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His Perfectly Hollow Project Novel Cover

His Perfectly Hollow Project

After graduation, Dorthy became the personal assistant to her billionaire boyfriend, Adrian Ashwood, who promised her his family's heirloom ring. But her world shatters when she overhears a shocking phone call. Adrian dismisses her as a naive, pliable ornament he custom-molded to have no mind of her own. Realizing she is merely his "perfectly hollow" project rather than his future wife, Dorthy must face his cruel betrayal.
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Chapter 1

After graduating from college, my boyfriend, Adrian Ashwood—heir to a business empire—made me his personal assistant at his company.

Adrian had promised me countless times that he would place the Ashwood family's heirloom ring, the symbol of the Ashwood matriarch, on my hand.

But that day, when I went to find him with some preliminary wedding plans, I overheard his phone call on the balcony.

"Oh, Dorthy? She's just a pretty, pliable ornament. How could someone like her ever become the matriarch of the Ashwood family?"

Adrian let out a soft chuckle. "She's nothing special in bed. I can't even be bothered to touch her when she's lying naked on my mattress."

"The woman is so naive it's almost foolish. She has no mind of her own, which is exactly how I like it. All I have to do is whisper a few sweet nothings, and she'll do anything for me."

"That's why I shaped her into the person she is today. Perfect, and perfectly hollow."

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1

I was an orphan, adopted by Adrian Ashwood's parents and raised in the Ashwood Manor.

Growing up, I trailed him like a shadow. His devotion to me made us the talk of high society.

We were childhood sweethearts, meeting at eight and falling in love at sixteen. The rest felt like it was written in the stars.

At his twentieth birthday party, he strode through the crowded room, his eyes shining as he came toward me. "It's you, Dorthy Turner. You're the one I want."

I melted under his fiery gaze. And just like that, I was utterly lost in him.

From sixteen to twenty-two, we shared six years of passionate love. I never imagined I would hear such venomous words from his mouth, yet I couldn't find a single reason to argue, because I was, in the end, a girl with nothing to her name.

I couldn't aid his business, forge a powerful alliance for him, or even provide an heir to secure his position.

I stumbled back to my room in a daze. I shakily pulled out a suitcase, only to realize I had nothing of my own to take. Everything I had was a gift from Adrian.

Just then, the door burst open.

"Dorthy! What are you doing?" Adrian was drenched in sweat, his face pale.

When he saw the suitcase, his expression contorted with rage, and he yanked me fiercely into his arms.

I shoved him away with all my might. "I don't want to be your 'perfect project,' Adrian. I'm leaving."

"You heard?"

Panic flared in his eyes. He clutched me even tighter, declaring possessively, "You're not going anywhere, ever. You're mine. Everything about you is mine!"

"So I'm just your ornament? Meant to stand by and watch you marry some heiress?"

He reached out, gently wiping my tears. "I won't marry anyone but you."

His embrace, once my sanctuary from all anxieties, now felt like a cage tightening around me.

He rested his chin on the crown of my head, rubbing my back soothingly. "Don't be like this, Dorthy. I was just saying that to throw off a business rival. You know how much I love you."

"You are mine. Our fate was sealed the year we both turned eight."

My tears streamed down my face. I couldn't deny that, aside from those cruel words, Adrian had always been good to me. His protection was the only reason an ordinary girl like me commanded any respect in high society.

In our daily life, his care was meticulous. He prepared my meals, selected my clothes, and even had heating pads and painkillers ready for my period. Few would believe an heir of his stature would do so much for anyone, let alone a penniless orphan, but he did.

I closed my eyes. A part of me knew the only way to keep this love alive was to believe him. But I should have known that one lie is always followed by countless more.

The next day, I went to work at the Ashwood Group as usual, only to be stopped outside the elevator by Cindy Bancroft, daughter of board member Robert Bancroft.

Dressed in a sharply tailored Chanel suit, she stood with her arms crossed, looking me up and down with a sneer.

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