and arranged invitations to a masquerade ball, a gala event. She told my parents it would be crucial for my career since the city's most important businesspeople would be there. I could make valuable connections, and our professors had promised to introduce us to various entrepreneurs who could open doors for our professional future. At first, my parents weren't entirely convinced, but Melissa's parents talked to them and persuaded them that it would be an excellent opportunity for my future. So they agreed that I should take advantage of it. "Catherine, you can't say no to me! I've already bought the tickets and masks, and I even convinced your parents that this is a super important event for your professional future, which was such hard work. This party is going to be incredible, and you're not going to miss it!" Melissa looked at me with puppy dog eyes, clasping her hands together as if begging. I was sitting at my desk at work in the middle of a Thursday afternoon, between taking messages and making calls, when Mel showed up with coffee, chocolate muffins, and this persistence about getting me to agree to go to the masquerade ball, which was the biggest annual event in our city. "Oh, Mel, how is it that I can never say no to you? Alright, I'll go!" I agreed to go to the ball, but I still wasn't sure. Either way, I was going to sleep at Mel's house to avoid the wedding, but I wasn't planning on going to the party. However, Melissa kept pushing until she convinced me to go. On Saturday, we got ready at her place. "Wow, girl! You look absolutely stunning!" She handed me a beautiful golden mask, intricately designed like lace that covered up to my nose, and I put it on. I was wearing a shimmering red satin dress, and the mask matched perfectly. "So, are we ready?" "Yes, we're ready," I replied and grabbed my purse. "Oh, I forgot my perfume." "No problem, you can use my mom's new perfume. She won't mind." When Fred, Mel's boyfriend, saw us, he smiled, gave Mel a kiss, and said: "Girls, you look gorgeous! I think you'll leave this party with a new boyfriend, Cat." "No boyfriend, Fred. Actually, I think I'd better stay, I'm not in the party mood. Please, Mel, let me stay?" Chapter 2 There was no way out - my friend dragged me to the ball. As soon as we got in, Mel pulled us to the bar and whispered in my ear: "It's an open bar tonight, so you're going to drink until all that sadness washes away!" Mel handed me two tequila shots while holding two more in her hands. "Let's down these!" We knocked back the tequila, and Fred was already handing each of us a cosmopolitan. Melissa dragged me to the dance floor, and I was actually having fun. When a slow song started playing, Fred and Mel began slow dancing together. I took that as my cue to head to the buffet, but I didn't make it there. I felt someone grab my hand, and when I turned around, there was a man in a black mask smiling at me - and what a smile! He kissed my hand and pulled me close, whispering in my ear with a husky voice: "Surely the most beautiful woman in the room won't deny me a dance, will she?" "And why not? Let's dance," I smiled back at him. It was impossible to resist that seductive husky voice and that gorgeous crooked smile! He was tall with broad shoulders, had a charming smile and blue eyes - so blue they were almost violet. He had sinfully tempting lips, brown hair, and when he pulled me by the waist, I placed my hands on his chest and could feel he was a wall of well-defined muscle. Although the mask concealed his face, he was very charming and enchanting. "I've been watching you since you arrived," this mysterious man whispered in my ear. "You're so beautiful!" "You're kind. But you're not from around here, are you?" He had a powerful presence, radiating authority. "No. A friend convinced me to come to this party." "Looks like we have something in common - my friends convinced me to come too." "Lucky me!" "And why's that?" I smiled. "Because I was captivated the moment I saw you. You're stunning." As he whispered in my ear, I got goosebumps, feeling my face flush and my body tingle - he truly had me enchanted. "Even with the mask?" "Even with the mask! You're too beautiful." "You're such a charmer." "You think I'm charming?" "You know you are. And handsome too." "I'm glad you like what you see." "And what do you do for a living, handsome?" - I felt a bit dizzy, not sure if it was from the drink or the delicious cologne that man was wearing. I ended up stumbling over my own feet. "Are you okay?" "I think I need some air." "Come with me." - He pulled me into a dark hallway that led to an emergency exit and started fanning my face. - "I really want to kiss you. May I?" - I nodded yes. He looked into my eyes, held the back of my neck, and our lips met. It started slow but deepened; he pressed me against the wall, and the kiss intensified even more, almost taking our breath away. When he broke the kiss so we could breathe, we looked into each other's eyes - it was like throwing gasoline on fire. He ran his hand down my waist to my leg and pulled my leg up to his waist. I was completely surrendered by then, feeling his body against mine. I went crazy with desire and pulled him closer, wrapping my leg around his waist. "You're a great kisser!" - I smiled at him and felt my whole body tingle. "Oh, beautiful, you're incredible. I want you so badly, here, right now!" - he said between kisses and slipped his hand under my dress, pulling it up and reaching my underwear. I was on fire when he put his hand inside my underwear and yelled. - "Oh! So delicious! So hot, so wet!" - He said and kissed me harder while unzipping his pants. With a quick movement, like someone who had done this before, he tore my underwear and caressed my entrance, as if asking for permission. He looked into my eyes again and asked: "What do you want me to do?" "I want you inside me now!" I responded shamelessly, already panting with desire. I couldn't resist those eyes and that husky voice. I'd never been like this before - normally, I would have pulled away the moment he grabbed my hand, but tonight I had promised myself to have fun and live in the moment if someone interesting came along. And that's exactly what I was doing, living in the moment. Hearing me, he entered me slowly, watching as I leaned my head against the wall and savored every inch of him - and he was huge. He took the opportunity to scatter kisses along my neck. When he was fully inside, he paused and whispered between kisses in my ear: "Now I'm going to move." He pulled out only to thrust back in with full force this time, and it was incredible. I was completely lost and driven wild by his movements as he moved in and out of me frantically. We lost control and gave ourselves over completely, as if nothing else existed around us. I felt a haze in my eyes as my climax began to build, and I moaned softly in his ear. At that moment, he seemed to go crazy, lifting my other leg to his waist as I wrapped them around him. Kissing me intensely, he thrust even harder into me - it was heaven on earth. I came again, even more intensely than before, leaving me breathless. As I was coming, he whispered that he was close to his limit feeling me pulse around him, and soon I felt his hot release inside me. We stayed there against that wall, completely breathless, his forehead resting against mine. While kissing me, he slowly withdrew, and I was thoroughly satisfied - as Melissa would say. I smiled and he looked at me, gave me a soft kiss and said: "You're truly amazing!" He gently lowered my legs until my feet touched the ground, fixed my dress, adjusted his pants, and hugged me. It was so intimate, so affectionate - despite the wildness of our encounter and the intensity with which we'd given in to each other, he was still gentle with me. I'd never had such an incredible experience, but I'd only ever been with my ex until now. And my ex had never cared about hugging me afterward, or worried about my pleasure - for him, it was just about getting in and out until he was satisfied. So having a man care about me, about my pleasure, take care of me - it was new, and amazingly so. He kissed my neck and whispered in my ear: "So, beautiful, I still don't know your name." It took me seconds to process and finally realize that I'd just slept with a complete stranger whose name I didn't even know. Just as I was about to speak, he pulled his phone from his pocket and asked for a minute to answer it. He stepped away slightly and I could only hear him raising his voice saying: "What did you say?" At that moment, the stranger ran off as if he'd forgotten about me, or as if he was just running away from the woman he'd quickly hooked up with at the party. Of course, Catherine, you're an idiot! But so what? I was just having fun too, and I didn't even know who the guy was, and he didn't know who I was. All good. I pulled myself together, looked in vain for my underwear - no idea where he'd thrown it - and left that hallway. I went back to the table and found Mel and Fred making out. They soon stopped and focused on me: "Mel, I think I found the Big Bad Wolf!" I laughed, and she laughed with me. "When we get home, I want to know everything!" "Of course you do!" I replied with sparkling eyes. "Prince, I think we can go now. What do you think, Cat?" "I'm ready whenever you are!" I said, downing a glass of water. "Let's go then, girls!" Fred said and led us to the exit. We'd barely gotten home when Mel started demanding: "Tell me everything - who is he, how it went, how it didn't go, everything." I laughed and told her everything. When I finished speaking, my friend was staring at me open-mouthed and asked: "You guys used protection, right?" My heart started racing! We hadn't used protection. I shook my head no at her; I was in shock realizing how careless I'd been. She immediately tried to calm me down: "No, Cat, calm down. I'm sure nothing will come of it. But you should get some tests done to make sure everything's okay. I'm going to the kitchen to make us some tea. Don't freak out!" Chapter 3 On Monday during lunch, I met Mel. She handed me a small bag from a fancy store, and I looked at her, confused. "My mom asked me to give this to you. She said it's perfect for you and doesn't suit her," Mel said with a big smile. I opened the bag, and inside was the perfume I had worn to the ball. A huge smile spread across my face. I loved that perfume, and it was part of the best night of my life. I just hoped that my best night hadn't left me with an STD as a souvenir. With that thought, I thanked Mel and told her I'd call her mom later, then mentioned I wanted to call the lab to schedule some tests. I called the laboratory and was informed that I needed a doctor's prescription to get the tests covered by health insurance. Thank God the company provided health insurance for employees because otherwise, I wouldn't know what to do. My salary wasn't high, and what little was left after covering college expenses went to helping at home, since my mom didn't work outside the house and my dad didn't make much as a driver. So I made a doctor's appointment, but the earliest available slot was two weeks away, and I waited anxiously. The more days passed, the more nervous I became, though Mel did everything to calm me down. On the scheduled date, she went to the doctor's with me. With the list of tests in hand, she personally scheduled the lab work and insisted on accompanying me. Three weeks had passed since the party when I finally got the tests done. The results came back five days later, and I returned to the doctor. Of course, Mel was with me. The doctor checked the results and looked me in the eyes: "Miss Catherine, your health is excellent. You're healthy. But from now on, you'll need to take better care of yourself." I breathed a sigh of relief, but was I really about to get lectured by the doctor for having unprotected bedlife with a stranger? Well, I deserved it - not using protection was silly, I could have caught a disease. And then he continued: "Congratulations, you're conceived! I'm going to refer you to an OB-GYN for prenatal care..." I didn't hear anything else, just the blood pulsing in my ears. I couldn't believe this! conceived? How would I explain this? It's not possible. Me, of all people, the perfect goody-two-shoes who never stepped out of line, who always considered the consequences before doing anything, who was always responsible - the first time I let rationality slide, I ended up conceived and didn't even know who the father was! Mel held my hand and kept repeating: "Calm down, Cat, everything will be okay!" How could everything be okay? I didn't even know who the father was. I would have to tell my parents, their only daughter would break their hearts. They would be disappointed, hate me, and kick me out of the house. How could I explain that I don't even know what the father of my child looks like? I was already hyperventilating. Suddenly, I felt the doctor taking my hand and speaking calmly: "Easy now, dear! The situation, from what I can see, isn't ideal, but you can't get this nervous, it will harm your baby. Now you have to take care of yourself for the baby's sake. I'm sure the people who love you will support and help you. But you need to calm down because only you can ensure this baby develops healthily and is born strong. Do you understand me?" I looked at that short, white-haired, slightly chubby gentleman, with his glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and nodded positively. Somehow he calmed me down a bit, maybe because his eyes sparkled with a kindness and understanding that we rarely see these days. The doctor asked his secretary to bring me some chamomile tea, and while I drank it and tried to calm down, he gave all the information to Melissa, who listened attentively. We left the office and Melissa took me to a diner, saying we needed to eat something. As soon as I sat down, I felt the tears falling. My friend hugged me and told me once again that I wasn't alone. I looked at her and said: "The only thing I'm sure of right now is that I want you and Fred to be my child's godparents because I know you'll support them and give them lots of love." Her eyes sparkled, and she burst into tears, responding between sobs: "I'll be the best godmother in the world and I'll always be close to our baby! And I'm sure Fred will be very happy too!" She assured me she would always be by my side, made it clear that I wouldn't go through anything alone, and that she would be with me when I talked to my parents. My parents... oh! I started thinking and decided I wouldn't hide it from them for even a day; I would tell them that very night. I wouldn't go to college, I would go home to talk to them. Mel immediately supported me and said: "Let's go then, I'm with you!" When we arrived at my house, my parents were startled, and my mom came right over, worried: "Girls, didn't you go to class today? Is everything okay?" "Not really, Mom. I need to talk to you both." My parents immediately realized it was something very serious. We all sat in the living room and I told them what was happening, admitting I had been irresponsible by hooking up with a stranger at the party. I obviously didn't go into details, but I made it clear that I couldn't find my child's father again. The disappointment in their eyes was evident. My mother was sobbing uncontrollably, saying I was ruined. My father hadn't said anything yet. Seeing how upset my mother was, Melissa quickly went to the kitchen and came back with a glass of sugar water for her. Melissa always gives sugar water to nervous people, saying it calms them down - I never understood that. Finally, my father spoke: "You made a huge mistake and there's no going back." My parents were very simple people. My father was a tall, strong man, and my mother was an older version of me, but both had great character and solid principles they always made sure to pass on to me. Hearing my father emphasize that I had messed up made my heart ache even more. I started crying and said: "I know, Dad, I was irresponsible. But there's nothing I can do now. I'll drop out of college to raise my child. And I'm going to pack my bags..." "Pack your bags? You're very mistaken if you think you're leaving this house like that. You made a mistake, and you disappointed us, but we love you, we'll get through this and we'll help you. You're not alone, my daughter! And neither is this child!" My father said this and my heart filled with hope. "But Dad, I brought shame to you..." "You're not the first and won't be the last single mother in this world. We would have liked things to be different for you, not so difficult. You've always been so responsible! But if this is how it is, we'll face it together. You won't leave college - more than ever, you need to grow in life to take care of your child. You're going to be a single mother, your responsibility is huge. We'll help you, and even though it will be difficult, everything will work out." Melissa was already crying and quickly spoke to my parents: "Mr. Anthony, Mrs. Selina, you can count on me, I'll help with everything! Besides, I'm this baby's godmother, Cat is like a sister to me, and I'll always be around." My parents looked at her gratefully. I looked at those three feeling completely blessed to have them in my life, full of love for them and experiencing a totally new feeling for that little being still growing inside me, whose existence I had just discovered! As difficult as being a single mother would be, that night at the ball was the best night of my life. I could never forget those violet-blue eyes looking at me with adoration during our furtive encounter and everything my body experienced that night. I would always have that sweet memory with me. The following months were difficult. I kept the dress, shoes, mask, and perfume that Mel's mother gave me in a box. On difficult days, I would open that box and relive that night in my memory. Although I had a peaceful pregnancy, people's comments and cruelty were hard to bear. To make matters worse, after they got married, my ex and my cousin moved in with her parents, who lived on the same street as us. They made sure to humiliate me with nasty comments whenever they saw me and spread throughout the neighborhood that I didn't know who my child's father was and that I was a loose woman, which was why Claude had left me. I wanted to end them! Kelly's mother, who was my mother's sister, never missed a chance to come to our house and torment us, saying how fortunate it was that her daughter wasn't like me, that she was a good girl who had married a decent man. She seemed to have forgotten that she had stolen my boyfriend and slept with him in my bed. But I swallowed it all; it wasn't worth arguing with these people, and I didn't want to transmit negative feelings to my child. As the days went by, I loved that baby more and more. I had no idea such love could exist. Everything I did, I did for him. I would protect him from everything; I would give my life to him. And surprisingly, during the whole time of carrying with a baby, everything seemed to flow in my favor, things were falling into place and working out. My boss was great, understood my situation, and even gave me a small raise, which was a huge help! Mel and Fred showered me with attention, they were in love with their godchild even before knowing if it would be a girl or boy. They insisted on buying everything for the nursery, which turned out beautiful. Mel accompanied me to all appointments and every test, never missing anything. She even organized two baby showers - one at the company and another at college. My child would come into the world surrounded by love. I found out I was having a boy and decided to name him Peter. And so it was. Peter was born healthy, with a pair of huge violet-blue eyes that would never let me forget the night that changed my life, but was also the best night I'd ever had! I would never forget that man! My son was surrounded by love from the first moment. My parents were enchanted by their grandson. Mel and Fred came to our house every day to see their godson and check how we were doing. Mel was always there supporting me in everything. Her parents also came to visit Peter and said they would be honorary grandparents since they considered me their daughter too, which I found beautiful. They also surrounded me with care. They insisted on giving the stroller as a gift, and the day Peter was born, they came to the maternity ward with a huge basket of flowers and welcome balloons. After my maternity leave ended, my son stayed in my mother's care while I was at work and college. I worked hard and devoted all my time not spent at college or work to my son. With the help of my parents and my son's godparents, I managed everything and didn't miss any semester in college, graduating alongside my friend Melissa. It was a great moment for me and my family. With my diploma in hand, I would now pursue a better future, with the firm purpose that my son would never lack anything. Chapter 4 When I graduated, Peter was already two years old. By then, he was walking everywhere, always clinging to grandma - which was his first word. He was a beautiful boy with straight black hair, fair skin, a cute little upturned nose, and those huge violet eyes that made me sigh. He was my sunshine! And now I would have more time for him. After graduation, my boss called me in for a chat. He was an excellent boss and said he was very happy with my work at the company, but he knew I deserved to go far, so I should look for a job in my field, and he would understand. He assured me that my job at the construction company would be mine for as long as I wanted, and if I left and things didn't work out, I would always have a place to come back to. However, he advised that I should seek something in my field of study to provide a better future for my son. I was very touched by this and accepted his good advice. I told Melissa, and she immediately said she would talk to her father about reaching out to some contacts. It didn't take long before Mr. Oliver Larson, Mel's father, called me to his office and handed me a card, saying: "Catherine, I know you're an excellent girl and a good professional. I spoke with a friend, and he arranged an interview for you at Miller Group. It's for the position of CEO's assistant. If you get this job, you'll be working in your field at a global company. It's an excellent position, but it's not here in Bellwood. You would have to move to Paradise Port. I know it's a huge step, but I think you should consider it - it will be excellent for you. Anyway, send an email to the address on the card with your response, either declining the position or accepting the virtual interview." "Mr. Larson, I don't have words to thank you! You've always been so good to me! Miller Group is one of the largest business conglomerates in the country! Working there is a dream! I'll definitely accept the interview, and if I have to move, I will. I know it will be a great opportunity," I said with conviction. It wouldn't be bad to get away from those nasty family members, especially now that "queen" Kelly was conceived and her mother decided to ask for all of Peter's things for the child of that dishonest couple! Thankfully, my mom told her that was absurd, but it wouldn't matter anyway since I had already given everything Peter had outgrown to an acquaintance who was conceived. My mom had been very upset with her sister, as she was always dismissing my son, always referring to him as the fatherless boy, which really hurt my mom. Leaving this city, I'll only regret leaving my parents and friends behind, but I know they'll support me once again. I thanked Mr. Larson and left the office. When I got to my desk, I spoke with my boss, another Mr. Larson, but since he didn't like being called that, I addressed him by his first name: "Aldo, your brother got me an interview at Miller Group." He smiled: "I know, he just called me. I think you should grab this opportunity. If it doesn't work out, you can always come back." I smiled at him and immediately sent an email to schedule the interview. I quickly received confirmation that the interview would be the next day at ten in the morning, and since I had already taken the initiative to send my resume, the interview would be brief. That night at home, I talked to my parents, who understood, even though they were worried about how I would manage to raise a child alone in another city and got teary-eyed about being far from their grandson. They supported me as always and were happy about the opportunity I received. I asked them not to tell anyone. When Mel arrived - she came every day to see her godson - I told her everything, and she helped me prepare for the next day. At the time of the interview, I went to the meeting room at my workplace; my boss had given me permission. I sat down and waited for the call. I was interviewed by a very kind and intelligent woman, Mrs. Mariana Taylor. It was very pleasant; we talked for two hours. She gave me all the information about the position, salary, and benefits. At the end, she said: "Catherine, you're hired! You'll be replacing me since I'm taking a director position at the London branch, so you'll be taking over my position here. I'd like you to start as soon as possible because I'm leaving in ten days and would like to hand everything over to you before I go. And I'd rather not reschedule my departure. When can you start?" "I just need my boss to release me, but I think I can be there on Monday." - it was already Friday, would Aldo agree to release me today? "Perfect. You can send me an email confirmation after you talk to him. Do you have any questions?" "No, ma'am. Everything is clear." "Great! Welcome to Miller Group. I'm sure you'll do very well. I'll see you on Monday." She ended the call, and my heart was racing - I had done it. The job was great, the salary even better, and I would have chances to progress. It was a dream. But now it was time to rush and sort everything out. I immediately went to talk to my boss. He was happy about it, called accounting, and had them process my settlement right away. After that, he let me go, saying I would always have a place to come back if needed, but he knew I would do very well. I thanked him for everything and left. I sent the confirmation email to Mrs. Taylor, saying I would be at the company at eight on Monday morning, and went straight to talk to Mel and her father - I had to thank them. And that's when Mel surprised me: "Did you think you were going to take my godson away just like that? No way! My father got me an interview at Lynx World in Paradise Port. I'm moving with you, and we'll live together. What do you think?" This was perfect! I was overjoyed, but quickly asked: "Mel, what about Fred?" "Fred has already requested a transfer to the Paradise Port branch at his company; he'll have better opportunities there too. He's coming in fifteen days. Friend, it's a new life for all three of us." I was so happy. Mel had orchestrated everything. Fred would drive us there, and she would take care of Peter while I worked until we found a daycare. She already had three daycares to visit, and her father had already made available a furnished apartment in the city for us. It was too good to be true; I was even scared. Noticing this, Mel nudged me and said: "Learn to accept the good things life offers you!" I smiled at her, and we went to my parents' house. It was time to break the news and say goodbye. Paradise Port is on the other side of the country, so we wouldn't see each other for a while. My parents were happy until I said I would leave the next morning - then the farewell became sad. It was hard to leave them behind, but it was necessary. With the salary I would receive, I could help them now. That was good. The next morning, Fred and Mel arrived right on time. Mel's father had given her a pickup truck as a gift, which made moving our stuff much easier. Fred loaded everything into the truck, and off we went - it would be a full day on the road. We arrived in Paradise Port late Saturday night. Peter was exhausted but had enjoyed himself immensely during the trip - everything was new and exciting to him. We got settled in, ordered some food, and after eating, went to bed. On Sunday, we explored the city to get our bearings. Paradise Port was a huge, modern industrial city on the coast. Its port attracted lots of business, making it a first-world urban center. The apartment where we would be living was close to one of the daycares Mel had contacted, which was great. It wasn't far from the company either - I could get there in twenty minutes by subway. The apartment was beautiful, with a modern design, great ventilation, and huge windows that let in plenty of natural light. That evening, we dropped Fred off at the airport and headed home to rest. The next day would be a big one - I would be starting my new job, while Mel had her virtual interview and would schedule a meeting with the director of the daycare near our apartment to visit and talk. I tucked my son into bed; he was worn out from all the fun he'd had today. As I watched him sleeping peacefully, I felt confident that we would have a really good life here. Peter now had his own room, and Mel and I had planned to buy some things to make it feel more personal and give it our own touch. I grabbed the baby monitor and went to my room. I opened one of my boxes and started organizing everything. When I opened the last box, I took out the box containing my memories from the ball night. I opened it, ran my hand over that beautiful dress, and sighed once again. I picked up the perfume and thought, "Why not?" Starting tomorrow, I would wear this perfume every day - my salary was good, and when this bottle ran out, I could buy another. I put the box away, left the perfume on the dresser, and went to bed full of expectations for this new life that was opening up before me. Chapter 5 I showed up at the company at 8:00 a.m. Mrs. Taylor gave me a warm welcome and introduced me to everyone, and they were all very kind. The boss wasn't there - he was traveling and would return at the end of the week. The office was beautiful, very modern, decorated in white with stainless steel and green accents, managing to be both professional and welcoming. It was elegant, and I really liked it. I was particularly glad I had chosen to wear a black suit with a dark green silk blouse underneath and black heels. I would need to dress elegantly every day now, after all, I would be working directly with the company president. Mid-morning, I received a message from Mel saying she had managed to schedule an appointment with the director of the daycare near our apartment during lunch hour. I explained the situation to Mrs. Taylor and asked if it would be possible to leave during that time, assuring her I would be back on schedule. "So you have a child. How old is he?" she asked with a smile. "He's two years old. He's a very clever little boy. He wasn't planned, but he's the reason for my life!" "What's his name?" "Peter." "Peter. A strong name. You're not married, I know that, but what about your son's father, are you still together?" My heart sank - how could I explain to her that I didn't know who the father was? But I don't lie, so let's face the truth. I told her that Peter's father was someone I met at a party and never saw again. She looked at me seriously, but there was no judgment in her eyes. Then she said: "You have my respect, Catherine. It's not easy being a single mother, and it's very difficult to tell truths like this when you know they might trigger others' judgment. Thank you for your trust and honesty. Go take care of the daycare arrangements for your son, we'll continue this afternoon - no need to rush." I thanked her and said goodbye, heading off to meet Mel and Peter. My admiration and respect for Mrs. Taylor only grew. She's a woman in her mid-fifties, with very light blonde hair and almost transparent blue eyes. She's a beautiful and elegant woman, but most importantly, she's very welcoming. We got along very well. During the rest of the morning, she filled me in with information about the work, and I took notes on everything. At lunchtime, I left the building, and Mel was already waiting at the door with Peter. I got in the car, and we went to lunch before heading to the daycare. Mel and I loved the daycare, and Peter was already fitting in, running around with his new little friends - he's such an outgoing boy. That made me so happy! My son was happy! We decided not to look at other daycares since this one was excellent and very close to home, just three blocks away. We completed the enrollment and sorted out all the details. The director suggested we let Peter stay until the end of the day since he was having fun and could start adapting. Mel agreed to pick him up at the end of the day. Mel dropped me back at the company and told me she'd head home to prepare for her job interview later in the afternoon. I returned to my office, arriving before Mrs. Taylor. I sat at the desk and started reviewing everything she had already told me. The phone on the desk rang, and I wasn't sure what to do, but since this would be my desk, I answered in my most professional voice: "Miller Group, Executive Office, good afternoon, how may I help you?" I heard a deathly silence on the other end followed by a long sigh. Someone spoke up with obvious impatience, in a strong and slightly hoarse voice: "Put Mariana on." I was startled but kept my composure and replied: "I'm sorry, sir, but Mrs. Taylor hasn't returned from lunch yet. May I help you, or would you like to leave a message?" "Who is this speaking," he asked, even more impatiently. "My name is Catherine, I'm Mr. Miller's new executive assistant." "But I don't know you," he seemed to grow more impatient with each word. "It's my first day here, sir. Would you like to leave a message?" "Tell Mariana to call me as soon as she sets foot in the office." "Certainly, sir. And your name is?" "Looks like I'm your boss!" He snapped and hung up. Wow, what a stressed-out man! This wasn't in the job description. My throat immediately tightened. Had I already made a bad impression on my boss? I was so screwed! I started thinking I wouldn't last long in this job. Shortly after, Mrs. Taylor arrived and I passed on the message with a worried look on my face. She looked at me with a smile, as if understanding my concern, and asked: "Was he calm?" I looked at her and couldn't help myself: "He was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I'm pretty sure I could see his jugular vein popping out of his neck." She burst out laughing and then said: "You two are going to get along great! You'll tame the beast, I'm sure of it." I wasn't so sure about that. Maybe I shouldn't even unpack my bags, this man was going to eat me alive!	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=17966&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61559743679549/	373	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	redtgb.com	IMAGE		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=17966&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/t39.35426-6/475454977_616517417633547_92984154220860316_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=Eeo53Vcz6PUQ7kNvgFrwJN0&_nc_oc=AdjjEyrcGqGnUwBIGvY3ePMPRzEcWqb7DxMp007Iq3CUd_tx1Ibhi1Hwu6hYTYSdBO8&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AnDMtC_VuoMvT8f604ncphW&oh=00_AYCgyiA6_Iwf0bL6qOLovfRwZsbwZ3i8dABjhnFwkL-knw&oe=67C2FCFE	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,691,578	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691467}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	🔥NEW POPULAR READ🔥	“I want a divorce.” I said, but there was no response. “I said I want a divorce.” I repeated louder this time, clenching my fists at my sides. Alpha Dante finally looked up from his desk, staring at me like I had come to throw another tantrum. “You are tired. Go and have a nap or something,” he said dismissively. I bit down on my lips and, in annoyance, slammed the divorce papers I had secretly gathered on his desk. “What is this?” he muttered in irritation, flipping through the papers. “These are the divorce papers. I have my signature already on them. All that’s left is your signature.” His brow furrowed, and his jaw clenched. Then suddenly, he tore the papers into shreds, causing me to gasp. “What… what do you think you are doing? I spent months gathering that… why would you…” “I will not divorce!” His voice thundered, causing me to flinch. He tossed the shredded papers across the room. “You are my wife. The Luna of the Moonshade Pack. How dare you ask for a divorce?” “What more do you want? You’ve caused me nothing but pain for the past three years,” I found myself yelling in anger. “You’ve had your revenge. My father's dead and you took over his pack. What more do you want? Why won’t you let me go? Why…” “It’s not enough!” he cut me off. “Your pain is not enough! You cannot be happy while I am unhappy! You will remain unhappy by my side forever,” he said, now standing, his voice filled with nothing but disdain. I let out a shaky breath. Who was he? This wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with. This wasn’t the man who held me close on cold nights, who whispered sweet nothings in my ear, who promised to protect me from all harm. No, this was a stranger—a monster wrapped in the same familiar body. I shook my head in disbelief, my heart pounding in my chest. How had we come to this? “I, Amaya Blackwood…” “Don’t you dare, Amaya!” he said, taking steps forward while I took more back. “…of the Moonshade pack reject you…” “Amaya!” he yelled, closing the distance as I slammed my back against a wall. His hand gripped my jaw, his red eyes glowing as he stared at me while I glared back at him. “Divorce me, Dante,” I muttered, breathing heavily, but his grip only tightened around my jaw, so tight that it felt like he could actually crush it any moment. “Please… let me go.” “Never!” he growled. “I will never let you go, Amaya. Even if you hate me.” We continued staring at each other, panting heavily, until I looked away. Only then did his grip loosen, and he took a step back. “Now return to your room, and don’t you ever think about something as absurd as divorce again, because it’s never going to happen.” I paused by the door, my grip tightening around the doorknob, but I said nothing. As I was returning to my room, I was so lost in thought that I bumped into someone by the stairs. “Oh, sorry,” I muttered, and when I looked up, I saw that the man I bumped into was Cyrus, the son of my father’s Beta, Vaughn. His father was part of the revolution that had overthrown my father. Unfortunately, before my father was caught, Vaughn was shot in the heart by my father. He did not survive. “Watch where you are going,” he sneered. I lowered my head and continued walking, but then he added, “The Alpha received a marriage proposal.” I froze, gripping the hem of my dress. He continued, “She’s an amazing woman. One of our best warriors. The people love her and approve of them as a couple. Do you know what this means?” He turned to me with a smug look, expecting a disapproving response. Instead, I smiled warmly. “Ah yes, they do seem like a perfect match. I already asked Dante for a divorce, but he refused. You are his close friend. I am sure you would be able to convince him to take the proposal seriously.” His smug look faltered, and he looked at me confused. “You are giving up so easily?” he said, and now I was the one who was confused. “What else can I do? He’s made it clear that I have no say in my own life. If this marriage proposal is what’s best for the pack, who am I to stand in the way?” He frowned, and when he didn’t say anything else, I turned away. When I got to my room, I closed the door behind me and let out a shaky breath as I recalled Cyrus’s words. The pack adored their new Alpha. After all, he had saved them from misfortune. Kara was also everything I wasn’t—strong, beloved, and loyal to the pack. She had fought alongside Dante for the freedom of the pack. It was only natural for them to be together. They were a perfect match, and I was sure the people would pressure Dante to accept. But what did that mean for me? Would I be finally free? No, that wasn’t possible. I was the last remaining royal bloodline of the Moonshade pack. The people hated me. They wanted me gone, and Dante would never let me go. Even if he moved on, he would keep me as a prisoner. I sighed and walked over to the window. My eyes widened for a brief moment when I saw Dante and Kara walking side by side. They were talking about something, and he was smiling. But then it all vanished as he shifted his gaze and his eyes met mine. A shiver ran down my spine, but I couldn’t look away. So we just stared at each other until Kara tugged at his sleeve, urging him to focus on her. He glanced back at her with the same warm smile, and they both walked away. “Should I jump?” was the first thought that came to my head as soon as they were out of sight. I could run as far as my legs could carry me. But where would I go? Who was I kidding? Dante had allies everywhere while I had no one. My parents were gone, their loyal followers were either scattered or dead. I was alone. Chapter 2 I woke up the next morning with a very high fever, but I still managed to get out of bed. Outside my bedroom window, I could hear chants from protesters who wanted me gone from the pack. This had become a routine; they did it every morning until they were chased away by the guards. I got dressed and headed downstairs to join Dante for breakfast. Although I didn’t want to, he had insisted, not giving me much of a choice. So, against my will, I had to see him every morning before he left the packhouse. Today was different, though. Kara was sitting at the breakfast table, smiling as she poured Dante a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Amaya,” she said, as if she wasn’t sitting in my house, at my table, sharing coffee with my husband while I sat at the far end, away from both of them. “Good morning,” I muttered, keeping my eyes down. Dante, on the other hand, didn’t look up. He was busy reading something on his tablet. “Amaya, you look pale,” she added just as I was about to take a bite of my sausage. “Are you not feeling well?” I looked at her, caught off guard. There was no way she would care. That was confirmed when I saw pity in her eyes, and my walls went back up. As if on cue, Dante looked up from his tablet, his gaze meeting mine, waiting for my response. “I…I’m fine,” I muttered. “If you’re fine, stop sulking,” Dante said coldly. “Dante,” Kara scolded. “Why are you being harsh? She doesn’t look well.” “She’s the daughter of a powerful Alpha. I’m sure her wolf will heal her,” he said. And he would be right, except I had lost contact with my wolf as a result of the trauma. It was like she just vanished. Perhaps that was another reason I couldn’t feel the mate bond, and that was why his words hurt less. “But…” Kara tried to insist, but he cut her off. “Fine…I will get the pack healer.” “No, it’s not necessary. It’s just a fever.” I tried taking a bite of the sausage, but the smell made me nauseous, and I put it back down. “Excuse me,” I said, standing up. “Where are you going?” Dante asked. “I’m not hungry,” I replied. Not waiting for his response, I turned and walked out of the dining room. In the corner, I could see some maids giggling as I walked by. I knew it was about me, but I could do nothing but continue walking. Later that evening, Dante informed me I would be joining him for a party. My dress had already been picked out, and all I had to do was be there, in his words. It was difficult walking in heels. I had mentioned this in the past, but I guess he had forgotten—or perhaps he only pretended to care back then. I felt dizzy due to my rising fever, yet I had to shake it off for the sake of this occasion. As soon as we entered, all eyes fell on us. My hand was wrapped around his, and I could feel my grip tightening because of how nervous I was, which was weird because I was always the confident one. When we walked in, a man approached us with a smile and extended his hand to Dante. “Alpha Dante, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said while completely ignoring my presence. “Always good to see you, Mark,” he said, returning the handshake. I stood there awkwardly as the two men continued to talk. The man didn’t even glance in my direction, making me feel like an outsider. After a while, I slowly released my grip and took a small step back, then another, until I had created some distance between us—but I could still hear their voices. “So, Alpha, why didn’t you accept the marriage proposal?” he asked, as if I wasn’t in the room with them. “I’m not sure where that rumor came from. I already have a wife,” Dante said, laughing, catching me off guard. But I quickly reminded myself it was probably just to save face. After a while, the show started, and I was back at Dante’s side. It was a live band playing one of my favorite songs. I closed my eyes as memories from years ago flooded back—when I used to perform on stages, traveling on tours. But after the incident, it felt like I lost my voice. “Luna, didn’t you use to sing?” I heard a voice from among the crowd, and my eyes snapped open. “Yes! Why don’t you sing for us?” another said. “Wait…what…I…” I tried to speak, but they cut me off. “Come on, one song! Don’t be shy. You’ve earned many awards for your singing.” It was true, but right now, I couldn’t. Before I could protest, a woman grabbed my hand forcefully and pulled me to the stage, handing me a mic. I stood in front of the stage, staring at the crowd in front of me. This was nothing compared to the hundreds of people I had sung in front of in the past, but back then, they didn’t look at me with such disdain. “Sing!” They urged, while my heart raced. In the crowd, I could see Dante staring at me expectantly. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I just couldn’t. A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, making my body sway slightly. My skin was burning up, but at the same time, I felt so cold that my fingers were trembling. Gosh, I should have stayed back at home. My head was pounding and my legs felt like they weren’t even mine anymore. “I…I…sorry. I…” I tried to say, but my vision suddenly blurred, and the next thing I knew, the room was tilting. No, I was falling. The last thing I saw was an image of Dante’s wide eyes as he rushed toward me, but everything went black before I could see if he caught me. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in my bed. “Don’t move,” a voice said sternly. It wasn’t Dante’s—it was the pack’s healer. I blinked, watching him mix something in a small bowl. “You collapsed at the party,” he explained, not looking at me. “I can’t believe the Alpha called me for something so trivial. There are people in this pack who genuinely need my help, not…” his words trailed off. I stared at the window. My throat was dry, and my head was aching like crazy. I wanted to close my eyes, but the healer continued muttering. “Honestly, wasting my time on someone who’s probably just fine. It’s not like I have better things to do,” he said, as if I wasn’t lying right next to him. The room fell silent. After a few minutes, the door opened, and Dante stepped in. “What happened?” he asked the healer. “Nothing serious,” the healer said, waving his hand dismissively. “She’s been indoors too much. Likely a mix of stress and low energy. She’ll be fine after some rest and sunlight.” Dante crossed his arms. “She fainted in the middle of a party. That’s not nothing.” But the healer only sighed in frustration. “Alpha, I’ve told you what I think. If you don’t trust my judgment, perhaps you’d like to consult someone else. As I said, she just needs rest.” Dante’s jaw clenched as he thought for a moment. “Leave,” he ordered. The healer wasted no time gathering his things before leaving the room. When the door shut, the room fell silent again. I didn’t dare look at Dante—I was still staring at the ceiling—but I could feel his presence close. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” he finally asked. I closed my eyes as the headache worsened. “I’m fine,” I whispered. There was another wave of silence between us until I heard his footsteps retreating, followed by the door closing. Only then did I open my eyes. I managed to sit up and opened my drawer, picking up a bag containing pills. I grabbed the bottled water I always had next to my bed and gulped down the medicine. Without taking this, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Chapter 3 The next days that followed, I started noticing Dante more often in the house than before. Although we never truly had a proper conversation, he wasn’t yelling like he used to. “My husband has been really cold and distant lately.” I overheard a conversation between two maids while I was walking down the hallway. They were whispering, but I could hear them clearly. “Do you have a child yet?” the older maid asked while the younger one shook her head. “I wanted to wait, but now… I don’t know. Maybe it was a mistake. He’s barely home, and when he is, it feels like we’re strangers.” “Ah, that’s just what happens with newlyweds. Men get restless, but trust me, once you give him a child, everything will change. He’ll return to his loving self. That’s how it’s always been.” I froze upon hearing those words. A child? Was that the answer? But Dante had never asked for one, which is why I never even considered it. But now… maybe… just maybe. That night, I found myself standing in front of Dante’s office, debating whether to knock or not. Just then, the door opened, and he stepped out. He looked surprised when he saw me there. His gaze shifted from my head to my toes. I was wearing a slightly transparent nightgown, but at the last minute, I had thrown a robe over it. “Dante,” I whispered. “Are you busy?” We had done this many times in the past. Whenever he wanted it, he would come to my room. But for the past year, he had stopped coming. I assumed he had grown tired of me. So, I never made a move—until now. “If you are not busy, I was thinking…” I tugged on his shirt, silently praying he wouldn’t reject me. To my surprise, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. My heart pounded in my chest. I reached for the tie of my robe, but before I could even pull it off, his lips crashed onto mine. He gripped me firmly, holding me in place as his mouth moved against mine. It felt like he was desperate. But even then… his kiss felt cold. Before I could even think, his hands were already at the tie of my robe, and it pulled open. It fell from my shoulders, and I stood there in just my nightgown and nothing underneath. He didn’t waste time, grabbing the hem of my nightgown and pulling it over my head. Now I was standing before him, nervously fidgeting with my fingers. His eyes darkened for a brief second before his expression went blank again. “Lie down,” he commanded. Without a second thought, I moved toward the bed, doing exactly what he told me to. The next morning, when I woke up, I was sore all over. Dante wasn’t in the room. He had left that same night as soon as he was done. Gosh, I regretted it instantly. Last night, although filled with pleasure, was emotionless. He didn’t utter a single word or make a single sound. Even when he released inside of me. Nothing. It felt like a machine doing its job, even worse than before. It took me a while to pick myself up and return to my room. And after that day, I saw less and less of Dante. He was always busy with work and even missed our usual morning breakfasts together. Two months passed in the blink of an eye, and nothing really changed. “I want to go to the beach,” I suddenly brought it up during breakfast. “I will arrange for us to go this weekend,” he said, looking at his phone. “No… just me. I want to go alone,” I said, and his eyes instantly snapped up to meet mine. “You want to go alone?” he repeated. “Why? Who do you want to meet?” “Why do you assume I want to meet someone?” I asked, but I was met with a cold glare, causing me to swallow nothing. “I heard your friend is in town.” He was talking about Ryder, my childhood best friend who had confessed his love to me in the past, but I had turned him down to be with Dante. Although I was aware he was in town, he still wasn’t the reason I was going to the beach. “I just want some time alone. I have been locked inside for too long. Didn’t the healer say that I needed more sunlight and fresh air?” I reminded him. He glared at me, then nodded. “Fine, I will make arrangements for a guard to accompany you.” Even though I wanted to argue, I knew it was pointless, so I nodded. That weekend, I went to the beach alone. Well, not alone. The guard was following me but from a distance. I inhaled the salty air and watched the crashing waves. I played in the sand and picked shells, trying to remind myself of the good old days. Sitting on the floor, I thought about Dante again. I missed him—or at least the version of him that I had married. I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t notice the guard moving closer. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my back as a knife was plunged deep into my skin. I gasped, and before I could scream, he yanked the knife out, whispering, “The Blackwood family deserves to die.” A shiver ran down my spine, but before I could react, he raised the knife again, preparing to strike. “Hey!” A fisherman spotted us and shouted, rushing towards us and raising alarm. The guard, realizing he had been caught, ran away while I collapsed on the floor, struggling to breathe. “Stay with me, miss,” the fisherman panicked, reaching out for his phone. Ah! He didn’t recognize me. Thank God. If he did, he would have also left me to die. But even that didn’t stop me from losing more blood until I lost consciousness. Chapter 4 Dante’s POV I was at a pack meeting when I got the call that Amaya had been stabbed—by not just anyone, but one of my own men. “What?” I barked into the phone, startling the Alphas around me. My heart pounded violently in my chest, and for the first time in years, true fear gripped me. I left immediately, shifting into my wolf and racing toward the hospital. By the time I arrived, I was breathing heavily, and my hands were shaking. The doctor was waiting for me. “The wound was deep,” he started. “She lost a lot of blood. It will take at least a month for her to fully recover.” I frowned. “A month?” That didn’t make sense. With her wolf, she should be healed in a week at most. “There’s… something else.” The doctor hesitated. “Spit it out,” I growled. “Your wife was weeks pregnant, Alpha… but she lost the child due to the trauma.” Everything stopped. A ringing in my ear drowned out all other sound, and my eyes turned red. The doctor’s mouth was still moving, but I couldn’t hear him. Pregnant? Amaya was pregnant? My body moved before I could think, and I grabbed the doctor by the collar, slamming him against the wall. “You’re lying,” I snarled, my claws digging into his chest while my wolf howled in agony, wanting to break free. “She wasn’t pregnant! She would have told me!” “It’s still in the early stages… she must not have—” “She did this on purpose, didn’t she?” I cut him off. “She didn’t tell me because she planned to leave! She was going to run off with Ryder, wasn’t she?” I couldn’t think straight. This was Amaya’s fault. She had been distant, she wanted to go to the beach alone. She had let her guard down… I shoved the doctor away and turned, my fists clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my skin. When she woke up, I confronted her about the news, but she just stared at me, emotionless like she usually did. Even now, she felt no remorse. She didn’t shed a single tear, and that annoyed me. I gritted my teeth and stormed out of the room. The guard who had stabbed her was still on the run, so after she was discharged, I had her quarantined in her room. She wasn’t allowed to step out for anything, but just in case, I stationed two guards outside and monitored the maids going in and out of her room. All her meals and drinks had to go through me before they reached her. I wasn’t taking any chances. If she wanted to act emotionless, fine. But I wasn’t going to let her make another mistake—wasn’t going to let her run away or get the freedom she wanted because of her reckless decisions. For days, she barely spoke. She ate without complaint, bathed, and slept as if nothing had happened. Her indifference made me angry. Did she not care that she had lost our child? As for the guard who had stabbed her, I personally hunted him down. Kneeling before me, covered in dirt and blood, he trembled as he dared to meet my gaze. His lips quivered as he spoke. “I was doing you a favor, Alpha,” he choked out. “The Blackwood… they all deserve to die. She’s a—” I snapped his neck before he could finish. Though I felt I should have tortured him, should have made him suffer, I couldn’t waste another second on a traitor who thought he had the right to decide my fate. Wiping the blood off my hands, I turned to my men. “Burn his body. Let it be a warning to anyone else who dares to defy me.” They bowed their heads in obedience, dragging the corpse away. That night, I headed straight to her room unannounced to deliver the news. She was sitting by the window, staring at the moon, and didn’t turn around when I entered. “He’s dead,” I said. She didn’t respond. I clenched my fists, stepping closer. “I hunted him down myself. Snapped his neck like the traitor he was.” Still nothing. My jaw tightened. “Is that all you’re going to do? Just sit there and stare at moon like nothing happened?” Finally, she turned her head slightly. I flinched when I saw the emptiness in her eyes—she looked like a living corpse. “What do you want me to say, Alpha?” “You lost our child,” I growled, taking another step forward. “And you sit here as if you feel nothing.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “What do you want me to do? Cry? Scream? You already decided this was my fault.” I scoffed. “Isn’t it?” She lowered her head. “Of course. Everything is always my fault.” My blood boiled, and I grabbed her by the arm, yanking her to her feet. “Don’t play games with me.” “Then let go.” I gritted my teeth, staring down at her, but then my eyes widened when my gaze reached her fingers—I saw her ring was missing. “Your ring… You took it off.” She looked at her hand, and when she saw it wasn’t there, she muttered, “Oh.” Oh. Just an oh. Even though I hated her, I never took off my ring. It was the only reminder of what we once shared. “That’s it?” I snarled. “You take off our bond like it meant nothing, and all you can say is ‘oh’? If you hated me this much, you should have just left.” Her lips curved into a small, bitter smile. “Didn’t I try?” “You—” “But you wouldn’t let me, so why are you surprised? You chained me to you. Did you really think a ring would change that?” “That’s enough,” I said, shutting my eyes and shoving her back onto the bed. I took a step back, running a hand through my hair. “Put the ring back on.” “No.” “That wasn’t a request.” “I can’t, because I didn’t take it off. It must have fallen off somewhere at the beach,” she said, turning back to face the window. “I will go search for it,” I said, stepping back and running my hand through my hair. She didn’t answer. “Go to bed.” I clenched my jaw, and without another word, I left, slamming the door behind me. Chapter 5 Dante POV Five Years Ago – Flashback “Did you sleep well?” I asked, running my fingers through Amaya’s silky hair as her head rested on my lap. “No,” she pouted, turning her face up to look at me. I smirked, brushing a loose strand behind her ear. “And why is that, princess?” She huffed dramatically. “Because you weren’t there.” It had only been a short mission—three days at the border—but she acted as if I had been gone for months. I chuckled, trailing my fingers down her jaw. “I told you I’d come back.” “You’re always leaving,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “And one day, you won’t.” My smirk faltered. Amaya was the Alpha’s only daughter, raised in the safety of the packhouse, protected like an egg. She had never known real war, real danger. And yet, she feared losing me more than anything. I gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “I will always come back to you.” She blinked, her emerald eyes searching mine for a moment before she whispered, “Promise?” I leaned down, brushing my lips against her forehead. “I swear it.” A small smile tugged at her lips, but I could still see the hesitation in her eyes. She didn’t like my life as a soldier, didn’t like the bloodshed or the risks. But she loved me enough to endure it. “Come with me next time,” she said, catching me off guard. I raised a brow. “What?” “On your next mission,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows. “I want to see what it’s like.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Absolutely not.” She scowled. “Why not?” “Because you’re the Alpha’s daughter,” I reminded her. “And your father would have my head if I let you anywhere near danger.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not a child, Dante.” “No, but you’re my princess,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her palm. “And I won’t let anything happen to you.” She sighed in frustration but didn’t argue further. Instead, she curled up against me, resting her head on my chest. “Then don’t take so long next time,” she whispered, and I wrapped my arms around her, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender and honey. End of Flashback Ding! Ding! My phone vibrated, startling me out of my sleep. My neck was sore as I had dozed off at my desk. Glancing at my phone, I saw a message from Amaya. I frowned. “I’m sorry.” I scoffed. Sorry? She was apologizing? She should have done that sooner and made things easier for both of us, but she just had to be so stubborn. I picked up my pen to continue signing some documents. But then 10 minutes passed and I found myself just flipping the pages. “She never apologizes,” Mako, my wolf, said, and my hand froze. It was true. Amaya had never been one to admit when she was wrong, even in the past. She had always been proud, but more than that, she had always been distant, keeping her emotions hidden. Something wasn’t right. I immediately grabbed my phone to call her, but the line went straight to voicemail. I got up from my desk and sped past the hallway. There was no way she would have run away. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t… she couldn’t. When I got to her room, I saw two guards standing outside. “Has she left her room?” was the first thing I asked. “No, Alpha. In fact, she has been asleep for a while now. Told us not to disturb her,” one of them replied, and I sighed in relief. Well, that was good. At least she was actually apologizing, but why did I still feel uneasy? She hadn’t left. She was still here. But why wasn’t she answering me? I opened the door, and the moment I stepped inside, I saw her lying in her bed. I breathed another sigh of relief. “Something feels off,” Mako said. I walked closer to her and bent down beside her bed. When I touched her, her skin was cold, causing me to catch my breath. “Amaya,” I whispered, shaking her, but there was no response. “Amaya!” I shouted, shaking her harder, but still, no response. She wasn’t waking up. “No,” I whispered, backing away as my gaze shifted around the room, trying to pinpoint why—until it landed on her nightstand. My blood ran cold when I saw them. Scattered pills. Not one. Not two. Dozens. And they were all empty. My body froze as everything came crashing down. No… I stumbled back and rushed to her, shaking her violently this time. “Amaya! Wake up!” My hands were shaking as I checked the pulse in her wrist. I felt a pulse… but it was weak. Too weak. I turned to the guards at the door. “Get the healer! Get the doctor, NOW!” I watched the hours tick by as the healer worked on Amaya’s unconscious form. I stood by her bedside, clenching my fists while my wolf paced recklessly in my mind. “She’s stable,” the healer finally said, wiping sweat from his brow. “But her body is weak. It will take time before she wakes up, so she must be monitored closely.” I barely heard the last part before he bowed and left, leaving just the two of us alone. Right now, she looked so pale… like a ghost. I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before. I grabbed her wrist, feeling her faint pulse. “Look what you’ve done,” I muttered. How dare you try to leave me? “Isn’t this what you wanted?” Mako taunted. “Our mate almost died. Aren’t you supposed to be happy? You wanted this, didn’t you?” No. I shook my head. My breathing was becoming heavier, so I had to step back, but I almost stumbled. “I didn’t want her dead. I just… I just wanted her to suffer by my side.” She can’t leave me. Never. I won’t let that happen.	LEARN_MORE	https://getokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=18708&u	Galaxy in the Story	https://www.facebook.com/61555427913037/	2,414	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	getokn.com	VIDEO		https://getokn.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=18708&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/t39.35426-6/480657384_943072617976935_2069898935573045978_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=gaMSclcjgVgQ7kNvgGVb7sn&_nc_oc=AdgqhJ51TBR3_Z98IanU56_8fK3o_zT2VW86loFIqujKBinhhfXhYQGIJotf716yn2w&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A5OGWxtzZNsMFmvBMtcZ4XU&oh=00_AYC0PCeduTryXlfhdHVKvtGPkTGUg3t2ifyQfUWVsjWDtg&oe=67C2D545	PERSON_PROFILE	Galaxy in the Story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,691,804	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2691814}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:42	active	2625	🔞Attention! Do not read in public！👉	"Where is she?" I hear the Beta scream. I groan and rise to my feet, grabbing the cleaning basket before heading over. The moment Beta Kyle sees me, he strides towards me and his hand slices against my cheek. I don't make a sound. Years of experience has taught me to keep my mouth shut at all times. "Alpha Trey is expecting company and you still have not cleaned the office." Beta Kyle spits at me. I nod my head and my hand tightens on the cleaning basket. If only I could find the courage to swing it at his head, it would make my day. But I didn't need another week locked up with no food. My stomach already hurt enough. "We are trying to make a good impression on Alpha Dane. Don't you understand how important it is for us to join ourselves with his pack?!" I don't answer, It's a trap, a ploy to provoke me into saying something that would justify punishment. I keep my eyes lowered, avoiding his gaze. "He is the Alpha of Black Shadow, the biggest pack in the world, we need him!" We had never been attacked and we had never attacked anyone, so why did we need another pack to help us? He grabs my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin as he turns me around and kicks me into the office. "Useless Wolf." He mutters as he moves away. Quietly closing the door, I lean against it, observing the already clean office. It looked perfectly fine for a meeting with this so-called powerful Alpha. Closing my eyes, I slide down to the floor. I hated this house. I thought that when I turned eighteen, I could finally escape, but four years later, here I still am, a slave in my own home. Doing all the dirty tasks for my brother, Alpha Trey and the pack. While my ex mate, Beta Kyle waltzes around reminding me of how worthless I am. Someone clears their throat and I freeze, I thought I was alone. Leaning forward, I see a handsome man sitting in a chair, just around the corner. A foot propped up on his knee as he nurses a glass of alcohol. His short hair is dark and his eyes are a deep crimson colour, that don't quite look right. They suddenly shift to me and I throw myself back against the door as my heart pounded. "Is this the way you greet all Alphas?" His deep voice rumbles through the room, there was an edge of amusement to his tone. "I'm sorry." I whisper, getting to my feet. "I...I thought I was alone." I had no idea who he was but I could feel the power radiating off of him, even without my Wolf. "Come forward." He orders and I already feel a lump forming in my throat. Alpha Trey wil kill me. I step around the corner, doing as I'm told, allowing him to see me properly. I close my eyes, expecting the worst. "You smell funny. Yet you are a Wolf, correct?" I nod, though I couldn't tell how he was going to react. Most laughed when they found out about me. "I would prefer it if you spoke to me." He growls, "I'm not in the mood to play games." "Yes." I whisper. I couldn't help but think of all the punishments I was going to have to endure. A whipping maybe? Starvation for another week? "Why do you smell strange? And how is it possible for you to not know I was in the room? You should have scented me." "I..." I hated the question. "You should open your eyes when you are talking to someone. Has your Alpha not taught you anything?" His deep voice sends a shiver through me. Slowly, I open my eyes and lower them, there was no way I was making eye contact."My Wolf abilities were bound," I mutter. Twice, I wanted to add. Twice my abilities were bound. But he probably wasn't interested in that part. He leans forward, I could feel him staring at me, "Why would someone do that?" If this is the Alpha that my brother is supposed to be meeting with, I knew I could screw everything up for him by saying too much. "It was a punishment." I whisper. It wasn't far from the entire truth. There's a twitch in his cheek. Was he angry to hear of such a punishment? Or maybe, just like the others, he was amused by it. I couldn't tell. The door swings open and my brother screeches at me "Neah, what are you doing in my office?" He turns to the crimson eyed man. "I am so sorry that my sister is bothering you, Alpha Dane." Crap, it's him. My brother spins around, hand poised to hit me. I close my eyes, bracing myself, ready to feel the burn. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."Peeking through slits, I see Alpha Dane has risen to his feet, his hand coiled around my brother's wrist. He is taller than my brother, more muscly too. "Neah," My name rolls off of his tongue, "was kindly showing me to your office, Alpha Trey, as you failed to meet me at the front of your house like I requested." What? I had no idea what he was talking about. And he had no reason to lie for me. My brother glares at me, withdrawing his hands reluctantly. "Neah is your sister, correct?" Alpha Dane questions my brother. "She is." Alpha Trey mutters with disgust. He looks away from me to focus on the man asking questions. "Why do you treat her like trash?" No one had spoken to my brother about his treatment of me because everyone took great joy in beating me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move but I knew I'd better leave. If this deal goes to pot because of me, then that would be my fault too. "Neah was responsible for our parents' death." Alpha Trey spits. I closed my eyes, battling back the tears that were threatening to break free. "Responsible how?" Alpha Dane's voice rumbles through me. He was definitely angry. "She served them Wolfsbane." Don't make a sound. Don't make a sound. I knew Alpha Dane was studying me. They all did, no one could ever quite believe how someone could do something so disgusting as poisoning their own parents. I stood there, with my head hanging low, wishing for the ground to open up and suck me in. There are movements around me. He was standing directly in front of me. With a rough finger he tilts my face up towards his, forcing me to look at him. "You poisoned your parents?" "I was six." I splutter. "I just made them lemonade." My voice comes out all squeaky as I try to defend myself. I could barely remember my parents, but I could remember all the guilt I had been made to feel since that day. His crimson eyes flash to my brothers. "Hardly seems fair to blame a six year old." "A six year old should know the difference between plants." Alpha Trey snaps "Sounds to me like she was set up." Alpha Dane shrugs his shoulders, letting go of me. "You weren't there, Alpha Dane." My brother muttered through gritted teeth as his eyes narrowed to slits. "I didn't ask you here to talk about my slave!" Alpha Dane grabs his leather jacket from the chair. Unlike other Alpha's, he seemed to dress more casually, and his arms are bare of tattoos, not a single bit of ink poked out anywhere. "You're right and now I have a few things to mull over." "I thought we agreed." My brother exclaims. "Nothing has been signed. Now I will show myself out." The moment he is out of the office, my brother slams a hand into my stomach. "What the heck did you say to him?" "N...nothing. Well, he just asked me why I smelled funny." "Did you tell him?" My head involuntarily moves up and down. "But I didn't say it was you." I tried to sound strong and confident but it just comes out as a whisper. My brother's hand locks into my black hair as he yanks my head back, sending a shooting pain through my skull. "If you have ruined this, you won't see daylight again." He drags me by my hair from the office and down the hallway towards the basement door. "Please…." I beg. "He was an Alpha…I… I had to answer him." My cheeks burn with my tears as he flings the door open. On the other side of the door is Alpha Dane. He is leaning against the wall with his arms folded, staring out at us. My brother's hand falls from my hair, relieving the pressure on the back of my skull... "Alpha Dane, I thought you had left." Alpha Trey murmurs angrily. "I said I would show myself out. I thought I had found the door, but instead I find a basement, riddled in your sister's strange scent. Is this how you treat your family?" "It's none of your business!" Alpha Trey sputters. Alpha Dane laughs. "If I agree to this deal, everything about your business becomes my business. So tell me, what would your punishment be for her? No food, locked away for a week, beatings?" I see those crimson eyes land on my swollen face. "I have a proposition for you, Alpha Trey." "We have already agreed on terms." "Well, I'm adding one. And if you don't agree, you will not get my help. Instead, you will become my enemy. And we both know, you don't want that." "I take it that your new terms have something to do with her?" Alpha Trey mutters through clenched teeth. "You would be correct. Let me take her away to my pack and then you, Trey will have a deal." Me? Why would he want me? I was a nobody, no one special. "Deal." After a little more thinking, Alpha Trey sticks out his hand for Alpha Dane to shake. He doesn't take it, instead his crimson eyes shift from me to my brother. "I will have paperwork drawn up and will return tomorrow." He reaches a hand out and cups my face, "Ensure you have everything packed." He drags his thumb across my bottom lip and strides to the opposite end of the hallway and straight to the front door. He knew exactly where the front door was, so what was he up to? He pauses at the door. "If I find out you has laid a hand on her. The contract will be the last thing you need to worry about." He struts out, slamming the door behind him. After Dane leaves, my brother grabs me by the collar. "You think you're going to have a good life if you follow Alpha Dane out of here? Don't be naive!" He continues in a vicious voice. "He's the coldest man in the world, he's killed nine of his mates, I'm waiting to see what happens to you!"	LEARN_MORE	https://wwwedb.com/market/meganovel/13?lpid=11783&	New world publications	https://www.facebook.com/100090352943774/	3,808	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	wwwedb.com	IMAGE		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/t39.35426-6/473523380_1323916092124998_6561136283334815429_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=KdXuS9BxO1UQ7kNvgF-pXjh&_nc_oc=AdjlDh0-fzpYrWKFzESk-FplRd3y5FqZEvKKEFCNQsGdk3hgfJlQw0cG7JXJxT8w9xK_fnnRj2xhJhhcX2rZ2VMp&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AHkGLMoDldRWl8Pyv0Gqoi8&oh=00_AYCRRAAVJ-CquT5KC_S3kjeDD9DLCAx_moJgQRWLI-kY7g&oe=67C2D37A	PERSON_PROFILE	New world publications	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete

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