Felix's Protection for Her

My husband chose my sister over me at the darkest point of my life. They left me to die of asthma after throwing my inhaler away. But like a shooting star would appear to the sky, Geoffrey Cohen appeared. I thought I'd forgotten him and would no longer have anything to do with him but FATE said NO

The morning light filtered through our penthouse windows, casting golden patterns across the Egyptian cotton sheets. I stirred slowly, consciousness returning in gentle waves. Seven years. Seven years of what I believed was perfect love. "Happy anniversary, my only one," Gabriel's voice caressed my ear as he entered our bedroom, a silver breakfast tray balanced in his hands. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, giving him that boyish charm that still made my heart flutter. "You didn't have to," I murmured, sitting up against the headboard as the scent of fresh croissants and coffee filled the air. "For you, I want to do everything." He set the tray down and sat beside me, his fingers brushing mine as he handed me a steaming cup. No redness appeared on his skin, no hives, no shortness of breath—just the miracle of his touch, reserved only for me. The condition that had brought us together.

Chapter 1 It was their seventh wedding anniversary. Carolyn found the divorce agreement in Roger’s nightstand. The pages were covered in scribbles and corrections, as if he’d agonized over them for years. *"If, during the marriage, I fall in love with another person, I voluntarily relinquish all assets and leave with nothing. Asset details as follows…"* His first impulse had been to walk away empty-handed. But the asset section told a different story—a mess of revisions. First, he’d crossed out the property he intended to give her. Then, the fifty million earmarked for her was scratched out and replaced with five hundred thousand. Finally, as if in penance, he had written a single line. *"Better to have Carolyn leave with nothing. No choice, Catherine is pregnant."* … Carolyn sank onto the bed, disbelief washing over her. On the agreement, Roger’s signature was clean and decisive, without a hint of hesitation. And the document had been drafted seven years ago—the very year they married. That year, Roger had been willing to give up everything for her. Yet every year after, he had crossed out another piece of their shared life. Now, seven years later, the one leaving with nothing would be her. Her phone buzzed abruptly. A message from Roger. *"Urgent business. Won't be back."* She called, only to find his phone already switched off. Another notification flashed—a screenshot from a friend. Catherine, the student she sponsored, had posted on social media. *"Wow, got praised! To commemorate my first period without a leak, the big boss said we should celebrate properly!"* In a nine-photo collage, Roger gazed at her, eyes crinkling with affection as he fastened a dazzling gemstone necklace around her neck. The post was tagged at a couples-themed hotel. Carolyn’s breath caught. He couldn’t remember seven years of marriage, of weathering storms together—but he could find the energy to celebrate Catherine’s… leak-free period. And that pendant… she’d seen it at an auction just last week. It was her mother’s lost heirloom. She’d been ready to bid when her bank card was frozen. She’d asked Roger why. A long time later, he finally texted back, telling her not to waste money on such impractical things. Clutching her bidding paddle, she’d sat helplessly in the auction hall. In the end, she resolved to sell one of her own designs to raise the funds. But someone on the phone swooped in with an unbeatable offer and took it. For weeks afterward, Carolyn hated herself—hated that she couldn’t protect her mother’s last keepsake. She never imagined the one who snatched it away was Roger. He knew exactly how much that pendant meant to her. Yet he gave it to Catherine. Even on their seventh anniversary, Roger had lied about being busy with work, while wining and dining the girl she’d sponsored. The anniversary gift he left her was a divorce agreement demanding she leave with nothing. Seven years of marriage. Seven years of infidelity. And Carolyn had known nothing. She’d even introduced the other woman to him herself. Catherine was the impoverished student Carolyn sponsored. The first time Catherine came to their home to give thanks, Roger found her intrusive and disliked her on sight. *"That girl has no manners. Tracked mud all over my cashmere rug."* *"If her grades aren’t up to par, cut the sponsorship."* Back then, Carolyn had teased him, saying not to be jealous—it was good the girl had a grateful heart. She never once suspected Roger and Catherine. For seven years, everyone in their circle believed Roger never played around. That he loved only Carolyn. But by their next meeting, Catherine had become Roger’s personal assistant. Roger explained, *"The girl’s had it tough. You’ve sponsored her for years. Giving her a job is just helping you out."* Carolyn had laughed it off. Now, hands trembling, she opened Catherine’s social media feed. Catherine had always hidden her posts from Carolyn. Now, she seemed desperate to flaunt everything. While Carolyn drank until her stomach bled to secure a deal for Roger, Catherine was using Roger’s card to buy her first Louis Vuitton. While Carolyn changed bedpans for Roger’s bedridden grandmother, Roger was taking Catherine to a perfume atelier for a blending class—calling it a business trip. Catherine had even complained online. *"Your wife is such a pampered princess. Can't handle the tiniest thing without you running back. Can she not live without a man?"* And Roger had replied beneath it. *"If she were half as independent as you, I’d have an easier life."* But that day… Carolyn’s mother had lost her battle with cancer. She’d cried until her heart felt shredded, scrambling to handle the arrangements. All the while, Roger kept checking his phone impatiently, eager to leave. Not for work, she realized now—but because he was desperate to get back to Catherine.

It all started with one encounter. One night with a man whose touch felt like sin and whose scent still haunts my skin. I never meant to fall - but when I caught my boyfriend, the Alpha's son, cheating on me, something inside me broke. And that's when he found me - a stranger cloaked in dominance and danger. His hands promised ruin, his lips whispered damnation. I gave in. Just once. Or so I thought. Now, I've been hired as the Alpha's new secretary. And when I walked into his office, the world stopped. Because he's not a stranger. He's him. The man from that night. The man I should have never touched. The father of my ex. I tell myself I can resist him - that I can keep my secret buried. But every time his gaze lingers, every time that deep, commanding voice wraps around my name, my resolve burns away. This isn't love. It's an obsession. Possession. Darkness disguised as desire. And I know one thing for sure - once an Alpha sets his eyes on you... He never lets go.

The lingerie felt like a mistake the moment I slipped it on. I stood in our penthouse bathroom—all marble and chrome, cold as a morgue—staring at my reflection. Black lace. Nothing too obvious. The saleswoman at La Perla had promised it was elegant, sophisticated. I'd nodded like I knew what I was doing, like I hadn't spent the last five years sleeping alone in a king-sized bed while my husband worked through the night in his study. Five years. Our anniversary. I twisted my wedding ring. The platinum band caught the light, throwing fractured rainbows across the mirror.

Eileen woke up in a trashed hotel room, her head pounding with the pathetic memories of a despised Hollywood actress. Outside the window, paparazzi were already screaming about her manufactured cheating scandal, but the real nightmare was waiting at her door. Her paralyzed, billionaire husband, Carlisle Vinson, looked at her with pure disgust while his butler shoved a divorce settlement at her chest. "Mr. Vinson is offering a severance package of fifty million dollars, provided you sign immediately and vacate the premises." The original owner had left her an absolute mess. Her trusted assistant had sold her room number to the press to frame her, and a playboy had scammed her out of her entire two million dollar life savings. If she signed those papers and lost the Vinson family's protection, the breach of contract fees and her enemies in the industry would swallow her alive in days. Eileen felt a cold fury override the original owner's lingering panic. Why should she take the fall and be thrown out on the streets while the parasites who set her up lived out their wealthy fantasies? She had died once, and she wasn't about to waste her second chance playing the victim. Eileen slammed the heavy divorce folder shut right against the butler's chest. "I'm not signing," she said with a terrifying, absolute calm. She stepped behind her husband's wheelchair, ready to shield him from the cameras, secretly cure his dead legs, and make everyone who betrayed her bleed.