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2,689,856	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689859}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623	Roll Up to Win is Back!	We’re rolling out great prizes like a 2025 Ford Bronco, $500 Daily Jackpots, Xbox Consoles, and More!	LEARN_MORE	https://timhortons.app.link/4KgKhuFxXQb?%243p=a_fa	Tim Hortons Cafe and Bake Shop	https://www.facebook.com/TimHortonsUS/	3,618,160	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	timhortons.com	DCO		https://timhortons.app.link/4KgKhuFxXQb?%243p=a_facebook&~ad_id={{ad.id}}&~ad_name={{ad.name}}&~ad_set_id={{adset.id}}&~ad_set_name={{adset.name}}&~campaign={{campaign.name}}&~campaign_id={{campaign.id}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481053895_9296695770445906_1263809562056455503_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=t20QyMTpGDUQ7kNvgFlkkM5&_nc_oc=AdjUEl4Cs0MC7NDe3s6AsWiJ8c9hdCnkRxQ6oKkdVxDcqqPhe9qp6_1X-Y41s6ZFJz-JHXNBW5Fe5uQfJ1DC0ORT&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AAm27C7UOSX52TIZpeqBlv2&oh=00_AYAg558ZVP7WeWmWafGuABEye3qVJKEc_5U6VjaMfD5DIg&oe=67C2C903	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Tim Hortons Cafe and Bake Shop	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,290	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689289}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE	http://instagram.com/upland.photography	upland.photography	https://www.instagram.com/_u/upland.photography	0	1969-12-31 18:00	Visit Instagram Profile	instagram.com	CAROUSEL		http://instagram.com/upland.photography	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-19/436346223_476639138053560_4870557707037549620_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s206x206_tt6&_nc_cat=110&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=525117&_nc_ohc=AvC-nlkNZLMQ7kNvgGNddcy&_nc_oc=AdggG1neX92mBuAFBDlyCIO-neD0hjqfe40fpxhsSCbirzmtJDCA4MCJ_6W2hP8Ck-iU5tkhtYJFh2Hv1cjKcFaq&_nc_zt=24&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.cdninstagram.com&oh=00_AYBEhrClDU8vD5xUNa3Zuog1qaCZINM2Su_VYbcp1AUnTQ&oe=67C2DFB2	IG_ADS_IDENTITY	1	upland.photography	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,858	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689859}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623	Roll Up to Win is Back!	We’re rolling out great prizes like a 2025 Ford Bronco, $500 Daily Jackpots, Xbox Consoles, and More!	LEARN_MORE	https://timhortons.app.link/4KgKhuFxXQb?%243p=a_fa	Tim Hortons Cafe and Bake Shop	https://www.facebook.com/TimHortonsUS/	3,618,160	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	timhortons.com	DCO		https://timhortons.app.link/4KgKhuFxXQb?%243p=a_facebook&~ad_id={{ad.id}}&~ad_name={{ad.name}}&~ad_set_id={{adset.id}}&~ad_set_name={{adset.name}}&~campaign={{campaign.name}}&~campaign_id={{campaign.id}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481053895_9296695770445906_1263809562056455503_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=t20QyMTpGDUQ7kNvgFlkkM5&_nc_oc=AdjUEl4Cs0MC7NDe3s6AsWiJ8c9hdCnkRxQ6oKkdVxDcqqPhe9qp6_1X-Y41s6ZFJz-JHXNBW5Fe5uQfJ1DC0ORT&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AAm27C7UOSX52TIZpeqBlv2&oh=00_AYAg558ZVP7WeWmWafGuABEye3qVJKEc_5U6VjaMfD5DIg&oe=67C2C903	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Tim Hortons Cafe and Bake Shop	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,693,835	/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=3B6BDC606D33F83387517AF2AE8F0F8C2DB5C49DC6FCFFCA	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/472391077_1156417926100375_4522433965996415243_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=S405z8NXQUgQ7kNvgF6latk&_nc_oc=Adikgffysn50JY76Zp2bLg5mSoNkhZWStUyt3n-1XkSNDz-MuxhMEu-jKLNPv2WteMg&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AleldS3D8vIK9tVNUpA6W-P&oh=00_AYB64pxNUxQ5lwIGpvm4Fj5EPbqlnCMtUS-HYAKRr4Sx9A&oe=67C42965	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Fun Novel	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,860	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689859}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623	Roll Up to Win is Back!	We’re rolling out great prizes like a 2025 Ford Bronco, $500 Daily Jackpots, Xbox Consoles, and More!	LEARN_MORE	https://timhortons.app.link/4KgKhuFxXQb?%243p=a_fa	Tim Hortons Cafe and Bake Shop	https://www.facebook.com/TimHortonsUS/	3,618,160	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	timhortons.com	DCO		https://timhortons.app.link/4KgKhuFxXQb?%243p=a_facebook&~ad_id={{ad.id}}&~ad_name={{ad.name}}&~ad_set_id={{adset.id}}&~ad_set_name={{adset.name}}&~campaign={{campaign.name}}&~campaign_id={{campaign.id}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480443622_1337897867233049_5061300974994862785_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=C6t7i45L3-gQ7kNvgGWe5x7&_nc_oc=AdizMyBP0Oq6Ri2MfKz2MrSeEvjs5_Mo2MUT0PEyL5K1gDdBV-iA6YTiqIZ21vfNQ2Fm9RyDR3BH6p7yq8w6hx3p&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AAm27C7UOSX52TIZpeqBlv2&oh=00_AYD5vRgdBJMFBO4aPyoQ5-MjQFKNj64NHuwLrtyVlAqSEg&oe=67C2F60F	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Tim Hortons Cafe and Bake Shop	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,458	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623	47th Annual Polar Bear Ride for Make-A-Wish Utah 2025	🔴Polar Bear Ride for Make-A-Wish Utah Mark your calendar! Registration is open! Poker Run, 50/50, Chili, & Bike Giveaway! Only 500 ride pins available and they go to the first 500 people (riders or passengers) to register online. T-Shirts (in black, white, gray or navy) are ONLY available with EARLY online registration. Order yours soon! 🔴For every $100 spent online, get one free entry to win a 2025 Harley-Davidson Nightster 975 courtesy of Intermountain Harley-Davidson. Get registered now at PolarBearRide.com	BUY_TICKETS	http://PolarBearRide.com/	Salt Lake Motorcycle Club - SLMC	https://www.facebook.com/SaltLakeMC/	1,655	1969-12-31 18:00	Buy tickets	polarbearride.com	EVENT	http://PolarBearRide.com/	http://PolarBearRide.com/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481069704_9317419945003914_4658749082630086419_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=N9e5O-xzaR8Q7kNvgELh65v&_nc_oc=Adi5TwP3cPCO7ukejDphCuGeL9C6bzSghVh2gsrIMVpeSvi5pa1qdDMNcMvnm0bH0ivUNgZaNXErfOfDySjScpWR&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=Aj1W0nuj_s3ja42uXRQGRQE&oh=00_AYCSVVVVhLs_2D9nnNHGtVp0GR9gEfLSOaCBbZV60aZBWA&oe=67C2CBEB	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Salt Lake Motorcycle Club - SLMC	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,864	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689863}'	No	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE	http://instagram.com/dippedbyneni	dippedbyneni	https://www.instagram.com/_u/dippedbyneni	0	1969-12-31 18:00	Visit Instagram Profile	instagram.com	CAROUSEL		http://instagram.com/dippedbyneni	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.cdninstagram.com/v/t51.2885-19/480700471_1310068823370214_145128543701353639_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s206x206_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=525117&_nc_ohc=4McbpZi3DgkQ7kNvgFuH-g_&_nc_oc=AdgkxOtJsGc5BikpFfvKR3wKKyLG28N_pxnSaFwFmKshuSWqZ8RHGP-J_VhHgzMJgk_2urOmGQYmnA9hZNUHjULS&_nc_zt=24&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.cdninstagram.com&oh=00_AYD5OF3IFyaynGtENnbvE05uNl82zhY-NAJDjC7FFTqDkg&oe=67C2DFF5	IG_ADS_IDENTITY	1	dippedbyneni	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,157	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623	Donatos Pizza	🎶 ABBA fans, this one’s for you! 🎶 At Donatos, we love great pizza and great entertainment—so we’re excited to partner with the Victory Theatre to bring you an epic giveaway! We’ve got tickets to Mania – The ABBA Tribute Band! 🎤✨ And the fun doesn’t stop there! Up next, we’ll have giveaways for Tom Segura, Evansville Thunderbolts Hockey, Brett Young, and Kane Brown— so be sure to like/follow our page! Make Donatos part of your event night! Whether you’re heading to the Ford Center, or Victory Theatre, stop by Donatos on event days for 20% off your order. A hot, fresh pizza before the show? Sounds like a winning combination! 🍕🔥 You can also dine with us anytime before February 26th to enter in-store. Multiple purchases will get you multiple entries into the drawing. #DonatosEvansville #ManiaABBA #VictoryTheatre #FordCenter #EventDayDeals #PizzaBeforeTheShow	LIKE_PAGE	https://www.facebook.com/110684480571646	Donatos Pizza	https://www.facebook.com/donatosevansville/	1,422	1969-12-31 18:00	Like Page	facebook.com	IMAGE		https://www.facebook.com/110684480571646	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481075330_9231359566899355_1151967331573174101_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=106&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=BtX56iRCo9YQ7kNvgE9aiKA&_nc_oc=AdjrdO02bJiiDTkIetgH0zCR5szNkOe8zYmhbKG2cdQSYsTpzDrO2ZCP9f-6DdL4nRxATZ_UbyYgQJewWn45MskS&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AGAF0hQbaFar1hEDwkwHwwC&oh=00_AYDSwfxv9wbqniFUvHkpL39RvkAk8GNkIr5H-FCX7DDvNA&oe=67C2C6A3	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Donatos Pizza	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,164	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689162}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			LEARN_MORE	https://derftuned.com/us/products/dtms-da-007	Derf Tuned	https://www.facebook.com/derf.tuned/	19,046	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	derftuned.com	CAROUSEL		https://derftuned.com/us/products/dtms-da-007	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/482002711_1642453936636120_6760138793607909887_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=83s3lvTAyBsQ7kNvgHvXnj_&_nc_oc=AdhgSVnBff2M1b0sAFXYE1XZp-vJmkRFx_TS31iC7zIz9xTAss4w75IG_L_f6hcco4CzmPcldD9ApGbuBlYEwlUy&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AGAF0hQbaFar1hEDwkwHwwC&oh=00_AYA-VmuCrBpFen8vX3hA2PVlCGh7jSK6UekwKgVm-nbrRA&oe=67C2DEDB	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Derf Tuned	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,166	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689162}'	No	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			LEARN_MORE	https://derftuned.com/us/products/dtms-da-007	Derf Tuned	https://www.facebook.com/derf.tuned/	19,046	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	derftuned.com	CAROUSEL		https://derftuned.com/us/products/dtms-da-007	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/482002711_1642453936636120_6760138793607909887_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=83s3lvTAyBsQ7kNvgHvXnj_&_nc_oc=AdhgSVnBff2M1b0sAFXYE1XZp-vJmkRFx_TS31iC7zIz9xTAss4w75IG_L_f6hcco4CzmPcldD9ApGbuBlYEwlUy&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AGAF0hQbaFar1hEDwkwHwwC&oh=00_AYA-VmuCrBpFen8vX3hA2PVlCGh7jSK6UekwKgVm-nbrRA&oe=67C2DEDB	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Derf Tuned	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,688,981	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2688978}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			VIEW_INSTAGRAM_PROFILE	https://www.instagram.com/_u/platosclosetmish	Plato's Closet - Mishawaka, IN	https://www.facebook.com/platosclosetmishawaka/	4,397	1969-12-31 18:00	Visit Instagram Profile	instagram.com	CAROUSEL		https://www.instagram.com/_u/platosclosetmish	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480875093_1351296105893240_8461107514372915786_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=yWQzVc79lTkQ7kNvgH0Dguc&_nc_oc=AdjhmESGi7fbk3t158a933QJThLqnzD2iIvVYnBnpmucigKvOEsDJ3DmFwiKP6ixLX3h4zu0CMJ9QI1hN7NIZEiC&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ATC6aPaHfZKC1vjUufo29FX&oh=00_AYB9qakQOo7DLsVolULX1qZ2EZ-OPlCHTNp5MHZiZonCQg&oe=67C2EB64	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Plato's Closet - Mishawaka, IN	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,688,997	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2688999}'	No	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			BOOK_NOW	http://instagram.com/secretsundazechi	Secret Sundaze	https://www.facebook.com/61557011941524/	238	1969-12-31 18:00	Book Now	instagram.com	CAROUSEL		http://instagram.com/secretsundazechi	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481049511_996385235707661_809120102450551357_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=K5IskwfB1EoQ7kNvgEwzj2f&_nc_oc=Adg9VdsBsE8wDNRN7qPyU5tZEvh6ictrak_ymlHaCisUvK2Tnxi-jqi2eFcRmwX6s-l9hOYwtwf3jPemdSu9WPy0&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ATC6aPaHfZKC1vjUufo29FX&oh=00_AYA1ticF9vV7V2tBI_o1FBt4Z_FFZ5WpfDfYzAPdUa8iiA&oe=67C2CFBB	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Secret Sundaze	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,688,998	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2688999}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			BOOK_NOW	http://instagram.com/secretsundazechi	Secret Sundaze	https://www.facebook.com/61557011941524/	238	1969-12-31 18:00	Book Now	instagram.com	CAROUSEL		http://instagram.com/secretsundazechi	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481049511_996385235707661_809120102450551357_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=K5IskwfB1EoQ7kNvgEwzj2f&_nc_oc=Adg9VdsBsE8wDNRN7qPyU5tZEvh6ictrak_ymlHaCisUvK2Tnxi-jqi2eFcRmwX6s-l9hOYwtwf3jPemdSu9WPy0&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ATC6aPaHfZKC1vjUufo29FX&oh=00_AYA1ticF9vV7V2tBI_o1FBt4Z_FFZ5WpfDfYzAPdUa8iiA&oe=67C2CFBB	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Secret Sundaze	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,034	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689033}'	No	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623	Get Entered NOW With 🎟️ 500X ENTRIES 🎟️	Win This Custom Turbocharged Harley🔥 Get 500X entries per every $1 spent right now when you get entered to take this bike home AND for a limited time, we will double enter you to win this bike OR our next one too! Grab that t-shirt or swag & get entered in to win a custom Harley 👍	SHOP_NOW	https://shop.fbombbaggers.com/	F Bomb Baggers	https://www.facebook.com/chicagobaggers/	79,850	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop now	shop.fbombbaggers.com	VIDEO	Time is running out to win this Road Glide...	https://shop.fbombbaggers.com/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481277624_944686547772735_6701233145463314474_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=QYrYL9gjPnUQ7kNvgEK_lBw&_nc_oc=Adi0MR5kvmGhMfGNXr6_Y-S5B3Fruz9XE8BZ3qRY5h1YFkLhiB-BwX3sA7F7Lby3rb_6LHkiJ7DIwH21GmKJVfG4&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A5ZWFh78vCFDv_eo6H-KP7U&oh=00_AYBcpO72dkK2YRMJcYjL9CMhwSKizvIveMqDzCu8a0ZjfQ&oe=67C2D3C0	PERSON_PROFILE	0	F Bomb Baggers	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,766	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623	FREE ENTRY: Summer Shred Coaching Scholarship Giveaway	Are you ready to crush your fitness goals on a plant-based diet for summer 2025? 🌱💪 ☀️ Enter my Summer Shred Scholarship 1on1 Coaching Giveaway and get the chance to win: ✅ 4 months of 1on1 Plant-Based Coaching with Coach Bryan ✅ Lose up to 10-20+lbs and get fit for summer ✅ Finally hit your fitness goals while staying true to your plant-based lifestyle No fluff. No guesswork. No gym. No restrictive diets. Just a proven system and accountability to get you fit, strong and healthy for summer 2025! One lucky winner will win! Will it be you? There's only one way to find out! Click below to enter for free! Deadline is midnight February 28th, and winners will be selected March 1st.	SIGN_UP	https://consciousfitness.io/summer-shred-scholarsh	Conscious Fitness	https://www.facebook.com/consciousfitness.io/	656	1969-12-31 18:00	Sign up	consciousfitness.io	IMAGE	Lose 10-20lbs & Build Muscle with my Summer Shred Scholarship 💪	https://consciousfitness.io/summer-shred-scholarship	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481465106_1820226302141134_7779891786282705477_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=eIC0rtOJ9OgQ7kNvgGxyFrg&_nc_oc=AdghTRd7gxHumPHBFftiFRQqQAsz4QCAayyTRDBx6O7HVplAoVfXqrWqs9t6lw15uvaLrZMuUC-D6sUo3Ad35YaF&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=ADKlaAhmR8fp7Nx5pcm-106&oh=00_AYAD48Wvav5BrXNpuoXjd9SPdP3vmKKSqDMj1voosTObLQ&oe=67C2E24F	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Conscious Fitness	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,052	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689051}'	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623	Chat with us	🎁✨ Free Giveaway: Stunning Zircon Necklace! ✨🎁 Brighten up your look with these five stunning colors: 💎 Emerald Green: Rich and timeless elegance 💎 Light Sea Blue: Serene and refreshing 💎 Lemon Yellow: Bright and full of energy 💎 Ruby Red: Bold and passionate 💎 Rose Pink: Soft and graceful 🎉 LIMITED TIME FREE GIVEAWAY! Claim your free necklace now – no purchase required!	CONTACT_US	https://fb.com/messenger_doc/	Karey Degraffenreid	https://www.facebook.com/61567859438451/	12	1969-12-31 18:00	Contact us	fb.com	IMAGE		https://fb.com/messenger_doc/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/481185008_1296647518232403_5840498995268827401_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=SeGIXi8pHLAQ7kNvgH4dVcr&_nc_oc=Adic0r0q0orcugGWDuHKWLuFEyJm4Poe7h-E43MGAE6igtY6bKZEQXOGgqvPsnK0Iqzq6pDzW6cRuih9X3weAC8I&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AeRMG-BgM9uCD9wG0sJ68qJ&oh=00_AYDajwAlgv1iP7ceAbRbZlAliNZm23BSPTcXQST9Bi2HEQ&oe=67C2E5D4	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Karey Degraffenreid	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,058	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2689059}'	No	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			SIGN_UP	https://www.sleepoverpartyshop.com/giveaway/?utm_c	Sleepover Party Shop	https://www.facebook.com/SleepoverPartyShop/	202	1969-12-31 18:00	Sign Up	sleepoverpartyshop.com	CAROUSEL		https://www.sleepoverpartyshop.com/giveaway/?utm_campaign=C3&utm_medium=PPC&utm_source=WP	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/477190276_984483486897434_5521672797332245660_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=iRx7FBlPGXkQ7kNvgEuttTo&_nc_oc=AdhnxkrJIxwpERO1cFCegSX7YRhS1FAYd-USvePyDIlEg9H7QC7N8wTl8dY7SZSqKGZyOC-dF9KyX1GbPW3PlwtJ&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AeRMG-BgM9uCD9wG0sJ68qJ&oh=00_AYAanQWndNpqnyNae22oRwxzlwUnyKHi_UzI5TTfdn7nPg&oe=67C2D045	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Sleepover Party Shop	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,689,066	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	Yes	2025-02-24 19:00	active	2623			SHOP_NOW	http://www.ammoyanaturals.com/	ammoyanaturals	https://www.facebook.com/100087227370632/	54	1969-12-31 18:00	Shop now	www.ammoyanaturals.com	VIDEO		http://www.ammoyanaturals.com/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/480936150_1395176168131193_5647012488378547189_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=6hftedLahckQ7kNvgEeio-7&_nc_oc=Adj5XIp0p505K-luZ0r21aAZ-5UvqYl8k12KXtfoLbwuYYM4nBuKcxTsVh45Y7OasG3FInqUsmWgdmgYsnySGupu&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AeRMG-BgM9uCD9wG0sJ68qJ&oh=00_AYAHCsnZ1cgxs1DHdnZDPEek7lZx9ahgiJSD5eH7kIS7Ug&oe=67C2ED24	PERSON_PROFILE	0	ammoyanaturals	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,692,114	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2025-02-24 19:43	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	Hello Read	https://www.facebook.com/61550873765205/	1,009	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	fbweb.moboreader.net	VIDEO		https://fbweb.moboreader.net/67687322-fb_contact-ena255_2-0130-core2.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=331118&accid=638434121690371&exdata=C46BD16AC307897580261340B8E2A825FAE05ADFC243A753	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/475732252_9010932382288223_2806895479802056913_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=iKn3utGlD1wQ7kNvgH82bC7&_nc_oc=AdiLG9LM_xUkh7_W3e_cH2oZPJg47wATpNHzmfPyEHny-kPXK7EAe8IaRf40n8XF4R_atzYFA0Kk85t4nzopSO6c&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AHnDIHd1vO8SiV58v592ypa&oh=00_AYBxhINxBopDvDsUUQctWK5CcuJtFv1CxTwX2YeRGG8aVQ&oe=67C2FCA9	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Hello Read	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,691,923	/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	VIDEO		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/t39.35426-6/474109750_1657126471906412_7744112458457301422_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60_tt6&_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=y4t7PAEq1DUQ7kNvgGtQZsB&_nc_oc=Adg53ND4AI5kBpq8eDxHZsx7-4uYPLgIfXYVIUKggwv9yUvwtUecbT591MEFpY9Ml_y0HSbvmOT-g-h7W2gmTBPy&_nc_zt=14&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=A6va-VqisSOlRUj5Pmljf9c&oh=00_AYC2QJ1Tna-fskTRLWUUctoGtkPjN8lhRyZDaGkjR70-Tw&oe=67C2D92F	PERSON_PROFILE	0	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete

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