My Best Friend's Uncle....And My Baby Daddy.
Five years ago, Autumn Martin broke the ultimate rule: she fell in love with Eric Kingston-her best friend's uncle and the most powerful man in London.
Their relationship was a beautiful, forbidden secret, but it was doomed from the start.
Fleeing with a secret he was never meant to find out, Autumn left the man she loved behind.
Now, she is back for her best friend's wedding, praying she can survive three days without Eric discovering the truth.
But Eric hasn't forgotten the woman who vanished.
When he catches a glimpse of a child with his own storm-gray eyes, the game changes.
Trapped in the Kingston estate, Autumn must navigate guilt, rekindled passion, and the terrifying reality that Eric Kingston never lets go of what belongs to him.
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Chapter 3
After Eric stormed out to meet his grandfather, I collapsed into the leather chair behind his desk, my legs finally giving out. I spent ten minutes in the en-suite bathroom, splashing freezing water on my face and staring at my reflection. I looked like a ghost of the girl I used to be. Five years ago, I was the university student who thought love could bridge the gap between a scholarship girl and a Kingstone. Boy I was wrong.
I stepped back out into the gala, trying to blend into the shadows. I needed a drink to steady my nerves. I grabbed a glass of dark red wine from a passing tray and downed half of it, the tart liquid burning my throat. I scanned the room, looking for a corner to hide in, but Eric's presence was everywhere. Even when he was across the ballroom, I could feel the weight of his gaze. It was the same way he used to look at me during our secret dates-like I was the only person in the world, and like he was never going to let me go.
"Autumn! I've been looking everywhere for you!"
Chloe appeared, draped on the arm of a tall, lanky man whose suit looked like it cost more than my apartment.
"This is my fiancé, Alexander Hawthorne," Chloe said, her voice bright with a happiness I envied. "And Alex, this is Autumn, my best friend from uni. I told you she'd make it!"
Alexander didn't just shake my hand.
He took it, his eyes raking over my figure with a clinical, disgusting interest that made my skin crawl. He leaned down and kissed the back of my hand, his thumb rubbing the skin in a way that felt like a violation.
"A pleasure, Miss Martins. Chloe has told me... so much about you." His voice was oily, lacking any of the genuine warmth Chloe deserved.
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Hawthorne," I said, yanking my hand back. I didn't care if I was being rude. I had spent five years protecting myself and Fin; I didn't have time for the wandering hands of a bored aristocrat.
I knew of the Hawthornes. Five years ago, they were the Kingstones' main rivals. Seeing Chloe tied to him felt wrong. It felt like another "merger" disguised as a marriage, the very thing that had made my relationship with Eric so "doomed" to begin with. Our social statuses hadn't just been "different"-they were worlds apart. I was the girl from nowhere, and he was the man who was supposed to marry a Valentine.
I shuddered at the thought of Fin's life being treated like a gamble by people like this. If Eric found out... if he realized that the boy wasn't just a "nephew" but the son we had created during those stolen months of our affair... he would never let us go. He would bring Fin into this den of vipers.
As the evening wound down, the crowd began to thin. This was my chance to escape. I just had to find Chloe, say my goodbyes, and vanish back to the hotel where Fin was waiting. I found her near the grand staircase, but my heart sank when I saw who was standing beside her. Eric.
He had changed out of his blazer, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were as sharp as ever.
"Hey, Loe. It's getting late," I said, forcing a smile that felt brittle. "I should head back. My hotel isn't exactly close."
"What? No!" Chloe pouted, grabbing my arm. "Stay here! The estate is huge, and I've already had the guest wing prepared. I won't hear of you staying in some dusty hotel when your best friend is getting married."
"I can't, Chloe. It would be... inappropriate. I don't want to be a bother to your family." I looked at Eric, begging him with my eyes to tell her to let me go.
But Eric stepped forward, the shadows of the foyer playing across the hard planes of his face. "It's not a bother at all, Autumn. In fact, I insist. The Kingstone family is responsible for the guests we invite. It would be quite 'inappropriate' of us to let you wander the streets of London so late at night."
He used the word inappropriate like a weapon, throwing my own excuse back at me. He was mocking me. He knew I was terrified of being under the same roof as him.
"Please, Tummy?" Chloe begged, her eyes wide. "I want to go over the morning schedule with you. I need my maid of honor."
I was trapped. If I refused now, it would only make Eric more suspicious. He would wonder why I was so desperate to get back to a hotel room. He would follow me. And if he followed me, he would find Fin.
"Fine," I whispered, defeated. "If it's truly not a problem."
Chloe squealed and hugged me, but over her shoulder, I felt Eric move. He stepped closer, the scent of him-that familiar, intoxicating mix of power and the past-filling my senses. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear so Chloe couldn't hear.
"Smart choice, little lamb," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that sent a traitorous thrill through my body. "You can't escape the truth in this house. Not when every room reminds you of what you took from me when you ran."
He pulled back, a dark, victorious glint in his eyes. He wasn't just a man I'd had a fling with. He was the man I had loved with every fiber of my being, the man I had shared my bed and my dreams with before the weight of his world crushed us.
"Chloe, show her to the Blue Suite," Eric said, his tone returning to that of the cool, detached billionaire. "I have some final business to attend to in my study."
As Chloe led me away, I looked back once. Eric was standing in the center of the foyer, watching me go. He looked like a king watching a prisoner being led to her cell. I realized then that my return wasn't just a confrontation with the truth-it was a second chance for Eric to claim what he believed was his. And this time, he wouldn't let me run.
I walked up the stairs, my heart a restless whisper. I was back in the Kingston world, back in Eric's orbit.
And tonight, I would be sleeping only a few doors down from the man who still held the pieces of my shattered heart.
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7.6
She was the heir of a criminal syndicate, bred to command the underworld.
For seven years she loved the wrong man, serving his family and building their fortune. Her payment was betrayal-his affair with her best friend.
During her three-year coma, he hissed, "Don't wake up."
They carried on at her bedside, then plotted her death to steal the company. She woke anyway and shattered them, rattling high society as a mafia heir and lethal fighter who ran the black-market economy.
He begged. She kicked him aside and chose the man who'd waited a decade-the world's top arms dealer. "I'm yours."
8.8
I was the despised adopted daughter of the Sanders family, hiding behind heavy gothic makeup and enduring their daily disgust.
The day my adoptive father died in a severe car crash, my adoptive mother and stepsister didn't even bother to call me.
Instead, while his body was still warm, my mother filed a multi-million dollar life insurance claim.
"I am not feeding a useless freak for another day. Pack your trash and get out."
She kicked me out into the freezing rain, but that wasn't the worst of it.
My stepsister Cornelia stole my greatest secret. Five years ago, I saved the life of Fidel Vaughan, a ruthless billionaire heir, from a burning estate.
Cornelia claimed my identity, accepted a million-dollar reward, and secured a marriage proposal from him, burning my only proof to ashes.
They thought I was just a helpless, pathetic high schooler they could discard and replace.
But when I hacked the police files, I discovered my father's crash wasn't an accident. It was a targeted hit, and the Vaughan Group had hijacked the traffic cameras to cover it up.
I washed off the ugly black makeup, shedding the disguise of a pathetic outcast.
I am Spectre, the world's most elusive hacker and underground doctor.
I intercepted the billionaire heir's heavily armed convoy in the dead of night. They thought they could steal my life and murder my father, but now, I hold the needle that controls Fidel Vaughan's sanity, and I will make them all pay.
7.9
I hid my terminal stomach cancer diagnosis, hoping to spend my last six months with my husband, Gerard.
But the moment I stepped into our penthouse, he threw a divorce agreement at my feet.
"We are ending this marriage. Kena is waiting for me."
He said his first love had returned, and he had no time to play games with me anymore.
Over the next few days, he watched me vomit violently, coldly accusing me of faking a pregnancy to secure a massive payout.
When his own grandfather suffered a massive heart attack upon discovering his public affair, we rushed the old man to the emergency room.
But Gerard didn't stay for the surgery.
Kena showed up in a wheelchair, crying about a mild chest pain, and he immediately turned his back on his dying grandfather and me to comfort her.
I had loved this man in secret for thirteen years.
I even saved him from a rival's drug trap just nights ago, giving my failing body to him in a dark hotel room to protect his reputation.
Yet, to him, I was nothing but a greedy, calculating transaction standing in the way of his true love.
Watching him walk away to hold another woman while the surgery light flashed red, the thirteen years of desperate love inside me finally shattered.
I calmly wiped his grandfather's blood from my hands and turned around.
This time, I will sign the papers and disappear from his life forever.
8.8
My little boy died on the operating table during a minor, routine surgery.
That exact same night, my billionaire husband bought out the Hudson River for a massive, million-dollar fireworks show.
It wasn't to mourn our child. It was to celebrate his first love's son being discharged from the hospital.
When I confronted him with our son's death certificate, he sneered and accused me of hiding the boy to get his attention.
He held his mistress in our home, watched her fake a panic attack, and threatened to bankrupt my family if I didn't get on my knees and apologize to her.
But the most horrifying truth came from a terrified hospital nurse.
My son's anesthesia was deliberately kept low during the procedure to keep his tissue viable to save the mistress's child.
He was awake and in agonizing pain while his own father planned a grand celebration for another man's son.
I couldn't understand how a father could be so completely heartless.
How could he sacrifice his own flesh and blood just to please a woman who constantly manipulated him?
Looking at the ashes on my son's favorite toy, my paralyzing grief evaporated, replaced by a cold, unyielding rage.
I arranged my little boy's funeral alone in the freezing rain, left my wedding ring on the counter, and walked straight into the private hotel suite of my husband's most ruthless business rival.
"Let's take him down," I said.
8.0
I pointed a gun at my husband and made him sign our divorce papers.
He thought I was too soft to survive without him, he had no idea of the rebel he created. I was about to become his worst nightmare.
Dante Caruso taught me two things: how to love a monster, and how to become one. When I discovered he murdered my family for power, I carefully planned my exit and transformation into the heiress I was meant to be. I transformed from an innocent bride to his worst nightmare, I spent two years building an empire on the ashes of the girl he thought he knew.
Now I'm back. Not as Bella Russo, the wife he's been desperately searching for. But as a force shaking the underworld, the enemy that is systematically destroying everything he built.
He wants his wife back.
I want him buried.
Now the real question is what will be his decision, when he discovers the enemy that is destroying his empire and the woman he's lost are the same person.
8.3
I was a ghost in the rafters of Sotheby’s, five floors above the most expensive pavement in New York, clutching a ten-million-dollar ledger hidden inside a drop of blood-red agate. I had the perfect exit planned, but I didn't count on Harding Bishop, a security predator who could track a shadow through a rainstorm.
When the exits were sealed and the tactical teams started swarming, I made a split-second choice to survive. I stepped out of the shadows and looked into the eyes of a billionaire socialite searching for her missing daughter, whispering a single, broken word: "Mom?"
Just like that, I wasn't a thief anymore; I was Cassandra Sterling, the heiress who had been gone for five years. But the homecoming was a nightmare. My new "sister" promised to send me back to the gutter, my "father" held a gold-plated pistol to my knee the moment the limo doors closed, and the family patriarch tried to strike me down with his cane just for breathing his air.
Every second was a high-wire act. I had to play the part of a traumatized victim while a ten-million-dollar stone was literally sewn into the raw, bleeding wound on my shoulder. If I moved wrong, I’d bleed out; if I spoke wrong, I’d be buried in the backyard of the Hamptons estate.
Harding Bishop didn't believe a word of it. He moved into the room next to mine, watching my every breath and checking my hands for gun calluses under the guise of protection. He thinks he’s the warden and I’m his prisoner, but he’s about to find out that a cornered rat is the most dangerous thing in the house.
"Sleep tight, Vesper," he whispered as he locked my door, using my real name for the first time.
He thinks he’s won, but he has no idea that I’m already reaching for the Agate hidden under my pillow, ready to burn his empire to the ground.