Discovering His Mistress Faked Blindness to Steal My Eyes
Refusing to donate my corneas to my husband's childhood sweetheart, Augustus flicked ash into my eyes as punishment, damaging my retinas. My vision blurred, but his cruelty didn’t stop there. He threatened me with our unborn child. "If you don’t give up your eyes, I’ll use our child's instead. After all, both of you rely on me, so what difference does it make if you can see or not?"
Khloe, the childhood sweetheart, chimed in pitifully, “Seraphina, you have Augustus to take care of you. I’m not like you. I still need to earn a living with my own hands. I can’t be without my sight.”
After four years of dating and three years of marriage, I finally saw the man lying beside me for who he truly was. I chose to terminate the pregnancy, filed for divorce, and bought a ticket to Paris. It was time I started living for myself.
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Chapter 3
I shook my head, trying to shake off the somber mood, suppressing the sharp pang in my chest as I clutched the Victorian-style nightgown I was folding. Just a month ago, I had tried to be thoughtful, baking a spiced honey cake to bring over and check on Khloe's health.
However, what I found was laughter echoing from the mansion in the Alps, where Augustus's old friends had gathered to cheer Khloe up with a party. They played games, constantly nudging Augustus and Khloe closer together.
Amid the lively music, a friend chuckled, "Augustus, remember when you were a kid and wished for Khloe to be your girlfriend? Has that wish come true now?"
Standing outside on the lawn, concealed by shadows, my body trembled as I hoped for him to clarify, to say something that would allow me to delude myself—that Augustus was just honoring an old friendship. But he didn't.
When Khloe tightened her grip on his arm, he smiled and nodded.
The room erupted in celebration, with everyone raising their glasses in a toast, urging the two to share a kiss. My blood rushed to my head in a heated fury, and I pressed the doorbell forcefully.
The door swung open to Augustus's frown. "What are you doing here? Didn't I say I wouldn’t be home tonight? Don't ruin the vibe," he muttered with disdain.
Turning back to wave off the curious glances from his friends, he shut the door on my wounded expression.
When asked who I was, he merely took a sip of red wine, his long lashes casting a shadow over his indifferent face. "Just someone asking for directions," he replied nonchalantly.
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8.9
My father was marrying a gold-digger, the mother of my cheating ex-boyfriend.
To end the charade, I crashed their luxury wedding with a ten-foot funeral wreath.
In front of hundreds of elites, my father slapped me across the face, calling me a vicious bitch while his new wife smiled in victory.
I triggered the estate's fire system to ruin them, but a terrifying stranger in the VIP section bypassed my military-grade hack in seconds.
He was Kavon Velasquez, a dangerous billionaire heir who had been missing for twelve years.
Instead of exposing me, he shielded me from my father's second blow.
When my pathetic ex tried to drag me away, I grabbed Kavon and kissed him to humiliate my ex.
I shoved a $500,000 check into Kavon's pocket as hush money and left.
I thought that was the end of it.
But why did this apex predator move into the penthouse right next to mine at 2 AM?
Why did he violently crush my ex's face the next morning just for grabbing my arm?
"She is my woman. If you ever come within ten feet of her again, I will bury you."
I didn't understand why a man with lethal skills was suddenly hunting me.
Then I found out he had just blackmailed my father with undeniable proof of corporate money laundering.
His demand wasn't money. It was me.
He ordered my father to announce our engagement by tomorrow sunset, and this dangerous game officially began.
8.2
The golden hour light bathed the city in amber as I hurried home, my camera bag bouncing against my hip with each quickened step. My fingers still tingled with the electricity of creativity, of capturing something real and raw during today's shoot. The gallery curator's words echoed in my mind: "These have potential, Isabella. Real potential."
I couldn't wait to tell Alexander. He'd been my champion from the beginning, plucking me from obscurity and nurturing my passion for photography when I was nothing but a lost girl with a secondhand camera and too many foster homes behind me. Our penthouse elevator hummed softly as it carried me upward. Home. The word still felt like a miracle sometimes. Alexander had given me that—a place to belong after a lifetime of temporary addresses and careful packing. "Alexander?" I called out as I stepped into our marble foyer, the space echoing with my voice and nothing else.
7.2
Two years ago, Amaya Bennett witnessed a murder.
A powerful man was killed in cold blood, right in front of her. She should have died that night too.
Instead, she woke up in a hospital with no memory of what happened. No faces, no names and no clues. Just fragments, blurred images that slip through her fingers every time she tries to hold on.
Now, Amaya lives a quiet life, piecing herself back together. She works part-time, avoids trouble, and stays invisible. Until she lands a job at Twilight Global.
A company owned by Jake Anderson, the cold and untouchable CEO whose father was murdered the same night Aria lost her memory. Jake spent years searching for the only witness. But she vanished without any trace. Or so he thought.
But somehow, they cross path again, working under his roof, completely unaware of the truth she carries.
The killer is still out there.
And when Amaya starts getting flashes of blood, a voice, a ring glinting under the dim light, the hunt begins again.
But this time, she's not alone. Because even before he realizes who she is... Jake has already started protecting her. In the most relentless and dangerous way.
9.6
The shrill ring of my phone cut through the darkness, jolting me from a fitful sleep. 3:07 AM glowed on my bedside clock, casting an eerie blue light across my small Brooklyn bedroom. My heart immediately lurched into my throat—nothing good ever came from calls at this hour. I fumbled for my phone, nearly knocking over the glass of water on my nightstand. "Hello?" My voice was thick with sleep, but the adrenaline was already coursing through my veins. "Miss Harper." The formal, measured voice of Arthur Vance, my family's longtime lawyer, sent ice through my veins. "I regret to inform you that your father has suffered a massive heart attack. He's been rushed to Mount Sinai Hospital from the Hamptons estate. The doctors... they're not optimistic."
My father.
9.8
For four years, I was Devin Woodford's secret. By day his assistant, by night the girl he molded into exactly what he wanted. I made 1001 paper stars for a man who told his first love I was a one-sided joke. When Melissa came back from overseas, he slipped out of my bed to meet her at the airport. She moved into our home. She smashed my things. She slapped me in his office, and he watched. So I did the one thing he never saw coming. I texted my brother and accepted the Sinclair marriage proposal. Four years from now, when Devin is on his knees in the rain holding a jar of broken paper stars, I want him to remember the exact moment he called me pathetic. Because by then, I won't remember his name.
8.3
In the middle of our wedding photoshoot, my fiancé, Samuel Peters, left me yet again. The reason? His childhood friend, Kaia Black, was having another seizure. He sprinted to the hospital, his white suit jacket flapping behind him, too rushed to even take it off. Not long after, I saw Kaia’s update on Instagram. "Even if the world abandons me, I still have you."
The caption accompanied a picture of her and Samuel, with him still in his suit jacket. They gazed at each other affectionately; it wasn’t an official wedding photo, but it might as well have been. In the past, I would have confronted him angrily, demanding explanations. But this time, I simply smiled and turned to the photographer. “We're stopping the wedding shoot.