In Love With My Father's Best
Prologue.
I've loved him as long as I can remember.
Hardin. My father's best friend. The man who seems untouchable, unlovable to every woman. But for me? He's everything.
Thirty-Five. Handsome. Calculating. Billionaire.
And yet, he remains single.
What could I do? I'm just Elena. Twenty-two years old. His best friend's daughter. Someone who shouldn't even think of loving him. So my first love became my hidden secret.
But now? I'm out of college, and I've vowed to chase my dream.
I joined his company, not for work, or for ambition. But for him.
To stay close. To make him fall for me.
Forbidden love is a dangerous game, but I'm willing to take the risk.
Will I succeed?
Will my love break through every rule and boundary?
I don't know.
But I'm ready to find out.
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Chapter 4
[Elena's POV]
"Elena!"
I froze at the entrance as my father's voice came from the living room, unlike anything I had ever heard from him before.
My bag slipped from my shoulder and hit the floor as I stepped closer.
In the middle of the room was my father. Jaw tight. Eyes bloodshot. Phone clenched in his fist.
My gaze shifted to the couch. There was my mother, tears burning her face.
The space suddenly felt too small.
My fingers shook.
"Dad..." I whispered.
He just stared at me quietly. "You slept over at Hardin's place," he muttered, his tone far too calm.
I bit my lip. "Yes." My head lowered, pulse roaring in my ears.
"And then, what happened?" he added.
My eyes widened. Why was he asking? Hardin said he had already spoken to them.
"Huh?"
"What happened there?" he asked again, as if waiting for me to say something else.
My palms turned damp. "Nothing..."
Before I could say more, his hand struck my cheek-the first time in my life. Shock hit me as my vision blurred.
What had I done to make him this angry? Then it hit me. No. It couldn't be what I feared. He couldn't know.
"How could you, Elena?!" he growled under his breath. "What were you thinking? And you still lie to me?"
I swallowed, my chest tightening.
He knew. But how?
"Dad..."
"Don't! Just don't!" he snapped, grabbing my wrist and forcing his phone into my hand.
I looked at the screen. My stomach dropped.
There it was, the reality I feared. The intimate video of me and Hardin. And now it was out everywhere.
The phone slipped from my fingers and crashed onto the floor as tears burned down my cheeks.
How did this get out? Who could do this to us?
My father gripped my shoulders. "Please," he said, his voice breaking. "Just tell me that's not you. Tell me I'm overreacting."
All my moments with Hardin flashed in my mind. Silent sobs followed; I couldn't look him in the eyes.
He shook his head. "You've disappointed me, Elena." He sniffed, trying to hold himself together.
"How could you allow this to happen?" His voice cracked, trembling with anger and disbelief. "He's my best friend-old enough to be your father, like an uncle to you!"
I could barely breathe.
"I didn't..."
His stare burned my words away.
"It was.." I choked, trying to explain, but no word could undo it.
My father ran a hand through his hair.
Then.
Shouting erupted outside. Distance at first, then rapidly growing louder.
My feet went cold.
My parents exchanged tense glances. My mother swallowed; my father's fists clenched.
*Leave our society!*
*Your family is disgusting!*
*We can't live in the same country as them!*
*Send them away!*
*Their daughter will corrupt our girls*
The chants landed against our house like violent waves. Stones slammed into our door. Glass rattled. Heavy kicks followed.
A chill ran through my spine.
"They're going to break the door if we don't open it," my mother whispered, her voice splintering. "Gideon..."
"I've called my lawyer. He's on his way," my father muttered.
"They'll get in before he arrives."
Another rock hit the door. The wood groaned.
"I'll go outside and speak to them."
My father moved toward the entrance.
I rushed to him.
"Father, please. Don't go. It's dangerous."
He didn't spare me a glance.
"You should have thought of us before you acted- if you really cared about this family."
He shoved my hands away.
"Take her to her room," he told my mother. "She shouldn't come out."
He left for the door.
My mother's fingers clamped around my wrist, dragging me down the hallway.
I turned-just as the door closed behind him.
___
We entered my room and I collapsed onto the floor, crushed. My mother knelt in front of me, and when our eyes met, her pain shattered me.
"Elena, my dear."
"Mom..." My voice cracked.
"I swear, I didn't mean to disgrace you or Father," I said, clenching my fists. "Please believe me."
She pulled me into her arms.
"It's going to be okay," she whispered, but her arms tightened around me like she didn't believe it.
I nodded. Even though I wasn't sure it would ever be.
I've loved Hardin for years. I wanted him to look at me. But I never meant for this to happen.
___
Minutes later, I paced my room, biting my nails with my hands shaking.
My mother had gone to see what was happening outside and still hadn't returned.
Were they hurting my father? Why wasn't she back yet?
I couldn't even step outside.
My phone buzzed endlessly on the bed. I grabbed it.
Jordan-my best friend and Hardin's cousin-had already seen the video.
Calls kept coming. I ignored them.
How was I going to explain this to him? He would be disappointed in me, just like my parents.
A text popped in. It read: "Are you okay, Elena? Where are you? Why didn't you pick up? Don't do anything stupid. My brother will handle everything. Don't worry."
Tears blurred my vision.
I had to reach Hardin. I needed him.
I rushed to my closet and grabbed a long black gown, a cap, and a mask.
I slipped into them.
No one would recognize me this way.
I pushed the window open slowly, the hinges creaking faintly as my heart jumped into my throat.
I listened. No footsteps. No voices closer.
Then I slipped outside. The front gate was crowded, so I followed the back way, brushing along the shortcut until I reached the highway.
I flagged down a taxi and got in.
"Where to, young lady?" The taxi driver asked.
"Kings' Empire," I replied in a lowered voice.
He glanced at me. "That company?" he scoffed. "The one where the boss slept with his best friend's daughter? Disgusting."
My stomach twisted. Would this affect Hardin too?
They were going to destroy him, and I couldn't even open my mouth.
When we arrived, I paid him and stepped out-to be met with cameras, flashes, too many eyes.
My pulse roared.
No one would recognize me, I hoped.
I pushed my way inside. A reporter's hand accidentally knocked off my cap. I froze.
Shouting stopped.
I felt the weight of the crowd turn on me as the cameras flashed in my face.
Another reporter pulled off my mask.
*Miss Elena Creed, what do you have to say about the video with your boss?*
*Does he sleep with his female staff before hiring them?*
*Did your father know about this?*
My mind went blank. No one stepped forward.
One word from me could destroy everything-Hardin, my father, even me.
The questions were loud. My breath came in ragged gasps.
"Look here, Miss Creed!"
A microphone nearly hit my mouth.
I couldn't move-back or forward.
My eyes searched for an exit.
Then the lobby doors swung open and the shouting stopped.
Even the cameras seemed to pause.
And there he was. Hardin Kings.
He looked untouchable, while I felt myself falling apart.
His gaze found mine-calm and controlled, as if the chaos around him were just background noise.
All cameras turned to him.
*Tell us what happened!*
*Why did you take advantage of your best friend's daughter?*
*Tell us, Mr. Kings!*
He smiled.
It wasn't the smile he gives investors or my father. This one was different.
My fingers curled tightly. What was he planning?
Then his voice calm-firm, cutting through the silence.
"What do you mean by advantage? Elena Creed is my fiancée."
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9.7
Luna Elena Frost was never chosen, only assigned.
Bound to Alpha Alaric Ashbourne through a cold contractual marriage, she endures three years as a Luna in name only. He never comes home, never defends her, and never looks at her, while his heart belongs to another woman.
At his grandmother's funeral, Alaric publicly dissolves their marriage, humiliating Elena before the entire pack. In that moment, she finally understands the truth. She was never wanted.
But the Moon has not abandoned her.
A forgotten night resurfaces. Her long-silent wolf begins to awaken. And secrets buried within her bloodline start to surface, drawing danger from every direction.
Cast out by the pack that once used her, Elena must flee, survive, and uncover her true power.
Only then does the Alpha realize his mistake.
By the time he turns back in regret, the Luna he rejected may already be gone forever.
9.5
In the glittering shadows of New York City's elite, impoverished artist Elena Vasquez clashes with the enigmatic billionaire tycoon Alexander Hale. What begins as a chance encounter in a rain-soaked alley spirals into a whirlwind of passion, betrayal, and redemption. As Elena fights to reclaim her stolen dreams, Alexander's guarded heart unravels, forcing them to confront family secrets, corporate intrigue, and the ruthless divide between their worlds. Will their forbidden love survive the storms of jealousy, scandal, and loss, or will it shatter like the fragile art that brought them together? Shattered Canvases is a steamy billionaire romance that explores the raw edges of desire and the healing power of vulnerability.
8.9
I returned to New York for my welcome-home party, expecting a warm embrace from Edwin, my devoted fiancé of twenty years.
Instead, his first words to me were a cold, public warning to stay away from his new girlfriend, Kacy.
He stood in my family's hotel, shielding a girl I had never even met, and painted me as a vicious, jealous bully.
"She is very sensitive, Kaitlyn. Her background is tough. Please, be gentle with her. Don't upset her."
He humiliated me in front of our entire elite circle, allowing them to mock me as the aggressive, discarded ex while he carried her away like a fragile princess.
For twenty years, I had been his loyal shadow, fixing his mistakes and loving him unconditionally.
I couldn't understand how decades of deep devotion could be instantly erased by a few crocodile tears and a manipulative damsel act.
He was absolutely certain I would throw a tantrum, cry, and eventually crawl back to beg for his attention.
But he was wrong.
He didn't know that Everett Rowe, a billionaire tech mogul, had been patiently waiting five years to marry me.
He also didn't know that during my three years abroad, I wasn't just studying art—I became "K.B.", the ruthless Wall Street predator who could swallow his family's empire whole.
I calmly pulled out my phone, ignored the mocking whispers around me, and typed a single message to Everett.
"Yes. I'll marry you."
7.2
I was securing the diamond clasp of my necklace when the security monitor blinked to life, revealing my husband burying his face between his assistant's thighs.
Just an hour later, Dante Moretti stood by my side at the Gala, playing the part of the devoted Capo, while his mistress smirked at me from across the room in a dress that screamed for attention.
I wanted to leave. I had packed my bags, ready to disappear.
But then the doctor told me the news: I was six weeks pregnant with the Vitiello-Moretti heir.
I thought the baby might save us. I thought it would stop the madness.
I was wrong.
When his mistress accused me of betrayal to cover her own tracks, Dante didn't listen to his wife. He listened to the woman warming his bed.
In a blind rage, the man who swore to protect me struck me down.
I felt the sharp, tearing pain in my abdomen before I even hit the stone floor.
As blood stained my pristine white dress, I realized he hadn't just broken his vows.
He had killed our unborn son.
So, when the opportunity came to detonate the gas line and fake my own death, I didn't hesitate.
I let the world believe Seraphina Moretti died in that explosion.
Ten years later, I returned to a city that thought I was a ghost.
I dismantled his supply lines, froze his assets, and watched his empire crumble piece by piece.
And when he was finally on his knees in the rain, broken and destitute, I stepped out of the shadows.
I didn't come back for his money.
I came back to hand him the ultrasound photo of the child he murdered.
"Hello, Dante."
9.3
She was never supposed to be the bride.
Lila Hart has always lived in her older sister's shadow, Evelyn, the perfect daughter, the favorite, the one chosen to marry Adrian Blackwell, the cold, powerful billionaire heir who controls half of Manhattan. But forty-eight hours before the wedding, Evelyn disappears. No explanation, No goodbye. Just a single warning: "Don't let him find out what I did."
Now the Hart family is about to lose everything, their reputation, their company, their future, unless Lila steps into the role her sister abandoned.
So Lila becomes the replacement bride
A marriage born out of duty for her... and pure anger for him.
Adrian doesn't want a wife, He wants answers. And he's certain Lila knows more about Evelyn's disappearance than she claims. They swear they'll keep their distance, No love,No trust, Just a contract neither of them asked for.
But the night of the wedding, a violent warning arrives, proving Evelyn didn't run away, She was taken. And whoever has her... wants Lila next.
Now Lila is trapped in a marriage built on secrets, hunted by enemies she can't see, and falling for a man she was never supposed to love.
Because the most dangerous place for her... might be right beside her husband.
7.2
I lay in the hospital bed, every breath feeling like I was inhaling wet concrete. My husband, Trent, stood by the window, more interested in his reflection in the glass than his dying wife.
My sister, Cristi, sat nearby, complaining about how the rain would ruin her expensive shoes on the way to the car.
Trent walked to my bedside and brushed a finger against my oxygen tube.
"The liver failure is aggressive," he whispered. "But we expected that, didn't we? After all those 'vitamins' you've been taking."
I tried to scream, but my vocal cords were paralyzed. Cristi just giggled, telling me not to struggle because they needed my trust fund voting power by midnight. They held up a Do Not Resuscitate order and told me my hand had "signed" it with a little help.
"You were a depreciating asset, Cleora," Trent said, his lips cold against my forehead. "Now, you're finally liquidated."
As the darkness swallowed me, I saw flashes of my life—my mother’s suspicious car crash, my stolen sketchbooks, and the bitter almond taste in my morning juice. I died in a state of pure, helpless rage, realizing I had been murdered by the only people I ever loved.
How could they be so heartless? How could I have been so blind to the monsters living in my own home?
Then came the sensation of falling.
I sat up with a gasp, my lungs burning with fresh, salty air. The hospital was gone. I was in a luxury stateroom on our family’s charity cruise, three years before my death. I was alive, healthy, and back at the beginning.
When a blood-stained billionaire named Clemente Pennington walked out of the suite's bathroom, I didn't run. I looked him in the eye and realized that this time, I wouldn't be the one liquidated. I was going to make them pay for every drop of poison they ever fed me.