Finding Love in Paris

In five years of marriage, Christian had asked Samantha for a divorce three times. The first request came after a car accident left his leg injured. He told her he didn’t want to be a burden. She refused to give up on him. Miles she walked to a temple, praying for his safety, and returned with a red protection cord—only to find that same cord already wrapped around the wrist of his childhood sweetheart, Abigail. The second time, photos of him and Abigail having sex in a car splashed across the front page of the entertainment section. He wanted Samantha to publicly announce they were already divorced, to salvage Abigail’s reputation. Samantha still wouldn’t agree to the divorce. But facing the cameras, she graciously declared her belief in her husband’s character and called Abigail a mutual friend. From then on, the label stuck: the desperate, pathetic doormat. It spread through their entire social circle. The third time was last night. A call from one of Christian’s buddies—he’d killed a man. It was the dead of winter, a blizzard raging outside. Samantha didn’t even change. She ran out into the swirling snow and reached the clubhouse still in her pajamas and slippers. The private room was ringed with people. In the center, a man lay on the floor, his face a mottled mess of bruises. “What happened? Why did you fight?” “Christian’s fault—he’s so impulsive. The guy just called Abigail a homewrecker, and Christian went for the kill. Can’t stand anyone saying a word against her…” “What’s done is done. A life for a life. Samantha, you love Christian so much—why don’t you turn yourself in for him?” Samantha froze. Slowly, she lifted her head, her gaze sweeping the room. “Where is Christian?” “He took Abigail to another room. Said a dead body was bad luck—would sully her eyes.” Silence. “Samantha, Christian has such a bright future. If you don’t help him, who will?” “Exactly! You’re always going on about how much you love him. Can you bear to watch his life get ruined?” Samantha’s hands, hanging at her sides, slowly clenched into fists. “Fine. I’ll go to prison for him.” Dead silence held the room for a few seconds. Then, thunderous laughter erupted. “Holy shit! You really are the legendary doormat! Willing to do anything for Christian…” “Christian called it! He didn’t get you wrong at all!” Under Samantha’s stunned gaze, a hidden door in the private room swung slowly open. There sat Christian in the small room behind it, Abigail nestled in his arms. He was feeding her grapes. Beside them, the “dead man” on the floor nimbly got up and retreated to the wall. Finally, Samantha understood. She’d been played. Christian snapped his fingers. One of his lackeys tossed a document onto the floor in front of her. “Samantha, if you’re willing to take a murder charge for him, signing a divorce agreement shouldn’t be a big deal, right?” She looked down at the papers, then raised her eyes to Christian. “Christian, do you really want a divorce this badly?” “Can’t the doormat see? Christian’s just sick of you clinging—” “I want to hear him say it!” Samantha cut the lackey off. Christian shrugged, his expression one of weary resignation. *See? I told you this woman is a pain.* “Samantha, if you’re going to force me to spell it out, don’t blame me for being blunt.” “Go on. Say it.” “I’ve asked for a divorce more than once over the years, and you always find a way to dodge it. Honestly, it’s gotten tiresome. I’m worn out.” “You know perfectly well I only married you because of my grandfather’s will. Now that I’ve secured the inheritance, this marriage has lost its purpose. Besides, I can’t stand women who cling and won’t let go.” “Abigail and I grew up together. Childhood sweethearts. But my grandfather misunderstood her, never liked her. All these years she’s stayed by my side with no real status… suffered in silence. She’s gentle. Pure-hearted. I can’t just stand by and watch her get hurt. I need to give her the name she deserves.” As he spoke, he kissed Abigail’s cheek. Samantha nodded slowly. “I understand, Christian. You really do want a divorce.” “Alright then. I’ll give you what you want.”

My husband, Conrad, pulled me from the abyss after my brother died, saving me when I had nothing. He promised to protect me forever. But for ten years, his endless affairs and cruel mind games have been a slow poison, leaving me with a terminal illness and a broken spirit. The final blow came on our tenth anniversary. He gave my gift-an emerald necklace I' d dreamed of since our honeymoon-to his mistress, Aubrey. But that wasn't enough. He then gave her the last piece of my brother I had left: his final symphony. She scribbled on the pages, used them as a coaster, and called his life's work "garbage." As my body failed, I realized the man who swore to save me had weaponized my deepest traumas to destroy me. My love curdled into a cold, quiet rage. Now, drowning in guilt, he has destroyed Aubrey to atone for his sins. He kneels by my deathbed, begging for forgiveness, promising to do anything to earn it. He has no idea my final act of revenge requires his absolute devotion. And his life.

The pain woke me in the middle of the night, a sharp knife twisting in my stomach. I curled into myself, trying to will it away, but it only intensified. Sweat beaded on my forehead as another wave hit, this one stronger than before. "Seth," I whispered, reaching across the bed. My fingers found his arm, gently shaking. "Seth, I need to go to the hospital." He stirred, blinking sleepily before his expression hardened into annoyance. "What's wrong?" "My stomach," I managed through gritted teeth. "It's really bad. I think... I think something's wrong." Seth sat up, running a hand through his hair.

I spent ten years as the ward of Kason Oneal, the ruthless Underboss of the city's most dangerous crime family. He saved me when I was a child, raised me, and made me believe I was his queen. But the moment his ex-girlfriend, Dalia, returned, the illusion shattered. Kason demanded I return the jade pendant—the one he had hand-carved for my sixteenth birthday—just so he could hang it around Dalia's neck. To him, I was suddenly nothing more than a placeholder who had kept his bed warm. The cruelty didn't stop there. He stood by and watched as Dalia shredded my clothes with scissors, laughing at my tears. When I collapsed on the floor in agony from acute appendicitis, Kason didn't call an ambulance. Instead, he dragged me to a shady clinic, accusing me of faking a pregnancy to trap him. He ordered the doctor to "terminate it" while I was dying of sepsis on the table. He called me trash. He called me property. He stripped away every ounce of dignity I had left, all to please a woman who was lying to his face. I realized then that the hero who saved me when I was ten was dead. I was done begging for scraps of affection from a monster. Trembling, I walked to the phone and dialed the number of the one man Kason feared most—his sworn enemy, Hadley Payne. "Tell him yes," I whispered into the receiver. "I accept the arrangement. I will marry him." Kason thought he could break me. Instead, he was about to watch his "property" become the Queen of the rival family.

I was in love with Ethan Black, a brilliant man with big dreams. I gave him my twenties, my body, my loyalty. I worked three jobs while he chased his startup dreams. And when he finally made it, he became a stranger. Then I found out he got another woman pregnant, the same woman who dumped him in college when his family lost everything. That nearly destroyed me. But I stayed. I told myself love was worth it. But nothing could prepare me for the day he left our four-year-old daughter home alone... to go see her. And our little girl died. I buried my child and with her, the woman I used to be. Now, I live for one thing only: Revenge. He took everything from me. Now I'll take everything from him. He doesn't know it yet... but I'm not the same woman he left behind. And by the time I'm done, he'll wish he never met me.

I worked eighty-hour weeks on Wall Street just to keep my sick brother alive, enduring endless humiliation from the wealthy family that adopted us. But when I went to surprise my boyfriend of three years, I found him kissing my spoiled adoptive sister, Tatum. They were celebrating their engagement to merge their powerful families. To keep me quiet, my adoptive mother, Eleanor, threatened to freeze my brother's medical trust fund unless I attended the party to play the supportive sister. Instead, I discovered Eleanor had been embezzling from my brother's life-saving fund to cover her own bad investments. The nightmare worsened when a drunken Ryder cornered me in my apartment stairwell. "Once I marry Tatum, Eleanor is giving me control of Liam's trust fund to buy out my father's board members." He planned to drain my brother's medical money, dump Tatum, and keep me as his mistress. For a decade, I suffered their abuse hoping for a shred of decency, only to realize they were plotting to leave my brother to die on the streets for corporate greed. Calling the police wouldn't stop these billionaires. I needed absolute power. Remembering the dark, predatory gaze of Jaren Jarvis—the ruthless billionaire who had watched me fight back at the party—I canceled my call to 911. If they wanted to destroy my only family, I was going to use the devil himself to crush theirs.