Loving him is a sin I can't escape
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.
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Chapter 3
Five years ago. The rain hadn't stopped that night. It clung to the windows of Dominic's penthouse, streaking the glass like something trying to claw its way inside. I stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the engagement ring on my finger. It felt heavier than gold. It felt like a countdown. "You're quiet."
Dominic's voice came from behind me. Warm. Familiar. Safe.
Back then, he still looked at me like I was his future. Not his enemy. "I'm thinking," I said softly.
He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. His chin rested on my shoulder. "About the wedding?" he asked. "Because if you're worried about the guest list, I'll cut it in half."
A small smile touched my lips. "I'm not worried about the guest list." "Good," he murmured. "Because in three months, you're not backing out." Three months. That was before the audit surfaced. Before the accusations. Before his father called me into his office. Before everything shattered. Dominic turned me gently so I faced him. "You're nervous," he said, studying my face. "Why?" Because your father threatened to destroy my family. Because he told me you were being set up. Because he said the only way to save you was to disappear. But I couldn't tell him that.
Not when his father made it clear what would happen if I did.
"I just feel like everything is happening fast," I lied.
Dominic smiled faintly. "We've been together for four years, Elena."
"I know."
"And I've wanted to marry you since the first."
His thumb brushed my cheek gently.
"Nothing is fast when it's right."
My chest tightened painfully. You don't know what's coming, I thought. A knock at the door cut through the moment. Dominic frowned. "At this hour?" "I'll get it," I said quickly, stepping away. My heart pounded because I already knew who it was. His father didn't wait to be invited in.
Mr. Russo walked inside with the same cold authority he carried into every room. Perfect suit. Perfect composure. Perfect calculation.
"Elena," he greeted calmly.
"Sir."
Dominic stepped forward. "Dad, what's going on?"
His father didn't look at him. Instead, his sharp eyes remained on me.
"We need a moment." Dominic's jaw tightened. "Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me."
His father finally glanced at him.
"This concerns her."
Silence fell. Dominic looked at me, confused. "It's fine," I said quickly. "I'll be right back." The lie burned on my tongue. I followed Mr. Russo into the hallway outside the apartment. The door shut behind us. And his tone changed instantly.
"You have until midnight," he said.
My stomach dropped.
"You promised-"
"I promised to protect my son's reputation," he corrected. "The audit goes public tomorrow. When it does, Dominic will take the blame."
"He didn't do anything."
"That doesn't matter."
Cold. Heartless.
"Investors need someone to point at," he continued. "And right now, that someone is him." Tears burned behind my eyes.
"You said you could fix it."
"I can."
Hope flickered.
"If you leave."
The word echoed in the hallway.
"You walk away tonight," he said evenly. "No explanation. No contact. You disappear."
"And if I don't?"
His eyes sharpened. "Then your father's company becomes part of the investigation. Old tax filings. Old debts. I'm sure we'll find something." My breath shook. "You can't do that." "I can," he said simply. "And I will." The rain outside grew louder, like it was applauding his cruelty. "You're punishing me for loving him," I whispered. "I'm protecting him from choosing you over the company." The words hit like a blade. "If he stays with you," Mr. Russo continued, "he'll defend you. He'll fight the board. He'll destroy his own future." He stepped closer.
"And I will not allow that."
My chest felt hollow. "So you want me to break him."
"I want you to prove you're strong enough to do what's necessary."
Tears slid silently down my cheeks.
"You said you loved him," he added.
"I do."
"Then leave."
The hallway felt too small. Too suffocating.
"If I go," I whispered, "you'll clear his name?"
"Yes."
"And you won't touch my family?"
"Yes."
"And he'll never know?"
His expression didn't change. "He will believe what he chooses to believe." That wasn't an answer. But it was the only one I was getting.
Inside the apartment, I heard Dominic moving.
Waiting. Trusting me. I closed my eyes. "Midnight," his father reminded. When I walked back inside, Dominic looked up immediately.
"You okay?" he asked.
I forced my expression blank.
"I can't do this."
Confusion crossed his face. "Do what?"
"This. Us."
The words felt like acid.
"Elena-"
"I'm leaving."
Silence.
Heavy. Devastating.
"You're joking," he said softly.
"I'm not."
His eyes darkened.
"Why?"
Because I love you. Because I'm saving you.
Because your father gave me no choice. "Because I don't want this anymore," I said instead. The lie shattered something in his face.
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"Elena."
My name sounded broken.
"I'm done," I whispered.
And then I took off the ring. I placed it on the table between us. And walked out.
Present Day. I hadn't thought about that night in years. Not in full. Not in detail. But standing in my apartment now, staring at my reflection in the mirror, it all came back. Dominic's face when I left.The disbelief. The betrayal. The hatred that must have grown in its place. My phone buzzed suddenly. A message from Dominic. Be ready tomorrow. 8 p.m. Sharp. Then another message came through immediately after. And this one made my blood run cold. Wear the ring. I stared at the screen. My hands began to shake.
Because I didn't have it.And there was no way he should think I did.
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8.4
Hazel Dawson has a crazy past, she's called the wealthiest billionaire a crazy bastard to his face without knowing.
When the company she's working for suddenly gets sold to the youngest but ruthless businessman in the city- Xavier Steele- known for his crazy unpredictable ways, Hazel has no choice but to bear it and accept his overbearing requests as his secretary.
But one night, when Xavier gets wounded after saving Hazel from an armed gunman,Hazel learns that her Boss might not be all that he looks like on the surface.
In a two confined offices located at the top of the building separate from several workers, Roses bloom but thorns follow.
Just when love seems within reach, Hazel is accused of stealing confidential contracts. With whispers of betrayal, a haunting past, and a string of murders circling the company, Hazel must clear her name-and her heart.
Can Hazel prove that she did not steal the company's contracts for personal gain?
Will Xavier look past his nagging belief of the wealthy belong together and go back to his ex?
And with the increasing murders that keep getting tied to the company as the common denominator, what does this evil-doer hiding in the shadows aim to achieve?
7.4
Evelina Barrett was the legitimate daughter, yet she was framed for a disgusting sex scandal, expelled from the Ivy League, and locked out of her late mother's massive trust fund.
While she was thrown out to rot on the streets with a jagged, hideous red scar covering half her face, her father and step-family were throwing a lavish charity gala to celebrate her total ruin.
They laughed as they officially published her disownment notice in the Times to cut her off forever.
"Without the school halo, that ugly freak will be begging on the streets by tomorrow," her sister Aspen sneered.
Her stepmother Annabella toasted to taking out the trash, perfectly happy to steal Evelina's inheritance while ignoring the fact that Evelina knew exactly how they had murdered her mother.
For years, Evelina had been locked in a dark basement, abused by bodyguards, and treated worse than a stray dog.
Why should she, the true heir, suffer in the gutter while the leeches who destroyed her life enjoyed the wealth that rightfully belonged to her?
She refused to be their victim anymore.
Washing away her fake scar to reveal her true, breathtaking face, Evelina blackmailed New York's most lethal billionaire into marriage to secure the ultimate shield.
Then, she put on a black mourning dress, ordered a dark web ghost crew, and climbed into a heavy semi-truck.
At exactly 6:00 PM, she smashed through the iron gates of her family's elegant gala, delivering three pure black coffins directly to the lawn.
8.3
Three years into marriage, Rachael gave her all to Xander, even secretly using her newfound heiress fortune to save his struggling company.
But the truth shattered her—her marriage certificate was fake, and his "childhood friend" was his real wife all along.
When she confronted him, he shrugged her off with, "She's just a friend."
Enough was enough. Rachael went back to her real family, soared in her career, and married Xander's rival.
When Xander begged for another chance, her new husband pulled her close, flashing their marriage certificate.
"She's already married—to me."
7.0
For three years, Breanna gave up her brilliant career as a top-tier perfumer to be the perfect housewife for her billionaire husband, Hartwell.
But when he finally returned from a three-month business trip to Paris, he didn't even glance at the dinner she had carefully prepared. Instead, he threw a divorce agreement on the table.
He gave her thirty days to move out and offered a ridiculously low settlement. When she cried and asked if there was someone else, he looked at her with absolute disgust.
"You used to smell like ambition and possibility. Now you smell like cooking oil and the desperation of a woman who has nothing outside her husband. You're a trap."
He threatened to bury her in legal fees if she didn't sign. Heartbroken and confused, Breanna forced his assistant to reveal what really happened in Paris. The truth was humiliating. Hartwell had been spending all his time with a twenty-six-year-old genius perfumer—a girl who was the exact mirror image of who Breanna used to be before she sacrificed everything for him.
He didn't just want a new woman. He wanted a younger, untainted replacement of her past self.
Wiping away her tears, Breanna's grief instantly hardened into cold, calculated rage. She tore up his insulting settlement and prepared to fight back, completely unaware that her cruel husband was currently hiding in a hotel room, coughing up blood, deliberately playing the villain to force her to survive his impending death.
8.3
I spent three months in Zurich securing banking rights for my family's pack. I couldn't wait to give my five-year-old daughter, Lily, the rare Starlight Moonstone Beast I’d bought to soothe her shifting pains.
But before I landed, I saw a photo online: my husband's "distant nephew" was playing with that very toy in my living room.
I rushed to the Pack Academy, only to find a teacher raising a riding crop laced with wolfsbane against my child.
Instead of protecting us, my husband, Austyn, stepped out with a woman wearing my furs and my grandmother’s emerald necklace.
He told the gathered crowd I was a mental patient having a delusion.
He hugged his mistress and announced she was the true Luna, claiming our marriage was a mistake and publicly rejecting our bond.
For five years, I had suppressed my Supreme Alpha aura to let him feel powerful, funding his lifestyle and building his reputation.
In return, he brainwashed my pack, abused my daughter, and tried to cast me out as a beggar in my own queendom.
He thought he had won because he believed his own lies about my weakness.
But when his illegitimate son threw a rock that drew blood from my daughter’s face, my patience snapped.
I stopped suppressing my scent, and my eyes turned molten gold.
"This is not a dispute, Austyn. This is an execution."
7.4
My husband stood by the window of his Manhattan office, his silhouette cutting through the storm like a blade. He didn't even look at me as he tossed the divorce papers onto the desk, his voice a cold baritone. "Sign it," Isaiah commanded, "or your brother’s dialysis treatment ends today."
He believed the lie that I had pushed his pregnant mistress down a flight of stairs in a jealous rage. To save my dying brother, I signed the confession and accepted the role of a murderer, trading my freedom for a life of disgrace.
At the funeral, Isaiah forced me to crawl on my knees through the freezing mud to the grave while a mob of mourners spat on me and cursed my name. When I went to prison, his influence followed me into the showers, where inmates told me the King wanted me to "remember my crime" before they used rusty shears to hack off my finger.
Five years later, I was a ghost living in a damp basement with the son Isaiah never knew I had, hiding my mangled hand under a leather glove. When he eventually tracked us down, he didn't show mercy; he tore my son from my arms, calling me an unfit monster and swearing I would rot in a cage.
I couldn't understand how the man I once loved could look at my broken body and see only a criminal, never realizing that every scar I carried was a gift from his own hatred.
As he walked away with my child, I swallowed a bottle of pills to end the nightmare, leaving Isaiah to rip the glove from my hand and discover the mangled truth just as my eyes finally closed.