
From Frozen Betrayal To Fierce Love
9.3 / 10.0
Share
The first sign I was going to die wasn't the blizzard. It wasn't the bone-deep cold. It was the look in my fiancé's eyes when he told me he had given my life's work-our only guarantee of survival-to another woman.
"Kelsi was freezing," he said, as if I were being unreasonable. "You're the expert, you can handle it."
He then took my satellite phone, shoved me into a hastily dug snow pit, and left me to die.
His new girlfriend, Kelsi, appeared, wrapped snugly in my shimmering smart blanket. She smiled as she used my own ice axe to slash my suit, my last layer of protection against the storm.
"Stop being so dramatic," he told me, his voice full of contempt as I lay there freezing to death.
They thought they had taken everything. They thought they had won.
But they didn't know about the secret emergency beacon I had stitched into my sleeve. And with my last ounce of strength, I activated it.
From Frozen Betrayal To Fierce Love Chapter 1
The first sign I was going to die wasn't the blizzard. It wasn't the bone-deep cold. It was the look in my fiancé's eyes when he told me he had given my life's work-our only guarantee of survival-to another woman.
"Kelsi was freezing," he said, as if I were being unreasonable. "You're the expert, you can handle it."
He then took my satellite phone, shoved me into a hastily dug snow pit, and left me to die.
His new girlfriend, Kelsi, appeared, wrapped snugly in my shimmering smart blanket. She smiled as she used my own ice axe to slash my suit, my last layer of protection against the storm.
"Stop being so dramatic," he told me, his voice full of contempt as I lay there freezing to death.
They thought they had taken everything. They thought they had won.
But they didn't know about the secret emergency beacon I had stitched into my sleeve. And with my last ounce of strength, I activated it.
Chapter 1
The first sign that I was going to die wasn't the blizzard that had descended on us with the fury of a vengeful god. It wasn't even the searing, bone-deep cold that had begun to leech the life from my limbs. It was the look in my fiancé's eyes when he told me he had given my proprietary prototype-my life's work, our only guarantee of survival-to another woman.
The wind on Denali' s upper slope was a physical entity, a solid wall of ice and noise that slammed into our small expedition tent, threatening to rip it from its anchors. Inside, the air was only marginally warmer than the negative forty degrees Fahrenheit outside. My teeth chattered so violently I thought they might crack.
"Bryan," I managed, my voice a thin, reedy thing against the storm's roar. "I need the blanket. My core temperature is dropping."
I was the lead software engineer for OmniClimb, the brains behind the tech we were field-testing. I knew the numbers. I knew the precise point at which shivering stops and the body begins to shut down. I was dangerously close.
I fumbled with the zipper of my gear pack, my fingers clumsy and disobedient, like frozen sticks of wood. The space where my prototype "smart blanket" should have been was empty. Panic, cold and sharp, lanced through the fog of hypothermia.
The blanket was my masterpiece. Woven with micro-filaments that generated and regulated heat based on biometric feedback, it could sustain a human in arctic conditions for seventy-two hours. It was one-of-a-kind. It was my safety net.
And it was gone.
"Where is it?" I looked up at Bryan, my fiancé, the project manager for this very trip. His handsome face, usually so open and easy to read, was a shuttered mask.
He wouldn't meet my eyes. He was fussing with the straps on a different pack, his movements jerky. "What are you talking about?"
"The blanket, Bryan. The prototype. It's not in my pack."
A flicker of something-guilt? annoyance?-crossed his face before he smoothed it over. "Oh. That. I gave it to Kelsi."
The words didn't compute. It was like he was speaking a foreign language. "You what?"
"Kelsi was freezing," he said, his tone defensive, as if I were the one being unreasonable. "She was crying, Alex. Really struggling. You're the expert, you can handle a little cold."
Kelsi Howe. The marketing intern who had somehow wangled her way onto this high-stakes expedition. The same intern who had spent the entire trip batting her eyelashes at Bryan, playing the fragile damsel in distress while I focused on the data, on the mission.
"Bryan," I said, trying to keep my voice level, trying to make him understand the clinical reality of our situation. "This isn't 'a little cold.' This is a Category Four blizzard at 17,000 feet. My gear is rated for these conditions with the active heating element of the smart blanket. Hers is standard issue. She should have never been up here in the first place."
"Don't be so dramatic," he snapped, his voice sharp. The accusation, so familiar, stung more than the cold. He always called me dramatic when I stated facts he didn't like. "You're always so arrogant about your skills, Alex. You think you're invincible on the mountain."
"This isn't about arrogance! It's about thermodynamics! I will die without it, Bryan. Do you understand that? My body is shutting down." I tried to push myself up, but a wave of dizziness sent me reeling back against the nylon wall of the tent. My vision was starting to tunnel.
"She needed it more," he insisted, his jaw set stubbornly. "We have to function as a team. You're always talking about the team, but when it comes down to it, you only think about yourself and your precious project."
"This project is supposed to save our lives!" My voice cracked with a desperation I hated. "That's its only purpose!"
"My sister was right about you," he muttered, almost to himself. "Dottie always said you were selfish. That you'd always put your career before me, before family."
Dottie Acosta. His materialistic older sister who ran the logistics company that was a key, and often problematic, supplier for OmniClimb. She had never liked me, viewing me as a rival to her brother's success rather than a partner.
The mention of her name was like a bucket of ice water. The last vestiges of warmth I felt, the foolish hope that this was all a terrible misunderstanding, vanished. This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. This was a narrative they had built against me, a resentment that had been festering for months, maybe years.
"This engagement is over," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. It was a pathetic, feeble declaration in the face of my own mortality, but it was the only weapon I had left.
With a surge of adrenaline-fueled clarity, I reached for the small, hard-cased satellite phone clipped to my belt. My fingers were nearly useless, but I managed to flip open the cover. My thumb hovered over the emergency beacon button.
Before I could press it, Bryan' s hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
The force of his grip sent a jolt of pain up my arm. He was stronger than me, bigger. In the cramped space, I was at a complete disadvantage.
"I'm calling for rescue, Bryan. Before I freeze to death," I gasped, struggling against him.
"You'll do no such thing!" he hissed, his face inches from mine. His charisma was gone, replaced by an ugly, panicked fury. "Activating a beacon aborts the entire mission! Do you know how much this will cost the company? How it will make me look? After all my work getting this project off the ground?"
He wrenched the phone from my grasp.
"You'll ruin everything!" he snarled, holding the device like a weapon. "I'll smash it. I swear to God, Alex, I will smash it to pieces before I let you sabotage my career."
My strength was failing. The fight was draining the last of my energy reserves. My limbs felt heavy, detached. A blackness crept in at the edges of my vision.
Just then, the tent flap unzipped. A gust of wind and snow blasted inside, and with it, Kelsi Howe.
She was wrapped in the shimmering, silver fabric of my smart blanket. A soft, blue light pulsed from the integrated control panel on her chest, a beacon of warmth in the frozen twilight. She looked comfortable, almost cozy.
"Bryan, honey, is everything okay?" she asked, her voice a saccharine-sweet coo. She peeked around his shoulder and saw me, slumped and shivering on the floor. "Oh, Alex. You look terrible."
She deliberately held up her arm, showing off the advanced chemical heat pack-my advanced heat pack-she was clutching in her gloved hand. It was a proprietary gel, another one of my designs, capable of generating intense heat for twelve hours. He' d given her those, too. All of them.
"Bryan was just so sweet," Kelsi continued, her eyes glittering with a malice that was far more chilling than the storm. "He was worried sick about me. I told him you'd be fine. You're so strong, after all."
The sheer, unadulterated venom in her smile sent a wave of white-hot rage through me. It was a brief, useless flare against the encroaching cold. My mind was a maelstrom of confusion and betrayal.
"Let her rest, Kelsi," Bryan said, his voice softening as he turned to her. He put a protective arm around her shoulder. "She's just being a little dramatic. It's just a blanket, for God's sake. Not like it's the difference between life and death."
He looked down at me, his expression one of cold dismissal. He saw my tattered gear pack, the one I had desperately searched. He saw my standard-issue backup heat packs were also gone. He knew. He knew he had taken everything.
"You're an experienced mountaineer, Alex," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "You'll be fine once you get moving a bit. Stop being so fragile."
I was dying. He was leaving me here to die. The realization wasn't a thought, it was a certainty that settled deep in my frozen bones.
"You're... leaving me?" I stammered, the words barely audible.
"We're going to the main tent to coordinate with the rest of the team," he said dismissively. "You' re an expert. Dig a snow cave or something if you're that cold. Stop making a scene."
Kelsi piped up, her voice laced with false concern. "Is there anything we can do, Alex? You just look so… pale."
With a final, desperate surge of strength, I lunged for the blanket, for my life. My fingers brushed against the fabric.
"Get off!" Bryan shoved me, hard. Not a nudge, but a violent, two-handed push.
My head snapped back and hit the frozen ground with a sickening thud. Stars exploded behind my eyes, mingling with the encroaching darkness.
"Bryan!" Kelsi cried out, but it was a performance. I could hear the theatrical gasp, the feigned shock. "She tried to attack me!"
"Alex, what is wrong with you?" Bryan roared, standing over me, his face contorted with rage. "She's an intern! You're the lead engineer! Have some goddamn professionalism!"
I couldn't answer. The world was tilting, spinning away from me. The rage, the betrayal, the freezing cold-it was all collapsing into a single point of unbearable pain.
Through the blizzard's howl, I heard Bryan's voice, distant and muffled, as if from the end of a long tunnel. "I'm done. I'm so done with this jealousy and drama."
The last thing I saw before the darkness consumed me was Kelsi's face, her fake tears catching the blue light of my blanket as she smiled down at me. It was a smile of pure triumph.
Then, a tearing sound. A sharp, metallic rip right beside my ear. It was the sound of an ice axe puncturing GORE-TEX. It was the sound of my last layer of protection being destroyed.
"Bryan, she's gone crazy!" Kelsi shrieked. "She's destroying her own suit!"
It was the last lie I heard before the world went black.
---
Continue Reading
From Frozen Betrayal To Fierce Love of Contents
Chapter 1 Ch. 1Chapter 2 Ch. 2Chapter 3 Ch. 3Chapter 4 Ch. 4Chapter 5 Ch. 5
Chapter 6 Ch. 6
Chapter 7 Ch. 7
Chapter 8 Ch. 8
Chapter 9 Ch. 9
Chapter 10 Ch. 10
Chapter 11 Ch. 11
All Chapters all
New Release Novels

7.8
Alayna was working a grueling catering shift in worn-out heels to support her broke college boyfriend, Caiden, who claimed to be studying at the library.
But through the crack of a VIP suite door, she saw him wearing a bespoke suit and a Patek Philippe watch, sipping expensive liquor.
"It's a little poverty role-play. Keeps things interesting."
He was laughing with his rich friends, mocking her as his clueless "charity case."
To make matters worse, she was forced into a humiliating mascot costume just in time to watch him passionately kiss his wealthy ex-girlfriend.
That same night, Alayna's mother collapsed with gastric cancer, requiring a half-million-dollar surgery.
When a desperate Alayna begged Caiden for help, he refused.
"Why don't you just apply for Medicaid? That's the path for people like you."
For two years, she had starved herself to buy his textbooks, his tickets, and his shoes.
He had stolen her sweat and her sacrifices, all for a cruel game.
The sheer audacity of his betrayal made her blood run cold.
When a billionaire stranger stepped in to pay her mother's medical bills in exchange for a one-year fake marriage, Alayna didn't hesitate to sign the contract.
She slipped the flawless diamond ring onto her finger, opened a spreadsheet, and sent Caiden an invoice for every single cent.
This time, she was going to dismantle his entire life.

8.3
I was the long-lost Donovan heiress, finally brought home after a childhood in foster care. My parents adored me, my husband cherished me, and the woman who tried to ruin my life, Kiera Reese, was locked away in a mental facility. I was safe. I was loved.
On my birthday, I decided to surprise my husband, Ivan, at his office. But he wasn't there.
I found him at a private art gallery across town. He was with Kiera.
She wasn't in a facility. She was radiant, laughing as she stood beside my husband and their five-year-old son. I watched through the glass as Ivan kissed her, a familiar, loving gesture he’d used with me just that morning.
I crept closer and overheard them. My birthday wish to go to the amusement park had been denied because he’d already promised the entire park to their son—whose birthday was the same day as mine.
"She’s so grateful to have a family, she’d believe anything we tell her," Ivan said, his voice laced with a cruelty that stole my breath. "It's almost sad."
My entire reality—my loving parents who funded this secret life, my devoted husband—was a five-year lie. I was just the fool they kept on stage.
My phone buzzed. It was a text from Ivan, sent while he stood with his real family.
"Just got out of the meeting. So exhausting. I miss you."
The casual lie was the final blow. They thought I was a pathetic, grateful orphan they could control.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were.

7.1
The last thing I remembered was the blinding flash of my starship crashing. But instead of a rescue crew, I woke up tied to a wooden post, surrounded by hostile beastmen.
My universal translator kicked in just in time to hear their priestess, Chelsea, declare that I was a cursed demon who ruined their hunt. To save the clan from winter starvation, I was to be burned alive.
The flames were already blistering my legs, and jagged stones hurled by the crowd gashed my forehead. I barely negotiated a three-day reprieve to find them food, venturing into the deadly primeval forest.
I found a massive supply of wild potatoes and even gained the protection of Bronson, a terrifyingly powerful saber-toothed tiger beastman.
But Chelsea wouldn't stop.
She labeled my food as poisonous, tried to sentence me to starve in a penitent's cave, and when my agricultural knowledge proved her wrong, she invoked an ancient law. She incited the tribe's savage warriors to fight over me, turning me into breeding property.
I was a scientist offering them endless food, yet their primitive ignorance and one woman's vicious jealousy kept pushing me toward a brutal end. I was terrified, completely powerless against their monstrous physical strength.
As five ruthless challengers drew their bone axes to claim me, I begged Bronson to leave me and run.
Instead, he pulled me against his scarred chest and kissed me fiercely in front of the entire clan.
"She is my mate," he roared, unleashing a soul-crushing aura. "Anyone who wants her, come at me together."

7.5
Ivy is the last heir of the fallen Highmoor Pack. At sixteen, she entered Silvercrest Pack by a blood contract and became the partner of Alpha heir Julian. For three years, she was loyal and silent, but never loved.
In a crisis, Julian abandoned her and chose Selena. Heartbroken, Ivy insisted on ending the contract. She refused Julian's gifts and threats, determined to regain freedom.
When Ivy was attacked, silver-eyed Silas Blackwood saved her. He is the powerful Lycan King, above all Alphas.
Ivy's wolf awakened and recognized Silas as her real fated mate.
Escaping Julian's control, Ivy broke free from her painful past. Protected by the Lycan King, she regained dignity and strength.
The abandoned Luna finally rises, embracing her true destiny and love.

7.6
I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history.
But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me.
He swam past me.
He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water.
When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl.
"You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home."
Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her.
I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife."
He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps.
He was wrong.
While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room.
I was packing his ring into a cardboard box.
I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead.
By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.

8.5
Alexandrea woke up with a splitting headache in a strange hotel bed, terrified to find a brutally handsome, half-naked stranger beside her.
Before she could even scream, the door burst open. Her adoptive mother, Ivette, stormed in with a swarm of reporters and flashing cameras.
"How could you disgrace our family name like this?"
Ivette sobbed, putting on a theatrical performance of a heartbroken mother. It was a setup to completely ruin Alexandrea's reputation in front of New York's elite.
For ten years, Alexandrea had lived in a house of horrors. Her back and arms were covered in silvery scars and puckered cigarette burns left by Ivette's vicious abuse.
Yet to the public, Ivette had carefully crafted Alexandrea's image as a wild, ungrateful, and manipulative liar.
Trapped under the duvet, Alexandrea was drowning in shame, her voice lost in the storm of accusations.
She didn't understand why her adoptive family hated her so much, treating her worse than a stray dog while using her brother's future to keep her chained.
But what she understood even less was the stranger beside her.
Instead of panicking, the man slowly sat up, his presence alone silencing the frantic room. He was Ace Griffith, the billionaire heir who owned half of Manhattan.
He wrapped his suit jacket around her trembling shoulders, looked Ivette dead in the eye, and dropped a bomb.
"I will be marrying her."
Then, he carried Alexandrea away from her ten-year prison, ordering his men to dig up the Terry family's darkest secrets and her true identity.











