NOT YOURS TO LOSE, EX-HUSBAND
My ex-husband, Reese Beaumont, sent me divorce papers on our anniversary, five years after I walked down the aisle to join him. I signed them with a red lipstick and sent them back to him, with a short note which read: "I am not going to give you the liberty of thinking you still own me."
Now, one year later, he is standing in my office, the smug look in his eyes gone, and for some reason, still wearing our wedding ring.
"You're still mine, Roxanne. You didn't sign the divorce papers, and you seem to forget that you're nothing without me."
A soft chuckle escape my lips, right as my fake fiancé walks in, holding our one-year-old son. The son Reese never knew I was pregnant with.
"Funny," I mutter. "Because I don't remember you being in control of the game."
Now, he's everywhere, showing up at my gallery and outbidding my fake fiancé at my auctions. Telling the media we are on the road to reconciliation.
But I am not the same woman who cried for him one year ago.
I am the woman he never expected to walk out the door. And the one he'll always regret letting go.
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Chapter 2
Roxanne's POV
It's supposed to be a party, but I don't feel very festive. The lights are too bright, the music too loud. And definitely not with Camilla and Reese sitting across the table, giggling about something. She has her hands wrapped around his neck, and he is leaning in close so he can hear her above the music.
The way he used to lean into me.
"This is nice," someone at the table says, bringing his glass to his lips. I think he is one of the investors at Reese's company. A company I poured years of my life into, but only his name glows on the letterhead.
"Congratulations on bagging this grand contract once again, Mr. Beaumont."
Cheers erupt on the table, and glasses clink. I raise mine to join them, desperate to fit the image of the proud wife, because I am truly proud of him. But Reese shoots me a sharp look, shaking his head insistently.
"Alcohol kills chances," Reese announces, like a public service. Heads turn in my direction, watching. He isn't warning me because he cars. He is trying to tell the whole room that he controls me. He is branding me.
And that's rich, coming from him who is already on his third glass of vodka.
Camilla brings her hands to his thighs as she snaps her other fingers for attention. "I read about it in one of my wellness magazines. Remember, Reese, because of my ..."
"I do," Reese replies gently, edging her on. "The doctor listed a bunch of things alcohol causes, and infertility was the first on the list."
The only other woman at the table tilts her head at me. "How long have you been trying, honey?"
The room stirs as her seemingly innocent question gets me even more stares. I can see the sympathy in their eyes. It stings.
"Long enough." I get on my feet, the chair scraping against the ground. "I am going to get a soda." It is either that or I drown from humiliation at this table.
"Roxanne, that is no way to talk to our investor's wife," Reese scolds, jumping to his feet as well. He has a growing frown on his face as he looks at the lady with apology in his eyes.
Apology that instantly turns to rage when he regards me again. "Apologize now, Roxanne."
"I'm sorry," I whisper, grabbing my purse and walking away. I can hear Reese behind me, about to give me another lecture on how to behave in public so people don't think up the ludicrous idea that our marriage has a problem.
Because it doesn't. At least, not to my husband.
But he hasn't gone far away from the table when Camilla suddenly yelp. I turn around when I hear the sound of a glass breaking, just in time to catch my husband running back to her with urgency.
"Oh my God! Camilla!" Worry slips through his lips, and it is so easy to place the distinction between how he treats me and her. "What happened? I was only gone a couple of seconds."
She clutches onto the table for balance as her feet threaten to give up under her. A weak heroine in a stage play. Her hair is slightly in disarray now, almost like she intentionally fell hard enough to create that image.
"I was going... to go after you and ... Roxanne," she pants, using her other hand to hold onto her chest. "I didn't... I didn't want you both to fight because of... of what I said."
I swear, if she holds on to her chest one more time, I might just drag her into the ET myself, but not for the reasons she wants.
"You know you are ill," my husband sighs, helping her up like porcelain. She leans into him, her lips slightly parted and her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. "You shouldn't push yourself, Camilla. You need rest. Do you want to go home?"
She shakes her head at once. "The hotel is boring and I don't want to be there without you."
"No, silly!" Reese pinches her chin playfully. "You are coming home with us."
"Are you sure?" Her eyes find me, feigning guilt. "Does your wife..."
I allow the rest of her words to drown under the music as I continue my journey to the bar. Now, I not only have to suffer through outings with Camilla sitting right next to my husband, where I should be.
I also have to put up with her living in my home.
How splendid!
By the time I reach the bar, I've already swallowed the bitter truth. Not only is Camilla stealing my place beside my husband in public, she is also moving into my home.
"Long day?" A stranger leans on the counter beside me as I wait for my soda. I do not turn to look at him.
"Nothing worse can happen."
"Don't be so sure," he chuckles. I can hear a bass undertone. "I once thought that after a horrible day, until I walked right into my door on my way to my room in the night and ended up with a concussion. It kept me awake all night."
It doesn't bring a smile to my face. "Well, try not to walk into doors tonight."
The bartender slides my soda over. "Do you want to mix it with something stronger?"
I shake my head, grabbing the can with an appreciative smile.
"Driving?"
The stranger is still here. I steal a glance.
Blue eyes.
"No. I guess I'm not really feeling very excited."
"You are at a party!" He says exasperatedly. "Come alive. Take risks. You can order a ride home if you're too inebriated to drive, just in case you are here alone. I'm sure the person who won this contract is doing the same thing."
The question in his words is very audible.
"Doctors are of the opinion that alcohol reduces the chances of fertility."
I can't believe I just said that to a total stranger. But worse, it bothers me more that I found nothing else to rescue me other than Camilla's and Reese's sickening words.
"Just for a night?"
"Yes." I turn around to walk away. "At least, my husband thinks so."
"Oh!" I hear him chuckle behind me. "Married. Got it. Although I have to admit that that has never stopped me."
Ignoring how that makes me feel, I arrive at the table, sighing when I meet Reese and Camilla still here.
"There you are," Reese says, relief wrapped in irritation. "We need to leave."
I stop. "Why?"
"Camilla is feels sick. She thinks she is about to throw up. Let's get her home."
Home. Our home.
"Move it, Roxanne!" My husband barks, lifting her in his arms and heading towards the door. "Grab her bag and shoes on your way out."
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9.2
In LA's Business world, Zane Calloway, thirty, turns cartel king after his father's gruesome murder, ruling The Atlas Group with a bloody fist. He learned how betrayal could ruin even the biggest empire and was hell bent on keeping Atlas Group. However when Sienna Carter, his new assistant got in the picture, he threw caution to the wind. To become the only one controlling the cartel, he would use Sienna who was a supposedly ghost from a dead cartel as bait for his enemies. Sienna Carter made his mission become even more complicated as she ignites a dangerous sparks in him. Twenty-five year old Sienna Carter just wanted to stay alive, running away from danger had been the only thing she was capable of since her family were murdered. All she had as a semblance of her old life was the locket her dying father had given her and when a new job pops up in Los Angeles, she gambled for it, hoping for her sake that it wouldn't lead her straight to the same hell she was running from.
However, she would soon realize that the Atlas Groups was going to be more than just a survival decision but the key to everything.
9.6
Ezran Williamson never asked for a new family, especially not one that comes with a stepbrother he can't stand.
At twenty-one, Ezran is sharp-tongued, rebellious, and determined to graduate and build a future in programming on his own terms.
But when his mother remarries a powerful businessman, his carefully controlled life collides with Lucian Banks, his cold, dominant, and dangerously untouchable stepbrother. Successful, older, and infuriatingly composed, Lucian is everything Ezran hates.
Slowly, hatred turns into tension, tension becomes chemistry, and chemistry ignites something neither of them is prepared to face.
What begins as resistance slowly unravels into a forbidden obsession, one that defies family, morality, and control. As secrets surface and pressure mounts, Ezran and Lucian are forced to choose between duty and desire, legacy and love, because some feelings don't fade and some obsessions are worth every consequence.
8.3
I lost my memory. Or rather, I faked it.
Conrad Gallagher, the boyfriend I had been secretly dating for five years, effortlessly erased our entire relationship.
"You're only fit to be a casual hookup."
Then, he announced his engagement to a woman approved by his parents.
To save myself from utter humiliation, I faked amnesia, conveniently forgetting no one but Conrad.
But when it was time for me to get married, Conrad regretted it. He kidnapped me right out of my wedding and spirited me away: "Don't marry him, okay?"
8.2
He wanted freedom after breaking me. So I hired a stranger for one reckless night.
But he's not a call boy. He's a mafia king who owns this city. Now he decided I'm his. No negotiations. No escape.
9.0
Jordan was taken aback, his lips parted as he gasped in surprise.
Chloe sighed, "Is there any other special cleaning you want in the room aside from the regular one?" she asked coolly.
Jordan stared at her in disbelief. Her indifference stung him. Did she just ignore what he was saying? He waited three hours for her the day before. Of course he could never tell her that. He had been mad at himself for having such feelings. Right now, he couldn't be any madder.
But the girl just stood there, looking so nonchalant, carefree, unconcerned. His business card was a treasure to anyone else, but she had trashed it. He clenched his jaw. For once, he was at a loss for words.
Chloe spoke up, "I will get to work then."
She turned to leave.
"Hey!" Jordan bellowed.
She stopped, frowning. Why was he so angry?
"You will get to work, doing what? Telling everyone it wasn't you who made that mess?" he scoffed, "Isn't that what you were about to say to my mother?"
Chloe put on a false perplexed look, "But that's the truth. We both know I am not the one at fault. What exactly are you scared of, Mister Cavanaugh? Why should it be a big deal?"
"So you are going out there to tell on me?" he gave a low laugh.
"No. Not really," Chloe said offhandedly, "I think I have my job back for now, thank you. I will face that and hope you don't play such games with me again."
Jordan came closer to her, frowning, "Are you threatening me?".
Chloe wanted to place her hands on his broad chest and push him away, he smelled so good, "Threatening you? Hell no, that's not a threat. I was just soliciting for peace. I didn't do anything wrong to you or your family. YOU wronged me, you ought to apologize. But I am not even asking you to".
Jordan moved closer, step by step, until her back hit the door. His face hovered inches from hers, his breath warm, his eyes dark and unreadable. Chloe's heart skipped a beat, as she began to panic.
Chloe Carson thought moving to Colorado would bring stability and a chance to rebuild her life. But her new job at the Cavanaugh mansion proves anything but simple, especially with Jordan, the handsome yet infuriating heir whose every word and glance keeps her on edge.
As Chloe tries to find her footing, she also faces Niles, her cousin's crush, whose attraction to her awakens feelings she did not expect. Torn between Niles's gentle affection and Jordan's intoxicating pull, Chloe must navigate jealousy, secrets, and emotional traps she never saw coming.
As unexpected consequences spiral around her, Chloe will have to decide whose heart she can trust... before it is too late.
7.4
I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago.
But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime.
"Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore."
That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash.
Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me.
Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia.
I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live.
But my little boy died in my arms.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood.
The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest.
I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room.
Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.