Love and hate intertwined
I had loved Silas for ten years.
But on the very day I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, his first love returned home.
I loved him. Whether he loved me in return, I didn't know—I couldn't feel it. But I was certain he would never cheat.
In the final days of my life, I flawlessly played the role of the perfect wife.
After I died, he found my diary. And when he finished reading it, he broke down and wept with a gut-wrenching, soul-crushing agony.
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Chapter 14
I don't remember the cab ride home.
By the time I unlocked the door to the penthouse, the tangled mess in my head had completely spiraled out of control into a devastating chaos. The vines wrapped around my heart felt like they were ripping it to shreds.
I walked into my private study and slammed the door shut. The calm facade I had been forcing finally shattered completely.
I grabbed a stack of hardcover books off my desk and hurled them onto the hardwood floor. They hit with a deafening crash. But it wasn't enough.
I tore into the bookshelves, ripping pages out of novels and throwing them into the air like a twisted, grotesque snowstorm.
I grabbed skincare products, crystal ornaments Silas had brought back from business trips to Tokyo and London, and the intricate Lego sets we had built together on rainy Sundays.
I smashed them all. Glass shattered, plastic cracked, and the room was instantly reduced to ruins.
The urge to destroy morphed into a blinding rage.
I stood there, panting, drenched in sweat, surrounded by the wreckage of my own life.
My eyes fell on a pair of metal scissors resting on the edge of the desk.
I picked them up, rolled up my sleeve, and pressed the cold, sharp steel against my forearm.
Before I could draw the blade, a sharp bark shattered the silence.
Nova threw himself at my calves, whining as if he were the one in agony. He pawed at my legs, his little face twisted in distress.
The scissors slipped from my trembling fingers, clattering onto the floor. Nova immediately scrambled into my lap, frantically licking my hands, my arms, anywhere he could reach.
I sank to my knees amidst the broken glass and shredded paper. I pulled his warm, furry body tightly against my chest and, finally, mercifully, broke down.
The destructive high faded, leaving only a bottomless abyss of despair.
I buried my face in the dog's fur and sobbed until my throat bled.
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9.6
In the two years after I married Daniel Carter, my private photos had gone viral nine times, and Daniel had been taken into custody ten times.
Because every time his mistress, Emily Morgan, was unhappy, she would leak my private photos all over the internet.
I, Claire Parker, never let it slide. I reported every shady business Daniel was involved in and personally sent him behind bars.
That lasted until an unexpected kidnapping. I took a bullet for him, one aimed straight at his heart, and he shielded me beneath his body, taking the brunt of the explosion for me.
After we survived, the man who had always been so cold-blooded knelt before me, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.
"Honey, let's leave the drama behind. I just want a peaceful life with you."
Right in front of me, he ordered his men to send his mistress out of Northhaven and never let her appear before him again.
In the third year after we reconciled, I carried my eight-month pregnant belly and brought him lunch.
But on the way there, I was hit by a car. The hospital issued three critical condition notices, yet they still could not save the baby.
Daniel rushed over, but he did not even spare me a glance. Instead, he pulled the woman who had hit me and her child into his arms, soothing her in a low voice.
"Don't be scared. I'll protect you and the child."
Only then did I realize that the woman who had hit me was the very mistress he had sent away three years ago.
When I demanded an explanation, Daniel brushed it off as if it were nothing. "She didn't do it on purpose. Don't take it out on her and her son. You can have a baby another time."
At that moment, I finally understood. They had gotten back together long ago.
I looked at him and nodded. "Don't worry, this will never happen again."
9.0
I am the undisputed ice queen of the ER, a doctor whose life is built on absolute control. A month ago, I impulsively married a stranger to create a legal shield against my ex-mentor's betrayal.
Our prenup had one strict rule: a fake marriage with zero interference in each other's lives. But tonight, my "husband on paper" was wheeled into my ER, unconscious, reeking of cheap whiskey, and suffering from a bleeding ulcer.
To authorize his emergency surgery, I had to sign the consent form as his wife, detonating a gossip bomb among my colleagues. Worse, his overbearing family found out he was hospitalized. To stop his terrifying mother from flying in and exposing our sham marriage, I had to lean over his hospital bed and take a fake, loving couple's selfie.
I didn't understand why this disciplined math professor was suddenly drinking himself to death, nor why my chest tightened when he looked at me with exhausted eyes and begged for homemade soup. My perfectly ordered, untouchable life was crumbling into a chaotic mess, and I was losing my grip on the narrative.
"We should probably spend some time together beforehand. We could be roommates."
To prepare for an unavoidable family dinner and a wedding, my stranger husband just asked me to move into his apartment. The ultimate uncontrolled variable has just crossed the line, and our fake marriage is about to become dangerously real.
7.1
I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage.
She paid my tuition with his father's money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I'll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose.
Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me.
So I moved into the Hunters' mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell.
Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more.
I thought graduation meant freedom from him.
I was wrong.
Now he's my stepbrother.
He hates that I'm here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me.
But hate isn't clean anymore.
It's tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me. In the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I'm shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more.
He calls me Little Lamb like it's poison on his tongue.
I call him every name I can think of under my breath.
How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?
7.2
Five years ago, Elena Moretti walked away from Dominic Russo without explanation-leaving him to face the collapse of his father's empire alone.
Now Dominic is no longer the reckless man she once loved. He's a ruthless billionaire CEO with power, influence... and a memory that hasn't forgotten betrayal.
When he acquires the company Elena works for, he offers her a deal she can't refuse: work under him for six months-or watch her family's name be dragged through a financial scandal from the past.
Forced into close proximity, old wounds reopen and buried secrets threaten to surface. But the more time they spend together, the more dangerous the tension becomes.
Because hatred is easier than forgiveness.
And love?
Love is guilty as sin.
9.7
[{EXCERPT}]
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
Alana froze.
Roman's gaze dragged slowly over her body, dark and deliberate.
"The contract explicitly states that you are not allowed to seduce me," he said calmly. "You did read it... didn't you?"
Confusion flickered across her face.
Then his eyes dropped again.
"You do realize," he added, voice lowering, "that you're half naked right now?"
Alana's breath caught as she looked down at herself.
.......
After escaping the suffocating grip of her abusive family, Alana believes she's finally free. But freedom comes at a price.
Roman Ashford is everything she should avoid. A cunning billionaire. New York's most eligible bachelor. A man whose name alone unsettles the entire business world.
One unexpected encounter pulls her into his orbit, binding her to him in a dangerous arrangement as his fake girlfriend for thirty-one days.
But just as she begins to find her footing, her past comes back to choke her.
To secure the inheritance her late father left behind before her mother claims it, Alana has only one option.
She needs a husband, and fast.
With time running out, she makes a reckless decision and turns to the one man she should never trust.
Will Roman accept her proposal...
or will stepping into his world be her utter ruin?
8.3
I was picked up by Rylan Lloyd, and everyone knew that I loved him uncontrollably.
When his one true love, Madeline Yates, was injured, I donated blood to her until I was completely exhausted.
When he and Madeline were having sex, I provided them with condoms.
When Madeline returned from abroad, he made me wait for him in the snow for three hours wearing only a thin dress, and I ended up getting pneumonia and falling into a coma.
Upon waking, I had lost my memory and stared blankly at Rylan, who stood by my hospital bed with a frosty stare.
"Who are you?"
His icy demeanor suddenly softened as he touched my head and said, "I'm your brother."
Rylan then called my long-time rival, Aydan Baxter, claiming he was my fiancé.
Later, as he wished, I married Aydan, and Rylan regretted it...