After My Husband Took My Skin for His Mistress

The morning light streamed through the glass walls of Ephraim's penthouse solarium, casting prisms across my lap. I adjusted my position on the white leather chaise, angling my private tablet away from the door. My heart hammered against my ribs as I stared at the screen. "Ms. Harrison, we are pleased to inform you that your application for the senior designer position at Blackwell & Associates has been accepted..." I traced my finger over the words, reading them for the fifth time. A job offer. In London. Under a name that wasn't Hailey Jenkins, the girl who belonged to Ephraim Ellis. The tablet felt hot in my hands—dangerous, thrilling. For ten years, I'd existed within the boundaries Ephraim had drawn for me.

Chapters

Chapter 4

The scent of jasmine tea filled the kitchen as I carefully arranged fresh flowers in a crystal vase. My shoulder still ached from the accident, but the physical therapy was helping. Small victories, I supposed. At least I could lift my arm without wincing now.

"Hailey?" Alani's voice drifted from the hallway. "Could you help me with something?"

I set down the vase, wiping my hands on a towel. "Of course."

She stood by the stove, stirring a pot of water that had begun to boil. Steam rose in wispy tendrils around her face, making her look almost ethereal in her white sundress.

"I'm making tea for Ephraim," she explained, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "He mentioned he had a headache this morning."

I moved closer, noticing how she angled herself away from me. "Let me help you with that. You shouldn't be lifting heavy pots with your injuries."

"Oh, I'm fine," she insisted, but her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the kettle.

What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion.

The pot slipped from her grasp. Boiling water cascaded down her leg, and her scream pierced the air—a sound so raw and agonized that I froze for a moment before lunging forward.

"Alani!" I grabbed a dish towel and tried to soak up the scalding liquid. "Let me see—"

"No!" She jerked away from me, her face contorted in pain. "Don't touch me!"

Footsteps thundered down the hallway. Ephraim appeared in the doorway, his face draining of color as he took in the scene.

"What happened?" he demanded, rushing to Alani's side.

"The pot slipped," she sobbed, clinging to him. "It's so hot, Ephraim. It hurts so much."

"Let me see," he urged, trying to examine her leg.

"No," she whimpered, pulling away. "It's too... too horrible. I can't let you see."

I stood back, watching this performance with growing unease. Something felt wrong. The way she'd positioned herself near the stove. How the pot had seemed to slip so conveniently.

---

The private clinic smelled of antiseptic and money. I sat in the waiting room, my leg throbbing beneath its bandages, while Ephraim paced outside the examination room.

"How is she?" I asked when he finally emerged.

His face was grave. "It's worse than we thought. Third-degree burns over most of her thigh."

The doctor—a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses who'd arrived suspiciously quickly—nodded in agreement. "The damage is extensive. We're looking at potential necrosis if we don't intervene quickly."

"What kind of intervention?" I asked.

"Skin grafting," the doctor replied smoothly. "We need to remove the dead tissue and replace it with healthy skin."

Ephraim ran a hand through his hair. "What are the options?"

"Synthetic materials are available," the doctor said, "but for someone of Ms. Moore's age and... aesthetic considerations, a natural graft would be preferable. Particularly from a close match—family member or someone with similar tissue type."

Alani's voice called weakly from the examination room. "Ephraim? Is someone there?"

He rushed to her side without hesitation.

---

The living room felt colder than usual as Ephraim sat across from me, his expression unreadable. The medical reports lay between us on the coffee table—papers that looked official but somehow felt wrong.

"Hailey," he began, his voice carefully controlled. "I need to ask something of you."

I tensed, my fingers curling into fists. "What is it?"

"Alani needs a skin graft." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "The doctor says a close match is best."

Realization dawned slowly, like ice water trickling down my spine. "You want me to..."

"You're the same age, similar complexion." His eyes held mine, unflinching. "It would be a simple procedure. Just a small section from your thigh."

"From my thigh?" I echoed, horror rising in my chest. "Ephraim, that's—"

"That's what I'm asking of you." His voice hardened. "After everything I've done for you."

The room seemed to tilt. "This isn't... normal. People don't ask this of each other."

"Don't they?" He reached for his phone, fingers flying over the screen. "Let me remind you what normal looks like."

He turned the screen toward me. A spreadsheet filled with numbers—dollar amounts, dates, descriptions.

"Ten years," he said quietly. "Every dress, every meal, every surgery to fix what the foster system broke in you. Every dollar I've spent giving you a life worth living."

My stomach churned as I scrolled through the entries. Each one a reminder of my place in his world.

"It's time to balance the ledger, Hailey." His voice was soft but unyielding. "Or did you think my generosity was never going to require anything in return?"

I stared at him, this man who'd shaped my entire adult life, and saw something I'd never noticed before—the cold calculation behind his generosity.

"You can't seriously expect me to—"

"I do expect it." He stood, towering over me. "Unless you'd prefer to explain to yourself why you're so ungrateful for the life I gave you."

Continue to next part

On the night of our engagement, I learned the truth-his heart still belonged to someone else, his first love. Three years slipped by while I pretended to be ugly and a fool, helping him rise from housekeeper's son to talk of the town. But he stood by as she accused me of theft and even sent men to ruin me. "She stole my beloved's success. Do whatever you want with her." For years, I had hidden behind a mask, and he probably never realized that the true heiress to a vast fortune was right before his eyes. I stopped pretending. When everyone mocked me, I stunned them with my real beauty. Anyone who tried to steal my work found their plans crushed. My ex tried to humiliate me, so I forced his father to kneel and apologize. The school buzzed, trying to guess who was backing me. My father, the richest man alive, said, "She is my daughter." The nation's top doctor added, "No one can threaten my mentor." The leader of a global arms syndicate took me in his arms and declared, "She is my woman." Watching the scene as he knelt, my ex burst into tears, begging for a second chance.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.1

I Accidentally Slept With The CEO

9.1

After catching her fiancé cheating on her, Lena Hart goes out drinking with one goal: forget everything. One reckless night turns into a steamy one-night stand with a handsome stranger who leaves her breathless and nameless. She leaves before morning, convinced it was just a mistake she can bury. Until she walks into work. The stranger is Lucas Reed, her company's new CEO. And Lena is assigned as his personal assistant. Now she's trapped in relentless proximity with the man who knows her body better than he should, forced to sit outside his office, take his orders, and pretend their night never happened. Lucas is powerful and devastatingly aware of exactly what they're risking and exactly how badly he wants her, the harder they try to stay professional, the more dangerous their attraction becomes. One night was supposed to mean nothing. Now it could destroy her career... or become the one thing neither of them can walk away from.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.1

I Carried Her Labor, He Stole My Life

9.1

Pain sliced through me like a hot blade, driving me to my knees against the cold hospital wall. I bit down on my fist to muffle my scream, tasting blood as another contraction tore through my body. My vision blurred, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead as I struggled to breathe through the agony. "Please," I gasped to a passing nurse, reaching out with trembling fingers. "Help me." Her eyes flickered to mine, a flash of pity quickly replaced by practiced indifference. She stepped around my crumpled form without breaking stride, her shoes squeaking against the polished floor as she disappeared down the corridor. They'd been told to ignore me. All of them. Nathan's orders. I dragged myself up using the wall for support, my legs quivering beneath me.

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.6

If you and I cannot escape the sea of sin

9.6

Chapter 1 I’ve always loved dogs, so when I was a child, Grandfather placed a leash in my hand. He told me the boy technically my uncle, Anthony, would be my pet. From that day on, I learned to swing the whip. Laughing, I lashed him until he bled, all the while respectfully calling him Uncle. Later, the dog broke its chains and turned on its master. In public, I remained the unassailable heiress of the Jessica empire. In private, late at night, he would grip my throat, force me to my knees, and demand to know when I’d give him a child. I took it all in silence. Until the day I learned I was pregnant—and overheard him soothing his long-lost first love. “Marry me,” he said. “I’ll deal with Jessica so she won’t be in your way.” My fingers found the scar on my arm. No heartbreak, just the quiet tally of a countdown. When the seventh mark appeared, I would be free of him for good. --- My drifting consciousness snapped back as Anthony’s ragged breathing slowly eased. We clung to each other like any ordinary couple, limbs tangled. A flicker of warmth stirred in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak, but a sharp ringtone cut me off. Anthony snatched up his phone. Seeing the caller ID, he pulled out of me at once and answered, his voice softening. “Grace, what’s wrong?” Grace—Anthony’s long-lost first love, the girl who’d saved his life years ago. The woman he’d spent tens of millions wooing with flowers, yachts, and starlit villas. The one he’d proposed to ten times. Ice water poured over me, washing away every lingering trace of pleasure. I stayed silent. I swallowed the words that had almost spilled out in the heat of the moment— *I’m almost a month along.* “Anthony,” Grace’s wounded voice came through the speaker, “you went to see Jessica again, didn’t you?” His body still carried the heat of desire, but his eyes turned cold as they flicked toward me. Gently, he soothed her: “She’s just a bitch. If you don’t like it, I won’t touch her again.” Whatever Grace said next, Anthony didn’t bother lowering his voice as he headed for the bathroom. “Be good. Just say you’ll marry me, and I’ll deal with Jessica immediately. I won’t let her be an eyesore for you.” My heart plummeted. Ignoring the ache in my back and legs, I slid out of bed, wiped the sticky wetness from my skin, and curled up on the rug at the foot of the bed. I dragged the blanket over my naked body, trying to steal back a little warmth. A memory surfaced: eight years ago, after Anthony had tried to run from the Jessica family and been dragged back by Grandfather. Night after night, he’d slept curled on the floor of my room like a dog, utterly still. Back then, everyone thought my betrayal and torment had broken his spirit for good. No one knew that, under my deliberate cover, Anthony had been quietly trading stocks, investing, building a company—becoming Kingsport’s mysterious rising star. Years later, when Grandfather suffered a stroke and lay dying, with the Anthony's Group thrown into turmoil, Anthony finally struck. He nearly tore the family empire apart. In the end, it was me who saved the crumbling dynasty—kneeling on the floor, handing over every share of the Anthony's Group left to me in Grandfather’s will, then crawling into his bed. That day was my twentieth birthday. “Go shower. You can sleep in the bed tonight.” Anthony’s voice pulled me from the edge of sleep. His handsome features still held a trace of the tenderness he’d just shown the woman he loved. “Grace agreed to marry me. You’ll have to start calling her Mrs Jessica, Jessica.” A faint smile touched his lips—the first lively expression he’d shown me in a long time. It reminded me of eight years ago, when we’d fled the Jessica house hand in hand, betraying the world for our love. He’d grinned and shouted, “From today on, Jessica belongs to Anthony!” But now, even in our most intimate moments, he looked at me with nothing but hatred and impatience. That tenderness, that love—none of it was mine anymore. My throat tightened. I swallowed hard before answering evenly, “Congratulations.” Dazed, I walked into the bathroom and pulled up Gregory’s number. **Me:** Begin the plan. Gather the materials for submission. His reply came instantly. **Gregory:** Understood, Boss. I put my phone away and let scalding water pour over my skin. A cold, heavy ache settled in my chest, but beneath it bloomed a fierce, swelling hope. Six years and eleven months. I was finally close. This monstrous house, built on sin and cruelty—I would watch it crumble to dust with my own eyes. My fingers traced the six scars on my right arm, each one raised and distinct. I closed my stinging eyes. Just one more month. Once the seventh year was complete, once the seventh mark appeared, I could end this. I could leave for good.

Billionaire Modern Romance

8.9

Left At The Altar: Marrying The Billionaire

8.9

At my million-dollar wedding to the Hoffman heir, the priest was interrupted by a ringing phone. My groom, Elijah, didn't silence it. He answered it right at the altar, yanked his arm from my grasp, and walked out because his "true love" Jalyn needed him. I was left standing alone in front of three hundred elite guests, blinded by mocking camera flashes. My own mother rolled her eyes in disgust, later threatening to freeze my trust fund and sell me to a notorious playboy to recoup her losses. Elijah even had the nerve to call me, demanding I take the blame for the canceled wedding to save his PR, while live news feeds showed him cradling a fragile Jalyn in the hospital. I had spent two years bending over backward to be his perfect bride, only to be discarded like trash. What made it sicker was finding out that Jalyn's sudden "medical emergency" was actually a ruptured cyst caused by having vigorous sex with Elijah right before he walked down the aisle. I refused to let them destroy me. Kicking off my six-inch heels, I stepped down from the altar and walked straight to the back row where Cristian Lowe sat. He was the ruthless iceberg of Wall Street and Elijah's most terrifying rival. I looked up at his sharp jawline and asked the craziest question of my life. "Will you marry me?" He stood up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "As you wish."

Billionaire Modern Romance

9.3

MY BILLIONAIRE LOVER

9.3

My eyes lingered on the beauty in front of me, as I tried to knock out the bitter feeling from her words. "I can't love you, Anderson. My heart had been broken into a thousand pieces. Let's part ways," she stated, my heart almost leaping out of control. "Then, let me be the one to mend the broken pieces. Let me be your perfect gentleman." I held her hands closely, staring into her enchanting brown eyes. "I..." She stuttered, as I inched closer, claiming her lips, with only one thought in mind, "To claim her, and make her love me." ........... Within a week, Genevieve went through the toughest of times. Not only did her boyfriend of two years break up with her, she later realized her best friend was engaged to him. The ones she called her parents revealed they weren't her real parents and had betrothed her off to a Billionaire who was interested in marrying her-someone she never met before. With her heart broken into a thousand pieces, insecurities, betrayal, and childhood trauma calling unto her, she wasn't ready to give love another chance. Anderson, her betrothed, wasn't the sort to give up, and would give it every shot to cherish and love her. And most importantly, mend her broken heart and make her give love a second chance. Will her heart melt and give in to love? What could possibly go wrong when enemies from the past wanted them apart? Will their love stand the test of time?

Billionaire Modern Romance

After My Husband Took My Skin for His Mistress

Chapter 4

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